Excerpt for Resotek Elite: Turbulence by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Resotek Elite


Prometheus Saga Episode Three

Brett P. S.

Copyright © 2018 Brett P. S.

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents











Partners in Crime

Skyline, Chicago

Jack and Baylee Ryder, age 18 and 17 respectively. Older brother and younger sister, partners in crime and survival in a bitter world that spat on them almost as much as their parents did. Resonance users awakened by both need and circumstance, Jack and Baylee prowled the depths of Chicago as Turbulence and Overgrowth, a tragic pair searching for purpose in a grim, nihilistic reality.

Rain poured down from dark skies above as Jack leapt across the ledge of a high-rise. In mid-flight, he looked down on the city below. Everything seemed so small from up here. Beads of rainwater smacked his face and matted his short, mud-colored hair. He wiped the water from his stubble and touched down on the rooftop of a fifty-story office building.

The gravel spread around his heels after landing, a side effect of his passive defense. It was weaker up here, for some reason. The closer he climbed to the clouds, the less it worked. On the streets below, rain would spread around him, not a drop on his nose, but that drew unwanted attention. Besides, it felt so good to fly. Sis would never know the joy of it, the freedom, God, the ecstasy.

Jack walked over to a nearby ledge facing south and peered down at the traffic below. He set his sights on a red Sedan with black trim rolling into a parking garage on the opposite side of the street. Jack reached for the radio on his belt, brought it to his lips, and pushed to talk.

“Sis, that him?”

He let up, waiting for a reply. Static rolled through his ears while the bastard rolled on through. To hell with waiting. Jack primed his stance and prepared for one blast off to remember. It’d be the last thing the loon ever saw.

“Yes, mark confirmed.” Jack grinned and holstered his radio. He started his sprint, but he caught himself at the ledge just as trifling words echoed through his radio. “Jack, remember what we talked about?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Just the mark.”

“Nobody else needs to die, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “Understood.”

He braced and throttled the wind around him, leaping into the air. Flight. He soared above the street below and took a nosedive straight from the start. He slammed into a pocket of condensed air circulating around his feet as he fluttered just above the street. Jack eyed the depths of the parking garage, and in the same moment that he’d touched down, he sparked a current to propel him inside. He zoomed across a full lot and soared through aisle after aisle until he spotted the filth. Drug Lord Gaza.

The world praises the UNC and its bygone heroes into an era of stagnation. No heroes saved him and Baylee from abusive parentage. A force of nature did that. Jack tightened his fist and stopped just as the man climbed out of his car. The dark haired drug lord looked upon the visage of a hovering spectacle with eyes full of shock. He gestured something fierce to nobody in particular and reached for his sidearm, but he was too slow.

Jack had to witness the futility in his eyes, had to see it for himself. He raised a hand and from it sprang a torrent of air that crushed Gaza’s chest and slammed his body against his car, denting the metal and breaking a few of his bones in the process. Jack’s eyes sparked with eagerness and a fever of damnation. He allowed his feet to touch the cold concrete and raised his hand for a final deathblow.

“Look at me,” he said. Gaza’s face drooped low. He was barely conscious. Jack growled. “I said look at me!”

No response. Jack flinched as gunfire erupted around him. He looked to the left and right. Gaza’s henchmen, no doubt. He flew to the first one and pushed him across the garage with a gust of air, the barreled on the opposite direction to blast the second into a car crater. He could hear the bones snap as he crushed the assailant’s sternum under the force of air. Jack simmered down and strode over to Gaza, who’d regained some semblance of conscious thought. The man looked up at him with fear in his eyes. His last moments. Let them be in agony. Jack raised his hand as a torrent of air circled around it and thrust it down …


Jack froze as Baylee’s hands wrapped around his forearm. The air dispersed, and he turned to regard his little sister. Though rain soaked her face, he could spot the real tears rolling form her puffy eyes.

“Let go, sis,” he said. Jack’s rage subsided, and he tried plucking her fingers off, but she clamped down. “I said, let go.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill anyone else!”

Jack looked to either side. Oh, right. Them. He shook his head and pulled his arm away, forcibly this time. He tried not to look at her while he built up an airflow in the palm of his hand. Grass climbed through the concrete beneath his feet as the ground cracked. Tendrils of plant life swarmed around his legs and wrapped around his hips.

“You’re being annoying!” He yelled. “Just let me do this!”

The tendrils ensnared his neck and enveloped his face. He glanced through patches of thick grass at Baylee’s tearing eyes. He dreaded to see her like this, but he had to finish what he started. He had to be a …

“You’re acting just like Pa!”

Jack snapped. Scissors of wind ripped away the grass into shreds that caked the ground by his feet. He glared at her with a snarl, his hand still wrapped in a storm of furious wind. He wanted to scream, to bring down the building even if it killed him. Jack shut his eyes and quieted the storm inside and out. He breathed a sigh as the wind around his fingers slowed to a trickle. Jack shoved his hands inside his jean pockets, turned, and walked away. He stopped a few steps ahead and cocked his head.

“You coming or not?”

Chapter 1

A Way Out

Recovery Room, Prometheus HQ

Gavin Price wrestled between boredom and relaxation while he rested in a private medical office deep underground. Prometheus HQ opted to settle him up a hospital bed for an extended stay while he recovered from ‘life threatening exhaustion.’ Best excuse he’d ever heard of to keep tabs. Louise figured someone hacked his check-in data from the hospital computer systems. Word of mouth couldn’t have gotten around fast enough for a couple hour turnaround, not even for a psychic such as Evelyn Adamson. Then again, Louise and her people really didn’t know what the woman was capable of pulling off, though he didn’t mind spending time at HQ.

Inside the office, Gavin sat on a white, elevated bedspread, his modesty covered by a faded green sheet and a fitted hospital gown. The space looked cramped, about thirty feet from end to end in either direction. A desk with supplies stood beside him, fitted with drawers of supplies and a cupboard above. His slice of home came with a sink and sundries. Well, that and a wide screen TV hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t get many channels, mostly news. He quivered at the disposal bin and what dastardly needles lay scrambled at the bottom of the barrel.

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