The Hunters War Journal, night 15.

The mission was a success. I feel alive, and the steady rhythm of my heartbeat keeps me focused on this chronicling of events. I've decided to quickly jot down my recollections before reviewing the footage. I will later compare the two to discover what really happened—He should do the same should he ever wake up, lest my bias influence him. I also reaffirm my goal to continue to produce these until he does. Once the sun rises, he doesn't remember anything I do. This is a deliberate act. No matter. Soon, he won't have a choice, and these chronicles shall serve as his reckoning.

Now, back to the mission. Temperature readings tonight registered as low as 5 degrees; the armor held up perfectly, and I never felt it. I stationed myself on a roof across the road from one of the StellarCorp Test Warehouses. As I've chronicled, inside, they supposedly work on innovations to make their worker's lives easier. This is a façade for the Izanami Central Government. An open secret, one shared between them for public purposes. When you wake up, I want you to check on File 2A, Subsection 25: The Harness.

"Tired of losing productivity due to human nature? The Harness allows our workforce to stay engaged through any task no matter what they've got going on inside!"

The rollout for the device was scheduled for later in the week. I imagine, after today, there will be some delays. I apologize for getting off on a tangent since time is short. For hours, I watched the building through my red lenses. In truth, the complex was a series of box buildings connected with rectangular corridors. By my final count, no less than 20 drone patrols were working alongside an unequaled surveillance system. I spent the next few hours memorizing their patrols and using the hacker's suite inside my cowl to infiltrate their networks.

Finally—much later than I had anticipated--the wind kicked up and tickled my cape open as an armored GravCar entered the airspace. Red, orange, and teal—StellarCorp colors—and shaped like a trackball mouse, the machine touched down inside the main perimeter.

I returned my gaze to the Test Warehouse's main entrance. I spotted three figures. My red lenses zoomed in, which allowed me to identify each one:

Up first was Ochoa Vasco, general manager of the plant. Chunky, ugly, stupid; those are his positives. Next to him was Bradford Vand, head of security. He liked raw fish and raw sex, an absolute pig. Finally, behind them both, Kel Wine, the so-called worker liaison. It's a joke title if I ever heard one.

All of them were on my list.

Once the engines winded down, the craft door opened like a yawning mouth before two well-armed guards spilled out, followed by my personal public enemy number one: Brooks Franq, current controlling interest and thus the head of the StellarCorp Board of Directors. I knew him so well I knew what he smelled like. Tobacco and JannaBerry, if you are curious.

I watched them exchange pleasantries before everyone disappeared inside the building with the security not long behind them. The cape on my back fluttered and flapped loudly in the face of bitter winds. I tapped a button on my belt to activate the propulsion in my boots and jumped. The cape stiffened via a quick command and allowed me to glide onto the Test Warehouse roof, another successful test tonight of many.

I scuttled silently along the rooftop, barely making a sound. My skill grows with each venture, and I recall feeling confident. I was sure of myself and the mission. I found the ventilation system and tracked its myriad ducts to one that opened on the roof. I touched a button on my gauntlet and two thin, sharp spikes sprung above the back of my hand. I swung my fist, punctured the sealed vent, and cut an opening.

I crawled in and followed a schematic I downloaded earlier projected in my cowl peripheral vision. I exited near the girders supporting the warehouse roof, perched myself across a set, and melted into the shadows. They were touring the grounds. Their prattling and talk of projections and goals made my stomach turn. Their security checked every corner as they moved. I wondered if my few outings, meager as they'd been, had caused a stir.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Stop wasting my time," I heard Brooks say once they got closer. My cape hung over my shoulder armor and covered my body. I felt one with the darkness. "I just want to see The Harness; the prototype is ready, yes?"

"Yes, yes," Ochoa tripped over his words and betrayed his anxiety. My red eyes squinted as I asked myself what they could mean by "prototype."

"This-this way, s-sir, we'll show you," Ochoa stepped aside and pointed behind him. They zigged past stacks and rows of manufactured goods and entered a partitioned warehouse floor area. Ochoa badged them all in, leaving the security detail just outside. The room was partitioned but not sealed off; I snuck through slats and girders until I was perched overhead.

I remember…I remember a man wearing The Harness. It was a metal diaper connected to various tubes and cables. Some lead away from the man, others into it. A small, endless conveyor belt traveled the room's length in an infinite loop. Machine parts would make their way to the man who worked quickly to assemble them into something I didn't recognize. It then placed the assembled device back on the belt, which traveled a few feet more until a machine disassembled it. From there, the parts traveled again to the worker.

On and on it went, ad nauseam.

"Interesting," I heard Brooks say. "How long has it been working?"

"Two weeks so far with no break," Kel chimed in. She was tinier than everyone in the room; her voice barely traveled, and I was surprised anyone had heard her beside me with my enhanced acoustics suite.

"Why the hesitation, then?"

"Well," Ochoa sputtered. "He's not the first volunteer."

"And?"

"We've been unable to decouple the worker from the Harness without them dying immediately after. There is no rest for them—they either work in the Harness forever or never work again."

"Is that all? OH HO HO HO," Brooks laughed, and my grip on the rafter tightened. "We'd just have to up our recruiting!"

I reached into my belt and pulled out a pair of cylindrical capsules, paralyzing nerve gas. I threw each one toward either side of the partition, and they exploded. As expected, the gas affected the administration quickly; they collapsed to the floor, conscious but unable to move. The security detail started shouting orders to one another as I jumped down. The confused cries from everyone present gave me an extra jolt of adrenaline, and I kicked the first guard so hard that he doubled over and puked inside his mask.

The next guard swung their gun at me, but I dodged it easily. A double pair of twin spikes ejected from my gauntlets, and I buried the left hand between his optics, shattering the lenses and pulverizing the eyeballs.

I heard the final soldier squeeze the trigger of his pulse rifle, but I had already combat-rolled away. I reached for my belt and threw a dart that exploded upon contact, leaving him just a pair of legs that fell over and kicked the air violently until they didn't anymore.

The gas had already nearly dispersed when the melee ended. The cape felt less heavy on my shoulders as I stood and covered my whole body. Slowly, I approached the partition doors, stuck my fingers in the crease, and shoved them open. The executives, management, and those who cared only for shareholder profit and endless growth were on the floor. The last of the remaining gas swirled around my body while they stared at me, helpless to move.

"Gentlemen, ladies," I whispered. Under the cowl, my voice sounded deep and artificial. I wanted them to hear it anytime they closed their eyes. We are playing a long game. "You've feasted well on the souls and spirits of the heart of StellarCorp: its workers.

"That feast is over. As of this moment, none of you are safe from The Stellar Hunter."

I approached each one and pressed my thumb to their forehead, leaving my mark: the big red dot. From now on, their death was only a matter of when not if. When I finished, I inspected the worker still in The Harness. The gas stopped it, and it was no longer constantly working. The conveyor belt moved repeatedly, the machine breaking down the unassembled pieces until they were but metallic crumbs.

I removed the man from The Harness and placed him gently on the floor. I studied his vitals and watched him struggle to breathe until he took his last. After he expired, I took my hand and closed his eyes. I hope you watch the accompanying footage closely. Understand that this is why I exist.

I stand and walk over to the warehouse manager, Ochoa Vasco.

His eyes were wide, clearly frightened but betrayed by a body that looked like it couldn't care. The spikes shoot out of gauntlets again, and I grab him by the hair.

"Life for a life," I whispered. "The first of many."

I thrust the spikes through his head from below the chin. He gurgled and spit blood, but his body didn't react to the shock or the pain. He sputtered some more before the light escaped his eyes.

I left after that. I cannot sleep, but I must. I don't have a choice.

They won't forget what happened here. Neither will you, hopefully. Maybe this is enough to wake you up.

We need each other.

Brachium rises as I type this, and I feel accomplished. How will you feel, I wonder?

Until the next night,

The Hunter.