Project Hyperion (A Kaiju Thriller) (Kaiju #4)

Want to see Nemesis in action? Support Kaiju Combat's Kickstarter campaign by December 21 (2012) and you will be able to lay waste to the masses as Nemesis, who will be a featured unlockable boss character! How awesome is that? The game is being visualized by Matt Frank, the artist who designed Nemesis, and is being created by the team that made all those awesome Godzilla games. So, visit the Kickstarter page and pledge what you can. Want to see your own monster go head-to-head with Nemesis? Take the plunge and back the game for $500. Nemesis is waiting...to destroy you!





Click here to visit the Kickstarter page!





Nemesis Sketches



The following pages include the original creature concept designs for Nemesis (Maigo) by illustrator, Matt Frank. While they were based on descriptions provided by Jeremy Robinson, the concepts took on a life of their own, influencing and inspiring the story in progress.





Nemesis Close-up – Stage 2





Nemesis – Stage 1





Nemesis – Stage 2





Nemesis – Stage 3





Nemesis – Stage 4





About the Author

JEREMY ROBINSON is the author of over twenty novels including the highly praised, SecondWorld, as well as Pulse, Instinct, and Threshold, the first three books in his exciting Jack Sigler series. His novels have been translated into ten languages. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.

Visit him online at: www.jeremyrobinsononline.com



About the ARTIST

MATT FRANK is a comic book illustrator and cover artist who has worked on well known titles such as Transformers and Ray Harryhausen Presents but is perhaps most well known for his contributions to multiple Godzilla comic books. He lives in Texas and enjoys pineapple Juice.

Visit him online at: www.mattfrankart.com





Older Kindle model? Click here for e-store.





—SAMPLE—



THE LAST HUNTER by JEREMY ROBINSON

Available for $2.99 on Kindle.

CLICK HERE TO BUY!



DESCRIPTION:



I've been told that the entire continent of Antarctica groaned at the moment of my birth. The howl tore across glaciers, over mountains and deep into the ice. Everyone says so. Except for my father; all he heard was Mother’s sobs. Not of pain, but of joy, so he says. Other than that, the only verifiable fact about the day I was born is that an iceberg the size of Los Angeles broke free from the ice shelf a few miles off the coast. Again, some would have me believe the fracture took place as I entered the world. But all that really matters, according to my parents, is that I, Solomon Ull Vincent, the first child born on Antarctica—the first and only Antarctican—was born on September 2nd, 1974.



If only someone could have warned me that, upon my return to the continent of my birth thirteen years later, I would be kidnapped, subjected to tortures beyond comprehension and forced to fight...and kill. If only someone had hinted that I'd wind up struggling to survive in a subterranean world full of ancient warriors, strange creatures and supernatural powers.



Had I been warned I might have lived a normal life. The human race might have remained safe. And the fate of the world might not rest on my shoulders. Had I been warned....



This is my story—the tale of Solomon Ull Vincent—The Last Hunter.



EXCERPT:



12



My foot rolls on a bone as I kick away from the bodies. There’s so many of them, I can’t make out what I’m seeing. It’s like someone decided to play a game of pick-up sticks with discarded bones. I fall backwards, landing on a lumpy mass. My hands are out, bracing against injury. Rubbery flesh breaks my fall, its coarse hair tickling between my fingers. I haven’t seen the body beneath me, but I know—somehow—that it’s dead.

Long dead.

This is little comfort, however. After finding my footing, I stand bolt upright. My chest heaves with each breath. Each draw of air is deep, but the oxygen isn’t getting to my head. I try breathing through my nose, and the rotten stench of old meat and something worse twists my stomach with the violence of a tornado. I drop to one knee, fighting a dry heave.

“Slow down,” I tell myself. “Breathe.”

I breathe through my mouth. I can taste the foul air, but I force each breath into my lungs, hold it and then let it out slowly. Just like I learned at soccer practice. I only lasted a few practices before giving up, but at least I came away with something. Calm down. Focus. Breathe.

My body settles. I’m no longer shaking. But when I look up I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. Stars blink in the darkness, like when you stand up too fast. But they’re not floating around. They’re just tiny points of light, like actual stars, but I get the feeling they’re a lot closer. The brightest of the light points are directly behind me, and to test my theory I reach out for them. My hand strikes a solid wall.