Reborn in 24 TV SHOW

Owen felt that today was particularly unlucky. A simple security task had turned into a rocket attack, and after chasing the perpetrator through several streets, they still managed to escape.

Now, even driving seemed to be a hassle—he had just been rear-ended. And it wasn't just any car he was driving; it was the badass-looking Bearcat G3 police armored vehicle. For someone to rear-end that, the driver behind must have nerves of steel.

Stepping out of the car, Owen walked toward the rear. The vehicle that had hit him was a Cadillac, a car typically favored by the wealthy. Owen looked at the driver's seat and saw a young man inside.

Alex, sitting in the car, cursed his bad luck. He had only just taken over his father's drug business and had personally dealt with someone who had stolen money from his father the previous night. And now, here he was, practically delivering himself to the authorities—and to top it off, he had crashed into a police vehicle.

Seeing the fully armed officer stepping out of the car, Alex's palms began to sweat. He feared that the man would recognize his identity.

Owen frowned. This rich kid had no sense—he had just crashed into a vehicle and was sitting there like a king, not reacting at all.

However, after glancing at the point of impact, Owen realized that the Bearcat G3 was completely unscathed. After all, it was an armored vehicle capable of withstanding bullets, let alone a minor rear-end collision. The Cadillac, on the other hand, had a slightly deformed front end.

Since his own vehicle was fine, Owen was prepared to let it go to save time. But just then, a police car happened to drive by and, upon seeing the accident, pulled over.

The patrol car stopped a short distance away, and an officer stepped out. Owen recognized him—it was an old colleague from the West Hollywood Police Department.

"Hey, Steve, are you on duty?" the officer greeted Owen.

"Minsk, long time no see. Yeah, just got back from Caesar's side..."

"Oh, that place is a mess..."

Minsk clearly knew about the situation over at Caesar's. The accident scene left no doubt that the Cadillac was at fault. Minsk circled around, then knocked on the Cadillac's window. "Sir, your driver's license and insurance, please."

Alex, seeing yet another police officer approaching, forced a friendly smile and explained, "I'm a tourist, but I have my passport..."

"Let me see it."

Since the man claimed to be a tourist, Minsk asked another question: "Whose car is this?"

Alex shrugged, trying to appear relaxed. "My uncle's."

Minsk took the passport to verify it through the car's radio system. Neither Owen nor Alex spoke while they waited.

A moment later, Minsk returned, and Owen noticed his hand resting on his gun holster—a sign that something was wrong with this young man's identity.

Owen also positioned his hand close to his quick-draw holster, ready in case the young man tried anything desperate.

"Your uncle's name is Martin Justin?"

"Yes," the young man nodded. "What's wrong?"

"He's a wanted man. I have to detain you until we can confirm your identity. Please step out of the car and do not make any sudden movements."

As Minsk spoke, his eyes remained locked onto Alex's hands. At the slightest suspicious movement, he was ready to shoot.

Alex cursed his luck. He had only borrowed that dead guy's car for a couple of days and had already gotten into trouble. But making a move now was unwise—both the officer and the SWAT member outside were on high alert.

…

Owen didn't concern himself with what happened next. To him, this was just a minor incident. He figured the kid was just a car thief who had happened to steal a stolen vehicle.

After checking with dispatch, Owen learned that they didn't need to return to Caesar's side, so the SWAT team headed straight back to the training base.

Today had been the first time since joining the SWAT team that Owen had been at a disadvantage. Judging by the expressions of his teammates, this type of attack was a first for them as well.

In the afternoon, Elisa didn't show up—she had likely gone to the FBI headquarters to report on the mission since their team had been the only one to pursue the attackers.

The afternoon passed quickly, and in the evening, Owen received a call from Paul at Universal Studios. After over ten days of negotiations, CTU had agreed to Universal's request to film a movie based on the Zhongchen Tower hostage crisis, even allowing CTU to be featured in the story.

Americans were experts at PR. Owen figured that after the terrorist attack, CTU's reputation had taken a hit, and the higher-ups wanted to use the movie to restore their public image.

Owen's role remained unchanged—helping to refine the story outline. Paul had already sent over the contract: $50,000. Owen didn't even need to join the crew; he just had to write down his experiences and send them to the scriptwriters.

This was no challenge for Owen. He wrote out a full account of what had happened that night and added a few of his own suggestions.

For example, he recommended that the movie's protagonist be a single lead character. They could merge his role with that of John McClane, since in the original, it was just one guy. If Die Hard suddenly became a buddy cop movie, Owen would start questioning whether it was still Die Hard or had turned into Bad Boys.

Additionally, he suggested casting Bruce Willis as the lead. He had looked into it, and the actor actually existed in this world—and he looked just like his past-life counterpart. This was one of Owen's little amusements.

…

West Hollywood Precinct, Major Crimes Unit.

Detective George had just received a call—yesterday, the patrol officers had inadvertently arrested a young man whose passport turned out to be fake. Colombia had no record of this person.

Everyone had assumed he was just an unlucky car thief, but now it seemed far more complicated.

Intelligence units had finally identified the man through facial recognition. He was the only son of the current leader of Colombia's third-largest drug cartel, Blanco Montel—Alex Montel, the future heir to the Montel family. He was also a wanted fugitive on Interpol's list and was being pursued by sixteen different countries.

George looked at the thick stack of documents faxed over by the intelligence department. This was a big catch.

But this was too big for them to handle alone. The Montel family had committed countless crimes in the U.S.—drug trafficking, arms smuggling, extortion, kidnapping, murder... even their lightest offenses included aggravated assault. People like him had been on the FBI's radar for a long time. The moment he appeared, the FBI was bound to step in.

Sure enough, within moments, the matter had reached Chief Javier. The FBI had already contacted him—they were taking custody of the suspect.

For secrecy, the plan was to transfer him to a prison alongside other inmates and then quietly extract him en route.

Javier was more than happy to let the FBI take over. These drug lords were lunatics who wouldn't hesitate to wipe out entire families. While this was the U.S. and not cartel-dominated Colombia or Mexico, there was still no guarantee they wouldn't send people for retaliation.

Chief Javier had solemnly briefed Detective George on the situation, and to be cautious, George decided to personally oversee the transfer.

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