Owen had never thought it would end up like this. Two of the world's greatest spies finally coming to the end of the road, only how ironic that they were so separate right now.
He'd raised his gun at the same time as his old friend had. Both stared each other down as if not quite believing what this had all come down to.
They'd been so close.
Where were they now?
More to the point who were they now?
Owen had thought this through a few too many times. This could so easily be the other way round, him having been led astray and Owen tracking Curt down as the deadliest man. His hand was was steady.
His voice was calm.
If he did this now, there'd be no turning back. All it'd take was one bullet in close proximity, one bullet for all this to be over. Finally a way to rid him forever of the life Owen should have had. Finally a way of thanking the American for these new opportunities.
It was over before either knew however the irritating man was still BREATHING. Still trying to speak Owen's given name. He fired again. No-one called him Owen anymore and no one ever would.
Curt lay face down on the steps not moving, eyes fully open with his body going stiff. Lying still for the first time since Owen had met him.
Owen had got his revenge.
Later that week a pit of emptiness enveloped him, and he didn't know why. He'd downed a bottle of good whiskey trying to shake the feeling off?
Couldn't his mind stay quiet for one second?
The scene replayed over in his mind, both their voices echoing around him. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. His more human and compassionate side just came towards the realisation that he'd just murdered someone who he'd tried to forget so much about. Even when he had been gathering his intel to grab revenge.
He'd accomplished he'd set out to do so why was it so hard to let go even now? Why was this following him? He didn't deserve for it too. He was the deadliest man alive for Christ's sake.
Curt had tried to 'save' him.
Well he should have tried harder the first time then. Too little too late. That's what he'd liked about the brute though, he was willing to look past flaws. God he'd even tried to overlook murder for Owen, get him back to the side of good! His backbone had definitely grown through those lost years.
He'd fallen so quickly. How had things changed so fast? Owen had said goodbye although the memories too fast. Kept flickering through his American idiot. His fault this happened - his fault he became the notorious killing machine - even if Owen enjoyed it so much.
Was it though? YES! No. He may have been part of the cause and effect but he'd still killed as part of his British training and missions. Afterwards he'd just escalated it in true Owen style. No mercy shown. No mercy given.
Innocent people had died in his quest. Even the people he worked with in the organisation. When he'd got bored or if they hadn't done a mission they way he wanted then he'd bump them off.
Who had be become? Truly?
Hating everyone around him. Becoming more machine each day. Maybe even a monster. Maybe he was such a thing since that fateful night and now Curt's ghost was following him in ghost form forever taunting.
All he'd been good for so far was hurting others and liking the power he gained each time although through his own melodramatics hurt himself. Looking at himself he pinched a scar gained when he'd been deemed one of the world's greatest he'd destroyed the other's life. The worst part had been just how easy he'd found it. The regret after and his own stupid past feelings coming back up to the surface.
If he really thought about it he'd go so far as hating who he was. How could he continue knowing what he'd done, this was going to invade his privacy forever. God if he hadn't killed him, he'd strangle Curt right now.
He'd need to school his features back into his heartless image he'd made for himself before he could venture out into the world again.
Curt had tried to help. Yeah right, Owen right now was beyond help. His alarm rang 6.00.