Kain
Sex,
Drugs and Cyberpunk, Book One
By: Brie McGill
Blurb:
Beaten to a
pulp, drugged into a daze, and brainwashed into oblivion, human experiment
Lukian Valentin gambles his life to evade another eviscerating afternoon with
his trigger-happy superiors. Fifty stories of a maximum-security building and
hundreds of trained special operatives can’t hold a candle to his will to
escape. Beyond the laser bars of his holding cell, Lukian must surmount the
even greater challenges of repairing the fragments of his broken mind,
forgiving himself for his unwilling involvement with the Empire, and learning
what it means to live on his own.
The sassy
and commanding Naoko Nai wonders just what to do with the soft-spoken, socially
awkward, and totally ripped guy she was assigned to train for employment. She
knows nothing else about him, other than the fact he was granted asylum, is
great with a knife, and his little white apron gives her distinctly
unprofessional thoughts.
When the
Empire comes to collect, Naoko unwittingly provides the perfect bait to reel
Lukian back to headquarters for a fresh series of brain implants and repair.
To save the
woman he loves, Lukian must summon the deadly powers implanted in him by the
Empire—powers he fears he can’t control, powers he struggled to forgive himself
for using, powers that may drive Naoko away forever—because no ordinary man has
struck a blow against the Empire and lived to tell the tale. To save Naoko,
Lukian must emerge victorious from the battle against himself.
Excerpt:
“Let’s begin.” Chase Brigham, a
sturdy man old enough to be his father, with waist-length silver hair, loomed
over Kain and spit the booming command: “Aadima.”
Mind abruptly blank, Kain opened
his eyes. He tilted his head to one side, feeling a metal helmet shift on his
head. Posture stiffening without his control, Kain nodded, making a fist,
unable to beat his chest in salute. “Commander Brigham, Sir!”
Brigham glanced at the winking
display of computer monitors beside him, and then at his watch. “Thirty-seven
seconds.” He nodded to Skirra. “Note it.”
Skirra fumbled with an electronic
notepad, alternately typing notes and chewing her nails.
Kneeling down on one knee,
Brigham signed an intricate series of hand gesticulations to him. “Greetings,
Kain.”
Kain could think of nothing to
do. Feeling nothing, wanting for nothing, he remained rigid in the chair.
“Dvitiiya.” Brigham paired
his command with a symphony of motor signals. “Disable.”
“Secondary Dvitiiya
functions.” Kain echoed him in an empty voice. “Disabled.”
“Kain.” Brigham climbed to his
feet, sauntering behind the chair. “Tritiiya.”
Kain froze. His mind froze.
“Damn you!” Brigham whipped a
flat remote from his pocket and pointed it at him, pressing a button.
Violent tremors wracked Kain's
body; he moaned, convulsed, flopped in his chair.
The unforgiving bonds subdued
him, fixing him in place, subjecting him to further torture.
Skirra lifted her hands to her
head, watching in horror as graphs spiked and numbers soared on adjacent computers.
“There are no uses for faulty
machinery!” Brigham leaned into Kain’s face, hissing his words. “None. You
remember that.”
Skirra glanced at the clock and
chewed her nails.
“Kain.” Brigham cleared his
throat. “Load Tritiiya.”
Shifting his posture, Kain’s
breathing slowed, and he sat upright. He stared ahead with empty eyes and spoke
in a monotone. “Tertiary Tritiiya functions loaded, Sir.”
“Kain.” Brigham waved his hand
and spoke in a thunderous voice. “Load Caturtha.”
“Identification confirmed: granting
access to restricted Caturtha systems.” Kain mechanically rotated his
head toward the floor and closed his eyes. “Proceed with instructions.”
Skirra plunked an unwieldy pair
of goggles over the bridge of his nose, fitting the frames one at a time over
his ears with a gentle touch. Compulsively grabbing the tufts of flaxen hair
that poked from his helmet, Skirra thumbed his temples affectionately before
jerking her hands away. “Sir, goggles are ready, Sir!” She threw her hands into
the air and blushed.
A hypnotic lightshow of flashing
colors entranced him.
“Kain, do you recognize the image
of this man?” Brigham drummed his fingers against the chair.
Amidst the lights, Kain saw
flashes of an elderly man, with thinning hair and age spots. “Recognition affirmative,
Sir.” Kain knew him: he was a senator.
“Spectacular.” Brigham joined his
hands in a deafening clap. “Execute primary Caturtha commands, and
target this man.”
“Target confirmed, Sir.” Kain
remained hypnotized by the goggles. “Requesting variables of mission duration,
Sir.”
Brigham pealed his final command. “Caturtha functions will
terminate when his Glorious duties are fulfilled.”
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Author Info:
Doctors
suspect Brie developed an overactive imagination during childhood to cope with the
expansive corn maze known as rural Pennsylvania. Unable to afford an operation
to have the stories surgically removed from her brain, she opted instead to
write them down.
Brie
currently lives in British Columbia with her boyfriend and naughty black cat,
somewhere not too far from the sea. She enjoys trips to the local farm,
chatting with her long-distance friends on a rotary phone, and roflstomping
video games from the nineties.
Brie’s
favorite storytellers include Anne Rice, George Orwell, and Hunter S. Thompson.
Author Links:
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