I stumbled between stopped cars on the highway. Each one had at least one corpse in it, with shock pistol rounds in their body. I thought about how this would be me in a few hours. Just as I was pondering my death, a searing pain extended through my back. [i]The wire rifle shot was really getting to me,[/i] I thought. I put my father's trusty rifle next to a crate and sat down next to it. As my vision grew dimmer, I remembered how this all came to be, just five short years ago.... I was eight years old. Just a few minutes ago my father said goodbye. Little did I know that this was the last I'd see of him. I lived in a small village with small stone streets and a huge cathedral. Big as it was, it was dwarfed by the size of the project going on just a few miles north. The Wall was being built, with less than a mile of wall left to be completed. Almost everyone in the village worked on it, including my father. As I was playing catch with my friend Bryan, a huge rumbling sound filled the air. I looked towards The Wall as huge sections fell away from it. I ran back towards the house. My mother emerged, her eyes filled with tears. Before she said anything, I knew the problem. My father was dead. END OF PART ONE Link to Part Two: https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/834540/129270814/0/0