Note: I'd just like to start with a heartfelt 'Thank you'. This is the most support and reviews I've had just for opening night. I hope I don't fail to satisfy. Many people have had concerns about how Ackerson manages to get his hands on the Flood. I've explained to a few that this is based on a forum theory I've read once. For final details, you'll have to stick around.

But thanks again, and here is more of the Twisted System.

The forgotten disclaimer: I am not associated with Microsoft or Bungie Studios. Halo is a registered trademark of Microsoft and etc.


2552, weeks after the fall of Reach

Present day

The evening jazz wafted through the dim, smoky bar. The tiny place was packed full with civilians and marines. The loud obnoxious conversation spiked up and continually grew. Matthew King gazed around scornfully—after a day's work in the corps, the best thing would be a nice, quiet drink. And since alcohol was prohibited in the barracks, the next best thing would have to be in town. This looked to be the only decent spot in town. In fact, it looked to be the only spot in town.

But you have to take the good with the bad, I suppose, he frowned. King ran his finger over the rim of his glass, and his gaze fell to his half-eaten food. The beer was less than satisfactory… nowhere near as good as Coral beer, but Matthew wasn't picky. And just for the hell of it, he decided that the barstool was uncomfortable. He didn't have the patience to wait for a table to clear. His hunched-over-the-drink look and unsociable demeanor left him alone for the most part.

This was, however, only if certain people weren't specifically looking for him—but they were, and the marine's life was about to take a hard drop for the worst.

"King, that you? Hey! What are you doing in here? You never told me you were in town! We could've set a date, or something."

"Exactly why I didn't call," Matt replied quickly, snapping off one of his sour comments without even seeing the face. But that was enough; the man's bright attitude had Matthew resisting the urge to strike him in the face. He took a swift glance at the man's cropped hair, the perfect condition of his lengthy coat, and guessed the rest. King stood up slowly, and downed his glass in one gulp. The man was still standing behind him, looking expectant.

Matt motioned at the landlord, and mouthed "pre-paid". The stocky man in the oversized apron nodded and turned back to fixing his order. King turned back to the man, and before he could react, Matt wrapped one arm tightly around his shoulder, patted his back forcefully and began to guide him to the back of the bar. From a glance, it appeared as two drunken men staggering about. The light bulb had died, and the landlord hadn't been bothered to replace it. Once Matt and the man reached the back room, he did a check around the room. Every other customer seemed to be minding their own business.

King suddenly drove the man into the wall, restraining his arm, and forcing his head back unnaturally.

"Shit!" There was a cry of pain, but the marine had the man's jaw right against the back wall muffling the sound. He didn't want to kill the guy, and once the man's hand struggled free, he made a grab for the inside of his coat.

He whipped out a badge and managed to choke out, "Naval Intelligence!"

"I know." Matt growled in the lowest voice he could muster, "So what the hell do you want?"

"I'll tell you if—agh!" He was cut off, as King shoved his arm further up his back and he whimpered in agony. "ONI—mission—secret—eyes only!"

"Better." King released his grip, and shoved him against the wall. "How do you know me?"

The agent massaged his shoulder and glared at the marine. "Captain Matthew Elias King, stationed on Earth after your unit was too late in reinforcing Reach. Says right here in the files." He held up a data pad and dropped it into his pocket again.

"Go on."

"Well, by some lucky chance, you've been selected to help ONI. I came here to inform you. But they didn't tell me you were some crazy loon who needs an up in his meds."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. ONI needs my help? Don't you damned spooks think for yourselves? Intelligence my ass."

"We do the paperwork, the office work, but they need some poor bastard to do the field work—also known as the 'dirty work'."

"And what makes you think that 'poor bastard' is me?"

"Look, I don't decide these rules. Your name was most likely pulled out of a hat. There's an explanation. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest. And what if I refuse?"

"That's where things get interesting. Some bored AI may feel the need to 'reassign' your post to, oh, I don't know, somewhere in the middle of the frontlines."

Matt stared at the agent for a good hard while. "What's this mystery op, then?"

The agent reached into his coat pocket and produced a scrap of paper. "You're going to need this."

The marine scrutinized the scribble on the paper. "It's a chatter address."

"Yeah, I know that. It's mine."

"What the hell am I going to do with this?"

"That's where you get your mission details."

"They don't come included with the shifty, inconspicuous asshole?"

"As a matter of fact, they don't. Once we've reached an understanding, I'm supposed to contact ONI. Whether you like it or not, you're in."


Note: Short, sweet, sugary. Whatever. The chapters will definitely get longer in the future, so, continue to read, review, and I'll get up the next in the shortest time possible. Another note, if you want more of a novel feel, be patient. I know, this section feels more like and ILB thing, if you know what I mean. More dialogue than description.