To celebrate Old Man George's honorable retirement, a wild party followed the ceremony. Javier generously rented out a bar so everyone could enjoy themselves to the fullest.
Because of her pregnancy, Owen didn't bring Monica along. She tired easily now and went to bed early every night. A noisy party atmosphere just wasn't suitable for her.
At the party, Old Man George was undoubtedly the center of attention. Any trace of sadness was gone, and thanks to the alcohol, he was practically flying. He even proudly introduced his new companion—the stray dog that wouldn't let go of its beloved bone.
Owen didn't stay out too late. With Monica pregnant, this was a sensitive period, and he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
When he got home, Monica was already asleep. She was a light sleeper, though, and stirred when she heard him come in. Owen kissed her gently before heading to the bathroom. By the time he returned, she had fallen asleep again.
At two months pregnant, Monica's figure hadn't changed much. Looking at her still-beautiful form, Owen leaned in and kissed her forehead again before wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and both Owen and Monica woke naturally, guided by their well-honed internal clocks. Their lives had long been shaped by discipline and the semi-military lifestyle of CTU.
After washing up and enjoying a homemade breakfast prepared by Owen, the two headed out. Now that the journalist incident had been proven a misunderstanding, Owen had nothing else keeping him in Los Angeles. He planned to spend the day with Monica and return to Washington the next morning.
Though they'd mentioned catching up with Old Man George today, no one was about to start drinking in the early morning. Besides, George had probably drunk plenty the night before. Owen wasn't worried—Javier had promised to get him home safely.
That morning, the couple planned to visit SWAT. They had only briefly seen ASH and the others the day before and hadn't had a proper chance to catch up.
When they arrived, ASH and her team were in the middle of training. Upon seeing Owen and Monica, they paused and gathered around. Since Monica had left, two new members had joined A Squad, and B Squad had been reestablished. Owen didn't recognize any of the newcomers.
But they hadn't talked long when a bald man approached, leading another group. From the way they carried themselves, it was obvious they weren't here to make friends. Owen and the others stopped chatting and quietly observed them approach.
"ASH, how about a match?" the bald man said, casting a dismissive glance at Owen before focusing on ASH. His tone was mocking, his eyes condescending.
"Nick, take your guys and leave. I've got friends visiting today, and I don't want any trouble," ASH replied coldly, clearly not on good terms with the man.
"Ha! Sounds like you're scared of being embarrassed in front of your friends. So the great Israeli 'Hummingbird' isn't all that after all. Women should stay home and raise kids…"
The bald man's words made Owen and Monica frown. This guy was begging for a beating. Heatseeker immediately wanted to step forward, but ASH held him back. On the other side, the intruders were already squaring up.
"Who are these guys?" Owen whispered.
"The new B Squad leader. Supposedly a Delta Force veteran," Castle explained. "He's had a problem with ASH's position ever since he got here. Keeps provoking her. To be fair, he's not bad. Our new additions left, and the replacements haven't built much rapport yet. We've had two matches—they won both."
Owen nodded, then turned to the bald man. "You're ex-Delta?"
"Damn right," the man answered proudly, as the two men behind him puffed up their chests. Owen noticed their arm tattoos—the Delta Force insignia.
"You're from the same Delta that got shot out of the sky during the White House crisis?"
The moment Owen said it, the atmosphere changed. The trio's expressions twisted awkwardly.
During the White House attack, the Army had deployed two Black Hawks full of Delta Force troops. Both were shot down by anti-air missiles. No one made it out. The guys in front of Owen weren't on that mission, but they had belonged to the same unit. They had retired right after.
Owen's words had struck a nerve—hard. But they couldn't deny it. The whole incident had been broadcast live; there was no use pretending it didn't happen.
"Feeling salty? Great. Let's have a match. Monica and I used to be in A Squad. Womack can vouch. You pick the rules."
Owen then glanced at ASH, who, to the bald man's surprise, gave a sly smile and a shrug—she agreed.
"Fine. CQB scenario," the bald man said, not expecting ASH to agree. But all the better—he was already planning how to humiliate these arrogant visitors.
Owen and Monica eagerly went off to gear up.
"Are you sure this is okay?" ASH asked, eyeing Monica in full gear.
"No worries," Monica replied with a wave. "I looked into it. Two months in, as long as I'm careful, it's no big deal."
A pregnant woman? The bald man frowned, then gave his teammates a subtle signal: if they ended up engaging her, aim for non-lethal zones. Avoid trouble.
For fairness, the two new recruits didn't participate. A Squad fielded five: ASH, Owen, Monica, Heatseeker, and Castle. B Squad also brought five, though all were male.
The CQB exercise simulated an indoor encounter—no set path, no fixed positions. Victory was determined by eliminating all opposing forces.
The usual formation: Owen as point, Monica second. The match began. Castle breached the door, and Owen and Monica swept in.
They moved down narrow corridors, hugging walls, clearing intersections. Standard room-cutting protocol. After each angle was cleared, point and second swapped. Then contact—gunfire. Owen and Monica's synergy was seamless. B Squad members went down fast. The bald man got hit the moment they met, before he even raised his weapon, and Monica followed with a clean follow-up shot.
The match ended before B Squad even knew what hit them.
A Squad high-fived in celebration.
"God, that felt good," Heatseeker said. "Nothing beats working with you guys again."
He missed the old days. Owen and Monica's teamwork was unmatched. Back then, just the two of them could carry half the team's firepower. B Squad used to get steamrolled—and clearly, nothing had changed.
The other team looked frustrated. Owen and his squad just grinned and lowered their masks—ready for round two.
They crushed them again.
And then a third time.
Minutes later, the bald man and his squad trudged out of the training area, heads hung low.
A Squad's tactics weren't complex. It was pure firepower. CQB favored reaction time, and A Squad's point and second were absolute monsters. B Squad even tried sacrificing one man to buy time for another—but it didn't help. They still dropped on contact.
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