[b]Day 11, 18:52 - The Last City: Near the city center.[/b] The scents left lingering in the air told almost the complete story of what had happened here. The smell of wine, the smell of food, the smell of gunpowder, the smell of death. The apartment seemed quiet now. It only consisted of one room with a built in kitchen and a lavatory unit. There was a black couch, that looked like it had also been used as a bed, and the shattered pieces of a small table. The body must have fallen backwards on the table after he was shot. The blood had left black stains wherever it had run over the dark blue carpet. There he lay. Old Jim. Dead. He was still holding his rifle in his left hand. The wall next to the door was riddled with bullet holes. He must have tried to defend himself. He had fired a spray of bullets, but his attacker only needed the one. A clean shot, right through the forehead. Poor Jimmy. He didn’t have a chance. It was a crime scene, there was no doubt about it. The windows opposite the entrance only revealed the walls of the next building. Nobody could have seen anything from the outside. There was a hole left in the wall, but the bullet had been removed. This didn’t seem like anything that happened randomly. I was kneeling next to Jim when Garth entered the room. I stood up but I didn’t look at him. “He was murdered,” I said, looking at the gun in Jim’s hand. “Oh damn... Jim. What was he doing here?” Garth sounded scared. I walked over to the kitchen counter and inspected it very closely, without touching anything. “This is his place,” I said. Garth stepped forward, he seemed agitated. “What do you mean? He lives in the tower like all other Guardians.” He was right. Guardians had no business living in the City, unless... “He must have come here because he was afraid. He was hiding.” “Hiding? What from?” I looked at Garth and then at Jim, trying to make a connection with everything I had learned in the past two weeks. “I don’t know,” I said finally. I walked over to the couch and took another look at the scene. “He definitely knew that somebody was after him. He didn’t put his weapon in the safe locker. He left it on the counter. But he was interrupted, preparing his dinner. You can still see the scrapes his gun made when he grabbed it. He must have been surprised.” “How do you know that?” Garth didn’t seem to be convinced by my explanation. “See the gun? He is holding it in his left hand. Old Jim wasn’t left-handed. If he stood where he was killed, then he just grabbed the gun of the kitchen counter and started firing, but he only got to fire a few shots that never hit the target before he went down.” “We have to report this,” Garth said finally. I nodded. “Yes. I will go after the attacker, you go back to the tower.” I walked towards the door, when I felt Garth’s hand grabbing mine. “Wait, you can’t!” I stopped, turned to look at him and said in a calm but firm voice, “Don’t touch me.” He pulled away quickly, looking at me with confusion and anger. “Sky, what are you going to do?” he asked after regaining his composure. “I will end this. And I will find out what my friend and Jim had to die for. Something is going on here and it’s not good. Leave it to me. Go back.” Without waiting for an answer I stepped outside and mounted my sparrow. "It's time I talk with a certain someone." [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/116017283]Chapter 1[/url]