Reborn in America’s Anti-Terror Unit

3:20 PM. Five hours had passed since Owen first learned that Jack's family had been kidnapped.

On a winding mountain road, a Volkswagen Beetle silently pulled into a clearing where a single van stood parked. Nina stepped out of the Beetle.

The surroundings were eerily quiet. Owen had not followed Nina's instruction to meet in the town called "Mertick." Instead, he'd chosen a location five kilometers away.

Just as he had a reason to see Nina, Nina certainly had her own reason to see him. Otherwise, she wouldn't have asked for a meeting. So Owen had arbitrarily changed the meeting point to a location more favorable to him—and just as he expected, Nina wasn't as domineering as she had pretended. She showed up anyway.

"I'm here, Owen. Come out..."

Nina looked around and called toward the empty driver's seat, knowing full well Owen was hiding somewhere nearby, watching her.

"Owen~~~"

As she called out for the second time, something cold pressed silently against the back of her head. Owen's voice came from behind her. "Sorry for changing the party location. Hope you don't mind."

Wearing a long trench coat, Owen reached around from behind and pulled her weapon from its holster, tossing it aside. Then, with his free hand, he thoroughly frisked her before circling around to face her.

He lowered the gun. At such close range, Nina wouldn't be faster than a bullet.

"Go ahead. You said you'd tell me the whole truth if I came. So, what's the truth?"

Owen's tone was half-mocking.

Nina lowered her hands, looking unconcerned.

"Sorry, I don't have anything to tell you."

"You called me out here just to say you've got nothing? Are you playing with me?"

"You're too naïve, Owen. The promise of truth was just a pretense. The real reason you're here wasn't me—it was him..."

Nina took two steps back and pointed off to the side.

From that direction, a tall Black man in a suit walked toward them. Behind him were several men, all armed, their expressions arrogant and fearless.

Owen raised his gun but quickly lowered it again as several red laser dots lit up his chest. The dots traced outward, and Owen quickly located the shooters who had him surrounded.

"Drop your weapon!"

Someone shouted. Owen obeyed, dropping his P226—though he deliberately tossed it close by. Nina kicked it further away, and everyone grinned mockingly, unaware he was still clutching a small phone in his hand.

"Steve Owen... we finally meet," the Black man said as he walked over casually, lighting a cigar.

"So, you're Isaac Johnson—the guy who framed Swag."

"Heh, he was just... unlucky."

The colonel exhaled a puff of smoke, a confident smirk on his face.

"Where is Swag?"

Owen ignored the question and countered, "Let's make a deal. You tell me what you're blackmailing Jack Bauer to do, and I'll tell you where Swag is."

"Hahaha~~ You're funny. Still trying to fish for info at a time like this..."

Colonel Johnson seemed genuinely amused and patted Owen on the shoulder.

"Not that it matters. I know he's nearby—probably got a sniper rifle aimed at my head. But he won't dare kill me."

"Why not?" Owen asked, puzzled.

"Because I'm the only one who can clear his name. If he wants to prove his innocence, he needs me alive. Otherwise, he'll forever be branded as the killer of the Ethiopian Archbishop."

Up on a ridge above the clearing, Swag frowned as he listened through the earpiece. But his focus remained unwavering. As a sniper, he had to become one with the surroundings.

"Do you hear that, Swag? You'll always carry that murder charge. You can't escape. One day, you'll be captured—maybe gunned down in a hail of bullets, maybe secretly executed by the government, or maybe you'll just die quietly in some dark alley. Even if you live, it'll be in the shadows. But I will walk in the sunlight, bathed in flowers and applause..."

Colonel Johnson kept taunting Swag, knowing he had to be close. If he could provoke him into making the slightest mistake, his men could take him out.

"Don't forget, we have evidence of you massacring civilians. You didn't think we only had one copy, did you?"

Owen fired back, hoping to keep Swag calm. Even he didn't know exactly where Swag was—he could only hear his breathing through the earpiece, which reassured him that Swag was still alive.

"So what?" Johnson sneered. "You think you dare release that evidence? Do you know how powerful the people behind me are? Anyone who leaks it will disappear. Not just him—his family, his friends, all of them will die.

You think you can protect them? You think Swag can? We already know about his connection to Sasha. The moment it goes public, Sasha dies. I'm sure you have family too—we just haven't found them yet. But with the resources I've got, how long do you think your secrets will stay hidden?

In America, there are no secrets—especially not from the rich."

Johnson's words sent a chill down Owen's spine. He was arrogant, yes—but everything he said was true.

During his time with CTU, Owen had seen plenty of ugly truths: the Pentagon's coup plot, CTU's own moles. Becky had told him about even more shocking internal scandals.

Johnson wasn't bluffing. To the elite, corporate giants, and wealthy families of America, there were no secrets.

"We haven't found any trace of Swag yet..."

A report came through Johnson's earpiece from one of his snipers stationed on the surrounding hills. That man was specifically placed to deal with Swag, but he was getting impatient.

What Johnson didn't know was that the moment his man finished reporting, a bullet pierced his skull.

In Owen's earpiece, Swag's calm voice came through: "Took out their sniper."

Relieved, Owen quietly pressed a button on his phone, and in his mind, began a countdown.

Five.

Four.

Three.

…

No one noticed his subtle move. Colonel Johnson was growing agitated. He had come personally this time to put an end to the problem once and for all.

Senator Dick hadn't contacted him in a while—definitely a sign of dissatisfaction. Johnson needed a result to prove his worth.

And nothing made a better case than Swag's head.

He had tried everything to flush Swag out and failed, but he was certain the man was near—his soldier's instincts screamed it.

Since words hadn't worked, the colonel tried something else. He suddenly spun around and pulled the trigger on Owen.

Just as Owen's countdown hit "one," the colonel fired.

Owen felt like a sledgehammer had smashed into his chest. He dropped to the ground.

At the same instant, a thunderous roar erupted behind him.

The M2HB heavy machine gun hidden in the van's trunk opened fire, flames spewing from the barrel. The 12.7mm rounds shredded through the van's body, spitting lines of blazing death along its preprogrammed firing arc.

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