Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the cover for the upcoming ASSASSIN'S GAMBIT, due out around the 4th of April!
First Excerpt from the book, ASSASSIN'S GAMBIT. Stay tuned to https://www.facebook.com/RKyleHannahWriter over the next few weeks for additional excerpts!
Assassin 101 stood, right arm stretched before him, his hand held toward the white o...paque void of the time stream. He moved his hand in a small circle and the sensation of crawling ants assaulted his fingers and palm. He pulled his hand away, rubbing it to rid himself of the static tingle. His eyes stayed focused on the static currents of the vortex as they discharged and swirled.
He turned to the Control Room Director, Mr. Tomlinson. “A little stronger than usual, isn’t it?”
Mr. Tomlinson, dressed in his usual yellow, full length smock, adjusted his glasses and typed a query into the data pad held in his right hand. He stole a glance at the open time portal and the slight swirl of the maelstrom beyond as he typed. He vaguely heard a technician across the room state that the mission was a go. The pad beeped and displayed the results of his query. Tomlinson’s brows arched noticeably and he whistled softly. “Sunspot activity is creating a sharp increase in static charge.” He smiled weakly as he focused on the Assassin. “You could make the skip today, but you’ll definitely feel it.”
“Hell, I feel it every time.” Assassin 101 gave a half-hearted smile, feeling less nonchalant than his remark. He again held his right hand to the Time Skip Door. A small, blue bolt of electricity leapt from the vortex and pricked his finger. He jerked his hand back, shook it, and then sucked on his finger to kill the pain. He failed. “Damn.”
“It’s your call, Assassin. We can postpone this until the sunspot activity has decreased.” Tomlinson typed in another query on his pad, received a response and looked up at the Assassin. “Seventy-two hours.”
The Assassin took a deep breath. “No. We’ve had four delays already and the Council is anxious to get underway.” Assassin 101 straightened his leather jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “We finally have a location and, sunspots or not, we need to take care of the situation.”
Pointing at the door with his left hand, Tomlinson replied, a little more condescending than he meant. “This is a door to time. He will still be in Ecuador in seventy-two hours.”
Assassin 101 smiled. “You’re not the one being called into the Council Chambers to be asked ‘Why haven’t you left yet?’” He sighed, shaking his head. “Sunspots or not, I’m going. It’ll be worth the pain just to get away from the Council for a few days.”
Tomlinson looked at the pad again then back to the Assassin. He turned the pad to show the readout. “Are you sure?”
Assassin 101 studied the pad, sighed again, and then shifted his vision around the room for a moment of reflection. The yellow painted walls surrounded the horseshoe shaped time-skip control consoles. Tomlinson’s office sat atop a set of stairs at the base of the horseshoe, the office’s large bay window presenting the Time Skip Director a commanding view of the consoles. Control monitors covered one entire wall, several of them showing historical events; other missions currently underway. The Assassin paused and watched the monitors for a moment.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smirked and turned to face the door again.
The Assassin took a deep breath, straightened his clothes in anticipation, closed his eyes, and stepped into the vortex. A waterfall cascade of air washed over him as he entered the time stream. The wave of air quickly changed to tingling electricity as he picked up speed; freefalling through time. The static discharge consumed his body; a million ants crawling along his skin. Assassin 101 exiled the sensation to the recesses of his mind and the electrical current faded, temporarily subdued. His mind focused on the time skip and he opened his eyes.
Assassin 101 stood, right arm stretched before him, his hand held toward the white o...paque void of the time stream. He moved his hand in a small circle and the sensation of crawling ants assaulted his fingers and palm. He pulled his hand away, rubbing it to rid himself of the static tingle. His eyes stayed focused on the static currents of the vortex as they discharged and swirled.
He turned to the Control Room Director, Mr. Tomlinson. “A little stronger than usual, isn’t it?”
Mr. Tomlinson, dressed in his usual yellow, full length smock, adjusted his glasses and typed a query into the data pad held in his right hand. He stole a glance at the open time portal and the slight swirl of the maelstrom beyond as he typed. He vaguely heard a technician across the room state that the mission was a go. The pad beeped and displayed the results of his query. Tomlinson’s brows arched noticeably and he whistled softly. “Sunspot activity is creating a sharp increase in static charge.” He smiled weakly as he focused on the Assassin. “You could make the skip today, but you’ll definitely feel it.”
“Hell, I feel it every time.” Assassin 101 gave a half-hearted smile, feeling less nonchalant than his remark. He again held his right hand to the Time Skip Door. A small, blue bolt of electricity leapt from the vortex and pricked his finger. He jerked his hand back, shook it, and then sucked on his finger to kill the pain. He failed. “Damn.”
“It’s your call, Assassin. We can postpone this until the sunspot activity has decreased.” Tomlinson typed in another query on his pad, received a response and looked up at the Assassin. “Seventy-two hours.”
The Assassin took a deep breath. “No. We’ve had four delays already and the Council is anxious to get underway.” Assassin 101 straightened his leather jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “We finally have a location and, sunspots or not, we need to take care of the situation.”
Pointing at the door with his left hand, Tomlinson replied, a little more condescending than he meant. “This is a door to time. He will still be in Ecuador in seventy-two hours.”
Assassin 101 smiled. “You’re not the one being called into the Council Chambers to be asked ‘Why haven’t you left yet?’” He sighed, shaking his head. “Sunspots or not, I’m going. It’ll be worth the pain just to get away from the Council for a few days.”
Tomlinson looked at the pad again then back to the Assassin. He turned the pad to show the readout. “Are you sure?”
Assassin 101 studied the pad, sighed again, and then shifted his vision around the room for a moment of reflection. The yellow painted walls surrounded the horseshoe shaped time-skip control consoles. Tomlinson’s office sat atop a set of stairs at the base of the horseshoe, the office’s large bay window presenting the Time Skip Director a commanding view of the consoles. Control monitors covered one entire wall, several of them showing historical events; other missions currently underway. The Assassin paused and watched the monitors for a moment.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smirked and turned to face the door again.
The Assassin took a deep breath, straightened his clothes in anticipation, closed his eyes, and stepped into the vortex. A waterfall cascade of air washed over him as he entered the time stream. The wave of air quickly changed to tingling electricity as he picked up speed; freefalling through time. The static discharge consumed his body; a million ants crawling along his skin. Assassin 101 exiled the sensation to the recesses of his mind and the electrical current faded, temporarily subdued. His mind focused on the time skip and he opened his eyes.
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