By D. Harlan Wilson
In view that he assassinated the Nowhere guy, Vincent Prague hasn't been an analogous, haunted through the ontological impossibility of the kill. His star prestige has skyrocketed, besides the fact that, and everyone wishes a section of him. The MAP (Ministry of utilized strain) promotes him to Anvil-in-Chief, the catbird's seat of unique brokers. lower than the so-stupid-it's-genius alias of "Vincent 'Codename' Prague," he works a case that leads him to the previous Czech Republik's Prague, a depressing cirque du urban the place androids run wild, femme fatales chronically manhandle him, and a mad chef named Doktor Teufelsdr?ckh has created a Hitler/Keats/Daikaiju hybrid that will make Frankenstein's monster sing like a Von Trapp ... In an overtechnologized global of continuous reckoning, all Vincent has are his wits, his guns, and a briefcase filled with replaceable extremities to crack a mysterious code that, he quickly discovers, is living inside of himself.
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Additional info for Codename Prague
I saw Halloween III: Season of the Witch,” bragged Truth. “I wasn’t in that installment,” admitted the Wütendeswissenschaftler-munster in an aggrieved British accent. “Nor was Michael Myers. Season of the Witch has nothing to do with the Halloween series. The plot concerns an evil-doing corporate magnate who manufactures a line of novelty masks that spew serpents and ooze bugs and eat people’s heads. Brilliant. But an anomaly. A barracuda in an aardvark colony, so to speak. ” “I can’t disagree,” said the doktor, and killed the Wütendeswissenschaftlermunster with a geyser gun… The eighth Wütendeswissenschaftlermunster finally satisfied the doktor, but after failing to create eleven functioning monsters, he killed it and created another one, which failed to create twelve functioning monsters before losing its life.
A security guard placed his meathook on Dr Teufelsdröckh’s shoulder. ” Distressed, Dr Teufelsdröckh rifled through his pockets, the guard’s long mustache brushing against his head like a dead snake. He found the ID. He handed it to the guard. The guard ran a fingertip over the ID and stopped on a small pink box in the lower right-hand corner. ” The guard gave the ID back to Dr Teufelsdröckh, then leaned over and gave the woman a long, loud kiss. She complied, more or less, struggling halfheartedly.
The MAP had fucked him over more than once. They’d fuck him over again. Not to mention his boss’s eccentricities and terrific longwindedness. But being in the cut was all he knew. And it was all he ever wanted to do. He had been to Prague before, once, as a child. His parents were Kafka fetishists and took him there to visit the author’s house-cum-museum/bookstore/café. He remembered the address: No. 22 Golden Lane. He remembered what color the house had been painted on the outside: tropical sky blue.
Codename Prague by D. Harlan Wilson