With the events of the Flight 343 hijacking summarized, the press secretary raised his hand, signaling the eager crowd of reporters to wait. "Please hold your questions. There will be a Q&A session at the end. For now, let me welcome the current President of the United States—David Palmer."
As the words left his lips, President David Palmer appeared from the side, solemn and dignified, cameras flashing nonstop as he approached the podium.
Standing at the podium, Palmer paused, waiting for the flashes to die down. Then he began.
"By now, thanks to the press secretary, you all have a basic understanding of the Flight 343 incident. I want to take this moment to reaffirm, with utmost seriousness, America's stance on terrorism."
Palmer drew a deep breath, locking eyes with the camera.
"No matter who you are. No matter what your goal. The United States will never compromise with terrorism. We will never turn a blind eye to threats from terrorist organizations. We will strike back—decisively. And we will call on our allies to join us in this fight."
His words rang out powerfully, and even as he delivered these strong words, camera shutters clicked like a hailstorm.
Suddenly, attention shifted to the large screen behind Palmer. A montage of combat footage played, while Palmer's voice narrated over it.
"At the same time as we rescued the passengers of Flight 343, U.S. military bases overseas launched coordinated strikes against the Chechen cell, the Amir Liberation Party, and the Will of the Persian Gulf. These three terrorist groups were all connected to today's nerve gas attack. America does not tolerate such acts. What you see behind me are real-time images sent from across the globe. Even now, Navy SEALs are engaging in battle with these threats."
Gasps and chaos rippled through the room. No one had expected such a swift and brutal response. Terrorists had tried to strike at America's heart—and within hours, America had struck back.
"This is my stance. And it is America's stance going forward—zero tolerance. Just before stepping onto this stage, I received an unconfirmed report that our SEALs successfully neutralized four Amir Liberation Party bases overseas. Their number three, Muyid Faha, was killed. We've already eliminated their number one. And during today's rescue mission, we took out number two. In short, the Amir Liberation Party has been wiped off the map."
President Palmer spoke with complete confidence. The SEALs' performance was stunning.
"God bless America!"
A spontaneous cheer erupted from a journalist below, which was caught live by every major national broadcast.
"Now I will turn it over to the press secretary for the remainder of the press conference."
Palmer stepped down from the podium and, flanked by Secret Service agents, disappeared backstage. Reporters hurled question after question, but the President offered no response.
The press secretary returned to the stage, sweeping the crowd with a glance. As he opened the floor to questions, nearly every reporter shot their hand into the air.
He picked randomly.
"Earlier you mentioned CTU boarded the plane mid-flight. Does that mean we now have this technology?"
"Absolutely. It's a recently developed military capability, thoroughly tested, though the specifics remain classified. The rescue was a success. CTU is evaluating whether to incorporate it into our standard anti-hijacking protocols."
Another reporter.
"I'm with the BBC. Why did the White House choose CTU instead of sending special forces?"
"That's easy—CTU is the specialist unit. The Counter-Terrorism Unit was founded specifically to address terrorist threats. No one does this better. Special forces are exceptional, yes—but the Pentagon uses them primarily for surgical strikes overseas. This mission wasn't a good fit for them. CTU had the right experience for this operation."
Next question.
"I'm with ABC. Can we speak with the CTU agents involved? Hear the details from them directly?"
"Unfortunately, that's not possible. The identities of CTU personnel are strictly confidential. All survivors, including passengers and crew, have signed NDAs. They're prohibited from revealing any details about CTU operatives—including gender, names, codenames, ethnicity, or appearance. This is for their protection. We hope you'll understand."
…
At the same time, as the press secretary handled questions on live TV, elsewhere in America, a man and a woman sat silently on a couch watching the broadcast.
Had Owen been there, he would have recognized them immediately—members of the elusive White Mask faction, Avril and Zheng Anshun, the same pair who had once plunged Los Angeles into chaos.
Their faces remained expressionless as they stared at the screen.
Riiing—riiiing…
A phone buzzed. Avril picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, then turned toward the room.
"Glaz, turn the volume down. It's the boss."
Behind her, a brawny man drinking vodka—Glaz—grunted and lowered the TV volume.
Avril walked over to the window and answered, her tone respectful.
"Yes… yes, Boss. Those idiots failed. I'm sorry. I didn't think they could screw up something that simple.
We gave them a foolproof plan. We helped them get the VX. We even designed how to sneak weapons onto the plane. But they still blew it…
Yes, I understand. I'll try the Russians next time. Yes, Makarov. I've heard of him… Yes, I'll wrap things up here and come home to you. I'm looking forward to it too."
She hung up and frowned as she glanced back at the bloodstained room behind her.
"Glaz, did you get anything about 'Hammer's' whereabouts?"
"Not yet. Let me try again."
Glaz put down his vodka, grabbed a hammer, and walked over to an old man lying near the wall. The man was barely conscious—beaten within an inch of his life. As Glaz approached, he trembled and tried to crawl away.
With one brutal swing, Glaz pinned the man's hand to the ground, eliciting a bone-chilling scream.
"Tell me where Eddie Castor is!" Glaz roared.
"Aah—I don't… I really don't know… Please let me go… We haven't spoken in years—I swear…"
"You heard him, Boss."
Glaz shrugged.
"Kill him. We're leaving."
Avril slipped on her coat. Her brother's killer would have to wait. For now, there was other work to be done.
Without a word, Avril and Zheng Anshun stepped out into the night. A scream rang out from inside. Moments later, Glaz exited too, calm and casual—like he'd just done something utterly mundane.
The three disappeared into the darkness.
…
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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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