u/FastDirt7581

I just finished the manuscript a couple of days ago, and want to test the waters to see if I should go ahead into the editing phase. Therefore, the pitch is a bit rough. My comps are probably not the best, but I hope that the "hook" will be appealing enough that it's worth devoting my attention to the book. If not, there's always tomorrow.
Thank you for your time.

Dear [AGENT]

I am seeking representation for my upmarket crime novel ALL ABOARD, complete at 105k words. Think Mindhunter meets Murder on the Orient Express. The psychological intricacies will appeal to readers of J. D. Kirk’s DCI Logan series, while the dry humor reminds of Sulari Gentill’s Five Found Dead. 

When famed criminal psychologist Heston Alim misprofiles a major case, leading to the suicide of the suspect and death of three kidnapped girls, his career is over. Forced into early retirement and with his life in shambles, Heston is approached by the Sun Yee On with a job too good to turn down. 
The Conductress, matron of the infamous Z0 train, has committed suicide. The Z0 train is a perpetually moving Faraday cage that couples itself to commercial lines across China. Virtually undetectable, and with a spotless security record, it caters to the highest echelon of criminals. Which is why the SYO suspect foul play, and hire Heston to find the killer. 
Heston’s investigation leads him to a series of love letters between the Conductress and A. These date back decades, and imply that the Conductress was willing to risk eloping for A. High-ranking positions on the Z0 aren’t allowed to retire, which is why Heston suspects the SYO is the culprit and they hired him to appease their clientele. 
Heston’s suspicions could spell his death, so he starts brushing shoulders with the criminals he used to hunt, trying to rally them against the SYO while delaying the case. 
That is until Milorad Vuković, one of the Z0’s biggest spenders, is found hanged in his cabin. Heston has to dig deep into his own darkness to solve this case before the SYO decides he’s become useless. 

[BIO]

Dear [AGENT],

I am seeking representation for STREETS AND STONES, a stand-alone SF novel with series potential, complete at 110k words. It filters the sociopolitical topics of Ray Nayler’s Where the Axe is Buried through the lens of Mobb Deep’s The Infamous. Themes of family, revenge, and revolt will appeal to readers of Sarah Langan’s A Better World and Ken Liu’s All That We See or Seem. 

When Nameless tells the orphan clans that trouble is coming, they listen. She’s the Bitch from Brevik, who single-handedly ran the gangs and traffickers out of the district. What she doesn’t tell them is that it’s all part of her plan. 
Nameless isn’t the girl she was back then, the streets of Mars made sure of that. She has a family now, orphans like her, and she promised them a better life. For that Nameless needs walk-away money, and that means entering the drug game. 
Iverson Bolkhov is her main competitor. Nameless has been jacking his precursor shipments for months. She sows doubt between Bolkhov and his buyers, while she’s cooking high-end drugs and flooding the market. 
This is when everything comes back to Brevik. Bolkhov’s desperate, and in order to combat his losing traction, he needs bodies. Children who can’t be jumped in will be trafficked or chopped for parts, that’s just the cost of doing business.
Nameless arms the orphan clans to the teeth with her homebrew weapons. When Bolkhov and his people enter Brevik, they’re met with blaster fire. Nameless watches the bodies pile high on both sides, as sirens wail in the distance. The drug trade is hers, if her family can ever forgive her. 
It turns out they can’t, and want out of the game. That better life Nameless promised will require her to change to the core. She’s not sure she can do that, but changing times call for desperate measures.

I have a PhD in Cognitive Narratology from CityU Hong Kong, and a history of flinging myself headfirst into riot shields. I’m a Cookbook-carrying militant anarchist, neuropsychology researcher, Hermetic sigil magician and diviner.

+ first 300:

PROLOGUE / BIDNISS

NAMELESS WAITS IN THE SHADOWS, one hand on her blaster, the other fixing the broken strap on her mask. Rain’s pouring in red curtains, a half-dead light flickers in the distance. Her boots squelch in the muck, and with each step her tatters catch on the gruff wall. Ares Substation One is eerily quiet during rain, the usual Mars bustle dies down to a faint whisper. Nameless prefers the noise of flitting shuttles and drunk SONS. Still, she didn’t get her stones by being picky. 
The freezing air claws its way to her bones. Her shivering breaths catch inside the mask, and she grinds her teeth instead of chattering. 
Kenji finally pings her over comms. “Boss, bidniss done.” The boy’s Marsmenial is thicker than the rain, and every z sounds like a d. “They on the way.” 
“You finished for the night. Get you some rest. Meet in Escher tomorrow night.” 
“Trust.” Kenji sounds relieved. 
“Trust.” Nameless pings Vayntraub next. “Crew on the move. Been needing you and Triple A. Stay steady.” 
“We on it, boss. Trust.”
“Trust.” Nameless cuts comms, and waits. Don’t fuck this up. She knows the next weeks depend on this haul. 
The crew arrives by the time her body’s numb to the cold. Their ancient shuttle screeches to a halt at the end of the alley, alerting half of AS-One. They bicker about the workload. 
“You on the grav-pad!” one of them shouts. 
“Hauled last time, you up!” another pushes back.
“Fuck both you, the one done fucked up dragging today. Now get!” Finally. Nameless couldn’t handle much more. She chambers a round, and checks her reserve mags just in case. Three SONS. Doable.