The Sons of Thunder - Book Tour and Giveaway

​Welcome to the Revolution 
​

The Sons of Thunder
Unrated Directors Cut
City Knights Book 1
by Chris Miller
Genre: Dystopian SciFi Cyberpunk Action Splatterpunk Adventure

When Sawyer "Deck" Declan, more machine than man, is offered an opportunity to go after the terrorist who took his former life away, he heads into the wastelands surrounding the domed city of Nuevo Buenos Aires, hunting a sadistic army of cultists bent on equality or death, all under the direction of their mysterious Messiah and Declan's nemesis, Carlo Varga. A showdown for the ages is in store for The Sons of Thunder, because Declan is bringing hell to their doorstep.

The Revolution Starts Now.


"Fantastic! A high-octane, uber-violent blend of cyberpunk and splatterpunk...Blade Runner meets Road Warrior." - Mike Duke, author of the AMALGAM series.


Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

​

​Nuevo Buenos Aires Network News at 9:00:

“NBAN News has yet to confirm that the vigilante known only as The Cyber Angel has struck again, but it is believed they are responsible for the latest murder in the Mob Massacre. This time, the victim is Diamante lieutenant Lucio Villalobos. Villalobos was found in the barrio district this morning, the apparent victim of the cloaked figure who has been haunting our streets for years now. Known for crushing the faces of their victims, The Cyber Angel is thought to be a person with cybernetic enhancements—a cyborg, or ‘borg—as evidenced by the brutal nature of their killings. Faces are crushed to pulp, bones shattered to powder, and that is often after the removal of fingers, sometimes arms, and, once, even a leg. The Cyber Angel’s targets thus far have all been gangsters or members of former mob groups, such as Diamante, but also still operating elements like Rising Sun, who trade and deal in illegal tech, the Con-Feds, who briefly tried to establish themselves in Nuevo Buenos Aires before their leaders were all killed and hung from light poles in the Southern District and the rest headed for friendlier areas in the North American domes. Even the once-feared Sinister Samurai Six—an all-female group of thieves—have been crushed from our locality in recent years.
“These reports continue as police extend their years-long search for the vigilante, though no evidence has ever been connected to a single individual for any of the crimes. While many in The City consider The Cyber Angel to be a local hero, authorities say they are a dangerous menace, and anyone with any information on the identity of The Cyber Angel should come forward immediately before there is more bloodshed in our streets.
“Hero or villain, The Cyber Angel has left our City’s streets coated in blood since first surfacing. Hailed by many as a savior, critics have begun to question why this cloaked individual has yet to set their sights on The Sons of Thunder, the terrorist group taking credit for a series of recent attacks that have rocked The City and shattered uncountable lives with their brutality. These attacks strike at the heart of our City, and even against our children. All citizens are urged to be vigilant and to report any suspicious person or persons to the closest automated officer, or contact your nearest precinct and speak with detectives. This goes both for The Cyber Angel and members of the terrorist organization known as The Sons of Thunder...”


Lights Fade…

DEATH moved amongst the crowd, and the people did not recognize it. An invisible virus in a hooded jacket, head down as the reclamation of The City’s pollution rained down on the streets below. A shadow among the lights that stretched high into the dome, it moved with purpose toward the place of its manifestation.
Recognized or not, a reckoning was coming.
Carys Martin scanned the crowd, holobit projecting over her right eye. It scanned faces, scanned bodies, measuring to match with data in the archives. But she could see nothing so far.
“Rodrigo, what are the drones getting?” she asked. A moment passed as she continued scanning the crowd across the street from the Airescorp, one of The City’s tallest domescrapers.
“Nothing so far, ma’am,” Rodrigo responded in her ear. “I think we may have gotten some bad info.”
Carys shook her head. “No. Keep scanning. We’re too close. Porter?”
“Ma’am?” another voice answered in her bit.
“What’s your position?”
“Northwest corner of the square,” Porter said. “Nothing so far.”
Carys grimaced. Her heart was threatening to start a gallop, but The Corporation training grabbed its reins, keeping it at an even trot.
“Holland?”
“East,” a woman’s voice said. “A couple of false IDs, but nothing solid yet.”
“Shit,” Carys muttered to herself.
She stood from the table in front of the ramen bar. She hadn’t touched her soup. It wouldn’t have been much cover anyway. Corporate Security Agents stood out like a sore thumb, even in plain clothes. It was the eyes, the way they moved, the training.
“I’m not letting this happen again,” Carys said.
“The few take from the many!” a voice somewhere in the crowd shouted.
She scanned the area, her holobit zeroing in on faces, dismissing them, moving on to the next. Her heart ticked up again, and this time, she didn’t try to rein it in. She welcomed the adrenaline, the focus.
“The masters demand service, demand loyalty,” the voice went on as Carys moved into the crowded street, looking across at the mall in front of Airescorp. “Humanity is not respected, only its sacrifice to The Corporation!”
“Rodrigo?” Carys almost hissed. “Are you—”
“On it,” he replied. “Scanning. I’m not getting—”
He stopped. A beat of silence passed as Carys stood in the glow of the cyan and pink lights of The City. Carys touched a finger to the bit in her ear.
“Rodrigo?”
She heard him clear his throat.
“I might have something,” he said. “Two o’clock. Green coat.”
Carys was moving, rain painting her hair to her scalp. Her hand pulled her jacket off her hip and her fingers snaked around the grip of her gun, though she did not pull it. Her heart rate continued to rise.
“I see him,” Holland said. “Moving in.”
“Coming in for backup,” Porter said.
Carys did a quick glance toward Holland’s position, then Porter’s as she continued across the street.
“Remember, I want him alive.”
“It does not care for the common man!” the voice in the crowd shouted. “It only cares for itself, at the expense of human dignity, at the expense of humankind!”
Carys’s eyes fell on a shape moving through the lights, shadows, and rain. A second before the man flipped the hood from his head, she saw the green jacket. Her galloping heart almost stopped.
It was him. Nicolai Bulgakov. The one Intelligence had identified. Former corporate engineer turned terrorist. He hadn’t been seen in The City in four years and, for a time, had been assumed dead or hiding in The Outlands beyond the dome. There had been four other attacks in the past month. Two slab bombs had gone off, one after Hans Werner drove into a cybernetics manufacturing facility—which destroyed the factory and killed nearly a hundred people—and the other when Christina Salvador crashed into the farmland tram support beam as the Vice President was returning from a photo-op in front of the crops, bringing the whole thing down and killing the VP and his aides. Then there was the drone that flew into and exploded the daycare center at DomeNet, killing fourteen children under the age of six. And last week, when a man carried a bomb inside a backpack into the Cathedral of Silence while worshippers knelt in prayer to She Who will not listen.
All were killed.
“Are we not all alike?” Bulgakov shouted, baring his teeth now. People were taking notice, even in the rain, stopping and turning to listen to the madman. “Am I any less a man for not serving the behemoth? Must we be slaves to be considered human?”
Carys was pushing her way through the crowd, which was thick with bodies and slowly creeping slabs. A man grumbled at her as she brushed past, but she ignored him. A woman somewhere to her left said something about the lunatic who was shouting, but no one dispersed.
“Get out of here!” Carys shouted, though no one seemed to hear her. She glanced toward Holland’s direction and saw her getting closer to Bulgakov, within twenty meters. Carys tapped her bit.
“Neutralize the target,” Carys said. “Knockout rounds. Before this goes bad.”
“On it.”
Holland pulled a gun from her hip, barrel down as she moved.
“Where are you, Porter?” Holland asked, her voice sharp.
“I’m here,” he said. “Eyes on Bulgakov, ready to neutralize.”
Bulgakov moved up the steps of the mall and turned, looking out over the crowd. That was when he flung his soaking green jacket off and let it fall to the ground, and a collective gasp sucked the air out of the area for a moment as a hush fell, the pattering pelts of rain and the whines of slab drives the only sounds remaining.
“Oh, my God,” Carys whispered.
The man’s chest and belly were a twisted patchwork of poorly stitched flesh. His stomach bulged unnaturally, and his bleeding wounds mixed with the rain as he raised his arms domeward, his long hair matted to his forehead and shoulders, an insanity in his eyes Carys had never seen before.
And in his right hand, a small cylinder with a glowing red button on its end.
“Everyone get down!” Carys shouted, struggling to push past a throng of people too mesmerized by the sight to react.
“We are all men!” Bulgakov roared. “And The Sons of Thunder have one demand!”
“Holland, Porter, take him down!” Carys ordered over her bit. Holland was within five meters now, Porter within ten. They were raising their guns.
“Equality for all,” Bulgakov said as his mad smile melted and his eyes lit on Carys, stuck in the mass of people, sending a chill through her soul. “Or death for all.”
His thumb came down on the button.
Carys was thrown down under bodies a half-second after she saw the man’s body tear apart in an explosion of gore, a pyre of bright, blue-white flame erupting first from his upturned mouth, then in all directions as debris shot through the crowd. Holland’s face and left arm came off, vaporized in flame, and Porter was thrown several meters as something punched holes the size of cred sticks through his torso.
Blood joined the rain showering down on Carys as the wind gushed out of her and bodies all around were reduced to fleshy rubble and burned pieces. Heads were torn apart, limbs ripped from bodies, holes punched through them all. There may have been screams, but Carys could not hear them. Her face was covered in warmth as she pushed bodies off her, their lifeless husks slopping over to the wet street. She struggled to drag air back into her depleted lungs as she gaped with wide, horrified eyes.
It was a massacre. Dozens of bodies lay all around, mutilated and shorn apart in various ways, limbs and organs and viscera already being cleansed of their crimson coatings as the rain sluiced it away to be reclaimed in the sewers.
The steps of the mall were a crater of destruction. Carys’s knees felt weak as she took a step, careful to avoid stepping on any of the destroyed humanity at her feet. Bile rose in her, and her body shook. The information was good. But they hadn’t acted quickly enough, hadn’t identified Bulgakov quickly enough. And now...
Poor Holland, she thought. Oh, Silence, Porter.
“Carys?” Rodrigo’s voice drifted to her from somewhere far away. “Carys, are you—”
“I’m alive,” she gasped, touching her bit. “I...we...fuck!”
She looked up into the rain, mouth trembling, and released a primal roar of rage.

--Cut to Black--

 Chris Miller is a native Texan and award - winning author of more than fifteen books in horror, suspense, crime, sci - fi, and more, including the Amazon - bestselling Splatter Western, Dust, which was nominated for a Splatterpunk Award, Shattered Skies, also nominated for the Splatterpunk Award, one - third of the collection Cerberus Rising, nominated for two Splatterpunk Awards, and many more. His novel The Damned Ones was winner of the Home Grown Horror Award in 2021.

Chris is also featured in dozens of anthologies. Father to three beautiful children, he lives in Winnsboro, Texas.


Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

​

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
​
July 30
kickoff at Silver Dagger Book Tours
Lady Hawkeye
The Dungeon Crawlers

July 31
Naughty Nightie Book Blog
Insane Books
Stormy Nights Reviewing & Bloggin'

Aug 1
Author Sahara Foley
Country Mamas With Kids
My beauty my books

Aug 2
All Things Dark & Dirty
4covert2overt ☼ A Place In The Spotlight ☼
Midnight Book Reader

Aug 3
Bedazzled By Books

Aug 4
Craving Lovely Books

Aug 5
Plain Talk Book Marketing
Books all things paranormal and romance
Sylv.net

Aug 6
❧Defining Ways❧
I'm Into Books
The Scratching Post

Aug 7
Webs and Blogs For Writers
Inside the Insanity
The Bookshelf Fairy

Aug 8
C.A.Milson
Girl with Pen
Twisted Book Ramblings

Aug 9
ⒾⓃⓉⓇⓄⓈⓅⒺⒸⓉⒾⓋⒺ ⓅⓇⒺⓈⓈ
Celticlady's Reviews
Book Bites....with a side of coffee

Aug 10
The Book Dragon

Aug 11
A Wonderful World of Words

Aug 12
J.M. Northrup
Royally Insane Books
Painting With Words

Aug 13
Scrupulous Dreams
Trixie Reports Books

​

a Rafflecopter giveaway