Senator Billy hadn't expected Owen to humiliate him like that, but politicians had long since developed skin as thick as a fortress wall—he didn't care. He simply shot Owen a glare and turned toward the lead senator, saying, "Mr. Chairman, the IMF has always been like a tumor on America—operating outside our legal system. They constantly stage dramatic events just to assert their presence. These so-called world-ending crises? I seriously suspect they're exaggerations, if not outright staged."
What a brutal accusation.
Although Owen didn't agree with the IMF team's methods, he would never go so far. Since joining CTU, he'd made an effort to look into some of the IMF's past operations. Though much of it was classified, fragmented information had trickled down. What was certain was that the IMF had saved America multiple times. Calling their efforts world-saving wasn't an exaggeration. Billy's statement wiped all that away with a single blow.
As expected, Ethan could tolerate a lot, but not this.
"Mr. Chairman, every mission the IMF has undertaken is on record—some even ordered directly by past presidents. We may not be conventional, and our methods may be extreme, but our contribution to America is beyond question."
Ethan was visibly emotional. Billy kept arguing. The room grew chaotic.
The chairman finally banged his gavel. Once the room fell quiet again, he spoke solemnly. "Congress recognizes the IMF's contributions to global security—that's not in dispute. But Senator Billy isn't wrong, either. Your repeated disregard for procedure, your willingness to gamble everything on every mission—it's reckless. Frankly, your success seems more like luck than skill. And I believe, as of today, that luck has run out. This is also President Palmer's decision, and we respect it."
The crisp sound of the gavel sealed the IMF's fate.
The IMF was officially disbanded. Given their past contributions, no legal action would be taken against its members. Each was free to choose whether to remain with the CIA or retire.
Owen quietly exited the Capitol and watched Ethan's solitary figure walk away. He had just witnessed the fall of a legendary elite unit, and it left a heavy feeling in his heart.
He didn't know what Ethan's future held. They had never been especially close—the time they'd spent as adversaries nearly equaled their time as allies. Their connection had always been more about mutual respect than friendship.
It was obvious why those politicians had dragged him into the hearing today: a power play. A show of force. A warning. IMF's situation was unique. Even though the president had ordered their disbandment, Congress had the power to overrule it. In other words, the final decision had always rested with them.
The Rapid Response Team was no different. Congress had authorized its formation, so its dissolution also required their approval.
Owen didn't dwell on it. The power struggle between the president and Congress was eternal. Politics was the art of compromise. CTU was the president's sword—and the Rapid Response Team was its tip. Giving that up would risk alienating Jack Bauer. And where else could he find such loyal, capable subordinates?
Owen drove out of the Capitol, collected his sidearm from security, and headed straight home. The hearing had eaten up his whole morning. Now it was just about lunchtime, and he hadn't forgotten the date he promised Monica.
He called her from the road, picked her up from a nearby street, and they headed to their favorite newly opened Italian restaurant.
Truth be told, Owen wasn't big on Italian food—he still preferred the Chinese cuisine of his previous life. But Monica loved it, and Owen was happy to indulge her.
The lunch was extravagant. Owen didn't care—Monica ordered everything. Together they sampled Italian tortellini, prosciutto, Roman-style tripe stew, Florentine T-bone steak, and cheese with black cherry sauce.
Owen couldn't help noticing some rather odd dishes on the menu: things like black cuttlefish—just a dark, gooey mess that looked utterly unappetizing. There was also osso buco risotto, which just looked weird. Italians really seemed to love tripe—it was everywhere: in soups, sausages, and entrées.
The meal lasted a full three hours. Monica paid, and Owen left thoroughly satisfied. The frustrations of the morning's hearing were gone.
As they drove home, they had barely reached the doorstep when Owen's phone rang. It was Jack.
Owen figured he wanted to talk about the hearing, but Jack didn't give him the chance.
"Owen, get to HQ. Now."
Owen glanced at Monica and gave her an apologetic shrug. So much for their planned afternoon workout. The team had been given the day off after their last mission—but Jack had other plans for him.
After dropping Monica off, Owen drove straight back to CTU. Under Jack Bauer's leadership, CTU was always buzzing. Operations ran 24/7 in three shifts; the lights never went out.
As soon as he walked in, he went straight to Jack's office. A few quick steps took him to the second floor. He peeked inside, saw no one, and pushed the door open.
"Jack, what's going on?" he asked, irritation in his voice. Nobody likes getting called back to work on their day off.
Jack didn't acknowledge the tone. He simply looked Owen in the eye and said quietly, "Your stand-ins were attacked. Both of them are dead."
Owen froze, unable to react at first. Then, a realization struck him hard. "You mean…"
"Yes. The stand-ins posing as your mother and sister," Jack confirmed. "They were tortured and killed last night in their apartment. The killers were professionals. The methods were brutal."
Jack didn't wait for him to finish. Owen's heart sank.
Jack wasn't talking about body doubles for Owen himself—but a special CTU protection protocol for agents with enemies. Owen had many.
For agents like him, CTU had a unique system. For example, his mother and sister were protected by planting stand-ins—people who looked just like them, with entirely fabricated lives. These stand-ins were heavily insured. If they were ever killed, the policy paid out to pre-arranged beneficiaries. That was how CTU got people to accept such dangerous assignments.
And the cover was thorough. Family photos with Owen from childhood to adulthood, digital records, school files, insurance, everything had been forged to match. Meanwhile, all traces of Owen's real family had been wiped from federal databases. Every member of the Rapid Response Team had the same protection—even Jack Bauer.
So this wasn't just an attack—it was a message.
Owen's mind immediately began racing. Who would go after his family?
He had no shortage of enemies: Makarov and his core group, Avril from White Mask, remnants of the Angel of Cruelty, surviving Colombian cartels. Any of them could be responsible.
But one memory stood out more than anything else: what Makarov had said to him on the plane, just a day ago.
"Everything you did today—I'll repay it tenfold."
(End of Chapter)
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