When I began this life I didn’t muse on each hunt for as long as I now do. The morality, the greyness, or the consequences of my actions. Speed was my measure of success; not how clean the job was, whether I was efficient or cruel. It was all a race: to bathe in the blood of beasts and in the peoples’ gratitude.
But now I do muse on them. Which is why I have begun to write this journal.
The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com