"The Hallowed Place"
The junk yard lay quiet and still. Dust and leaves rolled past my feet in the cool moist breeze. The cranes swayed softly against the dark, churning sky. Bullet casings, linkages, and other debris littered the ground and made soft metallic clinks as I walked. The office, a brick building about the size of a trailer house, still stood. The door was splintered and the wall above was obliterated. The roof was now partially on the floor. Just inside the door, on the wall, hung a black dented helmet with a faded 2 painted on the side in ice blue. Under it was a stain on the floor. It had darkened and washed partially away with time, but it was still obviously blood. This marked where she had died, and the last hallowed place in existance for me.
The details of how we met are no longer clear to me, but they matter little here. In the time I knew her, I came to love her as a friend, a sister in arms, and now that I think about it, a bit more than that as well. Throughout our campaign, she had saved my life countless times, and I hers. This time, however, I was too slow.
Like I said... It's short, but it is a transition of sorts.
