Harper Kingsley

Title: Paradigm Shift
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm science fiction
Rating: mature
Status: WIP
Notes: This is a State Rule story. There are Judges, Law Officers, and zombies.
Warnings: genetic modification capability of mpreg, mentions of forced breeding, fascist society, post-zombie apocalypse
A/N: I’m posting the Gregor POVs at my LJ in 500-1000+ word bursts. The version that will be available for purchase will have Dylan’s POVs, and his part of the story includes the intrigue and action happening in the backgound. Dylan’s actually scarily bad ass.

Summary: Gregor has been living as a Two for most of his life, but it’s a lie. He’s really a Third. And now he’s been found out and pulled into the lives of one of the great Families.

“I am a member of the Family,” Park stated as though it was everyday kind of news, and to him it probably was. Gregor was shocked enough for two people. “The Family requested that I assess you for the possibility of merging your genome with the Duadenora.”

“And I passed?” Gregor hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had slipped out.

Park looked amused. “So far.”

Chapter One: 0102   
Chapter Two: 03040506   
Chapter Three: 07080910   
Chapter Four: 1112   
Chapter Five: 13141516171819   
Chapter Six: 202122232425   
Chapter Seven: 2627282930   
Chapter Eight: 31323334   
Chapter Nine: 3536373839   
Chapter Ten: 40414243   
Chapter Eleven: 44454647   
Chapter Twelve: 48495051   
Chapter Thirteen: 525354   
Chapter Fourteen: 555657   
Chapter Fifteen: 585960   
Chapter Sixteen: 6162   
Chapter Seventeen: 6364 – 65 –

Gregor Tierney. Magister Dylan Park. Zero Park. Judge Rulf Tersoe.

EXCERPT:
This story is rated: Mature (for violence and sex)

He didn’t hesitate a moment to slide into Park’s abandoned spot and peer out through the observation hole. He had to kind of mash his face close to see, but he didn’t care.

Their balcony overlooked the whole theater. People were huddled in groups around the seats, their finery in disarray and their expressions terrified. The Players had been hustled off the stage and shoved in amongst the Patrons, their brightly colored costumes contrasting sharply.

There had to be over a dozen members of the Halcyon Horde standing by with weapons slung. They wore black and blue camo pants, black boots, and heavy flak vests. Each of their faces was covered with the flat black mask of the Horde, the only color the gold outlining the eye holes.

Gregor winced when the leader of the Horde cell opened fire on a woman in a red dress. A man had been holding her in his arms, and when the multicolored blast hit her directly in the chest, the man too went down with a choked cry, his limbs flailing before going still. The woman died without a sound.

“Now you see that we are serious,” the leader’s voice was strange and mechanical. He had a voice distorter built into his mask. “Would you like to live?”

No one said anything, too terrified of giving a wrong answer.

“I said, would you like to live?” the leader asked. “Answer me!”

“Yes! Yes we want to live!” “Please don’t kill us!” Hundreds of voices shouted out, pleading for their lives.

The leader laughed and turned to one of his own men. “You see how easy it is? You threaten the safety of the herd, and the individuals fall over themselves to spare their own lives. Pathetic.”

He turned and shot a young man; the guy was just a kid really, probably still a teenager. An older man shouted something–a name–and made to go to his son, but his wife held him back. She was crying, but resolute. Her husband stopped resisting.

Gregor had seen violence before, but it had always been through the safe medium of a view Screen. This… this was real and horrible and he hated his sense of helplessness, but there was nothing he could do to help. He had no training and no real weapons.

But Park does, an insidious voice whispered in his mind.

Park had weapons and training and he was out there, planning something to save the hostages. Something dangerous enough that he hadn’t been sure he would survive it, which is why he had told Gregor to stay hidden.

The leader of the Horde was still talking, rambling on about human weakness and animal herds and blah, blah, totally crazy, blah. Gregor had spotted Zero surrounded by the circle of his Family bodyguards. He was sitting quietly, not making a fuss, not drawing any attention to himself.

Gregor couldn’t help admitting that Zero had impressed him a bit. The guy had seemed like a complete airhead when Gregor first met him, the kind of useless, ornamental rich guy that wasted all of his opportunities by not even realizing what he had going for him. But Zero really knew how to be a good hostage. He didn’t even look afraid.

Gregor had been staring at Zero, so he was just as surprised as everyone else when the leader of the Horde developed a hole where his right eye used to be. The shot punched through the lens of his mask and continued on into his brain.

His legs folded up and he dropped to the floor. Dead.

There were screams from the hostages and the Halcyon Horde members started waving their guns around wildly, trying to triangulate where the shot had come from. There was no sign of Park.

When a female Horde member tried to scoop up the dropped Tumbler, her hand was barely an inch away before she was struck between the shoulder blades and was sent flopping forward, her spine severed. She aspirated a bit of blood across the polished floor and her limbs twitched minutely, then she died.

Gregor covered his mouth with his hand. His breathing was loud and wheezy to his own ears. His paranoia insisted they would be able to hear him.

/ EXCERPT

Witch King at Amazon

Title: Allies & Enemies
Author: Harper Kingsley
Pairing: Vereint Georges/Warrick Tobias
Genre: mm superhero
A/N: This isn’t even 10% of the novel, which is 136,000+ words of awesome. You know you want some superhero/supervillain relationship action. Plus, OMG, it gets real in this one.
A/N 2: **Spoiler alert** If you haven’t read Heroes & Villains, you might be a bit spoiled just by the everyday stuff. **Spoiler alert**
Content Warning: There’s some sexy happenings, but it’s not in super graphic detail.
Summary: The first two chapters. Picks up from the epilogue of Heroes & Villains (Less Than Three Press – August 14, 2013).

CHAPTER ONE

The sun was struggling to shine through the clouds, but it was just one of those days guaranteed to be miserable. Not just because of the weather, but because of the girl sobbing out her heartbreak on a sterile hospital bed, the sheets pulled up around her shoulders as she buried her face in the rather flat and lumpy pillow.

Vereint clenched his hands together on the handle of the shopping bag he held. It took all of his will to keep from running into the room and scooping her up into his arms. Instead he stood on the other side of the glass and watched her mourn the loss of both of her parents. Behind and to the left of him, he could hear Warrick fast-talking the doctors and the police and anyone else he had to, and Vereint was sure everything was going to work itself out.

They were going to take that little girl home and give her a family and make sure she grew up knowing that she was loved. He didn’t think they could ever wipe away the loss of her parents, but they would try their best to make her realize that she still had a whole life to live and they would be there for her.

Panoply at Amazon

No one’s said anything about Franz Caulder: PWP. I’m kind of worried that they hate it D:

He has a very distinctive “voice” and some of the things he thinks aren’t very nice. Like he realizes he’s mentally ill, but that doesn’t mean he truly accepts it as part of his amalgamation. He still separates things into him and into Other-Franz. He takes his medication and follows the rules as they’re given, but at the end of the day mental illness is not a part of him. It’s something he has to deal with, like acne or the scar across his face, but it’s not him.

I guess someone could say his big ol’ scar could be the physical manifestation of the mental illness affecting him. Or it could be the Kid Nitro/Franz Caulder persona overlaid atop the remnants of Other-Franz, in which case it’s hard to tell which is the scar — the ruined flesh of his face, or the body it’s carved out of? He’s this guy dealing with a life he doesn’t remember while his delusion is so strong he’s literally become someone else. Delusion Franz has taken him over, and he doesn’t want to go back.

Other-Franz had immense issues stemming from torture he experienced in childhood. He’d practiced self-harm and had shut himself off from enjoying his life. He’d been suicidal, which led to his institutionalization. Meanwhile, Franz is strong, capable, and has been a superhero for years. Finding himself in the body of his AU-self doesn’t even phase him. It’s perfectly natural that he take over and replace Other-Franz. It’s just unfortunate that he has no memories of Other-Franz. He’s winging it.

So right in the middle of Franz’s psychodrama, I threw in Franz Caulder: PWP. Which is exactly as advertised — he takes a trip into the city to visit a club and have his first sex since he found himself in a new world.

Yes, this is basically a chance for him to have a one-night stand. It’s also a sign that he’s becoming acclimated to life outside of the mental hospital. He’s accepted that he won’t be going back to his old self. He needs to keep moving forward.

Timeline B
Franz Caulder: Slipping through the Cracks
Franz Caulder: PWP

Timeline A
Franz Caulder: Behemoth
Franz Caulder: Crimson Blade

Faizel 02 at Amazon

Half editing this monster (Allies & Enemies) in my spare time. I like this scene, but it’s most likely going to be cut because it doesn’t really serve a purpose. I just thought it was cool.

I was thinking I might turn it into a one-shot or the opening scene of someone else’s story. There’s gotta be other prisoners of these guys looking for a chance to shine, or at the very least reclaim their lives.

EXCERPT:
Rating: teen+ (language, description of gore)
*** = small spoiler for A&E removed.

He’d given up that life. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He’d made promises and commitments. But that was all in the past tense. He was in the moment, in the now, and there was the thunder red of rage-rage-rage burning across Vereint’s brain.

All this time, Warrick had been so great about following the rules. So why did he have to fuck up now?

Vereint had come back to an empty cabin, a TV still showing GNN and a note. Warrick had seen something and it reminded him of some unfinished Blue Ice business, so he’d gone off to handle it.

Vereint’s panic as he chased after Warrick had gradually turned to burning anger. Didn’t Warrick understand what putting himself in danger did to Vereint? The sense of helplessness and suffocating worry?

Vereint wanted to scream in Warrick’s face, but he knew he would probably end up on his knees begging him to never leave him again. And that patheticness only made him angrier. Never in his life had there been anyone to bring him so low as Warrick could.

By the time he reached the warehouse, he was mostly cool. Then he broke the lock and slid open the door.

Warrick was dead.

There was blood everywhere in a butterfly spray, and at the center the torn cocoon. Flesh splayed open in pink and white ridges of muscle and tendon. Eye sockets blackened and exposed amongst the brain matter. Warrick’s face was pasty and still, his shattered lips still parted around where his teeth had been kicked out.

Vereint sucked in a hissing breath and his hands clenched into claw shapes at his sides. He was going mad. The world was a riot of bright reds and softer pinks and the glistening lengths of intestine. The image before him was soaking itself into his brain. Becoming the truth of his existence.

Then he noticed that the Blue Ice uniform was wrong. It was one Vereint knew for sure had been ruined in a fight with Behemoth. He’d thrown it away himself, which had been a real hardship. It had been his favorite.

Just that quick he knew someone was messing with his brain.

It was as though someone had snapped a new lens on a camera, everything coming into focus. He could still see the mind fuckery of the illusion, but it was hollow and thin, all the emotional impact sucked out.

There were two men in black three piece suits standing next to a card table. They were laughing and joking, placing bets on how long he would freak out for.

As his mind started working again, Vereint’s eyes were drawn to the vibrating silver device on the table. He’d only ever heard about them, but he was pretty sure that was a Psiren. It sent sound waves focused to some frequency that could force the human brain to experience different emotions. The feelings drawn up were so strong that some people experienced correlating hallucinations.

Vereint tried to make his body convey terror and grief and was glad of the ski mask he’d pulled on before leaving. He’d never been that great of an actor, which is why he usually let Warrick do the lying for the both of them.

His eyes slid to the back of the room where he’d spotted the glint of a blade pressed tight against the real Warrick’s throat. Warrick wasn’t moving, was flopped limply, but Vereint could see the minute quiver of his breaths. He was pulled across the over-sized lap of a man that had to be a good fifteen hundred pounds.

Vereint recognized the man as Jericho Slim, sometimes called the Knife Man because he could do horrible nightmare things with a blade. He could draw them out of his flesh like gall stones. He would gag and a blade would come out from between his lips or sometimes it would just be slivers. It was said he could spit his Needle Darts faster than a viper and he could hit a target up to two hundred feet away.

Even though he was sure he was faster than Jericho Slim, Vereint didn’t want to risk the guy getting lucky. It was better to play it safe and maneuver the situation to where he’d have better odds of keeping Warrick alive.

After what he figured had to be a good five minutes, Vereint let himself sag to the floor with a low moan. From what he knew, an improperly used Psiren could cause catatonia in people that had experienced severe psychological trauma in the past.

He was worried about Warrick. ***. Being hit with the effects of a Psiren could give him permanent damage.

Vereint was pretty sure he was going to be killing some people today.

“He’s passed out,” the skinnier of the two men at the table said.

“Wonder who he is,” the other one said.

“Who cares? He’d down and out,” Skinny said. “What do you want us to do with him, boss?”

Jericho Slim had a surprisingly sweet voice for a man that was so large. It was the kind of voice that could have done commercials or read off movie times. “He must be working with this one here. Bring him to that chair and get that stupid ski mask off. Let’s see what kind of fish we managed to catch in our trap this time.”

Vereint kept his eyes closed as he was patted down, then hung limp as he was hauled up by his arms and tossed onto a hard wooden chair. It was one of those kind that had a rocking chair back and he could feel the knobby round spokes pressing against his spine. He let himself be lashed in place by rope, though a minute flex of his muscles let him know he could break free easily.

He felt the ski mask get ripped off his face and let his head flop forward when it was released. His chin was grasped by a slightly sticky hand and his hair was shoved out of the way as his face was turned toward the light.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” Not-Skinny said. “He should make good money on the market.”

“Someone might pay a lot of money for a face like that,” Skinny agreed. “Are we going to sell him, boss?”

“We’ll find out when he wakes up,” Jericho Slim said. “If he’s got more to him than a pretty face, we could get a better price.”

Racking his brain, Vereint didn’t remember Jericho Slim ever being caught up in the flesh trade, but it looked like the man had changed professions. He would wait until they were put in some sort of cell or something and he could just carry Warrick away rather than risking something happening.

“Are we going to sell that one too, boss?” Skinny asked.

“No,” Jericho Slim said, stroking Warrick’s hair. “This one here’s a special case. I think I’m going to keep him for myself.”

It was a struggle for Vereint to remain unmoving. His mouth wanted to snarl and he was nearly trembling from holding himself still. He didn’t want to know what Jericho Slim wanted with Warrick and there was no way he was going to let anything happen. He would just have to make sure he was both strong and decisive when he made his move.

He kept his body completely limp as he was lifted up roughly by hands under his arms. His heels scraped the floor as he was dragged toward a door at the back of the warehouse.

The route incidentally took him passed where Jericho Slim held Warrick.

Opportunity knocks and the devil rocks.

/ EXCERPT

Read some of my other stories free at Kimichee.
Examples: The Panic Pure, From Diamond to Coal, Idlewile.

“Heroes & Villains,” by Harper Kingsley will be returning August 14 from Less Than Three Press. It’s a superhero mm romance action adventure story. You know you want some…