"Owen, what did you call for?"
"Owen, I'm thinking of forming a rapid response team within CTU. How would you feel about leading it?"
Owen sat bolt upright in bed. "What did you just say?"
"I'm planning to form a rapid response unit that reports directly to me. It won't be bound by regional jurisdiction—any domestic counterterrorism case can fall under its authority, and it'll have priority handling rights. It might even involve operations abroad. I want you to be the team leader. Can you do it?"
"Yes. Absolutely yes. I'm all in."
It was a good thing Jack couldn't see him, because Owen, still in bed, had just thrown up both arms and legs in agreement.
He'd suggested to Jack before that CTU should establish an action team modeled after those of the CIA—like IMF or Omega squads—both of which had proven formidable and effective.
Most domestic terrorist threats had roots abroad. If CTU never stepped outside its borders, it would always be treating symptoms, never causes.
Even now, with deep collaboration between CTU and CIA and significant intelligence sharing, that data was still someone else's. Nothing beat having it in your own hands.
"How will the team be structured?"
That was the part Owen cared about the most.
"The current idea is to keep it under ten people, with a structure similar to CTU—split between operations and support. There are no equipment restrictions. You'll have access to anything CTU has."
"What about personnel? Do you have anyone in mind?"
"Not yet. That part is up to you. You can recruit externally or pull from other branches. I'm giving you full authority."
Owen and Jack Bauer continued discussing other aspects of the team before ending the call. At that point, Owen had completely shaken off any sleepiness. His mind was racing with ideas for the new rapid response unit.
Jack had given him nearly absolute autonomy—but with one requirement: every member had to be a multi-role operator. At the very least, they all needed to be combat-capable.
Owen walked into the bathroom naked and turned on the shower. He adjusted the water temperature a bit hotter than usual. He'd had that habit since childhood—hot water helped him think.
As the water streamed down, he stood beneath the showerhead deep in thought, when suddenly his phone rang again.
After drying off, he checked the caller—it was Beth.
"Beth? What's up?"
"Owen, are you still in Los Angeles?"
"Yeah, I haven't left yet. What's going on?"
"Great. I need a favor. Some bodyguards are being sent over by a security company today. I want you to help vet them."
"Oh? Sure, no problem."
"Good. Send me your address and I'll send a car."
Owen agreed without hesitation. Beth had spent a fortune building a security team before, but they'd been wiped out by Attar. Even though the bounty on her had now been withdrawn, it was only natural she'd want to assemble a new team.
Owen was an expert in this area. Though he didn't want to be her personal security chief, helping evaluate candidates was something he could do.
Speaking of security teams, Owen couldn't help but think of Attar—the man who had started out as his enemy in the tunnel but later became an ally.
Owen had looked into him afterward and confirmed he was likely a disciple of John Wick. No wonder he was such a force—he'd single-handedly taken down Beth's entire security team.
Even though Owen had saved Attar in the tunnel—and had been saved by him in turn—that was separate from the fact that both he and his mentor John Wick were now wanted fugitives.
Not long after his shower, Beth's driver called and said he had arrived downstairs.
Owen got dressed and went down. As the car pulled into the parking lot of a building named Torch Tower, Owen noticed the iconic Charging Bull sculpture nearby—he realized the destination was Wall Street.
He figured Beth had chosen her company office for the interviews out of safety concerns. After all, Wall Street was the nerve center of global finance. If Wall Street sneezed, the world economy caught a cold.
The police presence here was dense, with officers stationed every few dozen meters. The precinct was only a few blocks away. You'd have to be crazy to try anything here.
The car parked, and Owen took the elevator up. Soon, he saw Beth.
"It's so good to see you, Owen. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"
Beth wasn't giving up. She still wanted Owen to be her head of security. He could name any price—she wouldn't haggle. Her sincerity was clear.
Owen would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. But he still preferred his work at CTU. Money wasn't that important to him. Maybe after a few more years, when he was tired of it all, he'd consider Beth's offer—but not yet.
Seeing him shake his head, Beth understood. He'd explained before, and she was only trying one last time.
"Alright, follow me. They're waiting in the main hall…"
Inside a closed-off hall, Owen met more than twenty bodyguard candidates.
"Here are their profiles. Have a look…"
Owen took the files and flipped through them. Being referred by major security firms meant these weren't amateurs.
Most came from special forces backgrounds—Green Berets, 160th SOAR, Rangers, Delta Force, Navy SEALs, Recon Marines, Special Weather Ops…
Without a doubt, these were all elite operators. Weapons and hand-to-hand were basic skills—they had real-world combat experience and could fill multiple roles.
After speaking with Beth, Owen understood exactly what she wanted.
The last incident had left a lasting impression on her. Her last chief of security had been sharp enough to notice Attar's presence. Though he ultimately died, he bought her the chance to escape.
So this time, Beth wanted personal bodyguards—people who could actually save her life. She needed two, and Owen's job was to identify the best two. The rest could be hired as secondary protection.
Owen had a clear strategy for selecting them.
All of these candidates were highly trained and experienced. Their combat skills were a given. What mattered now was reaction speed.
"Alright, you'll all follow my commands. If you mess up, step aside."
He explained the rules. Once everyone understood, he began.
"Left, right, right, turn…"
The instructions were simple: turn your head in the direction he said. When he said "turn," rotate your body in the direction your head was facing.
It sounded easy—but was deceptively difficult. At first, everyone performed well. But as Owen sped up the tempo, people began to make mistakes.
"Left, turn, turn, right, right, left, turn…"
As commands came faster, more candidates slipped up and stepped aside. It was their first time doing a test like this, so no one was discouraged—they just watched attentively.
The group dwindled. Owen's speed approached human reaction limits. Every few seconds, someone else was eliminated. In the end, four remained—two Black men and two white men.
Owen upped the difficulty again—this time adding forward and backward steps. After a few more rounds, two more were eliminated. Only one Black and one white candidate were left.
Owen looked at Beth—these were the ones.
She had watched the whole thing and already knew Owen's criteria.
All of these men were elite soldiers with combat experience and security training. Their professional capabilities were unquestionable.
What mattered now was reflexes.
In combat—whether saving or killing—he who reacts fastest has the advantage. Life or death often comes down to a fraction of a second.
"Congratulations, you're hired! My lawyer will contact your agency shortly…"
Beth hired the two top performers on the spot—and also hired the remaining four in reverse order of elimination. Her new security team was officially in place.
------------------
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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