From the lost journal of Harker
Shand Delais
I cannot escape the blame. Those
that have died. Those who will die. Their deaths belong to me. I led them to
this terraformed piece of rock. To carve out a life and recreate that ancient
period known as the Old West.
It was an obsession. One I shared
with anyone who would listen.
Shared? No, that is not the right
word. Infected.
In honor of our new beginning, they
called this place Harker’s World.
They should have named it Harker’s
Hell
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