Owen kept his body low as the Augusta roared forward, accelerating toward the small bridge ahead.
Suddenly, an off-road vehicle swerved into his path, coming to a screeching halt at the entrance of the bridge. A man in combat gear jumped out, sprinting a few steps to the center of the bridge, an M72 portable rocket launcher slung over his shoulder.
Fuck!
The M72 LAW was a lightweight, disposable weapon. The launcher consisted of two tubes, one nested inside the other. Normally collapsed, it extended for use and was ready to fire instantly.
Owen knew this was a one-shot weapon—once fired, it was discarded. It required no reloading or maintenance, making it a favorite among special forces.
Glancing at the mercenary's target, it was clear he was aiming at Monica. Owen twisted the throttle harder, pushing the speedometer even higher.
The gunman hadn't noticed Owen approaching from across the river. His full attention was locked onto Monica. He raised the M72, extended the tube, and began aiming.
Owen cursed again. Despite the constant fighting over the past two days, no one had used heavy firepower—only in the initial decoy convoy ambush had they encountered anti-aircraft missiles and rocket launchers. He had assumed these mercenaries had decided against using such weapons inside Los Angeles, fearing federal retaliation.
Clearly, he was wrong.
No wonder CTU was after them. These lunatics dared to fire a rocket launcher in a major city—weren't they afraid of being hunted down to the ends of the earth?
Seeing that the mercenary was already lining up his shot, Owen panicked. If he didn't act fast, Monica was doomed.
Just then, he noticed a glass-roofed tour boat cruising through the river.
No time to think.
Owen yanked the handlebars, launching the motorcycle onto the boat's roof.
Inside the boat, tourists enjoying the scenic views suddenly felt the vessel lurch downward, sending a wave of panic through the passengers.
Before they could react, the weight was lifted, and Owen used the curved glass roof as a ramp, launching himself into the air—heading straight for the rocket gunner.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
While airborne, Owen activated bullet time, knowing full well that an M72 was meant for tanks and fortifications—one hit on a car would send Monica straight to hell.
He couldn't afford to hesitate.
Without even aiming properly, Owen pulled the trigger.
Three rounds fired. Two struck the mercenary, but they hit his body armor. Owen had never expected a handgun to kill him outright—he just needed to stall him.
The mercenary staggered back just as he was about to pull the trigger. That was when he finally noticed Owen flying toward him.
Too late.
The Augusta slammed into him at full speed.
The impact sent the rocket launcher veering off course, and the misfired rocket shot off at an angle, exploding in a fiery blast near the riverbank—right where Alex had been running.
Monica was safe.
Alex, however, had almost just died.
As for the mercenary Owen had hit, he was lying on the ground, coughing up blood. The Augusta itself weighed nearly 300 kilograms (660 lbs), and at over 150 km/h (93 mph), the impact was unsurvivable.
Owen didn't bother finishing him off—he wouldn't last long anyway. He could already picture the shattered ribs and punctured lungs the guy must have suffered.
Parking his motorcycle, Owen ran toward the downed mercenary, all while smoothly reloading his MK23.
He flicked his wrist, ejecting the empty magazine mid-motion, allowing a fresh one to slide into place effortlessly.
A slick move—but it had taken months of practice.
In IPSC (International Practical Shooting Confederation) competitions, speed reloading was crucial, and Owen had trained for it extensively.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Suddenly, applause erupted around him.
Tourists on both sides of the river were cheering and taking photos.
They still thought this was a Hollywood film shoot.
Even though there were no cameras, no film crew, they were convinced this was a live-action stunt sequence.
Below the bridge, Alex's speedboat sped past.
Owen wanted to jump down and grab him—but Monica was still trapped, being hunted by multiple SUVs.
Across the road, Monica's white off-roader was still in the lead, with two SUVs right behind her. CTU, having just taken out another vehicle, was stuck behind the wreckage.
They needed to push the wreckage into the river before they could continue pursuit.
Owen grabbed extra magazines from the fallen mercenary, jumped onto the Augusta, and revved the engine—chasing after the remaining SUVs.
At full throttle, he caught up to the last SUV.
This time, no one was hanging out the window shooting.
Owen accelerated alongside the driver's side, tapping on the door.
Inside, both men were in combat gear.
The passenger was speaking into his headset when he heard the knock and turned—just in time to see Owen smirking at them.
Owen casually tossed a small object into the open window.
It rolled across the seats and disappeared beneath their feet.
Outside, Owen crossed himself mockingly and sped away.
It was a grenade.
The two inside immediately realized what had happened.
Screaming, they flung their doors open and bailed.
Seconds later—
BOOM!
Fire and smoke erupted from the vehicle, sending it careening into the river.
One of the mercenaries had landed in the water, sputtering but alive.
The other?
His luck ran out.
As he hit the ground, he barely had time to react before—
SPLAT!
CTU's convoy ran him over.
One car.
Then another.
At first, he screamed in agony.
Then? Silence.
Jack Bauer, gripping the wheel, felt the slight bump under his tires but didn't even acknowledge it—he simply pressed the gas harder.
Owen ignored the carnage behind him.
He had already locked onto the next target.
Monica was still ahead, but now only two SUVs remained.
Because they were so close together, only the lead SUV was firing at her—the second was forced to follow.
Unfortunately, they had spotted Owen.
Each time he tried to overtake, the driver swerved aggressively, forcing him back.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Owen fired, but at high speed, and with the enemy deliberately boxing him in, he couldn't get a clean shot at the tires.
Monica's vehicle was riddled with bullet holes, her rear bumper completely gone, exposing the reinforced steel frame beneath.
CTU had caught up again, but they had no clear shot.
All they could do was fire warning shots, which did little to deter the enemy.
But then—
Seeing CTU closing in, Owen had an idea.
_________________________
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Hello, if you enjoy mythology novels, I invite you to check out "I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother", a story inspired by Norse mythology