The FN Five-seven had deep significance for Owen. The first time he encountered this weapon was during the SWAT mission to escort the drug lord's son, Alex. That operation turned into a bloodbath. SWAT's B Team was completely wiped out, and A Team's Colson and Morris were killed in action. Castle was shot, and everyone else sustained injuries. If not for the heavy body armor with ceramic plates they were all wearing, the casualties would have been far worse.
Owen took a deep breath, steadied his emotions, and began shooting. He took his time, focusing on every shot—controlling his breathing, keeping the weapon steady, squeezing the trigger with precision. Though he had the advantage of "bullet time," he always trained under normal conditions. He was determined to improve himself the hard way.
Owen's marksmanship had reached a respectable level. While his static shooting typically landed in the 8 to 9 ring, it was in dynamic shooting where he excelled—because that's when "bullet time" gave him a real edge. His accuracy during movement was far beyond what others could match.
As Owen practiced with intense concentration, Simon Riley, who had just finished a mag with his ACR rifle, switched over to his sidearm. Coincidentally, he too was using a Five-seven. Noticing Owen, Simon watched him with curiosity—just as Owen had done earlier. He'd been quietly observing the Rapid Response Team's shooting and now had a rough sense of their capabilities.
Overall, they were skilled shooters, but the most impressive was the woman. Whether with a rifle or handgun, nearly every shot she fired hit the bullseye.
After a solid session, Owen stopped. Shooting was mentally taxing—especially his kind of training, where each shot was deliberate and methodical, not just trigger-pulling.
Seeing Monica hit the 10-ring consistently, even with weapons other than her go-to M4A1, brought a satisfied smile to Owen's face. His earlier concerns had been unnecessary. Master one, and you master many—his worries had been nothing more than overthinking.
Noticing Simon Riley also watching Monica, Owen gave him a polite smile. Simon returned it and left the range.
Half an hour later, Owen wrapped up first. He just needed to maintain his touch. Since Heartbeat and Monica were still training, he left them be and returned to the work area.
As soon as he stepped in, he saw Jack Bauer on the second floor, giving him an "OK" gesture. Owen's heart leapt—Jack must've meant the Swagger issue was settled.
Sure enough, by the time Owen sat down, his phone rang.
"Owen, the president's approved it. I'll arrange for Swagger to receive a new identity. You handle the rest…"
"Understood."
Owen pumped his fist in excitement, then quickly composed himself. Fortunately, everyone around was too busy to notice.
With Jack's go-ahead, Owen composed an email to Bob Lee Swagger.
Being wanted by the United States—the world's sole superpower—was a nightmare. America wasn't nicknamed "world police" for nothing. Its military forces were stationed across the globe, and its CIA and special operations forces didn't always know when someone had been falsely accused. If they caught wind of Swagger's location, his life would be at risk.
Swagger never stayed in one place too long, always drifting through Europe. Owen didn't have a phone number or address—just a secure email address that Swagger checked periodically. It was how Owen knew he was still alive.
He wrote the email carefully, using vague phrasing and generic terms. Better safe than sorry. Owen knew firsthand how powerful U.S. intelligence could be. Specific keywords could easily trigger CIA filters and get his message intercepted.
Once the email was sent, all Owen could do was wait—wait for Swagger to reply. He looked forward to the day his friend could return to the U.S. not as a fugitive, but as a man with a clean slate and a new identity.
…
Owen wasn't going to sit around just waiting for a reply. In the meantime, he reviewed all intel related to the VX nerve gas case.
He also went back over the profiles of key members of the Chechen militants and the Persian Gulf Will. Since the chemical weapons had vanished, there had been no new leads. Jack had ordered another round of interrogation on Sarayev, but it hadn't yielded much.
Thanks to Jack's efficient secretary, the language training program was set up the same afternoon. All three members of the team needed to study Arabic. Owen additionally needed to learn Russian, while Monica's linguistic arsenal was already more than sufficient—only Arabic was new to her. Heartbeat was assigned to study French.
The training rooms were in another section of CTU headquarters. Their first class—Arabic—had a surprising instructor: Simon Riley.
"Don't look so shocked. I may be British, but my Arabic is native-level. Even within the SAS, my Arabic was top-tier," Simon said as he walked in.
His teaching style was exceptional. If you didn't know he was ex-SAS, you'd think he was a professional instructor. After three hours, all three team members had learned a lot. Simon clearly had an academic streak beneath the operator's exterior.
The time spent together helped the team bond, and they started talking more freely. Owen, for one, was fascinated by Simon's background with the SAS.
After class:
"Instructor Riley…"
"Just call me Simon."
"Alright, Simon—know any good bars nearby? I'd like to buy you a drink tonight."
"Of course. There's a place called Time Bar. Excellent whiskey. But fair warning—I can drink. Hope you can keep up."
…
That night, the four of them met at Time Bar.
The place was pricey, but the drinks were fantastic, and the atmosphere warm and stylish.
Owen ordered a Johnnie Walker Blue; Monica went with a Frosted Margarita. They sat with Simon at a booth and chatted. Meanwhile, Heartbeat was off playing pool with one of Simon's team members.
"Simon, why do they call you 'Ghost'? Were you a sniper?"
"No," Simon replied. "I got that name because I'm someone who's already died once."
"Do tell," Monica said, raising her glass slightly. Though tipsy, Simon downed his drink without hesitation. His tolerance was solid—but he'd met his match in Monica. That woman was a born drinker. How she fit so much alcohol into her petite frame was anyone's guess.
Owen had discovered this "gift" by accident—one time he tried to get her drunk to gain the upper hand. Instead, he passed out and woke up embarrassed beyond words.
Since then, he'd learned to appreciate her hidden talents. Tonight, with Simon boasting about his alcohol tolerance, Owen had quietly unleashed Monica.
"Ever heard of Loba?" Simon asked.
"Yeah," Owen nodded.
Loba was a notorious terrorist. Owen had read about him—though the man was already dead by the time Owen joined CTU.
"I was still with the SAS when I was captured by Loba during a mission. He tried to brainwash me. Failed. Then he buried me alive. Thirteen hours later, I dug my way out using my teammate's jawbone. I barely made it."
Simon paused. The table went silent.
"But it didn't end there. He'd turned two of my teammates. They killed my family. I lost everything."
Owen and Monica were stunned. A simple nickname question had uncovered a deep scar.
Not sure if he should continue, Owen stayed quiet. Monica, hesitating only slightly, asked, "What happened next?"
"I wanted revenge," Simon said, eyes burning. "I hunted down the traitors. Then I infiltrated Loba's secret compound and killed him. That moment… everything I ever cared about was gone. My family, my team, my home, even my enemies. I had nothing left. I was just a ghost. That's why I took the name."
His voice was trembling with anger and grief. But as soon as the story left his lips, he slumped over, passed out on the bar.
The booze and memories had overwhelmed him.
Owen and Monica exchanged glances, filled with regret. They never should've asked.
------------------
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Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
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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