Hey all, I wanted to share a sample from the novel I’m writing. I hope you enjoy it. This is an excerpt from Chapter 13: Steel and Grit. This is about 45% of the way through the book. To give you a little context, the book itself is a superhero novel that follows the formation of an ensemble of superheroes who are tasked with stopping a civil war orchestrated by The Owners in the year 2043.
This particular scene follows McAlistar, a legendary general who was initially tasked by The Owners to take command in the war, but is discovered to have betrayed them and started working in secret to build a team to stand up to them. The influence for McAlistar comes partly from Stanley McChrystal, and he’s outfitted with a bunch of cybernetic enhancements used to repair his war injuries.
Without further ado, here’s the text. It’s not the full chapter, just a brief excerpt. I also recorded a reading of this scene on my youtube you can view here:
Steel and Grit
McAlistar sat in his study, a wood brown and black room wherein everything held the lingering smell of cigar smoke. His desk was small and unassuming, made of solid oak. A small TV set sat atop space made in his bookshelf on the far wall. It filled the room with news as background noise. The bookshelf itself was full of impressive tomes on topics of geopolitics and the autobiographies of great warriors from history.
He sipped brandy from a round glass while he casually puffed a cigar. On the top of his desk was a white sheet, dirtied with black marks from oil; on top of the sheet was a small collection of handguns which the General was in the process of maintaining. Three sat on the table: a Browning Hi Power, a Ruger Redhawk .44, and a Colt M1911.
McAlistar was just finishing with cleaning the Colt. He groaned with age as he stood up and placed it on a plaque in the center of the room. It sat next to a framed photo of McAlistar as a young man standing with a group of colleagues, all in formal dress blues and was inscribed: “Dawn of Brotherhood 1999”.
He looked out onto his lawn from the window of his study. In the reflection of the window, he saw a figure approaching him from behind. As the figure crept toward him, McAlistar gave no indication of his awareness.
The figure closed the distance slowly, sliding a slender blade out of his pocket as he approached. He made no noise at all, but McAlistar felt his intent. The figure drew his hand back carefully and moved to plunge the blade into McAlistar’s side.
Just before impact, McAlistar reached back and grasped the man’s hand with his metal gauntlet and squeezed, the sound of mechanized pistons firing. All his fingers and the bones in his palm crunched and broke at once. McAlistar swung around and jammed his lit cigar into the man’s forehead, tugging on his arm so he wouldn’t fall down from the force. The man shrieked.
McAlistar released the man’s arm and toppled him over. He climbed on top of him and held his face against the ground by his chin. He grabbed the blade from the man and tossed it aside. Then, he pulled a military survival knife the size of most grown men’s forearms out of his boot and put it to the man’s throat.