A phantom of a frown tugged at one corner of the security agent's mouth, as if she'd just found a bug in her soup. No, that didn't work. She'd brought noodles, and some species considered arthropods a

Laren looked back over their shoulder at Kor as he approached. But the woman wearing the long black trench coat and a brimmed hat was what drew his attention.  "Dunno, she won't tell me." The tattoos

Entries: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 "Great crunch..." Kor sighed, took the gown. "Is there food?" "There's a place a couple dozen floors below that does great noodles,” said Laren. “Kind of an Anglish-Urse

Entries: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Chapter Four Forex was clean. Spotless. The last time he'd been anywhere this devoid of dust, grime, or evidence of occupation was when he'd inspected his platoon's

Driver shifted as Kor let the words hang between them, the oath pungent as the spices smoking off a nearby wok.  "Well?" Kor asked, pulling off the gas mask still hanging from his neck. "Was that

The roars sputtered, gasped like a dying man. Kor didn't wait for the drones to fall, turned back to Qivan. His blade strikes were clean, confident as he drew the blade up through netting to each side

Pent up smells of mildew and decrepitude hit Kor's nose as they both rushed for the first stretch of stairs, with the soldier taking rear guard. "You see something, kid, you fucking shout while you're

Hard smacks slammed against Kor's back, like a steel baton slapping him in the ribs. Thugs behind him had finally found their mettle. Ears ringing, the soldier stumbled forward as he pulled Driver in front

Chapter Three "Uncle, what you doing, yeah? Seems like no kind of plan!" "If I tell," Kor said, stepping up behind Qivan, "it'll ruin the surprise. Tisbel, they still out there?" "Yeah." She sounded glum

Kor stopped his hands before they could rise from his lap. No, killing Tisbel and robbing her was a tactical decision. Expedient, but costly down the line. This was a strategic question. He couldn't meet

Chapter Two When Kor was young, before his seventh cycle when he'd been sent to the agoge to begin his training, his father would sometimes take him to a tiny curio shop on the edge of their village. Travelers

A hand closed over the collar of Kor's heavy coat, began to pull him back. Kor's fist came up and he was already spinning before he realized it had be to Qivan tugging at him. "Uncle, fuck, man! What you

Kor grunted. "What the hell's that even mean?" "Everyone taken care of, uncle. We're all part the old net, yeah? So Blues say we contribute even if we not wageslaves or got a stall. You pay for the good

I first wrote a short story about this character a little over ten years ago, and he's been with me ever since. That same craggy, leathery face, topped by a bare stubble of grey hair and general, uncaring

This is something I've been working on for the last six weeks or so. Essentially, I write half a page a day on my phone, while having my coffee each morning or a drink the night before, then screenshoting

The Renaissance of Jacob Smith by Craig Gabrysch Previously, Hillbilly Hell The purplish-grey tentacles grabbed hold of Jacob Smith’s leg and began pulling him closer to the mass of swirling, gnashing

Well, original enough that you've probably never read it. This was a short story I wrote several years back, which ended up being part of a larger collection of stories following Jacob Smith, a Knight