The doors burst open, and several heavily armed soldiers rushed in. Outside, the Pentagon's security detail remained motionless.
The reason for their inaction became immediately clear as a charismatic figure stepped in behind the soldiers—David Palmer.
The air fell utterly silent for a moment. Then, everyone in the room stood up, faces lighting up with surprise and relief.
"Mr. President…"
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your concern. Lafferson, I know how much you've endured on my behalf during this time…"
President Palmer greeted the crowd with a wave, then approached Lafferson and embraced him warmly. Lafferson was still stunned, offering a stiff hug in return. Palmer gave his shoulder a friendly pat and smoothly took the main seat Lafferson had just occupied.
"Alright, everyone. The situation is urgent. Can someone bring me up to speed on what's happening?"
He gestured for everyone to sit, resuming the meeting as if nothing had happened.
After a brief hesitation, someone spoke up. "Mr. President…"
That title alone made the room's stance clear. Though Lafferson had technically just become president, Palmer's return shifted everything. The 25th Amendment didn't clarify whether a successor becomes a temporary or permanent president. And no one had ever faced a situation where the original president reappeared after a successor was sworn in.
In an instant, everyone mentally made their decision: Palmer was still the rightful President. With his return, the Cybostan code crisis could be neutralized. There was no need to support Lafferson over Palmer.
Lafferson, still standing, now realized he no longer had a seat—figuratively or literally. A flicker of awkwardness and frustration crossed his face before he quickly replaced it with a smile.
"This is wonderful news, Mr. President. God bless America. We're so glad you've returned safely…"
A true political veteran, Lafferson knew how to pivot. Though he had just been sworn in, the moment Palmer reappeared, he accepted that the presidency was no longer his. His performance was flawless—even among the seasoned actors in the room.
"Thank you, Lafferson. Thank you for all you've done during this time. I know better than anyone how difficult those decisions must have been…"
Palmer offered sincere appreciation, then turned to the Air Force general beside him. "General Chandler, cancel the airstrike immediately."
"Yes, Mr. President."
Chandler picked up the phone and swiftly relayed the order. The two F-22 Raptors already flying above Washington received the command and turned back.
"I apologize to all of you. Things were moving too fast. Martin—someone I trusted most—betrayed me. Jack Bauer is severely wounded. I wasn't sure who I could trust. That's why I stayed hidden, waiting for the enemy to fully reveal themselves. Now that we know who they are, I believe it's time to take back the White House."
Palmer's words reignited the room's morale. Without waiting for a response, he pressed on.
"Alright, someone tell me—what units do we currently have on site?"
"The Marine Corps, Mr. President."
Brigadier General Fran Hammer stood and saluted. "Your direct Marine Corps forces have surrounded the White House, awaiting your command. In addition, the Recon Company is fully deployed. Just say the word, and I guarantee we'll retake the White House."
"And the National Guard…"
Not wanting to be outdone, Lieutenant General Pavel of the Army quickly chimed in. Delta Force had already lost two teams during the crisis, and their reputation had taken a hit in Palmer's eyes—a serious issue.
"Furthermore, Delta Force's elite Alloy Squad is on-site. Mr. President, I ask that you give Delta a chance to restore its honor. I swear on the Army's name, Alloy Squad will be your blade."
In U.S. military politics, there's long been a rivalry among the service branches. Most fall under the Department of Defense—except for the Marine Corps, which answers directly to the President. This led to the joke that the Marines were the president's "favorite child," while the others were "stepchildren," often underfunded by comparison.
Now that the Marines had presented their elite Recon Company, the Army quickly countered with their own ace—Alloy Squad. To the public, SEAL Team 6 and Delta Force were the most renowned special ops units. But insiders knew Recon Company was just as formidable—just less advertised.
If Recon made headlines today, it could reshape America's special forces landscape, turning two top-tier forces into three. With limited resources at stake, the Army would not sit by quietly.
Both generals looked toward President Palmer, who understood their political motives perfectly. While emotionally inclined toward the Marines, this was a political decision, not a personal one. With the new "president" sworn in just moments ago, Palmer needed broad support.
He weighed his options. Before he could speak, a new voice unexpectedly cut through the room.
"Mr. President, the CTU rapid response team is also capable of handling this mission. Don't forget—our commander is still inside fighting those bastards. We're the best choice for the job."
The speaker was Ghost. Everyone now noticed the group behind him—men and women, few in number but radiating a fierce, intimidating aura. These were the armed operatives who had escorted Palmer into the Pentagon, but in his presence, no one had paid them much attention—until now.
"Of course. I'm fully aware of CTU's capabilities. That's never been in question."
Palmer praised them without hesitation. The rapid response team was, in fact, his most trusted asset. Technically, the Marines were his official force, but Palmer put more faith in CTU—because of their record, Owen's performance, and most of all, his faith in Jack Bauer.
Just then, Palmer's phone rang. He stepped aside and answered. On the line was Silly Sweetheart, one of the few people Owen trusted absolutely in an emergency. Her NSA background and elite tech skills made her an invaluable ally.
The President listened intently, his face growing grim. Everyone in the room silently watched, eager to know what was being said—clearly it was crucial, likely tied to the White House crisis.
After a long moment, Palmer returned to his seat and scanned the room.
"I hereby order the following: The Marine Recon Company and Delta's Alloy Squad will simultaneously launch a two-pronged assault on the White House. The Marine Corps and National Guard will remain in support and be ready to engage as needed. Overall command of the operation will go to Lieutenant General Pavel. As for the CTU rapid response team, I have a more critical task for you…"
With that, the decision was made. Palmer's orders balanced every side: Marines got a shot to prove themselves, Delta had a chance to restore their name, the Army was granted command to secure Defense Department support, and CTU—his most trusted unit—was assigned to a mission even more vital than retaking the White House.
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