Please welcome Nick Kelly to The Mystique!
Catwalk:
Messiah
Leon “Catwalk” Caliber Series
Leon “Catwalk” Caliber Series
Book One
Nick Kelly
Genre:
Sci-Fi
ISBN:
978-0-9852837-5-9
Number of
pages: 249
Word Count:
70,266
Cover
Artist: Heidi Sutherlin
Book
Description:
Nitro City,
2033.
Leon
"Catwalk" Caliber left his cop job in DC behind, heading to the City
of Angels to earn a living off the grid. He took a few odd jobs that called for
his particular skill set – extortion, espionage, and the occasional hit – and
managed to carve out a niche for himself among the Downtown dwellers.
All the
changed when a new breed of MetaHuman cyborg appeared on the streets with
explosive violence. Cat’s quiet existence is sent into turmoil when he finds
himself right in the crosshairs. He must evade the assassin squads sent by a
vengeful pimp, uncover the origin of these mysterious new mechs, and keep the cops
off of his tail. Simple enough, except that the cybernetic technology that
powers his body threatens to sever his humanity at any moment. Can the killer
with a conscience find a cure, solve the case, get the girl, and live to see
another day?
Short
Excerpt:
“Okay,
Sweetie, open your eyes.”
Leon
“Catwalk” Caliber takes a long drag off of his cigarette. The voice on the
vidscreen triggers the same sick taste in his throat as the first time he
pressed the play button. The series of events on-screen remains the same:
the awkward smile of the girl in the frame, the sweet and self-absorbed tone
with which the man just off-camera delivers his dialogue, the slight, excited
shaking of the camera as she looks up at him. Once again he asks the young girl
which hand holds the coin, even though only his left hand is extended. She’s
nervous. Her shoulders are pulled up, and her arms are tight to her body. She
shifts to accommodate the tight fit of her school uniform. She blushes, the
ghost of Shirley Temple, complete with pigtails and storybook innocence. She
giggles and touches the back of the man’s gloved hand with a finger. She’s
correct.
It’s the
right hand that wields the bone saw.
Catwalk
stops the recording. The glass next to him is empty, the bottle of bourbon
almost the same. The dull glow of the paused recording is the only light in the
loft, save a few blinking sensors from the bay that hosts his motorcycle and
gear. He stares mutely at the image on the screen. He already has the rest of
it memorized. The girl survives for another two minutes and 17 seconds. She
doesn’t suffer long. Thank whatever God she believes in that she doesn’t feel
what happens next. This killer doesn’t keep his victims alive along. He saves
the mutilation and sex acts until after they’re dead. He doesn’t get off on
torture, just the rush of ending a life … even that of an eight-year-old girl.
Cat takes a
hold of his whiskey tumbler, mindlessly raising it to his lips. The lack of
liquid distracts him from the screen. The video was an unexpected test. Someone
hoping to remain anonymous had paid a deposit for his services. The
instructions were simple. Watch the video. Find the killer. Get vengeance for
the victims. Get proof. Get paid.
His yellow
eyes return to the screen. His lips curl into a sneer. After watching the
recording once, he was willing to do the job for free. That feeling amplified
each time he watched the girl die. Cat chuckles out loud. He’s curious at his
reaction. This chit never bothered him before. Why now? Why her?
He stands
and walks away from the screen. He needs a break. He stands and stretches. The
muscles along his arms and sides are sore. His legs and spine don’t protest.
They’re hard-wired into his nervous system. Thanks to modern cybernetic
technology, he can leap from the sidewalk to the top of an apartment complex,
and outrun most of the commercial vehicles on the market.
The benefits
aren’t without a curse. His immune system has never quite solved the riddle of
his experimental cybernetics. Treatment is painful and expensive. He could use
the money this job would bring in.
Catwalk
stands in front of one of the windows, listening to the endless clamor of
sirens, screams and gunfire in the distance. He’s chosen a nasty part of
Downtown. It’s dangerous, but it’s very private. As a professional hitman,
that’s worth the risk.
Running his
hands through his jet black hair, he ties it into its customary ponytail. He
looks over his shoulder at the custom-crafted, armored helmet resting on the
counter. The triangular yellow cat’s eyes stare back at him. Cursing under his
breath, Cat walks toward the helmet and the armored motorcycle behind it with
cold intent.
There’s work
to be done.
About the
Author:
Nick grew up
on sci-fi, horror flicks, Dungeons and Dragons, good music, and recycled comic
books. He has been published internationally as a comic book author and
musician. He’s spent over half his life on stage from New York to Las Vegas. He
is outspoken, supportive, and willing to take a good kick to the ribs for the
right cause. When not touring the world, Nick lives at home with his blushing
bride (and co-author), Dr. Stacia Kelly, their son, and a rotating roster of
cats and dogs.
twitter
@Nick_Kelly
No comments:
Post a Comment