The past two days had been frustrating for Owen. Because he had gotten entangled in the DEA's anti-drug operation, he lost a full day, which meant the planned trip to Hawaii had to be scrapped. Both Monica and Amanda were loaded with resentment toward him.
Owen had to pull out all the stops to soothe them—he promised a winter trip to Switzerland for skiing to pacify the girls. As for Monica, Owen had to go all in: gifts, sweet talk, and some rather draining "male charm." It took the sacrifice of countless metaphorical offspring, but he finally got her smiling again.
The short vacation flew by. Owen and Monica had to return to duty, but their mother and McCall were still in the Maldives. That left Amanda alone at home—not ideal.
Owen had planned to let Amanda stay over at Kim's, but as luck would have it, Kim's stepfather had arranged a family trip of his own. With that option off the table, Owen had to resort to backup plans. He asked Old Man George to assign more patrols to the neighborhood and specifically called on Carl, who agreed to drop by and keep an eye on Amanda.
One day later, Owen and Monica returned to CTU headquarters in Washington.
"Hey Boss! Hey Monica!"
Right as they stepped out of the airport terminal, Owen spotted Heartbeat leaning against a car with a sultry woman in his arms, waving as casually as ever. Still the same cocky look—shaved head, gold chain, signature sunglasses.
The woman beside him was striking—good figure, sharp features. Turned out Heartbeat had done well for himself. The surprise? She wasn't just any pretty face—she was an FBI field agent. How they ended up together, Owen didn't even ask.
Sitting in the car, Owen casually asked, "So... what's the word? Anything happen while we were gone?"
"Smooth sailing," Heartbeat replied smugly. "This is D.C., man—political epicenter, top-tier security, highest concentration of law enforcement and tactical units in the country. Terrorists don't even think about coming here."
Owen shrugged. He had to admit—D.C. was secure. Low gun violence compared to other cities, and terrorist activity was practically nonexistent. Ghost and his external field team had practically been rusting from idleness. With the CTU Rapid Response Team finally back, they were at least getting some joint training in to break up the boredom.
With no major cases on the docket, Owen spent his days familiarizing himself and the team with global terrorist intel, and conducting drills with Ghost's team. Maintaining muscle memory and danger awareness was Owen's top priority.
Perfect timing—the new SEAL training round was about to begin. This wasn't some light refresher course, either. All CTU branches had been given one slot each. SEAL special training was legendary—and not in a good way. It was grueling, intense, and had a recorded fatality rate. Just hearing about it scared most people off. Between the sadistic regimens and the very real possibility of death, the dropout rate was massive.
Owen had originally wanted to send Heartbeat to toughen him up, but Jack had other plans. The one spot for D.C. was already given to Can Opener. Owen didn't argue.
Two days of relative quiet later, Owen finally received a call from Swagger. He was arriving in D.C. tomorrow.
They arranged a meeting time, and Owen hung up. He had no idea what Swagger had been up to all this time. It had been weeks since his notification.
The next day, at Washington National Airport, Owen arrived not just alone but brought Monica and Heartbeat with him. If they were going to be a team, they needed to start bonding early.
The monitor showed that Swagger's flight had landed, but he still hadn't come through the exit. Owen waited near the gate, scanning the faces, and then—there he was.
"Hahaha, man! You finally made it!"
Owen grinned wide and pulled the man into a bear hug. Monica and Heartbeat followed behind. They didn't know Swagger personally, but they'd heard the stories. The assassination of the Ethiopian Archbishop had been a national headline.
Swagger wore a plain jacket and jeans, sunglasses on, one small duffel slung over his shoulder. He greeted Owen with a calm embrace.
"How've you been, man?"
"Pretty good. You—uh—" Owen started to reply, but cut himself off. The guy in front of him looked like Swagger… but not quite. The voice was dead-on, but the face had been altered just enough to make Owen hesitate.
His first thought: a Mission Impossible-style silicone mask. But he reached out to touch—real skin.
Swagger swatted his hand away. "Cut it out. It's me. I just had a bit of facial work done. Minor changes."
Owen examined more closely. Yeah, it was still Swagger's face—but the angles around his eyes and mouth were a little sharper, a little softer in places. The alterations were subtle but effective.
People who knew him well would recognize him. But strangers? They wouldn't even think twice. At most, they'd say he looked familiar.
"You got plastic surgery?"
"Yeah. Safer that way."
Owen circled him like a curious wolf. "One question: how the hell did you get past customs?"
Swagger smirked. "Take a guess."
Ignoring the dig, Heartbeat jumped in first, ever the extrovert. "I'm Heartbeat—assault specialist. Welcome to the team, man."
"Monica. Precision shooter. You can call me IQ."
Monica had mellowed since getting together with Owen—less frosty, more open. She gave a polite nod.
Swagger introduced himself with a half-grin. "Let's skip the old name. My new ID says Tony Stark, but I hate it. Makes me sound like some billionaire playboy. Just call me Hawkeye. That's what Owen listed me as—team sniper."
"Hawkeye it is!" Owen clapped him on the back. "You're the one keeping our asses safe from a mile away. You get first pick of the gear—just make your shots count, brother."
"Alright, let's get back to HQ."
Owen slung his arm around Swagger's shoulder as they headed to the parking lot. Heartbeat took the bag from him like a good teammate.
Swagger's arrival wasn't just good news for Owen—Monica and Heartbeat were thrilled too. Having a legendary sniper on the squad wasn't just morale-boosting—it was a game changer.
In a small rapid-response unit, a reliable sniper was more than just a gunman. He was an anchor, a lifeline, a force multiplier. When done right, he didn't just take out targets—he saved lives.
And now, that man was part of their team.
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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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