#spy-again

[special-ass-agent]

Paris was somewhere in Hatchetfield. Or, was.

They were visiting the United States for another mission. Still, they worked for no one, only for themselves and their theories, and they still hadn't been taken seriously as a real investigator. Some things never changed, they supposed.

Right now, Paris was sitting in a vintage style restaurant, eating from their plate slowly. God, they were tired. The whole day before then was spent looking for clues on whatever they were looking into. Paris loved that part of their 'job,' but it was still tiring nonetheless.

Ding!

They snapped out of their thoughts when a man walked through the restaurant entrance. They squinted. Have they seen this guy before, or were they crazy?

- @the-curious-adventurer

[I'M BACK! HUZZAH! for context this is the timeline where Paris didn't join chimera teehee]

It’s been four years, and Curt’s meant to be in Budapest by tomorrow.

But he’s still in The States for now, going through the last day of being a typical civilian until he got back into his career. Back to being a spy. The man he was supposed to be. A hand reached up and itched at the underside of his beard. It’s been easier to merely grow in a beard so he can look at himself in the mirror, pretend it was someone else staring back. It was easier than seeing the man, the face, that killed his partner.

He’s stepping into some restaurant, somewhere he’s been once or twice. It didn’t really matter to him. He just wanted a nice meal, instead of moping around like the rest of the week.

[special-ass-agent]

Paris is...somewhere, now. After waking up that day in the park in confusion and finding their way home, they hadn't seen Curt. In fact, 4 years passed before they somehow crossed paths again. And it was definitely a surprise. Paris grew up in the time of Curt's absence.

Now, they were a young adult, working as a half-legitimate investigator for something called CHIMERA. So seeing Agent Curt Mega again after all that time was a flashbang to them. No words needed to be said. It was a shock for both of them.

@the-curious-adventurer

It’s.. It’s been a while. A lot has happened.

Curt has changed, despite his strong attempts not to. Which, he’s only changed a little and people have suffered for it. For one, he had a re-encounter with Owen despite thinking he killed him years before and properly killing him this time. Another, he fumbled poorly at being a spy when he returned to the career briefly. Last, he’s gone out on his own now.

He’s found himself somewhere, at a familiar but quiet little park. Curt is tucked away quietly on a park bench, overlooking the majority of the place. His hands are folded together, thumbs fidgeting with each other.

[special-ass-agent]

The door opens on it’s own and Owen walks in, he looks less like a work in progress, still mechanical but much less. Outside the room a  man with a sharp suit and a serious demeanor watches them. Owen pays him no mind as he focuses his attention entirely on Curt. his expression (because he can kind of make those now) is cold, full of rage but also.. Confusion? There is much on his mind.

Sorry for the wait, they had to take some precautions.. You know, so I don’t get up and leave.

@digitalintelligigencearchive

Curt's changed, since they last had an encounter.

He’s lost some weight, but he’s not starving. Either he’s refused to eat whatever CHIMERA has tried to feed him, or he hasn’t been fed consistently. He'd never answer that question directly, if he was asked. He’s lacking in sunlight, but that’s what imprisonment does to someone. His gaze is distant. Dull. His clothes and him are slightly dirty too. They focus on Owen when he stepped through, blinking at him slowly. Registering his presence.

He shuffled from the corner of the room, slowly moving to stand. A hand rested on the wall, to help stabilise. “Owen.” Despite the difference of appearance, he could always recognise him. A talent or a curse, he'll never think too much on that. “You look great.”

[special-ass-agent]

[Curt has a visitor once more. Thea sits in the same spot she had before, most of her body obscured by the shadows. She sits there for a moment, eyeing Curt's condition with a frown.]

@martin-thea

The moment he notices the visitor, Curt had shuffled himself away. Sitting in his own corner, weary eyes staring over in the shadows. He’s a spy, or was, so he’d obviously pick up when someone was in the same room. He’s lost just a bit of weight, but nothing too drastic. If the loss was from refusing to eat or not, it’s hard to tell. Not that he’d say.

He licked his dry lips, but said nothing.

[special-ass-agent]

[Thea knew this was a stupid idea. She's in trouble enough as is without adding talking with the enemy to her list...but she couldn't help herself as she found her way down to the cells.

Curt could hear footsteps as someone approach. Curt could tell from the silhouette that the person was a woman, her hands tucked into the pockets of whatever she was wearing, but he couldn't make out much else as she remained in the shadows.]

@martin-thea

Curt’s curled up on the floor, tucked away the best he could into a corner. He’d be visible either way. Hair unbrushed and matted, the whisp beginnings of stubble poking out the sides of his face. The same clothes he’s worn since that failed attempt of getting Owen out, with a jacket he’s refused to part with whenever someone visited.

His expression is neutral, almost bored, when someone made their way over. He didn’t even move, besides raising his head slightly to indicate he had noticed them. That they wouldn’t go undetected. But he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t take in their appearance, it’s hard to tell the way light silhouettes them from behind. At first, his mind was convinced it was Owen. The next moment, he knows it isn’t him. Just someone unimportant.

“I’m not going to say anything.” His voice rasped out.

[special-ass-agent]

The light in the interrogation room Curt was left in flickers for a few times before finally turning on, filling the once dark room with artificial light.

Owen’s robotic voice cuts through the silence, hesitant?... can machines feel that? I need you to tell me about the dead spy.

@digitalintelligigencearchive

Curt doesn’t know how long it’s been since his last encounter with Owen. A day? Two? Maybe a week? All he really knew was the soreness in his body, the stiffness from sitting in the same position. His head had hung forward, trying to get some actual rest before however decided to come for him next.

His head first raised, blearily blinking his eyes open. He expected to see anyone, at least someone. But there wasn’t anyone. Curt’s attention sharpened at the robotic voice, recognising it immediately.

“The dead spy.” He began. He easily knew what the robotic replica meant. Owen Carvour. The agent of M16. His previous lover. “CHIMERA’s still not telling you about him? You have to ask me, a man you’ve captured?” He couldn’t help the cocky grin that slides onto his face. Maybe there’s hope for him, still.

[special-ass-agent]

Owen kept running- stumbling across the facility, narrowly avoiding guard encounters. There’s a lot on his mind from the logistics of his current situation to the fates of the employees whose life he is risking but no thought is stronger than the questions about Curt’s wellbeing, is he here? Is he okay? If this company can turn people into machines what did they do to him? Still, they’ve survived worse together… right? He clings onto hope, he pushes away thoughts of worst case scenarios as he struggles to climb down flights of stairs.

Clank

Clank

Clank

He finally reaches the last step and walks through hallways and passageways, he stops in front of a door for a moment, seeing his twisted reflection in the metal, he is a thing of metal and wires- unfinished and inhuman.. What would Curt think? The door opens before he can contemplate and he stares into the room

@digitalintelligigencearchive

What time is it? What day is it?

Curt's sitting in that horrible chair, disorientated on time. But, admittedly, it's probably more then that. Maybe it's the hunger gnawing at his stomach, or the dehydration crackling his lips. Or the way he's only going to call his body 'sore' even if it ached further then that. The worst part was the way he's been left to his thoughts, after the last encounter with Computer Owen-- Owen. It's better to think of him as Owen, when he shared everything but the same face, maybe a little less hatred then when he saw the physical version of him. His head was leant forward, hair messy and unkept. Thoughts swimming.. Swimming..

His head raised suddenly, a slight headache blossoming, at the sound of clanking.

Clanking..?

He's met with the sight of metal in the doorway, mouth going agape as he registered the sight. What even is that? He couldn't tell. He gave a small exhale, trying to sit up better.

"For.. For being a hostage, this is the worst one yet. Not in terms of the treatment, but for how little you've accomplished." He gave a semblance of a laugh, but came out as a puff of air.

[special-ass-agent]

Reese had spent several days after his encounter with that mysterious "O" character doing as much research and recon surrounding his theory on which building he suspected to be at least part of Chimera, if not a base for them in it's own right.

Had this been years ago, he would have just stopped at retrieving this information, and reported back to the A.S.S. to hand it off to a field agent. But now...

Well now he was deep in the belly of the beast, wearing the full face and body covering of a security guard's uniform, marching about and attempting to gather as much information about this particular base as he could. Notably, discovering that what he'd located above ground was barely covering the tip of the iceberg of the actual site itself, and the further he went into the labyrinthian building, the deeper he was driven below ground.

Eventually, this little rabbit hole dig of his lead him down into what looked like their prison and holding cells (the fact that Chimera had an onbase detention center sent shivers down his spine about the fact "O" knew he was investigating here in the first place) and he checked through them. Any enemies of Chimera might be allies of his after all.

His musings on who might look worth jailbreaking ended the second he landed on a familiar (if much more gaunt and worse for wear then he'd last seen the man) face.

"Mega?"

@reese-suzuki

Curt was not doing well. But, at least he isn’t dead.

He’s sitting against one of the walls, knees pressed against his chest. Head resting against. He’s thinner, considerably more thinner since they’ve last seen each other. Not the well-muscled man in his prime, or the rounded-out figure when he got back into spying.. Rather, a bit more hollowed out. Cheeks a bit more tighter in skin. His eyes are emptier when he stared anywhere. Lips cracking. Hair unwashed.

His head is idly staring at the cell bars, which is how he immediately spotted the man. A familiar man.

Shame washed over him, his hands shifting to cover his head the best he could as he looked away. He knew who that was. And, maybe if this was earlier in his capture, he would be overjoyed at the recognition. At who it was. But, it seemed to be the case of Curt giving up on himself. Evident a bit more by some discarded food tray across the cell he’s kept in.

“Why are you here? Did somebody sent you?” He mumbled. Voice crackling slightly as he spoke. “You shouldn’t be here, really.”