The music of Jett Fulgen started as a private experiment—a way to sharpen character voices and give shape to scenes while drafting. A way to hear just what my ideas might sound like. I didn’t plan to share it. As the world grew, the soundtrack began to feel like part of the project itself.

  This collection gathers the full Volume I score: character themes, cinematic scene tracks, genre-bending remixes, and a few wildly unnecessary experiments. It’s entirely supplementary. But if you’re curious how Gigopolis sounds in my head, this is it.

  And if you think you've already heard it all, you might want to stick around... there's one more exclusive track at the end.

  Character Themes

  Jett's theme is a high energy skate punk anthem that captures his need to escape, move fast, and stay one step ahead of a world trying to brand him. The pun was easy; the style was trickier. Punk was the obvious angle, but early iterations came out too hard. Dialing back the yelling and adding a touch of laid back funk to the adrenaline finally got a mix that clicked. A light touch of lore grounds the song in Jett's world while keeping it accessible.

  It takes stylistic influences from the likes of 311, Blink182, and Sum41. You know, 90's and early 2000's bands with numbers in the name.

  Jessie’s theme is a modern noir electro-rock track about determination in the face of outside danger and internal pressure. Pinning down her sound took a few passes. I originally aimed for a modern musical theater feel—which survived in the remix—but the character herself demanded something steadier and more restrained. A driving rock foundation layered with subtle industrial textures better captures her intensity, competence, and the discipline of holding tension without release.

  Stylistically, it leans toward the darker edge of bands like Garbage, CHVRCHES, and Metric. Controlled emotion set against a city-at-night pulse.

  Wally’s theme is a future bass track about helping and supporting even when you’re not in the spotlight. Electronic music was the obvious starting point for our favorite awkward tech geek, but it couldn’t just be flashy. He needed something warm—something that conveys strength in quietude. Wally isn’t a mere sidekick or foil; he’s an integral part of the team, and this track leans into that steady, understated resilience.

  It draws influence from artists like Porter Robinson, Madeon, and ODESZA. Melodic electronic music that builds emotion without demanding the center of the stage.

  Fu’s theme is a raucous, high-energy punk/metal anthem with pop bite—loud, playful, and proudly unconcerned with approval. She demanded something that hits hard but still bounces, equal parts rebellion and grin. A few early versions sounded a little too generic, but once the guitars got heavier and the attitude got sharper, this one took the crown. And yes. It’s Fu king awesome.

  Aggressively unapologetic. Pure punk swagger.

  Influences include Avril Lavigne’s early edge, a dash of Riot Grrrl attitude, and the kind of punchy pop-metal energy that refuses to sit still.

  Mantis’s theme is a cold industrial metal track built on accusation rather than rage. It isn’t about fury—it’s about judgment. Framed around a sociopath’s condemning observation that someone can be capable of empathy and still choose evil, the song needed to feel like pressure building under ice. Heavy mechanical percussion and distorted synths grind forward while the vocals evolve from calm, predatory whispers into full screaming intensity—the sound of Mantis becoming the monster inside Brick’s mind.

  Influences draw from the industrial edge of Nine Inch Nails, the mechanical brutality of early KMFDM, and the electro-metal pulse of bands like Combichrist.

  Brick’s theme is a hard-hitting rap/rock fusion built around consequence and self-inflicted exile. Haunted by a decision he made in his youth, he now chooses to stand in the line of fire—not out of rage, but out of obligation. If someone has to be hunted, it might as well be him. The song needed to feel heavy and deliberate rather than explosive, blending thunderous drums with intricate guitar work that cuts through the dark instead of simply overpowering it.

  It draws from the rap-rock intensity of bands like Linkin Park and From Ashes to New, with a touch of the brooding weight found in artists like Nothing More—aggression anchored by introspection rather than chaos.

  Catalina Castillo’s theme is a hard-hitting Latin alternative track about truth as labor—sharp, uncomfortable, and earned through pressure rather than belief. She was always meant to be the mentor who directs Jett’s chaos without softening it, the kind of leader who makes the truth burn clean instead of burying it under excuses.

  Once her voice carried a distinct Latina cadence on the page, the music followed naturally. Gritty Spanish vocals and driving Latin percussion form the backbone of an anthem about tactical, weaponized honesty—truth not as comfort, but as discipline.

  Valery Drake’s theme is a bombastic musical-theater comedy number with an Eastern European flair, celebrating discipline, sweat, and the most sacred rule of the gym. Even a personal trainer who works with superheroes still has to deal with the universal sin: plates left on the bar—except here, they happen to weigh a few hundred extra pounds.

  As her voice on the page settled into a light Eastern European cadence, the music followed. Brassy horns, subtle oompah rhythms, and theatrical flourishes turn a simple gym rule into a stage-commanding anthem that demands order on the gym floor as confidently as it does in the spotlight.

  Scene and Instrumental

  A high-octane hybrid of rock, electronic, and orchestral elements, this track scores Jett’s frantic flight through Gigopolis with Jessie in relentless pursuit. Driving guitars and pulsing electronic glitches mirror the chaos of a city built in layers, while a subtle funk undercurrent nods to Jett’s reckless swagger even as everything spirals out of control.

  Orchestral strings and restrained choir textures widen the soundscape, giving the chase weight and scale — not just two sorcerers racing through traffic, but a supercity watching from above.

  A frenetic hybrid of heavy metal and trip hop, “Precinct Attack” scores the series’ first full-scale collision of guns, cybernetics, and elemental sorcery. Inspired by the industrial action pulse of films like The Matrix, the track leans into mechanical aggression and rising chaos rather than clean heroics.

  Rapid-fire guitar riffs mimic automatic gunfire, while distorted screeches and metallic slides echo the slicing intrusion of Mantis’s ice. Layered percussion and electronic textures clash as police, G-Tech operatives, grunts, and a newly awakened Guardian collide in a storm of bullets, claws, lasers, and a fire-imbued skidstick.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  An orchestral rock epic scoring a confrontation with something that should not exist. “The Titan” captures both the stand and the retreat—Jett and his allies facing the demon cat unleashed by Brick and Mantis’s hidden failsafe, only to realize survival may require flight.

  Sweeping strings and choral accents give the piece mythic weight, while driving guitars and pounding percussion keep it grounded in urgency. It plays like a boss battle that refuses to resolve cleanly—part defiance, part desperation, and a reminder that not every monster is meant to be defeated on the first encounter.

  The outrageously over-the-top opening theme of the in-universe anime Capsaiders!, this five-alarm shōnen parody track is pure kinetic excess. It has everything: blistering tempo, power chords that refuse to rest, heroic call-and-response chants, and lyrics so dramatic they barely make sense in either Japanese or English. Inspired by classic shōnen openings like Dragon Ball Z and Naruto.

  You'll get to meet and learn more about Jolu the Ghost Pepper, Jala the Jalape?o, Serena Serrano, and Master Pimiento in the next book, as they shout their way toward destiny and battle the villainous Shimane of the Wasabi Gang. Subtlety was not invited. Nostalgia absolutely was. Fair warning.

  A cynically bright modern rock track about a superhero packaged, branded, and strategically managed by the very system that claims to help him save the day. Polished hooks and radio-ready energy mask a sharper undercurrent—this isn’t a victory anthem, it’s a corporate jingle with teeth.

  I wanted a true pop soundtrack mood piece for Jett’s collision with public life, where paperwork is the super serum, optics are the power source, scandal is the kryptonite, and saving lives is often optional. Upbeat on the surface, uneasy underneath, the song smiles while tightening the leash.

  A high-energy pop punk scene track with funk swagger and synth-brass flair, “Fu’s Playground” bursts to life inside a workshop where creativity runs wild and limits don’t survive. Chaos meets genius as one of my favorite characters introduces G-Tech’s newest recruits to her domain—a place where sparks fly both literally and metaphorically.

  Punchy guitars and buoyant bass lines collide with light synth textures, while a wink of Raymond Scott’s Powerhouse energy fuels the manic momentum. It’s playful, inventive, and just a little volatile.

  Safety glasses strongly recommended.

  A stripped-down alternative rock ballad about guilt, memory, and the moment words become irreversible. “Cold Rain” captures the quiet aftermath—when adrenaline fades and regret settles in. Clean guitar lines and restrained percussion leave space for the weight of what was said, and what can’t be taken back.

  Drawing influence from the brooding earnestness of bands like Creed, Nickelback, and Staind, the track leans into emotional vulnerability without theatrical excess. It’s the sound of Jett confronting the damage he’s done—and choosing, despite it, to take the next step forward.

  A playful pop-funk track about clout, chemistry, and two people trying to outmaneuver each other in plain sight. Built on a tight groove and bright, percussive bass lines, the song leans into flirtation as strategy—charm deployed as both shield and weapon.

  It captures Jett and Marissa locked in a mutual hustle: her “tricking” him into leaking juicy gossip, and him fully aware—and counting on it. The result is relentlessly catchy and just a little sly, riding the rush of spilled tea while quietly hinting that not everything is as it seems.

  A suspense-driven instrumental built on patience and dread, “The Mantis’s Lair” underscores the slow approach before everything fractures. As Team Snowcrest moves through the warehouse—past fallen grunts and frost-lined traps—the music lingers in restraint, never rushing what it knows is coming.

  Tinkling, brittle piano notes cut through the quiet like falling ice, while insidious strings coil tighter with each step forward. Only at the brink does the track resolve into a driving rock pulse, signaling that infiltration has ended and confrontation is no longer optional.

  Variations, Remixes, and Mashups

  An aggressively cheerful, overclocked ska-punk remix of Jett’s theme, this version trades edge for bounce without sacrificing speed. What started as an experiment in genre-swapping turned into a full-blown skanking detour—proof that even a hero on the run can afford a horn section.

  Bright brass stabs, upstroke guitars, and relentless tempo push the track toward joyful absurdity. It’s less hoodie, more checkerboard; less angst, more movement. Freedom still drives the engine—it just refuses to take itself seriously while doing it.

  Influenced by ska staples like Sublime and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

  A modern musical-theater reimagining of Jessie’s noir electro-rock theme—bigger, louder, and unapologetically center stage. Where the original held tension in a whisper, this version releases it in full voice, trading restraint for resonance.

  Belting vocals and thunderous orchestral hits push the song into rock-forward Broadway territory, layering drama and spotlight flair over the same core resolve. The discipline is still there, but now it demands to be heard.

  An intimate acoustic reimagining of Wally’s future bass theme—stripped back to piano, strings, and breath. In pursuit of a fully unplugged variation, I turned the most electronic-forward track in the library inside out, revealing the quiet heartbeat beneath the circuitry.

  Warm cello lines take the place of bass drops, and sharp, staccato strings stand in for glitch textures. The result remains contemplative and steady, carrying the same understated strength—just softer, closer, and with the lights turned low.

  A quiet epilogue to an accusation that refuses to fade. Where the original mix reveled in industrial cruelty, this version lingers in the aftermath—the echo of a broken and betrayed Mantis, her prophecy fulfilled and still reverberating in Brick’s mind.

  A solitary piano motif opens the track, fragile but insistent, before giving way to a subdued pulse layered with restrained synth textures. The fury is gone; what remains is cold inevitability.

  Drawing inspiration from the gothic melancholy of bands like Evanescence, the piece leans into atmosphere and ache rather than impact.

  A relentless, bass-heavy dubstep rework that transforms a creative workshop into a full-scale sonic detonation. If the original “Fu’s Playground” was sparks and swagger, this version is overclocked circuitry and shattered speakers.

  Inspired by the glitching aggression of artists like Skrillex, the mix cranks every dial past reasonable limits—wobbling bass drops, metallic growls, and explosive build-ups that hit like power tools slamming against steel. It’s loud, chaotic, and unapologetically excessive.

  Hard hats optional. Ear protection advised.

  A warm, harmony-driven reimagining of a playful pop-funk track about clout, chemistry, and mutual manipulation. Stripped of its instrumental polish, this version leans fully into layered vocals, rhythmic snaps, and tightly interlocked harmonies.

  Inspired by contemporary pop a cappella groups like Pentatonix, the mix trades drum kits for vocal percussion and funk guitars for buoyant vocables. The groove remains intact—just rebuilt from breath and timing alone—giving the flirtation a slightly more intimate, conspiratorial feel.

  A high-voltage mashup uniting two voices of defiance—discipline and conviction, spoken boldly and held without compromise. For my first foray into mashups, I brought together the two major “girl power” anthems of Volume I, blending Jessie’s restrained resolve with Catalina’s sharpened, weaponized honesty.

  The result is a driving bilingual metal track that fuses English and Spanish vocals into a single forward surge. Gritty guitars and percussive intensity bind the themes together, turning parallel strength into shared momentum. It takes no prisoners and offers no apologies.

  A conflicted mashup where freedom and control collide without ever fully reconciling. Here, Jett’s kinetic drive to run and redefine himself crashes headlong into the polished machinery of branding, optics, and expectation.

  Hooks interrupt hooks. Choruses trade blows without resolving. The restless propulsion of “Gotta Jett” keeps trying to break loose, only to be boxed in by the bright, corporate sheen of “Save the Day.” The tension never fully dissolves—even the apparent triumph of the finale is shadowed by an echoing, uncertain refrain: Maybe. Maybe.

  A brutal fusion of accusation and guilt, where two truths collide and refuse to release their grip. Brick’s buried remorse and Mantis’s merciless mantra overlap, distort, and ultimately reinforce one another until their voices blur into a single, relentless refrain.

  The industrial chill of “Meaner Than Me” bleeds into the pounding rap-rock pulse of “Blood in the Water,” layering mechanical cold over human regret. What emerges isn’t resolution—it’s amplification. Violence and consequence feed each other, building to a climax that feels less like triumph and more like reckoning.

  Special Bonus Track

  Icy accusation and cruelty… polka-fied.

  This intentionally absurd remix takes the coldest, most industrial track in the soundtrack and runs it straight through an accordion. Bouncy rhythms, shouted gang chants, and cheerful chaos collide with the accusatory lyrics of the original, creating a self-aware parody that fully commits to the bit.

  If you’re going to make a Weird Al-style polka remix, you might as well aim it at your darkest song.

  I hope you enjoyed these pieces. Volume II's soundtrack is already in the works, along with the book itself.

  There will be love songs. There will be K-Pop.

  You have been warned.