Refugees clogged the main hallway that led to what had been a food court. Marines and Army troops hurried around, the vast majority in battle rattle that had recently been used in a fight. Just before we went down, I asked Kor to stay upstairs with Nakamura and Bryant. I was glad I had made that decision, I imagined most troops here would have shot Kor on sight.
	“Jesus,” muttered Barnes. “Haven't seen something like this since...Paris IV.”
	A ragged mother tending to her crying child looked up at me, and I saw her strained eyes soften just a little. A glimmer of hope. “It'll be fine, my child,” she whispered. “They will protect us.” I took off my helmet and flashed the kid a soft smile. She stopped crying and looked up as her mother caressed her hair. I took out my ration pack and pulled out a small bar of chocolate. “Ici,” I said as I handed her the bar. She hesitated for a moment, then gingerly took thar bar, unwrapped it, and ate it. A wide smile brightened her face. I wondered when the last time she had something to eat was, let alone chocolate. “What do you say to the nice man, Ysabelle?” “Merci monsieur!” she replied emphatically. I gave her hair a quick tussle and repacked my ration pack before getting up. I thought back to Danielle before with a bit of regret. How I would have given my life to save her if it were possible. I would give my life to protect these people and their dreams. But then I thought about my own dreams. I had reason to live for other than to protect more people. Would I really give myself as easily as I would have before I met Jenn? I felt selfish, but part of me couldn't help but feel like I had the right to love, at least after my life before. I sighed as I put my helmet back on.
	As I walked away, a squad of 6 ODSTs looked at me increduously. My relationship with Barnes had almost made me forget that most Helljumpers regarded us Spartans as demons, inhuman machines bred for war. To see one take off their helmet let alone act compassionately towards another human would have been quite a shock for them. As I passed by them, I gave them a nod as a sort of olive branch, acknowledging that this was probably a first for them. I heard them talking when they thought I was out of ear shot.
	“Holy shit, did I just see that?” said one.
	“I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. Hell I still don't believe it. And that nod? It was like he knew.” said one of the other ODSTs. She was an attractive female, who judging by her MJOLNIR Mk. VI Recon helmet, was some sort of attache. Probably ONI.
	“Never thought I would have seen that again...” said a gruff voice. I assumed this was either the trooper with the Spartan Laser or the Rocket Launcher.
	I wondered what reaction Barnes would have to say seeing his fellow ODSTs, but he didn't say anything, and I din't bother to check back if he waved either. The fact that there were Helljumpers on station usually meant dire straits, so he may not have been so happy.
	Making my way through the commotion, I finally found somewhere that didn't seem to be busy. He was a militiaman, armed only with the older MA37 rifle, a standard issue CH252 helmet without the communications suite, and a chest rig. The only indication that he was part of any organized military unit was his simple fatigues: an olive drab jumpsuit.
	“Didn't think we'd see Spartans here. I just was glad a couple of ODSTs dropped by, but now this...” he said with a thick French accent.
	“I'm looking for the commander of this unit. And the infirmary. One of my guys is badly wounded.”
	“Yeah, I've seen worse...” as he veered his head to get a good look at Martinez. “But I've also seen better. In 100 meters or so, there'll be a fork, take a left there, and then take another left. The commander of our 'unit' will be at the right, same intersection.”
	“Thanks,” I said as I yanked my head, indicating for the rest of my men to follow me.
	After reaching the second fork and parting ways with Martinez, we approached a room that seemed familiar to me, although I couldn't quite pick it out. It was long and rectangular, with a single large wall randomly put up in the middle. A makeshift command area had been set up, the folding tables and chairs contrasting the high-tech monitoring equipment. Near the wall, there was a small holotank that displayed tactical and strategic information of the defence of the city, and around it, what I assumed was the CO judging by the rank of Major on his uniform.
	“I know this room,” voiced Jenn over our private network, “This is where the Mona Lisa was on display. Among other things...Bastards.” The last word said with a virululence I hadn't seen before.
	“We'll make 'em pay,” I said as I walked over to the Major. I got a better look at him as I got closer to him. He looked very much like a 26th Centruy DeGaulle, with typical Frankish feautures, albeit missing the trademark mustache. With it, he would have made for a very impressive reproduction of France's previous savior in a movie or so.
	“Sierra-114 reporting for duty, sir!” I said as I gave him a crisp salute. I thought the formality of such a display would probably be lost on him given the situation, but it cost me no harm in doing so.
	“Quoi?” he asked as he turned to meet me. The nametape on his uniform read “LeBlanc”. His eyes widened. “A Spartan? Here?! Thank God! It seems the Army listened to my requests...” He extended his hand. “Major Michel Leblanc. 2nd Armored Divsion. I was on leave when the invasion began. It seems I am the highest ranking person here, malheureusement.”
	I de-polarized the glass on my helmet. I found that a human face generally made people more agreeable to you. “Petty Officer First Class Jacob-114. NAVSPECWAR, on loan to ONI.” I clasped his hand and give a single, firm handshake. I had learned somewhere that's what the French prefer. His eyes narrowed when I said I was with ONI, albeit in the loosest sense of the word. “Ah, you must be with the woman and her Helljumpers.” I knew she was a spook, I said to myself.
	“Actually, sir, we haven't been given any notice on who's in the area. We haven't been given any actionable intel at all, really.”
	He chuckled softly. “Got to love it, eh? 'First to go, last to know'. I will bring her here; she may be able to help you. I'd give you a mission, but it sounds like ONI has special plans for you my friend.” He gestured for an aide to come over, whispered something in his ear, and like that he was off.
	“2nd Armored. That's 'Hell on Wheels' isn't it sir?” I asked.
	He smiled. “It seems you know your history well, Petty Officer. Yes, it's history goes back to the Second World War, in the American army. They fought in France, as you may know. I have family that can trace it's lineage back to those days, in my army. The French army, I mean.”
	“It wouldn't surprise me if I did as well, sir. I was born in Pennsylvania, part of what was the United States at that time.”
	“It seems once again your kind has returned, although it's not just France that needs help this time.”
	“Afraid not sir,” was all I could reply.
	As I finished, the squad of 6 ODSTs entered the briefing room. I heard a muffled “Aw, shit” from one of them as they filed in around the holotank. This probably wasn't the first chickenshit op with a Spartan they had been on.
	“Do what do we owe the pleasure, sir?” asked the woman, with more than a hint of sarcasm and a sigh.
	“This is Spartan-114. He and his men will be your ONI liason, as I am aware,” said Leblanc.
	“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Who are you, might I ask?”
	“I'm Dare. Veronica Dare, but you can call me Captain Dare or sir. ONI Section One, unit designation Alpha Nine.”
	“Well, looks like she's not messing around,” I heard Jenn say.
	She gestured from left to right, “Here we have Private First Class Crespo, Lance Corporals Dunn and Agu, Corporal Miles, and this is Gunnery Sergeant Buck.” The last was the only one to give me any sort of acknowledgment, and even then all I got was a nod. 
“Probably just wanted to know our names so it would make writing the AAR easier if we die.” I heard Agu mumble. The man next to him, Dunn, nodded in agreement. I was guessing he was more of the silent type. Regardless, I ignored their exchange. It seemed none of this group was particularly fond of me.
	“So Spartan, what's the plan?” she asked with a distinct sound of annoyance in her voice.
	“I'm not sure, sir. I was hoping you could fill me and my men in. Captain Osman didn't give me much intel.” I let slip her name as a test, I would see how high up she was, and if she wasn't; maybe she would back off a little.
	“O-Osman?” was all she could stammer out, before recomposing herself and taking out a flash drive from her kit. I guessed she was more on the low side of the totem pole.
	“Sir, may I make a request?” I asked before she inserted the drive.
	“By all means Spartan, what is it?” responded the Major.
	“Can I transmit this briefing to some of my men? They're up on the surface of here.”
	“Of course, but why are they up there, might I ask?”
	“Well, sir, it's that one of them is an Elite, and I'd prefer not to start an incident.”
	He simply nodded, whereas Dare stared at me in shock.
	“You've allied with a Sangheili?” she asked in disbelief.
	“Yes sir, and you can interview him once this op is over.”
	Seeing that she wasn't getting her way, she crossed her arms in aggravation. “Fine. Let's just get this briefing over with.”
	I took the AI chip out of my helmet and plugged it into the console. “It's all yours.”
	“An AI too? This just keeps on getting better and better.” She sighed “Whatever. Anyways, we've been getting seismic reports of activity underground.” The holotank turned into an map of the surface of  Paris as well as part of it's underground, highliting red blips of movement. “We believe that the Covenenat is in the old Catacomb system. They're looking for...something.” The way she stressed the last word and the look she gave me told me all I needed to know about what was unsaid. Forerunner. “We need to get a look down there and see for ourselves what's going on. My ODSTs and I are gearing up to head down there now. You can tag along too, if you want.”
	“Respectfully sir, but I think that a squad will be too much down there with the confined space. Generally, I'd prefer to work alone being the infiltration specialist of the program, but this is your turf. I think a two-man team would be most effective.”
	She paused for a moment, no doubt weighing her options. On the one hand, she probably wanted to be down there with people she knew. A lot of ODSTs flat out distrusted Spartans like me. However, a two man team would be much more discreet and would be able to move much more freely in the tunnels. Apparently seeing the logic in my plan, she hesistantly agreed. I removed Jenn from the holotank and had her set a course for the closest entrance to the Catacombs, and shared it with Captain Dare. Before heading out, I pulled Barnes aside.
	“Well, looks like I'm off. Guess you're in charge of the unit sir,” I said playfully.
	“Yeah, yeah asshole. Have fun doing spook shit while we do whatever this French guy wants us to do.”
	“Oh I'm going to have a blast with Cinderella over here. Ours is but to do and die or something like that. Just stay safe man.”
	“You too buddy. See you soon.”
	“Come on Spartan! I'd like to get this over with, if you don't mind,” said the Captain.
	“Doody calls,” I said as I made my way over to her as she donned her Recon helmet.
	“Hey Barnes?”
	“Yo.”
	“Make sure nobody shoots Kor.”
	He laughed. “Wilco. Now get the fuck outta here.”
	For most of the trip to the catacombs, Dare and I refrained from speaking to each other, only to confirm we were covering each other when darting across streets and alleys. Finally, taking a turn from a small road into an even tinier alleyway, we arrived at the entrance. Reminding me of something out of something out of Greek mythology, a small marble entrance that led directly down into the belly of the city. Above it was a simple wooden sign reading “Paris Catacombs”, with a couple of painted on skulls. A plain metal gate with a padlock barred it from public access. Dare took off her pack and began reaching for something when I placed a hand on her shoulder.
	“Negative sir, I've got this” I said as I made my way towards the gate. I gave it a swift kick, crushing the padlock into a thousand pieces and sending the two sides of the gate flying into the darkness.
	“With respect, I'd like to take point.” I said as I activated my VISR. No doubt she was doing the same. “I know full well how capable you ODSTs are, it's just my armor can take more punishment. Is that alright?”
	“Fine,” she said without emotion as she followed me into the now highlighted cavern. It wasn't long before we started seeing bones. Soon, they stretched as far as the eye could see. I was no stranger to death, but something about it unnerved me.
	“The catacombs have never fully been explored,” piped in Jenn over our private chat. She must have sensed my concern. “But, I'll keep track of our path, as well as what's already been discovered. We'll be fine, Jake.”
	A let out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, hun. I appreciate it. Makes me feel a lot better.”
	“No problem, Jake. I'm here for you.”
	“I know. I just wonder how long we're gonna be down here for. I'd like to leave as soon as possible.” 
	“Maybe you should ask the cheery Captain then?”
	“Yeah, you're probably right.” We had been in the catacombs for quite some time at this point.
	“Captain? How long are we going to be down here for, if I might ask?”
	“Either until we run into a Covenant patrol or we reach one of the hotspots outlined on the map, which would be at most an hour at this pace. That answer your question?”
	“Yes sir.” Her hostility seeped into every word. Her lack of professionalism was getting to me. I had been treated by shit by a higher-up once before this week, and I sure as shit wasn't feeling like going through it again.
	“Permission to speak freely sir?”
	“Granted. What's the problem?”
	“You don't have to be so harsh on me. I get there's a lot of bad blood between Spartans and ODSTs, but I'm just trying to do my job here, same as you. And for the record, sir, I asked your names earlier because I wanted to know who I'm fighting with. I actually care about that stuff.”
	She took a few seconds to reply, probably surprised I had overheard her conversation earlier.
	“Alright, I apologize for acting how I have. It's just, my time working with Spartans before was never pleasant at all. It's like you were all machines, just like the stereotypes. But I guess you're different though, you're not like they were.”
	“How so?”
	“Well, it's just, well, I don't know. Different.”
	“Different in that I have personality? That I seem human?”
	She didn't respond, but her silence told me all I needed to know.
	“How much do you know about the program, Captain?”
	“Enough.”
	“Well, first of all, the brainwashing never truly worked on me. There were a few others like me, that never truly broke, but they were much more...vocal. Rebellious. I always pretended to be broken like the others. I believed that those that stood out the most would be the most expendable. Sure enough, Grey Team gets handed the most dangerous missions. I don't even think they're alive anymore, honestly. But...do you at least understand now? You can't blame us for not being normal. It wasn't our choice.”
	She sighed. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're right. I'm sorry. With all the shit you've been through, it's not right to judge. ODSTs should know best. We've all seen some shit too, and it effects us all in different ways. We all have our coping mechanisms. Honestly I don't know if I'd be able to pull through all the shit they did to you, and that's just what I know of.”
	“Don't feel bad, sir. I don't regret it. Being a Spartan allowed me to survive shit that would have killed a normal person. If I hadn't been in the program, I probably would have been lying face-down in some shithole a long time ago, just another nameless draftee. Besides, everything's in the past now. Nothing you can do about it now.”
	Just as I finished my sentence, a blip on my radar appeared. Red for enemy, coming just around the corner that lay just ten feet ahead of us. I instantly put my hand up for her to stop.
	“Contact, around this corner. Looks like one foot mobile.”
	“Shit,” she muttered as she took the safety off her suppressed BR55HB battle rifle.
	“I'm going to round the corner and engage on the count of three, got it? I'll take high, and you take low.”
	She sent me an affirmative click on the comms network.
	“Alright, one, two, three!” I said as I leaned from the corner, with my rifle. I was a milisecond from pulling the trigger when I saw a familiar flash of green, and felt the barrel of my rifle touch something solid and metallic.