#i apparently only work fast under pressure pFt

[moonionraccoon]

I DID IT!! I finally updated myself!!

[amazingmsme]

Down and Under

AN: This is the third fic in my saf fake interrogation series. You don’t have to have read the other two in order to get this fic, but it might help you understand some references. Here’s Mission Gone Right and Round and Round if you want to read them! Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: Mentions of animal trafficking, torture techniques, British jokes

Ever since Owen had pulled the little spinning wheel knife stunt, Curt had been itching for revenge. Owen still rubbed it in his face when they saw each other, and his hair had only just grown out to normal. He had ended up having to get a buzzcut to even out where Owen had chopped off a fist full of his hair like a damn trophy. He was tempted to do the same to him, but Owen was even more obsessed with his hair than he was. He might literally mount his head on his wall if he did that, so he'd have to get his kicks another way.

He was ecstatic when he found out he and Owen would be busting an underground drug and exotic animal smuggling ring and saw his chance to enact his revenge. Cynthia had told him he probably wouldn't see Owen since he was handling the drugs and Curt himself was in charge of finding the animal cages and taking down anyone who got in his way. He always had a way with animals, and it had come in handy on more than one occasion. But he figured once he located the animals, it wouldn't hurt if he also tracked down Owen to, help him with his task. 

Curt pressed himself against the side of the building, creeping closer to the door to knock out the guards. According to the mission briefing, Owen was supposed to already be inside the hanger where they were loading planes with cocaine and opioids. Curt had a sneaking suspicion they were either keeping the animals in either the warehouse or barn, or maybe even both depending on how many they had.

Curt snuck up on the two men and hit a pressure point on one guard's neck, sending him to the ground in instant slumber. The other one aimed his rifle at Curt, and he swiftly yanked it from his grasp and slammed the butt of the gun on his forehead, knocking him unconscious. He tied them up before dragging them to his truck and chucking them in the back. The agency would take them into custody and deal with them from there.

Inside the warehouse was dark and empty. Too empty... Something must've happened to draw their attention away from their posts because there's no reason a building this big would be so empty. He walked down a flight of stairs and found rows of cages and crates containing wild animals, the calls and snorts echoing through the metal building. He had his gun at the ready just in case he were to encounter someone else.

He passed by a cage he thought was empty, but erupted with manic laughter that scared the shit out of him. He pointed his gun, fully expecting to see a mad man ready to fight but was instead met with a hyena cackling in the corner. He walked throughout the building tallying all the animals and keeping track of what was where. He made his way towards the barn, and got a sick feeling when there weren't any guards their either. But it was in the middle of the night and it was a small operation, so he hoped they just didn't have many people on site.

He snuck in through a back door and just like the warehouse, the air was alive with the sounds of animals in distress. They paced their small cells, some just giving up completely and laying down. He was about to leave and call Cynthia on his watch and tell her where the animals were. She'd send in the animal control team to rescue and relocate them so they wouldn't have to live this shitty life anymore.

He was walking down the middle isle when a small lump caught his eye. At first he didn't pay it any mind but then it started moving and he gasped. A little joey started making its way towards him, and he looked over his shoulder to check no one was there before he knelt down and picked it up. It was small, definitely too small to be without its mom. And he knew enough about kangaroos to know that a baby this young shouldn't be out of a pouch. It tried to burrow closer to his body, and he felt his heart melt. He picked up a tote bag and let him crawl inside, slinging the strap over his shoulder and supporting the joey's weight with his arm. He still felt like something wasn't right and made his way to the hanger and snuck in.

It wasn't pretty. It looked like a massacre, blood and bodies strewn across the floor. Curt counted about 26. Looks like things got a little messy for Owen. Oh well, he'd rather he not be the one to get chewed out by his boss, but that still didn't tell him where Owen was. He heard a noise in the next room and ducked behind a small plane. A man walked out and grabbed a few things: rope, pliers, a whip, Curt knew what that meant. And he could bet he knew the British agent he planned to use it on.

He crept along silently and peaked inside the room he had just left and lo and behold, there was Owen, tied to a chair and unconscious. He drew his gun  and hid behind the door, waiting for him to come back in, and when he did, he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the back of his head and he fell to the ground. He drug the body out of the room before glancing back at his unconscious friend and smirked to himself. Since that part was already done, he might as well get his revenge and have a good time.

He stripped one of the bodies and used their clothes as a disguise so that Owen wouldn't recognize him straight away. He pulled the red bandana over his nose to conceal his face and pulled his Akubra lower, casting his face in shadow. He gently placed the bag with the joey in the corner for him to keep an eye on. He checked his watch, and he had all the time in the world if he wanted. Cynthia told him to take however long he needed to find the animals and help Owen with his part of the mission if he finished early. He considered this helping.

He grabbed the short whip off the ground and stood back, raising his hand in the air and bringing it down fast with a loud crack. Owen jerked awake with a gasp and struggled in his bonds before narrowing his eyes at Curt.

He opened his mouth and spoke with a thick Australian accent. "'Ello sleepy head. Nice to see you're awake." When he got no response, he took a step forward. "Looks like you had a lotta fun with my men out there. Now if ya don't mind, I'd like to have me own fun."

"Be my guest, I was getting quite bored," Owen drawled, an amused and cocky smirk plastered on his face. God he wanted to smack it off. Then he remembered: he could. He delivered a nasty backhand to his right cheek, and Owen chuckled.

"You hit like a bitch."

"Why do you think I have so many tools mate?" Now it was Curt who was smirking seeing the fleeting look of fear pass over his friend's face. He grabbed the large bowie knife from his belt and yanked Owen forward by the collar of his shirt. He reeled his head back, a rough gurgling sound coming from the back of his throat before leaning up again and launched a loogie in Curt's face. Thankfully it landed on the bandana, and he laughed.

"Shouldn't a done that." He took the knife and slowly sliced open Owen's kaki shirt, watching each button as it popped off. He applied just enough pressure to break the skin, leaving a pencil thin line of blood on his chest, but not hard enough to do any real damage. He stepped back to admire his bare chest, slowly rising and falling with steady, even breaths.

"Now tell me, what all do you know about us?"

"Well obviously I know where your base is," he quipped. Curt rolled his eyes and grabbed the large bucket of ice water. He splashed him with it and relished how Owen sputtered and shivered. Revenge was a dish best served cold after all. "I also know I killed a good bit of your men-"

"Enough!" He threw more of the freezing water in his face. Owen shook his head like a dog trying to dry himself off since he couldn't wipe his face. "I don't like your cocky tone, so I'm gonna set you straight."

"Pft, that won't work-" Okay Curt had to hand it to him, that one was pretty good. The fact that he winked at him didn't help either, and now Curt wondered if he had him figured out. Regardless, he still had more tricks up his sleeve. After all, most of the fun in their little game came from playing along with the other's antics.

"What do you know about the drug smugglin' operation?" He made a show of cracking the whip again. Owen smirked and met his eyes, "Everything. And I'll have you know I've already alerted my men, and they're already on their way. You'll be surrounded within the hour," he bluffed.

"Well then, I better get busy shouldn't I?" Curt took a step back, putting enough distance between himself and Owen so that the whip would sting but wouldn't cut deep into his skin. He barely even flinched each time it bit into his skin. Curt admired his bare chest, seeing the small red whelps start to rise.

A small rustling sound made him look in the corner and he saw the little joey crawl out of the sack. Owen looked over and gasped.

"Where the bloody hell did that thing come from?" he asked incredulously.

"That's none a your bloody business!" he hissed, gingerly picking him up. He got a devilish idea and tugged the bandana down so that Owen could see his evil grin. "Y'know, this fella's gonna grow up nice an' strong. A full grown kangaroo can disembowel a predator in a fight, but they're more well known for their kicks." Curt shifted his hold from a cradling position in favor of holding his sides underneath the armpits. Even though he was a baby, he was still pretty heavy and Curt's arms were getting tired. He was much easier to hold in the sack.

Apparently he wasn't a fan of the new technique and started squirming: perfect. Owen's legs were tied to each of the front legs of the chair, leaving him wide open. Curt brought the kangaroo closer and just as he planned, it kicked his square in the balls. Owen let out a loud groan and doubled forward as best as he could. The joey delivered another swift kick before Curt pulled away and took him back to the bag.

"In ya go lil guy, good work," he praised. He turned back to Owen, who was still recovering. He was having a great time, but knew he should start to wrap it up. He glanced at the coiled rope by his foot then back at Owen. Well, let's just say it wouldn't be the first time he choked him.

"Last chance mate. You wanna tell me what you know?" he said, crouching in front of him. Owen slammed their skulls together, and Curt brought his hand up to rub his forehead. He was even more excited to do this after that.

He unwound the rope and stood behind him. "Better take a deep breath mate. You're gonna need it." Before Owen could undeniably make some smart ass remark, Curt wrapped it around his throat and pulled back. He used the perfect amount of pressure that he knew Owen liked. He held for a few more seconds before letting the rope go slack. Owen gasped, and Curt leaned over his shoulder and whispered.

"Enjoying yourself Carvour?"

His face was flushed from lack of breath and embarrassment.

"How'd you know I like being choked?"

"You of all people should know personal history has its benefits," he said with a flourish, taking off his hat and shoving it on Owen's, rubbing it harshly to thoroughly mess up his hair. Based on his expression, he knew he would bat his hand away if he wasn't tied to the chair.

"Curt Mega you sly dog, I'd know that ass anywhere," he teased. Curt scoffed, "Really? My ass is what gave it away?"

"Well you hid your face so well I that I could barely tell it was you, barely."

Curt rolled his eyes, "Yeah I'm not like you," he said, beginning to untie him. Owen furrowed his brows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Curt smirked, "That jaw's a dead give away," he gently grabbed his chin. Owen jerked his head away.

"You ass, you know I'm sensitive about that."

Curt finished untying him and cupped his face, "I meant it as a compliment. It makes you unique." Owen tried to bite his hand and he yanked it away.

"You sure enjoyed doing a number to me," he mused, brushing himself off and lightly slapping Curt's arm. "Loved the accent though, very sexy."

Curt shrugged, "Well Australian is just a sexier version of British." Owen pulled him a bit closer and growled, "I'll make you take that back."

"I'll look forward to it. But first we should probably get out of here." Owen sighed, "You're right. I will say, the kangaroo was a surprise. Where'd you find him?"

"He was out of his cage and needed a pouch, so I put him in that bag and brought him with me," he explained, walking over and picking him back up. He gently bounced him in his arms. He's a kangaroo, it should be comforting, right? Owen smiled at him.

"You really are just a big softie aren't you?" he teased. Curt narrowed his eyes, "Careful, or I just might let him kick you in the balls again." Now it was his turn to smirk as the smile fell from Owen's face. Curt called Cynthia as they made their way outside.

"Mega, it's about damn time I heard from you."

"You're the one who said to take my time," he justified. Cynthia frowned.

"Yes, but if I'd known you'd be so fucking slow I would've told you to get your ass in gear! Now where are they keeping the animals?"

"In both the barn and the warehouse, looks like there's just over a hundred."

"Alright, I'll send the animal control unit in and you can head back to base."

Owen shoved his head next to Curt's so that his face could be seen by the watch's camera, "Why don't you show her your cute little pet?" Curt made a motion to tell him to shut up, but Cynthia cut him off.

"What the fuck is he talking about Mega?"

"First of all, it's not that bad and I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you, but I found a little joey without its mom, so I let it climb in this sack," he explained. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose before taking a long drag from her cigarette.

"Let me see it." Curt furrowed his brow in confusion, "What?"

"Baby kangaroos are cute as fuck, let me see it!" she ordered. Curt scrambled to fold down the opening of the bag, showing her the sleeping joey. She placed a hand over her heart and a warm smile was plastered on her face. "God that's cute. But we'll put it in an animal rehab center where someone actually qualified can care for it."

Curt nodded, "That's for the best. And just a warning, things got a bit messy on Owen's end, and I wanted to make sure you knew I had no part in it." Owen smacked him on the back of the head, and he snickered. "You should've seen it; it looked like the Boston Massacre!"

"Is that a Brit joke?" Owen asked in shock the same time as Cynthia threw her head back in laughter.

"That's a good one Curt, remind me to tell Susan, he'll get a kick out of it!" She took another puff from her cigarette, "Yeah they sure do love staining everything as red as their coats," she joked at his expense, and Curt laughed along with her. "Hey Owen," she said, gaining his attention.

"Yes dear?" he asked, slight annoyance in his voice. "What's a British person's favorite restaurant?" She didn't give him a chance to answer before she spoke again. "Red Lobster. Get it?" Owen nodded, staring at the ground. Damnit, that was a pretty good one. "There should be a team arriving in a half hour, after that you can leave." Curt nodded and turned off his watch.

"She's always more pleasant over the comms." When over didn't answer he looked over at him and was met with a hard glare.

"Oh c'mon you know we're only joking! We love you posh bastards! We're American, we can't help making British jokes," he defended.

"Oh shut up and shove a cheeseburger down your gob." Curt chuckled and slung an arm over his shoulder. He felt accomplished, and he knew he couldn't wait to see what Owen had up his sleeve next.