The roof of the unit station was bathed in the soft glow of dusk, the skyline of Manhattan casting long shadows across the gathering. Ethan, Kirk, Lara, Clara, and the rest of the recruits stood in a somber semi-circle. The air was heavy with a mix of determination and grief.
Kirk leaned heavily against a support beam, his arm wrapped in bandages, Lara, her leg in a makeshift splint, sat on a nearby crate. The recruits, some with visible bruises and cuts, stood with them, their eyes fixed on a makeshift memorial at the center of the roof - a helmet resting atop his sword, sprinkled with demon ash.
It was for Jake, whose fate remained uncertain.
Kirk, standing at the forefront, his gaze fixed on the horizon, broke the silence. "We're here to honor Jake. We don't know if he's still out there, but we owe him this moment of respect."
Lara, her voice tinged with sorrow, added, "He fought bravely. We all did. But the cost..."