Chapter Two: The Penny Drops…

2215 Hours, August 3, 2564 (Military Calendar) \
Earth, Sol System

Riverside, New York

"I guess I can honestly say that Alan Moore movies still have yet to get old," Alex Ambrose mused as he took the vidi-disk out of the player below the TV, slipping it into its case.

"Well, Ace, it's past your bedtime," Sam nudged her son, bringing him back to full awareness.

"Mm…" Robin yawned and stretched, eyeing his mother sleepily, "That's okay, I'm not that tired…"

Sam opened her mouth in response, but Alex cut her off before she could say anything. "That's okay, honey, he can stay downstairs if he wants," Alex told her, giving her a barely perceptible wink. He returned to the couch and plopped back down next to her, saying, "We'll just be talking about how much we love each other," Alex chuckled, planting a loud kiss on his wife's cheek.

Robin sprang up from the couch faster than a leaping gazelle, heading towards the stairs in the next room. "Night," he mumbled.

"Sleep well!" Sam called after him, her voice quivering with barely suppressed laughter, "I'm surprised that still works…"

The Ambroses settled back into the couch, relaxing for a few minutes in a peaceful silence. Silence had always been hard to come by during the war; one could never find peace with lead and plasma flying over your head and aliens trying to wipe out your species. Silence had become a treasure of the Ambroses, something which they never took for granted.

"He's lucky," Sam sighed, breaking the silence, "I remember Gunny Anderson electrocuting us with that baton of his every time we so much as yawned," she remarked, bringing back lots of 'happy' memories of her training back on Onyx all those years ago.

"Yeah…Anderson was one tough bastard," Alex agreed, wincing at the memories of Gunnery Sergeant Anderson, one of the chief instructors who had trained Gamma Company on Onyx. He had been their worst nightmare for ten years…but after the war every surviving Spartan-III agreed that they probably wouldn't have lived if not for his methods.

"Well, I've got to go in to the academy tomorrow; they've got another bunch of recruits needing some…professional…training," Alex yawned, his weariness getting the better of him. He didn't mind his job; he actually enjoyed it to a degree. A year after he and Sam had moved into Riverside, the nearby state Police Academy had taken note of them; somehow—whilst not knowing about them being Spartans—they were aware that the Ambroses had been part of some sort of special ops during the war. The academy asked the Ambroses if they could help train recruits and Alex accepted, if only to give him something to do besides stay at home until his hair turned white. Sam had declined the job offer, remaining at home to take care of their then-infant son.

The recruits there at the time hadn't reacted positively to having an eighteen-year-old instructor. It had gotten to the point where one of the recruits openly insulted Alex and his ability, something unheard of in any academy. Alex had shrugged off the insult and challenged the bold recruit to a one-on-one, which the recruit had accepted. The fight lasted less than ten seconds and the recruit spent a month recovering in the nearest hospital's ICU. Alex's job as an instructor had gone flawlessly after that, earning an income so that his family wouldn't have to rely on the military pension.

"What is it this time, weapons?" Sam asked Alex as they both stood up and tidied up the couch.

"No," Alex smiled wolfishly, putting the couch's pillows back in their usual places, "Obstacle course and field simulations. Two of my personal favorites, both on the same day. Poor kids aren't gonna know what hit 'em."

Captain O'Riley watched the Ambrose couple switch off the lights in their family room through his field binoculars, switching to night vision to compensate for the ensuing darkness. He followed them through the windows with his rock-steady gaze as they ascended the stairs and entered their bedroom. As they started to undress, the Insurrectionist spec ops captain averted his gaze. Although he considered Samantha Ambrose to be quite attractive, it was beneath the dignity of someone like him to peep like that.

Captain O'Riley was the commanding officer of his Shade team, a spec ops unit of eight other highly trained men and women. Shade units like his were the ones who were always sent in to complete the most dangerous and covert missions. They had been closed down for twenty years during the Great War; after all, what was the point of attacking the UNSC in highly classified covert operations when the Covenant were wiping them out anyway, already accomplishing what the United Rebel Front could only dream of.

Then the war ended. The Elites sided with the UNSC and together they destroyed the remaining Covenant forces, effectively saving the UNSC from annihilation. It also put the Shade teams back into business. The UNSC was damaged, weakened, but it was not beaten and it was far from being destroyed.

But things had changed, now. Now, the Insurrectionists had powerful allies as well. They were organized, establishing control over a large, extensive network of worlds in the more distant reaches of the Orion Arm, outside both UNSC and former Covenant-controlled space, and they were powerful.

But at the same time, so was the UNSC. The UNSC, despite almost being wiped out ten years ago, had done a remarkable job of recovering. Displaced populations had colonized new worlds, the economy was nearly back on track, the military had been vastly improved. All that, then adding the fact that they, too, had powerful friends; the Sangheili.

Captain O'Riley wasn't a simple man; he knew that the URF Central Command was planning to strike at the UNSC very soon, but he honestly wasn't sure of who would come out on top. With the Elites coming into the equation on the UNSC's side...that could complicate a lot of things.

The captain inhaled deeply, and then let his breath out in a long, silent sigh, clearing his mind. He had a mission to carry out; until his team was back in URF space with their objective, nothing else mattered.

Most of O'Riley's Shade team was stationed in the woods behind the Ambroses' house, waiting for his order to move in. The only one not in the woods was Private Ibrahimi, who was operating the technical side of the mission from the team's vehicle several miles away. Eventually, at O'Riley's command, he would pick the rest of the team up and move them to a safe place.

After waiting for another half an hour, O'Riley stole another glance into Alexander and Samantha Ambroses' bedroom window. They were both in their bed, sound asleep. The Shade team leader turned slightly and observed the window of Robin Ambrose's bedroom, finding the same thing.

It wasn't going to get any better than this.

Captain O'Riley reached for his COM unit and activated it. "All units, check in," he whispered, "Keep it quiet."

One by one, the other eight members of his Shade team confirmed their status, every one of them reporting that they were ready.

"Ibrahimi, anything over the mikes?" O'Riley asked the technical specialist of his team. He was about to enter a house with two spartans in it; the absolute last thing he was going to do was take chances.

"No, sir," Ibrahimi's response was, "The house is silent."

O'Riley nodded to himself. He took another deep breath and calmed himself, entering the calm, cool state of purpose he felt before every mission. He brought the COM unit to his mouth and gave that final order. "Move in."

Two simple words…they didn't seem like much, but those two words were going to affect the lives of a lot of people.

Captain O'Riley broke cover and stood up; not all the way, but enough to move on two legs without fully crouching. He made his way through the woods towards the dark house, linking up with two of his team. Together, they swiftly and silently made their way over to the back door. One of the commandoes pulled a small, circular device out from his belt and placed it against the glass of the door's window. He activated it and held it there for several seconds before removing it. A neat, perfect circle of glass came off with it, leaving a fist-sized hole in the door window.

O'Riley gave the operative a nod. The operative nodded back and carefully reached through the hole, unlocking the door from the inside, turning the knob, and opening it. There was no alarm; Ibrahimi had made sure of that beforehand when he was planting the microphones in the house. The door swung open and the three Insurrectionist commandoes silently entered the home. The floor creaked slightly as the first operative set foot inside, but other than that the team made no sound at all; silent as shadows and thoughts.

"We cannot stay here, Captain!" the battalion commander's voice blasted out of everyone's COM units, "If we remain here, the Covenant will roll in with their artillery and wraiths and hammer us until we're all corpses! We have to strike at them now, when they're at their weakest. Your company and the rest of 2nd Battalion are to cross the Dnieper River immediately. It's not my choice; I don't want this any more than you do, but it must be done. We either lose many in this advance, or everyone by remaining on this side of the river. Good luck, Captain."

The sky was red…not really an uncommon sight these days. It had been red in New Mombasa where the Covenant had attacked as well; why should it be any different in Kiev?

Hundreds of marines, hundreds of them, were streaming past Alex and his team, charging onto the Moskovskyi Bridge and across the Dnieper River, straight into the Covenant defenses.

Lt. Tikhonov and his squad of veterans were among them, along with many other familiar faces. Dozens of men and women fell before they reached the bridge's opposite end, taken down by the thick, concentrated streams of plasma flying out of the Covenant plasma cannon defenses.

Heavy weapons teams bearing Jackhammer rocket launchers and deployable AIE-486H Heavy Machine Guns moved in after the initial rush of infantry and started to take out the heavier positions while snipers cleared the more lightly defended ones.

"Forward!" Alex's team leader screamed, "Move forward!!!"

Alex and his team joined the bloody charge across the Moskovskyi Bridge, somehow evading weaponsfire while men and women all around them were cut down. As they neared the far side of the river, a particle beam from a Covenant beam rifle, most likely fired by a jackal sniper, lanced through the air and tore through Robin-G227's chest while Emma and Sam were felled by plasmafire from one of the plasma cannons. Sam managed to crawl away, but Em was clearly dead; there was no getting back up after taking hits where she did. Alex gazed at the remains of his fallen fellow spartans who lay on the snowy asphalt, dead of the wounds which had killed them in real life during the Battle of Installation 00.

"Incoming!" a distant voice screamed, followed by the slam of a plasma bolt from a wraith's mortar hitting the ground somewhere nearby. Fires exploded everywhere and the asphalt cracked from the intense heat. Alex was thrown forward several yards, right into the path of an advancing Hunter pair, which had appeared out of nowhere. The nearer Hunter took one glance at Alex and raised its armored shield-bearing arm, obviously intending to crush its victim. Alex stared into the Hunter's featureless, orange 'face' for a full moment before the heavily armored arm came crushing down—

Alex's eyes flew open and he snapped into a sitting-up position, panting as if he had just run a marathon. He glanced down at himself and noticed that he was covered in perspiration, almost slick with it. He glanced up briefly, staring into the darkness in front of him just to make sure that there was no Hunter there, nothing about to crush him into a bloody mess. Satisfied, he leaned back and rested his head on the wall behind him, propped up by his pillow.

"Still having nightmares?" Sam, roused by her husband's fits, asked him. She sat up as well and put her arm around his shoulders, drawing him close.

"I wouldn't call them nightmares…more flashbacks than anything…" Alex murmured, "It was Kiev, this time…when we had to charge across the Moskovskyi Bridge…"

Sam winced, remembering that day as well. A lot of good men and women had met their ends on that bridge, but at least their sacrifice allowed the human forces in the city to gain a foothold on the western side of the Dnieper River. Even so, it had been one of the bloodiest engagements in the end of the war that year, except for September Beach on the Ark.

"It was the charge across the bridge…but it wasn't exactly what happened," Alex explained, "I saw Robin and Em die…they died the same way they did on the Ark…you were hit too…then these Hunters came out of nowhere and—"

"Shh—" Sam quieted her husband, staring straight into his eyes, "The war ended eleven years ago. Robin and Em weren't your fault, or mine, or anyone's. Humanity won, we came out on top. Because of them, we have a future right now. That's what they fought and died for, remember that."

"I don't need to be reminded…" Alex mumbled, "But I still keep on having these goddamn dreams…maybe I should see a psychiatrist; they probably get a lot of customers from the war…whatever's wrong with me shouldn't be too much of a problem…"

"You can worry about that later," Sam removed her arm, settling back under the sheets and resting her head on her pillow, "You have work tomorrow; get some sleep. Some real sleep."

Alex nodded absent-mindedly and slid back down until he was under the covers as well. He lay there for a minute, staring up at the ceiling, before his eyelids grew heavy.

Just as his eyes slid shut, Alex heard something; a small, barely perceptible sound. He tensed, recognizing it. It was a light creak. That creak was a familiar creak, one that could only be caused by standing on the floor right in front of the back door. Robin was fast asleep, Sam was right next to him, and his family had no pet. There was only one logical explanation of what could have caused that creak.

Alex felt Sam stiffen as well, alerted by the creak from downstairs. "You hear that?" she whispered into her husband's ear.

Alex nodded, his primal instincts starting to take over. "We have company…"

"Bottom floor secure, move upstairs," Captain O'Riley whispered into the COM. The other seven Shade operatives acknowledged with nods. Using hand signals, the Insurrectionist spec ops team crept up the stairs, making no noise as they crept onto the upper floor of the Ambroses' house.

"Target is through the first door on the left," Werner, one of the Shade operatives, informed the rest of his team.

"I'll secure the target," O'Riley whispered, "Kittridge, Pacelle, on me. Werner, stay here and watch the Ambroses' room. Everyone else, get back downstairs. Ibrahimi," the team leader addressed the team tech, who was still in their vehicle, "I hope you're on the move; we're going to need you here very soon."

"Acknowledged, team leader," Ibrahimi responded, "I am already en route, ETA one minute."

"Good. Team Leader out," O'Riley killed the channel. Reverting back to hand signals, O'Riley stealthily approached the target's bedroom door. He gingerly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open; far enough to be able to fit through, but not all the way to avoid risking another potential creak like the one downstairs. The insurrectionist made a quick sweep of the room and deemed it clear. He turned and sent Werner and Kittridge downstairs before returning his gaze to the target.

He was fast asleep in his bed, oblivious to all that was happening around him, oblivious to how important he was to the United Rebel Front's plans. O'Riley reached into his inner pocket and drew out a cloth and a small green bottle. The bottle contained Formula 2016 sedative, the same juice used on narq-darts and tranq-rounds—training ammunition for the military. After opening the bottle, he bunched up the cloth, pressed it to the bottle's opening, and upended the bottle for a moment, allowing the cloth to become saturated with the sedative.

O'Riley closed the bottle and stowed it away, its purpose fulfilled. He held the cloth ready and silently crept up to the sleeping boy's bedside. He glanced at Pacelle, giving her the 'ready?' gesture. She nodded in reply and leaned over the eleven-year-old, producing a length of sturdy rope.

O'Riley struck, pressing the loaded cloth into the sleeping boy's face, clamping his hand over his mouth. Robin Ambrose's eyes snapped open, wide with surprise and panic. He started to fight, but Pacelle yanked his arms behind his back, swiftly and expertly looping the rope around his wrists and binding them extra-tightly. "Christ, this kid is strong…" she grunted. Robin tried to scream to alert his parents, but O'Riley's grip was too tight. Finally, deprived of air, Robin drew in a deep breath through his nose, allowing the sickly sweet scent of the sedative to flow up his nasal passageways. A cool, relaxing sensation spread throughout his body after his first breath. His struggles grew slow and sluggish as the sedative took effect. Finally, he succumbed and went limp.

Alex placed his finger over his lips, gesturing for both of them to be quiet, then moved to get out of bed. Sam did likewise. They quickly slipped into their underwear for decency's sake before hurrying out into the hallway. Alex could hear muffled sounds coming from Robin's bedroom. A slight shiver went down his spine; an intruder was in his son's bedroom!

Sam reacted first, sprinting forward and delivering a crushing kick to the door, shattering it. The remains of the door collapsed and caved in on themselves, clearing the way into the room.

Alex strode into the room, talking even before he saw the perpetrators, "What the hell do you think you're—" he broke off when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and noticed his son unconscious and in the arms of one of the intruders, both of whom were wearing full black helmets which covered their faces.

"Move out!" the one holding Robin shouted at the top of his lungs. Fast as lightning, he reached into his belt and drew out a silver orb, priming it, and then tossing it straight at the Ambroses.

Alex was only able to partially turn away before the stun grenade detonated, bathing the hallway in a blinding white flash, followed up by a loud ringing noise. It was an almost perfect replication of shell-shock; Alex and Sam were completely incapacitated for several seconds.

They could only catch fragmented glimpses of the lead intruder slinging their son over his shoulder and leaping out the window, followed by his comrade. By the time they recovered, the distant screeching of a rapidly approaching van was shattering the silence along with urgent shouts and orders coming from others downstairs and outside. There were a lot more than two people in their house.

The stun effect faded for Alex faster than Sam, as he had been able to turn at the last second and avoid the brunt of the blast. The moment the piercing ringing in his ears faded, he sprang to his feet. "Stop them…" Sam managed to croak. She was still lying on the floor, clenching her head painfully, but her tone was clear.

Alex sprinted back into his bedroom and walked straight over to the large chest at the foot of the bed. He opened it and took out one of the objects inside; his old prized SRS99D-S2 AM sniper rifle, the same one he had used back during the war. He grabbed three four-round clips of ammo and slammed one of them into the rifle's chamber, running back into the hallway and down the stairs. All the intruders in the house had rushed out; Alex could see them running out into the street.

Alex moved fast; he kicked down the front door and sprinted out onto the street after the kidnappers. They were already a good distance away, all of them piling into the back of an unmarked black van parked in the middle of the road, waiting for them.

Ambrose shouldered his sniper rifle, getting the old feel of it once more, and swiftly took aim. He fired once, sending a round into the skull of the last kidnapper about to board the van. He loosed off two more shots, one of them burying itself into the skull of another man and the other striking a woman in the upper torso.

Shouting came from the van and its doors banged shut. Its engines revved and the vehicle screamed away down Sutton Street. With time enough for one last shot, Alex fired one last time. This time, the round struck the fleeing van's fuel lines. A steady stream of orange-brown fuel started to fall from the van's tank, mixing with the water already on the road from the earlier rainstorm.

The van's tires screeched as it tore around the corner of Sutton Street onto Samson Avenue. Alex watched it go, an icy needle being driven further and further into his heart the farther away the van got until it finally vanished from sight, taking his son with it.