Owen sped down the road, the car roaring as it raced forward. In a flash, he turned a corner, and the First Finance Bank next to the main road was within reach.
He counter-steered, straightening the vehicle, and up ahead, three masked men carrying large bags dashed out of the bank and into a van parked by the roadside. One of them noticed Owen's speeding car and fired a few warning shots.
Owen instinctively ducked, and a bullet shattered the windshield. Fortunately, no one was hurt.
The van ahead accelerated rapidly. Alyssa, sitting in the passenger seat, leaned out of the window and fired, aiming for the van's tires, but she missed several times.
Owen coordinated his hands and feet, pushing the vehicle to its limit. The engine whined under the strain.
"Hold on tight!"
Alyssa watched the speed climb higher and higher. They were about to crash into the van, yet Owen showed no sign of slowing down. She couldn't help but shout, "Owen... Owen... O-WEN!"
With one hand on the wheel, Owen wrapped the seatbelt around his arm twice. The others in the car realized what he was about to do—some gripped the handles, while others hurriedly fastened their seatbelts. Under Owen's control, the car sped like a bullet straight toward the van's front wheels.
Owen was an expert racer and had undergone advanced tactical driving training in Latvia. He knew exactly how these vehicles handled. A front-wheel-drive vehicle, once hit at the front axle, could at best lose balance or, at worst, overturn.
With a thunderous crash, the two vehicles collided. Owen gripped the steering wheel tightly, using the resistance between the tires and the ground to stabilize the car. It spun 360 degrees before screeching to a stop, leaving a cloud of white smoke in its wake.
The van wasn't as lucky. Caught off guard, its front axle snapped, and a tire flew off to who-knows-where. The vehicle flipped onto its side, skidding some distance before coming to a halt.
Owen braked, and his team immediately exited the car, using it as cover while aiming their weapons. Owen was about to charge forward but was yanked back by Alyssa. In the force, teamwork was critical. He had already disobeyed orders once; this time, he listened.
And Alyssa was right.
The overturned van was smoking, but gunfire erupted from the front end. From the sound, it was an AR-15.
Bullets ricocheted off the cars. SWAT returned fire, but the van's massive front provided excellent cover, rendering most of their shots ineffective.
Moments later, shots rang out from the rear—more assailants had escaped.
Both sides took cover and exchanged fire, but neither could gain the upper hand.
SWAT typically operated under controlled environments, and this kind of standoff was rare for them.
Owen and Monica each covered a side of the van. Owen fired a short burst and suddenly noticed a foot peeking out from beneath the vehicle's front.
"Bang! Bang!"
Owen fired two quick shots, hitting the target's foot. The assailant recoiled, exposing more of his body. Owen followed up with another shot to the leg. The robber howled in pain and collapsed. Owen promptly landed two more shots to the torso.
With one robber down, Owen and Thales slowly advanced. The remaining two were at the rear, and Owen planned to flank them.
But before he could act, he heard footsteps—the two at the back were retreating.
Owen peeked around the van and saw that there were actually three of them—one was likely the driver. They moved with military precision, covering each other as they fired and withdrew, forcing Owen to take cover again.
Seizing an opening, Owen darted out and fired twice, hitting one in the back.
But strangely, despite being shot, the man continued to struggle. That's when Owen realized—they were wearing heavy-duty bulletproof vests.
These vests contained Kevlar layers with boron carbide ceramic plates, providing exceptional protection, even capable of withstanding close-range rifle shots.
Owen recalled a news report about a terrorist who had survived 18 direct hits from 5.56mm bullets while wearing one of these.
"They're wearing body armor!"
Owen shouted, though everyone had already noticed.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Monica fired, her bullets striking the remaining two, but they merely staggered as the ceramic plates absorbed the impact. The two robbers struggled to get up.
"Drop your weapons!"
Alyssa aimed at the three downed men, ready to shoot if they resisted.
Facing the barrels of SWAT's guns, the three surrendered, tossing their weapons aside. Alyssa and Monica moved in and restrained them.
Seeing their heavy armor, Owen suddenly remembered the first guy he had taken down. He spun around.
Thales was approaching the suspect, kicking away his weapon—only for the seemingly dead man to suddenly open his eyes!
He tripped Thales and pulled out a handgun.
"Bang! Bang!"
Owen's M1911 flashed, and the man's head exploded.
As the body slumped to the ground, Owen rushed over and pulled Thales up. "Sorry, buddy. I didn't realize they had body armor..."
Distant sirens grew louder. Reinforcements had arrived.
—
By the time the Bearcat G3 returned to the training base, it was already evening. The team changed out of their gear, ready to clock out.
Owen had assumed that today—his first day at SWAT—would also be his last, but Alyssa acted as if his earlier disobedience had never happened. She didn't bring it up, didn't reprimand him, and didn't even mention it in the mission report.
It seemed he was staying.
Unlike the cold reception he received in the morning, by the end of the day, everyone acknowledged him. Even Monica, who usually had a stony expression, gave him a nod. Owen had earned their respect through skill.
SWAT was always on 24-hour standby, but it wasn't just one team. Owen had been working with Team A, which had seven members, now including him as an unofficial addition.
There were also Teams B and C, each with six to eight members, equipped with M1911 pistols, M4A1 carbines, HK MP5 submachine guns, and Remington M870 shotguns.
Team D specialized in sniping, operating in two-man teams as snipers and spotters. They used PSG-1 semi-automatic police sniper rifles chambered in 7.62mm. This team was larger, with around 8-12 members.
Although they trained at the same base, Team D operated separately, only working with the others during missions.
—
After cleaning up, Owen returned home. SWAT had dedicated personnel on duty, so if an emergency arose, they would be notified first. SWAT members could then head directly to the scene and suit up there.
As he stepped inside, his mother had already prepared dinner. Amanda, eager to hear about his first day at the FBI, waited excitedly.
Owen sat at the table. Naturally, he couldn't tell them everything—otherwise, they'd worry themselves sick. He was trying to decide what to share when the phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number. He answered, and as the conversation continued, his expression grew odd.
The call lasted for some time. His mother and Amanda, listening in on bits and pieces, looked just as confused.
After he hung up, Amanda couldn't wait any longer. "What's going on? I heard something about a movie... and Universal?"
Owen hesitated, then, after a long pause, said, "Someone wants me to star in a movie!"