Counterterrorism in America

Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains as Owen slowly got out of bed. After washing up, he thought back to the previous night. By the time he returned home, it was nearly 1 a.m. His mother and sister had waited anxiously for him. Only after seeing him home safely did they finally relax and go to bed.

The family lived on Zilin Road, a residential neighborhood in Los Angeles. It was a typical middle-class area with neatly lined houses. The homes were spaced in such a way that neighbors didn't feel too isolated, but also maintained enough privacy.

Despite reaching adulthood, Owen never moved out. One reason was to spend more time with his family. Another reason was safety—crime rates in the U.S. weren't exactly reassuring. Owen barely remembered his father, who had passed away before Owen's "arrival" in this world. He might have seen him as a child, but those memories were vague at best.

Being the only man of the house, Owen felt responsible for staying. If he left, his mother and sister might become targets. His presence as a police officer not only safeguarded his own household but improved security for the entire neighborhood. The local residents were glad to have a cop living nearby.

Breakfast was a simple affair—cereal, milk, and fried eggs, prepared by his mother. She didn't mention the events of the previous night, but her dark circles revealed how little sleep she'd gotten.

Owen hated seeing her worry. He repeatedly reassured her, promising to be more cautious in the future. Only after hearing this several times did she finally feel somewhat comforted.

After breakfast, his mother drove off in her nearly ten-year-old Ford. She worked at a large corporation where punctuality was a must. Owen took his sister, Amanda, to the school bus stop in his Chevy.

As they left the house, the neighbor across the street, Mr. McCall, was also heading out.

"Hey, Mr. McCall! Starting your shift?" Owen greeted him.

"Hey, Owen. How many times do I have to tell you—call me Robert. Oh, and by the way... you did great yesterday."

Mr. McCall, a taxi driver, had clearly seen the news. Owen chuckled, shrugged, and waved goodbye before driving off with Amanda.

"Steve, can I tell everyone at school about what you did last night?" Amanda asked excitedly.

"Of course," Owen replied.

"Awesome! They'll be so jealous!"

Owen laughed. Typical teenager, he thought. Amanda, who had previously shown little interest in his job as a cop, was now thrilled to brag about her brother's exploits.

After dropping Amanda off at the bus stop, Owen headed to the station. The moment he stepped inside, he was met with a flood of greetings and cheers.

"Hey, hero! Looking sharp today!"

"Come on, Emily, you know I'm not your type..."

"Yo, tell us what happened!"

"Sure, but you're buying me a drink first."

"Steve, man, you were amazing!"

"Don't tell me you're gonna roast me too, Coleman..."

As Owen made his way through the station, nearly everyone had something to say to him. Even Susan, the woman in charge of mail deliveries, praised him and joked about introducing him to her granddaughter. The thought made Owen shudder—he'd met the girl before, and she was just as hefty as Susan herself.

When Owen arrived at the third-floor detective office, he saw through the glass that several colleagues were already there. As soon as he walked in, a round of applause broke out. The entire team grinned and clapped enthusiastically.

Scratching his head in embarrassment—an old habit from his previous life—Owen was greeted by Detective George "Old Man" with a warm smile.

"Our hero has returned!" George announced jovially.

"Come on, George, you're exaggerating..." Owen began, but before he could finish, cheers erupted from the patrol division. Officers swarmed in and hoisted him into the air, tossing him up and catching him like a hero from a sports movie. The commotion drew curious onlookers from other departments, who gathered at the door to watch the celebration.

After being thrown into the air several times, Owen was finally set down. More officers from different units came by to offer congratulations. Owen thanked each of them until the crowd dispersed.

Carlos finally found an opening to approach him. "Dude, you're all over the news. I bet Oprah's talk show will be calling you any minute, haha!"

Carl, Owen's former partner from the patrol division, chimed in with a playful punch to his shoulder. "He's right. Turn on any news channel—they're replaying that scene where you jumped off the roof like it's a Hollywood blockbuster. You're a superstar now. Hell, if you ran for mayor of L.A., you'd probably win."

"Ha ha ha…"

The group burst into laughter. Carl wasn't officially part of the detective division but frequently visited. He and Owen had once worked together to assist the DEA in taking down a drug lord and had remained close friends since.

Owen learned that a TV station had captured footage of his rooftop jump. He hadn't known because after the operation, he went straight to CTU. In a foul mood afterward, he had gone home to sleep without checking the news. Now curious, he found a television and watched the replay.

As he and his friends watched, Carlos and Carl kept teasing him about the more dramatic moments. Owen, however, felt a chill run down his spine as he saw himself making the leap.

Carlos checked his watch and patted Owen's shoulder. "Alright, I gotta get going—my shift's about to start. Hey, how about we hit Wildcat Bar tonight to celebrate your survival?"

"Sounds good to me," Owen agreed.

"Great. See you tonight."

They made plans to meet at the Wildcat Bar, a favorite hangout for West Hollywood officers. It served as both a watering hole and a place to unwind after shifts.

With most of his colleagues back to work, Owen found himself with little to do. Technically, he was still on medical leave. He considered officially checking out of the hospital but was met with firm resistance from George.

"You've got to be kidding me," George scoffed. "You just took down a gang of terrorists and got yourself plastered all over the news. If I let you jump straight back into work, I'd get crucified. The media's already tearing into Haviland. I'm not about to end up like him."

Reluctantly, Owen accepted that he wouldn't be getting back to business anytime soon. For now, he'd just have to wait it out.

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