Starting some samples of the books I’ve written!

Hello Again readers. I’ve been tinkering with the idea of doing this for a while. Instead of the usual things I write about here, I thought i’d give out a sample of some of the books I write. So here is the first part of the first kRavening suoper hero Ebook and places to fin where to get cope of the whole thing for yourself!

So here is the first part of kRaveings A Spirited Meeting


kRaveings: A Spirited Meeting

by: Soul Tsukino

Coldwater was a large industrial center at one time. The city that was founded by industry had been the home to factories and manufacturing for over 200 years. Sitting on the Pyner River, the town served the river traffic heading to the North Country with their goods. As the years went on more businesses and industries moved in and set up their plants and factories. Like any rising industry town, soon the plants and factories were surrounded by means to house the workers who slaved away in these hot boxes of stone and metal. With workers being housed, more businesses sprung up to service these hard workers with their every need.

Coldwater had survived fires, riots, flooding, industrial explosions, dirty politics, war, and every economic up and down that had occurred in the last two centuries. Companies had come in, made money, lost money, and left only to have another one take its place. The city had grown to a central hub of the country that would ship goods all over the world.

And it had all gone to shit.

The industry was mostly gone, leaving the country for slave labor overseas. There had been attempts to refurbish the factories, but most of them sat dilapidated and empty taking up space. The businesses that remained were mostly small private stores and national chain stores looking to pay people minimum wage. There wasn’t much that kept the people around in a city that was fading in glory. Most people from the good old days had left for greener pastures, what was left were poor people just trying to get by and those who looked to take advantage of them. The schools were barely funded, the future was looking abysmal, and hope was pretty much gone. There wasn’t much for the city to look to anymore.

Except him.

The costumed heroes arrived in the 1940’s. They were called super humans, metahumans, super heroes, and so forth. The phenomenon spread within almost every major city in the country getting its own do-gooder in a costume running around saving the day and bringing peace to the land. Coldwater was no exception. There had been a string of costumed crime fighters over the decades, some better than others, but the one that everyone looked up to now was The Star. No one knew if he was a visitor from another planet or just looked that way. The masked man’s appearance was of the night sky itself, of black covered in stars. He could blend into the night and the shadows rather well that way. He could fly of course, and had a mastery control of light, being able to blind a foe or focus it enough to cut through metal. There were rumors of weaknesses, but nothing proven. It wasn’t like he would just announce how to defeat him in battle anyway.

For a person to be a hero, he must have his nemesis. The Star had his own gallery of costumed lawbreakers to deal with.  Some were thieves, some murderers, some trying to take over the world. Some of his enemies were notorious high level security risks with powers of their own, while others were no more than petty crooks in Halloween costumes. While some grabbed headlines every time they tried a new twisted plot on the city, others were barely given notice.

One such figure walked the streets of Coldwater on a chilly, moonlit evening. His black clothes, long duster jacket, and dark glasses made him slip into the shadows easily, not being noticed by the drug dealers, lost souls, and whores that would be out at this time of night. In a place like this, it was wise to keep out of sight, even during the day time. His hard soled boots made little sound on the pavement of the street as he ducked in and out of alleys and away from the street lamps and more importantly other people. He clutched a bag in his hand not breaking his stride for a moment. His walk took him to the outskirts of the east side of town, the factory district. This side of the city was where a lot of the large industries used to be. All kinds of good and materials used to flow through this end of town. Now it housed mostly empty shells of what used to be. What buildings weren’t reduced to rubble or turned into empty lots stood empty and desolate. Walking down a street on the backside of an abandon cotton refinery, the man strided along the crumbling stone fence keeping his stride. He rounded the corner and was met with a shadowy figure.

“Hey, Buddy,” his obviously slurred words blurted out. “Got any money?”


He took a step around and tried to forget the lost soul when he felt a firm hand grab his shoulder and the click of a gun.

“Where do you think you are going?” The shabbily dressed man asked with suddenly clarity. “I think you’re holding out on me. Give me your money now.”

The black clothed figure stopped. He sighed.

“You don’t want to do this.”

The burglar spun the figure around angrily sticking the gun right in his chest. “Oh, is that so, tough guy? Whatchya gonna do about it?”

The figure said nothing.  His long dark coat parted. The robber noticed that the man wore a pink biohazard symbol on his chest.

“Oh shit… it’s you!”

Two tendrils sprang out from behind the black clothed figure’s head and quickly attached to the robber, making him freeze in place.

“I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“It’s you… kRaven. I thought you were dead.”

The black clothed man stood silent for a second.

“Sometimes I wonder if I was.”

The tendrils retracted from the robber’s body, making him relax.

“Go away.”

The would-be robber quickly ran off in the other direction. kRaven turned and began to walk away. As he disappeared back into the night, kRaven had to admit to himself that he was surprised anyone had remembered his name. He had used pink and black colors, along with the biohazard symbol as his trademark not only as a super villain, but also for his ravers and drug parties. Those days were long gone though, and since he hadn’t been the type to employ flunkies or henchmen to “do his bidding” or whatever, he wondered how this man remembered his name.

The man known as kRaven continued his journey between the lots of former industry until he arrived at one of the large abandoned buildings. He stood at the front gate and placed his hand it. He concentrated and the gate unlocked itself and creaked open just enough for him to slip inside. He touched the gate and it closed again. Using his touch to unlock the front door of the building he went inside, locked the door again and began the walk up the many flights of stairs until he arrived at a creaky wooden door with broken glass window. He walked inside the room and touched the wall, making the lights fill the area.

“No place like home.”

kRaven walked into the small kitchen and tossed the small bag he carried on the table. Now home, he shed his long coat and the bandana covering his head…Now free of the binding,  kRaven shook out his cyberlox letting them fall to shoulder level. He retrieved a soda from the fridge and sat down, pulling fast food burgers out of the bag.

His story read like most other costumed characters had. He started out as a reckless party kid-spent his teenage years going through every drug that hit the streets. He ran jobs for dealers and smugglers and would turn around and spend whatever money he had on his next fix or party. He spent most of his nights at poorly run clubs and his days were spent either doing jobs or passed out in some gutter or dive somewhere. It was during these young years, he got mixed in with Machina. Machina was in reality a tech grad student with an ax to grind named Roland. Machina’s M.O. was he would use his science and technology background to carry out his plans. kRaven’s role was mostly as a low level thug who stole the parts for his gadgets and plans. He was too strung out and self absorbed to care about the details of the plans Machina would execute, he’d just go somewhere, steal something, and come back, then he’d get his money and off he went.

Looking back, he could tell how he let what happened to him occur. One of Machina’s other goons had introduced him to the newest high, some concoction called Pulsar. Like the idiot he was, the grey powder went right up his nose without question.  It got him high, high for a lot longer than most of the other crap he put in his system had before. It also had a gentle side when the effects wore off instead of bad trips and crashes like other stuff he had taken-the perfect hook for a junkie like him. He would steal whatever Machina wanted and got more Pulsar. The arrangement worked well, that is until Machina revealed that he had been used as a guinea pig this whole time, and that Pulsar was actually a pile of nano machines. kRaven had been double crossed by his fellow cronies, and in one final test of the nano machines, he was strapped down and pumped full of the stuff directly into his blood.

But that’s where things went wrong. See Machina had designed the nano machines to stop working roughly a week after they were inhaled, what they were supposed to do for that week other than make you high as a kite, he never figured out. What actually happened was so much of the stuff was put into his system that the nano machines didn’t die off, but had begun to replicate, or at least that’s what Machina had said before his dread falls had shot out and turned him into a living marionette. The small robots that now filled his system had taken the form of cyberfalls where he once had hair. These were more than just cybergoth fashion, but a part of his mind and body. They answered to his will and let him instantly analyze not only anything it touched, but the surroundings he was in. When Machina saw the experiment getting out of control, he tried to end kRaven right there on the table. With his new power and intense thoughts of not being killed, the cyberlox sprung forth and attached to the villain, putting him under kRaven’s control. The last thing he heard out of his former boss was a whole lot of gurgling when he tested his new control by making Machina drink a good way through a container of industrial acid.

And so began years of criminal schemes mixed in with drug fueled cyberpunk benders. He tried poisoning the city water supply, using the city’s cable service to hypnotize the populous, even tried to start a war with a foreign country just so he could waltz in and take over their supply of nose candy. And 99% of the time who put an end to it? The Star. Off to prison he would go. For well over 15 years he lived this life. He used this building as his base and at one time dubbed it “The Hive” because it was always buzzing, or so he said anyway. Somehow he had a clear enough mind to actually buy the old building legally and turned the main floor into his drug den and part time party central. Hell, he probably had more people killed during his ravers than he did during one of his crime sprees. The lost souls were mostly runaways no one missed who got too much of some substance or another in their systems and just croaked where they lay. He’d just gather them up and hijack some industrial furnace in a nearby abandoned factory to get rid of them. He may have even tried to sell the ashes as a new import from South America, he couldn’t remember.

It must have been the machines in his system that kept him going this long.  All the slime he used to hang out with all died over the years. Even a good chunk of the costumed criminals from his early days were gone as well. Some had been victims of their own schemes, some went out in blazes of glory with the police, and others just dropped dead of disease, drugs, or a combination of both. They had been replaced with new faces to take their spot in the city’s criminal element. All the while kRaven never seemed to age a day or even gain any weight.

It was a couple of years ago, during his last stint in the city’s maximum security prison for the super powered, that he realized just how much the underground scene had changed. The old gangs of a decade ago were disbanded, the ways to get to people outdated. He had found out other prisoners were convicted of things he didn’t even know were crimes. It was during this time he realized just how out of touch with things he had become. It’s a weird moment to sit in your cell realizing that as a super villain you weren’t all that good and not relevant anymore.

After that there was just no fun in it anymore. The drugs didn’t take away the feeling of uselessness and regret. It’s hard to come to terms when your time has come, even for a super villain. He stopped taking the drugs and got clean, which was surprisingly easy when your body is filled with trillions of nano machines who respond to your thoughts. He found that aside from this building, he had money.  It wasn’t the grand plans to rule the world, but simple things like drug dealing and playing host to parties of the dregs of society that had made the most profit to him. Nowadays he would make his money by mixing dub step music on a computer and selling the finished results online, apart from a few copyright violations, it was actually legal. If anything, it passed the time away. Most of his actions nowadays were made out of boredom. Heck the trip out tonight was just to stretch his legs and cure a craving for something simpler, junk food. He often went weeks at a time not seeing another living person, and he liked it that way.  No point in dragging other people’s problems in when you are barely containing your own.

kRaven finished his food in silence before leaving the small living space and going down a set of rusty old metal stairs to the main level of the building. It was where he used to host his drug fueled raves years ago. The tech had become dilapidated and everything was covered in about an inch of dust. Wonder how he didn’t burn the place down leaving all this equipment wired together like this. He sat down on one of the stairways overlooking the floor and sighed. He didn’t have the energy anymore to put together one of those gatherings, and didn’t feel like surrounding himself with that. He looked over this sight in front of him the same way he looked over the city, obsolete, run down, and useless. If he had the motivation, he would strip this thing down to bare brick and mortar and figure out something else to do with it that was less depressing. A couple of his dreadfalls flung out over the handrail and connected down into parts of the equipment on the floor. In his mind he had the wiring and hook ups mapped out.  Several of the wires were frayed and pulled apart, probably from mice getting into the ground floor, a lot of the light filaments were burned out and a lot of shorts were found. He found the main power supply to the floor had been shut off. The circuit breakers must have tripped at one point. He didn’t see any bodies in his scan of the floor, gladly. Of course he’d probably smell a body before even entering the room at this point. The dreadfalls retracted back towards him as he stood up on the stairs. He didn’t have any idea of what to do at this point so he might as well just leave it as is.

Instead of going back to his living area he walked up the several sets of stairs up to the roof. The building did have a freight elevator, but it, like much everything else in the building, was no longer functioning. kRaven stepped out onto the roof of the building and into the night air. He took a breath and felt the cold enter his lungs. He stepped to the roof’s edge and looked over the city. Being up here brought back memories of the time he was going to use low frequency sound waves to cast the entire city in the brown note until a ransom was paid. The Star showed up, and they had an epic drawn out battle, one of the few times they went head to head. When all was said and done, it turned out to be nothing, but a drug fueled crackpot idea that gave the people within the city block some indigestion but nothing even close to what he had hoped for. All he ended up doing was going to court for criminal threatening and use of broadcast equipment without a license. Headlines of “The Star stops city’s crappiest villain” was read on all the newspapers the next day.

He took his sunglasses off and looked up to the stars with unshielded eyes. The city’s lights polluted the view, but it still had something to offer, especially for him. He had spent much of his life in a drug fueled haze, but now that he was thinking clearly, he seemed more lost then ever before.

Realizing life wasn’t going to hand him an answer tonight, he slipped his glasses on and went back inside.


The rest of the Ebook can be found for 99 Cents at at


Barnes and Noble




Now, before I go I want to point anyone reading this towards a special little pup who is part of the family of a friend of mine. I have not had the chance to meet her personally, but Bailey isn’t feeling too good and she needs some help. Poor Bailey could use the kindness of strangers so if you are reading this, I ask you to give her a little love and help her and Jen out. She has had a rough one so far so she could use the help. You can donate to her and her human Jen HERE.

Read Cityscape Tokyo to find out how the two teens and their guardian have to survive and watch out for each other when the company’s dark past comes back to haunt the kids and their guardian once again and make for an incredible adventure in Cityscape Tokyo! Now available on the Bull Moose website!

You can also find my other work HERE

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