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Gangs of Galis: Warpmancer
Gangs of Galis: Warpmancer
Gangs of Galis: Warpmancer
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Gangs of Galis: Warpmancer

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A red, flickering light made the blood only brighter, as Don Marzio smoked his synthetic cigarette over the corpse of his trusted informant…

Something is wrong with Galis City. There’s a rot in this sea of shanties.

Don Marzio, head of one of the largest gangs on this skiting planet, wants to end the rot. Where everyone else sees nothing but violence, he sees potential. The Don sees a future Galis ripe for business.

But before he can get there, he needs to eliminate some of the competition.

Gangs of Galis is a thrilling sci-fi crime short story set on a distant world far in the future. Live the action and the heart-stopping drama now with your copy of this essential story in the Warpmancer Universe.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 19, 2018
ISBN9781386897309
Gangs of Galis: Warpmancer

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    Gangs of Galis - Nicholas Woode-Smith

    Gangs of Galis is a short story set in the Warpmancer Universe. Visit: http://nicholaswoodesmith.com/ for more stories and novels set in this epic science fiction world.

    A pale red light flickered. Its audible click-click and hiss melded with the flashing of its sanguine illumination upon the broken concrete. Red sand seeped through cracks in the badly maintained ground. The light, while pale, still managed to enhance the hue of blood, steadily spreading across the tarmac, staining Michel Fulken’s white dress shirt as he lay, splayed like a shrivelled insect, in one of the many alleys of Galis City.

    Danny Marzio took a drag from his cigarette and then grimaced. He blew out the acrid smoke and tossed the cigarette into the growing crimson puddle. Galis hadn’t received a shipment from the Grengen tobacco plantations in months. The lab-grown stuff was all there was left, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

    Zito Gorlea clicked his tongue in disgust as the cigarette was extinguished in the blood.

    ‘That necessary, Don? Best be honouring the dead.’

    ‘Best way to honour the dead is not to make so many of them,’ Danny responded, surveying the scene.

    Zito stared blankly at his boss. He was sweating. The rotund man with the balding pate always looked nervous, but his colleagues knew that was never the case. Despite the moisture on his brow and beneath his pits, Zito Gorlea was as unfeeling as a syn.

    Bullet casings were scattered around

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