It's the same as it was, the stench, the rot, the mangled metal and burned out shells, the thick and oily plumes of smoke and destruction, a snarling flame atop a building burning like a funeral pyre. It's war, it's death, it washes over the slick mud like demon blood, the broken rocks on the asphalt, the blackness of the hollow eye sockets, the inner sanctum of the skulls.