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Category:
Science Fiction
ISBN-10: 9780578088198
Pages: 198
Knew novel coming soon! Check out this sample for now more to come later
Excerpt
Vegas Baby
and the
Great Red Spot
Chapter 1
The hardest part is always getting started. Vegas Baby had spent weeks tracking a serial killer who had committed at least ten murders in Nevada. It took one week to get a decent lead, another week to connect that lead to a face, and two more weeks to get this close to the murdering bastard. Vegas ran through the streets of Las Vegas chasing the killer who called himself “Killsong.” Killsong apparently had the ability to drain a person of all hopes and desires. He could suck away every positive aspect of a person’s life until they wanted—until they needed to be put out of their misery. That was one of the reasons it was so hard to track the killer down. He was good—but Vegas Baby was better.
The chase had lasted for almost two miles. It didn’t take long for him to realize that this trek was nothing more than an elaborate death trap. Every few steps, another explosion powerful enough to break Vegas’ bones and rattle his teeth would go off. Not to mention the snipers Killsong had stationed in different parts of the city waiting to take his head off as soon as they had a clear shot. It was obvious that Killsong had planned this. He had to have known that Vegas was hunting him, so he set a trap turning the hunter into the prey. Vegas hated being the prey!
Vegas felt like his muscles were running off battery acid and his heart was pumping syrup. If it wasn’t for the nannites coursing through his veins powered by his own lactic acids, he would have been left bloodied and broken on the back streets with the filth and prostitutes. Even though he wouldn’t get tired, Vegas was starting to worry. Killsong had shown off the ability to do all sorts of parkour moves across the city, but he showed no sign of tiring, plus the maze of explosions was getting more and more elaborate. He was able to stay step in step with Killsong but Vegas wondered if he was hot on the tail of a super power villain or if the bastard was just too crazy to know that he should be fucking tired!
Vegas had run across busy city streets, jumped from rooftop to rooftop, and in and out of buildings, was nearly blown up ten times, and killed five snipers before he started to lose his patience. It would have been a big bonus if he could bring this bastard in unharmed, but screw it! While running, Vegas finally reached in his pocket and slid his pink glove over his left hand. Up until now, he had only used the glove to rid himself of the snipers Killsong had targeting him, but things were getting out of hand. He counted at least twelve civilian casualties thanks to Killsong’s bombs and the property damage was closing in on the millions!
As soon as the glove was on, Vegas felt it pulsate and crackle with energy as it turned red. He brushed his hands together, linking the power of the glove with his mind and visualized what he wanted. Almost instantly, Vegas felt the weight of a Beretta form in his gloved hand. The glove was Vegas’ own creation powered by the same nannites that ran through his blood. However, the nannites in the glove served a much different purpose; they could create almost any weapon Vegas could imagine. The power glove being pink was a little superfluous but it created an edge that he often exploited.
Vegas vaulted though more explosions smelling the C4 and his own burning flesh. He felt the nannites rebuilding his muscles; his fatigue fed the tiny machines, hastening them to keep Vegas on his feet. His anger fueled his drive, refusing to let him quit. Vegas hated being blown up and he hated chasing people, but most of all he hated to lose!
Killsong looked back at Vegas barreling down on him. He had to see Vegas’ body charred and bloodied, his clothes tattered and torn almost beyond recognition. Most of all he had to see Vegas’ resolve. There was nothing Killsong could do, no level of preparation he could have done to make Vegas give up. Killsong looked back and Vegas locked eyes with him. At that moment Vegas finally saw a crack in Killsong’s bravado. Vegas pushed himself harder letting the nannites do their work and pushed away the pain. He waited until Killsong gave him a clear angle. Vegas focused his eyes, linked up with the power in the glove and the gun it created until it was an extension of his own hand and the target was the size of a mountain in his mind’s eye. Quickly, confidently, Vegas squeezed the trigger. Killsong screamed in pain and barreled into some trash at the end on the alleyway.
When Vegas caught up to Killsong, he was screaming, scratching, and clawing like a caged animal. The alley was sparsely lit and Vegas struggled to make out the details of Killsong’s face through the warped, desolate shadows of the Sin City back alley. Killsong was foaming at the mouth through yellowed, jacked-up teeth and his shoulder length blonde, matted, sweaty hair hung over his eyes. His eyes were pale blue and full of nothing but hate, blood lust and utter contempt for human life.
“You fuck! You really think you’re better than me? I know who you are! I know what you’ve done!” Killsong growled. “Vegas Baby, the savior of Las Vegas, my ass! I know about you. I know what you do. I know about the women you’ve fucked, the people you killed for money, the drug deals you run! Do you really think you’re better than me, you mother fucker?”
Vegas casually looked down on Killsong from the shadows. Vegas could only assume that if he had feelings he would have some sense of pity. Instead Vegas clapped his hands together again and felt the familiar crackle of energy as the Berretta in his hand disappeared. Now that the gun was gone the glove itself was glowing and shooting sparks of ruby energy as Vegas tightened his hand into a fist.
He grabbed Killsong by the throat with his right hand, and then used the gloved hand to illuminate the twisted features of the murderer’s countenance. Vegas used his strength to force air out of the killer’s lungs with a simple clutching of his hand.
“Of course I’m better than you, idiot,” Vegas said forcing Killsong’s eyes to his. “Nobody can prove anything that I’ve done.”
He smiled then, with one punch knocking Killsong unconscious, but he immediately regretted it. Now he was going to have to carry this bastard all the way back to the car.
Damnit, Vegas thought, anger management classes just aren’t working.
* * * *
One more thing done on a never-ending list of things to do, Vegas thought while sitting in his office in North Las Vegas. The office that Vegas ran his entire operation from was more like home than a place of business. Vegas’ whole life was in these walls. He sat at his desk and looked over the different jobs he could choose. He had to admit he was pleased that his options were finally starting to grow along with his reputation. There were offers of assassination attempts, finding missing people, drug deals, women offering their bodies to him, people who lost something and needed a get-backer, the job offers went on and on. Vegas even had high profile government contracts on the table.
It had taken years for Vegas to reach the level of notoriety he now enjoyed. To the majority of Las Vegas, he was a hero. But the underbelly of the city knew him for what he sometimes chose to be. Nothing was beneath Vegas as long as the money was right. He was just about to choose another project to stave off the ever-present sense of boredom when a bright crimson light started to emanate from the center of his office. Something began to push out from the light, transparent like wind, but more solid than steel—a force was pushing outward from the light to create room for its presence.
Papers were pushed off Vegas’ desk. Furniture was pushed out of place as the atmosphere in the room became thick, making it hard to breath. The light was as blinding as the sun and briefly gave off a heat almost as intense. Suddenly, the presence became more and more familiar until Vegas knew who was paying him a visit. The light disseminated and Vegas was standing face to face with The Chosen One of Legend.
“Hello Vegas,” Chosen One said without moving his lips. Vegas looked at him annoyed—almost beyond restraint. Vegas would have lashed out but he quickly remembered how futile it would’ve been. The Chosen One had shown up in Vegas’ home unannounced and didn’t even have the courtesy to show up in person. Vegas was staring at an astral projection, a mental image generated by the Chosen One. Vegas could see the Chosen One’s caramel colored skin glow in contrast to his ruby eyes. His smooth chiseled features were set in a smugly perfect smile while his flawlessly braided hair hung down to his shoulders. The astral projection was clad in the Chosen One’s red and white uniform, his red cape with its white trim hanging down to his calves. One glance and Vegas took in all these details and remembered why he hated this smarmy bitch so much.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Vegas said not trying to hide his irritation.
“I know you’re not my biggest fan Vegas, but I need your help to save the universe,” Chosen One again said without moving his lips which only confirmed to Vegas that his mind was being invaded as well as his office.
“Wow, really? Not the city or the planet, but you need me to save the whole damn universe, huh?”
“As a matter of fact, yes I do.”
“Well, fuck off and find someone else.”
“There is no one else—believe me. If there were, I wouldn’t be wasting the last bit of power I have to talk to you.”
Vegas chuckled. “Oh, so the Chosen One of Legend does have a limit to his great and magnificent power. I’m shocked!”
“We don’t have time for your sarcasm. True, I am the most powerful being you have yet to see in your life. However, even I have my limits. Even now I am engaged in a fight for my life that I might not win, which is forcing me to ask for your help.”
Vegas had long since taken precautions against telepaths. Even a telepath as powerful as Chosen One couldn’t make Vegas do or say anything he didn’t want to, but Vegas couldn’t lock them out completely. Telepaths that were powerful enough could still talk in Vegas’ head and read some of his thoughts. The worst part is that they could still share their emotions with Vegas. Because of this, Vegas could feel the desperation and fear in the Chosen One’s essence. Vegas could feel the panic and the break in the armor of absolute confidence that normally pulsed from the Chosen One. The cocky bastard had been knocked down a peg or two—he really needed Vegas’ help. Vegas didn’t know if he should celebrate the Chosen One’s apparent humiliation or hide under a rock in fear of whatever impending doom had him so shaken.
“Fine!” Vegas barked, caught in between emotions, “What is it you need? And this better be as big as you say. I could be out getting some pussy right now.”
“You and me both,” Chosen One chuckled, “but believe me, this is utterly important for your universe to survive.”
Vegas held down the twinge of provocation he felt. This bastard couldn’t help but separate himself from everyone else. He had to throw in the fact that he’s from some strange other universe that makes him different—better—and far more powerful than normal people. Like he was a man doing his dogs a favor! Vegas knew that the Chosen One was in his head and knew how he felt, but he didn’t care. Instead, he forced his feelings aside and listened to what the Chosen One had to say.
“I don’t have all night so start talking.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” Chosen One said meekly. “I’m afraid I will have to show you what I’m talking about for you to truly grasp the danger.”
“Try me.”
“It would be useless, I must summon your own astral projection in order for you to see what I have to show you.”
“Bullshit! You just want to get in my head. No! Not happening!”
Chosen One’s astral projections glowed bright red with power as he glided toward Vegas, “I wasn’t asking your permission, Vegas. You’re going to see what I have to show you regardless of what you want.”
Before Vegas could respond, the Chosen One reached out with blinding speed as his hand made contact with Vegas’ head. Vegas felt his essence, his soul, everything that made Vegas who he was, being ripped from his body. The sensation was like a million needles pricking his skin one after another from head to toe. He tried to fight back, but he was helpless as Chosen One did what should’ve been impossible. Vegas felt himself become weightless; he felt his consciousness being lifted until—he was looking down at his office, then down on his building, then Nevada, and then down at the country, followed by the whole planet Earth.
Vegas was furious! He hated not being in control. He couldn’t stand having his free will stripped away like this. Vegas tried to speak but couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Vegas, but you are here to observe and listen. I don’t have time to be gentle with your ego. This isn’t how I would have chosen to go about this, but I could feel you weren’t going to give me many options and given the time I have, this approach is necessary.”
Vegas couldn’t speak or even form a conscious thought, but he knew his emotions were still on display for the Chosen One. Vegas made sure his displeasure was known, he let his anger at the Chosen One’s audacity fill him, then push outward until he was sure his feelings were shared.
Chosen One bellowed with laughter. “I may be kind, Vegas, but just as my power may have its limits, so does my patience. While I do not wish to offend, do not confuse that with actually caring about your feelings.”
Vegas felt Chosen One impose his will over him, and a silent understanding passed between the two. If Vegas kept pushing, Chosen One would just as soon see his mind turned to mush as ask for Vegas’ help.
“Now come, Vegas Baby. I’m not sure you can handle everything I’m about to show you, but you are about to have much to do with little time to prepare.”
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