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City Kaiju is being destroyed. It's being rebuilt. It's being destroyed again by giant-ass and not-so-giant-ass beasts. It's being protected by bionic commados, who are, well, getting OK at not becoming a red mess of gruel on your city streets. That's a good thing Right? You are a poor burnout bike messenger, trying to survive, confused by it all. Feeling dumb and lost and alone, like, existentially, mostly because your roommate tells you daily that you are "dumb and lost and alone." You have PTSD, but you all got PTSD. It's just a thing. You all expect to die in the green flames of a plasma burst. Not a good thing It hurts. But you come together on a fateful night, a night in which none of you believe you have a demon's chance at the Pearly Gates. There's something special about this night. Perhaps it's the moon? And who is this Evil Bill? Goddamn, you hate this place.
About the Author
Mark Rapacz is the founding editor of Blastgun Books and an editor and partner with the neo-pulp press Burnt Bridge. His short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Water Stone Review, Revolver, Martian Lit, The Booked. Anthology, The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2012, and many others. His novella, Buffalo Bill in the Gallery of the Machines, was recently re-issued as a historically accurate dime novel and is available through IndyPlanet and Amazon. Whenever he gets the chance, he forces people to read his work Tongue-Cut Ninja. He and his wife currently live in the Bay Area, where he works at Stanford University and continues to write stories. He occasionally blogs about writing and other marginalia at www.blastgun.com.