Two days later, just as Owen had almost forgotten the matter, he received a call from Swagger.
"Owen, it's me…"
Owen, who had been discussing tactical coordination with Simon Riley, quickly found an excuse and slipped away to a private spot.
"Wait. Call me back in one minute."
He hung up, then attached a special device to his phone—one that ensured his call couldn't be intercepted.
Exactly one minute later, Swagger called again.
"It's secure now. Let me tell you everything…"
Owen explained everything to Swagger in detail: the creation of the Rapid Response Team, their responsibilities, how his new identity would be handled, the President's position, and Jack Bauer's support.
"Brother, come home. Come back and help me. I don't want you wandering from country to country anymore…"
There was silence on the other end. Owen knew Swagger had every reason to feel bitter, so he pressed on: "Look, I get it. You're angry, but this really is the best possible outcome…"
"No. I'm not serving that goddamn America again. Think about how that damned country treated me—" Click. The call disconnected.
Owen was stunned at how decisively Swagger had hung up. He'd anticipated a possible refusal, considering how the U.S. had treated him, enough to chill even the warmest patriot's heart. Still, he couldn't help but feel frustrated—his luck had been nothing but rotten lately. Every one of his ideal candidates for the team had turned him down one after another.
Just as he was stewing in frustration, the phone rang again—Swagger's number.
"I changed my mind. I'm in. But not for that damn country. I'm doing it for you, brother. I don't want to hear one day that you died and rotted in some corner of the world…"
A grin stretched across Owen's face. "Great. Send me your location. I'll mail you the identity documents right away…"
…
Two days later, Swagger called again—he had received his new identity and would return to the U.S. within a couple of days. Owen promised to pick him up personally.
After all they'd been through together, Owen was thrilled his brother in arms would finally set foot on American soil again. Swagger might claim he hated the country, but Owen knew it was politics he loathed—not the place or the people. Deep down, Swagger still loved his homeland.
Those two days of waiting felt long, but the team stayed busy.
Washington was the nation's capital and the epicenter of U.S. politics. Pulling off a terrorist attack here was ten times harder than anywhere else. Anyone crazy enough to try it was either a clueless rookie or a bitter enemy desperate to dismantle America from within. But regardless of motive, carrying out an attack here was a max-difficulty mission—no one had ever succeeded.
With D.C. secured by police, CTU, CIA, FBI, and the military, any would-be terrorist would have to be suicidal to target the capital.
So, the D.C. CTU headquarters was actually quieter than its regional counterparts. With time on his hands, Simon Riley spent hours training with Owen, who wasn't about to let such a treasure trove of SAS knowledge go to waste.
Owen had previously trained under the Marine-style discipline of SWAT, then completed SEAL training. Now, getting hands-on with the SAS doctrine was an invaluable learning experience.
Simon didn't hold back—every question received a clear answer. He even had his own field team run joint exercises with the Rapid Response Unit. His men, molded by his hand, operated with pure SAS flavor, and Owen gained a great deal from it.
As a former SAS ace, Simon Riley had it all: sharp instincts, flawless teamwork, sound leadership, and a full range of military skills. He could be both the blade and the brain—practically a complete package.
Owen admired him deeply. Sure, the Rapid Response Unit had specialists who were the best in specific areas, but Simon was the most well-rounded by far. No obvious weaknesses, strong in all categories.
Sitting at his desk, Owen couldn't help but daydream—maybe he could poach Simon. But this time, it wasn't just anyone's team he was eyeing—it was the direct subordinate of his own boss. A move like that might be hard to justify.
Everyone could see that Jack held Simon in high regard. That alone made Owen hesitate.
Just as he was debating, Janie suddenly snapped her fingers and told everyone to quiet down. She pointed at the central screen—something was changing. At the same time, Jack Bauer descended into the operations floor.
"We now have control of Flight 343. All personnel and the aircraft are under our command… You must immediately release Sarayev, whom you are unlawfully detaining… The honor of Chechnya will not be trampled by you…"
Janie was playing an audio recording, while the screen displayed details of a plane. Her voice filled the room:
"Flight 343 is a Boeing 747 double-decker that took off from Athens this morning en route to Washington. It has 248 people onboard, including crew. Ten minutes ago, the hijackers declared they had taken control of the plane. The control tower confirmed it has lost contact."
The message continued: "Fulfill our demand—release Sarayev and escort him to Talati Airport. A small aircraft will take him from there. No tricks, or everyone on this flight dies. Once Sarayev is free, we'll land in Bogotá and release half the hostages. The U.S. government must provide enough fuel and $50 million in gold. Also—tell your president, if he dares meddle in the Middle East again, there will be consequences…"
Jack's brow furrowed. He turned to Janie. "Have we ID'd the voice?"
"We're working on it."
He then turned to Simon Riley. "Simon, bring Sarayev here. Let's see if he recognizes the voice."
Simon nodded and soon returned with a disheveled Sarayev in prison garb. The man looked worn out—the sleep deprivation torture had taken a toll.
Janie played the recording again. Simon slammed a fist into Sarayev's gut. "Who is that talking?"
Sarayev had been smirking at first, but the punch nearly made him lose control of his bowels. The past few days had broken him—he was no longer the hardened captive he'd once been. Realizing that a wrong answer could bring another round of torture, he listened carefully. But his expression remained puzzled.
"I don't recognize the voice. I swear—if I knew him, I'd definitely be able to tell…"
Judging by how eager he was to prove himself, Jack and the others exchanged glances. Sarayev was probably telling the truth—and that mattered a great deal.
------------------
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
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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