Emergence: Kaiju Invasion

[Godzilla165]

France

He didn't know if he could do this anymore, if he could still fight with every ounce of his dwindling resolve. These beasts, these horrific beasts were dreadfully overwhelming. The soldier had witnessed his fellow brothers be snatched up and torn apart as if they'd been made out of paper. A lingering and pungent stench hung in the air, making it difficult the breathe, let alone see. The soldier had huddled himself in the far reaches of an empty alleyway, along with his remaining brethren. Their eyes darted to and fro, rifles at the ready, and arms shaking from the adrenaline pumping through them. They were all sweating profusely; the men could hear the sounds of beating wings from nearly every direction. The soldiers knew they were surrounded, and that it would only be a matter of time before the Ghagon sniffed them out. If this was to be their final stand, their last attempt at defending France, then so be it. One of the men began to say an old prayer, one that he said his grandmother recited to him every night when he was a child. It comforted him in times of hardship and sadness. And, he had hoped to at the very least instill some of that to his brothers, to reassure them that they would all be back home soon...Their real home. As the man recited the prayer, he was interrupted when a spine-tingling hiss echoed through the alley. The soldiers all froze as they looked up and saw the blue-furred form of a Ghagon peering down at them. Saliva was secreting from its terrible maw as its fangs bared; its eyes held nothing but hungered hatred for the humans below. The soldier who had been praying with his men locked eyes with the grotesque creature, and began again, only louder this time. He prayed in defiance at the demon whom stood before them, as the group of men slowly raised their rifles to confront the winged fiend. The Ghagon had no interest in the humans' unintelligible ramblings; all it saw were 10 fleshy morsels to feed its insatiable appetite. With a chortled and wet bark, the creature prepared to pounce. But, something halted it from doing so.

Suddenly, a distant, but respectfully loud sonic boom thundered from above. The Ghagon turned its attention away from the men, and craned its head upward to locate the source. It sniffed the air, and when it did, its posture had all but completely changed. It devolved from that of aggression and dominance, to timid and fearful. Another, low sonic boom soon sounded, and, in an instant, the horrible beast was frozen solid. It managed to eek out a terrified shriek, before its lungs solidified and its insides turned to solid ice. This wasn't just a normal cold, this was much more than that. This was absolute zero. Before the men's very eyes, the Ghagon soon broke down into a cloud of icy dust before a gust of wind carried it away. And then... Snow. Snow began to fall from the sky, directly above the soldiers. The air grew cold, but not unbearably so, and a stint of silence had overtaken the area. Just as quickly as that quietness had arrived, it was eloquently broken by not that of any harsh abruptness, but of a lovely noise, a soothing noise... A comforting one. The men lowered their weapons, and simply listened, listened to what sounded like a grand harp being caressed from the heavens.



Just then, the soldiers felt a gentle gust of wind, and looked up just in time to see a crystalline figure flying right over them. Its form shrouded them in temporary shadow, and the men cold feel the cold touch of the creature as it passed overhead. They weren't frightened, nor did they feel threatened; they merely watched as it disappeared into another section of the city. A few of the men couldn't help but smile; they didn't know why they were, but they didn't care. Whatever they had just witnessed, it saved their lives... And that is all that mattered to those men.

The great beast passed silently and gently over the city, enveloping it with pockets of snow, and spherical barriers of icy wind that dealt with fires that had raged on for long enough. The creature glided around France, "singing", its lovely song for all of those that could hear it. It spotted a few other groups of soldiers fighting to their last to fend off the overwhelming swarm swiftly approaching. From within the creature's body, radiated a blue light, and, with a single flap, the men found themselves enveloped in the cool embrace of a breezy and icy barrier. Whatever tried to breach through now, would at the very least be slowed down significantly. With the soldiers taken care of, and the city under defense for now, the winged creature set its sights on the outstanding mass of Kaiju coming forth. It slowed to a casual hover, eyeing the horrible infestation before it. Opening its mouth, the figure let out a beautiful, "CAWWW!", and focused up. It was time to go to work.

Hanjiru had arrived.

[JAGzilla]

Marianas Island


Mike groaned again, unable to articulate or even think much of anything else at the moment. He blinked, trying to rub at his swimming, stinging eyes and missing, his hands fumbling and groping around uselessly for a moment before he finally got it right. He couldn't see a thing, his eyes still adjusted to the utter blackness inside the-

The Sphere.

He jerked up into a sitting position with a gasp, frantically feeling his limbs and looking over everything as best his recovering vision allowed. Everything seemed to be intact... in fact, he didn't seem to be injured in any way, unless one counted the headache that the lunacy of the last few minutes was bringing on.

There was a hand on his shoulder, a voice shouting something. "Mike! Can you hear me? Are you okay?" He steadied himself with his hands on the ground, turning to blink up at the blurry figure at his side. Ransikoff. Others were approaching, crowding around, yelling-

He raised a hand to hold them off, looking back down to keep from being nauseated by all the confusion. "Fine..." he managed. "I'm fine. I think. Just gimme a minute..."

"What'd it do to you?" one of the soldiers asked. "It spat out a copy of your body..."

"It what?" Mike exclaimed, looking up at the man too quickly and causing his stomach to lurch alarmingly.

"Just your body!" the soldier clarified. "It wasn't, like, alive or nothing."

Mike groaned again, for lack of anything else to say to that. He couldn't immediately decide whether he wanted to see his inert clone or not. Probably not. That had to be unhealthy, somehow.

Changing the subject, he tried to answer the original question. The experience had been... a lot of nothing, really. Over very quickly, and just discombobulating. "I was just... suspended in there, was all. Felt like it was scanning me, like... like it was a computer, I guess you'd say. I think it just processed all the information about my body, what I'm made of or something, and I guess it used that to make the copy. I... it's kinda hard to explain how I knew what it was doing, but I guess it was connected to my mind, too. I dunno, it happened pretty fast and was just weird as hell. But that was all it did."

He hesitated for a second before continuing, uncertain whether to even say the rest of what he was thinking, or even if it had been real. It had disturbed him at the time, though, and the feeling was even stronger now.

"On the way out... once it was done with me... I felt like it... changed, somehow. Like it was noticing me, or aware of me in a way it hadn't been at first. I..."

He fell silent, shaking his head, unsure of what else to say. Whatever it had done, he couldn't shake the feeling that his encounter with the Anomaly wasn't finished yet.

[Zarm]

Ransikoff stared at the sphere, and the corpse, with a sense of growing dread.

"If it was the copy," slipped out before he could stop it.

Most of the soldiers didn't seem to hear- but a couple of heads snapped in his direction.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Private Higgins demanded, sharply.

Ransikoff couldn't help a glance back at the corpse- avoiding the other man's gaze- before answering hesitantly.

"Well, before, it... always ejected the original first, then the duplicate. Now, certainly, with biological material, it's possible it for some reason reversed the process, held onto the original longer..."

He glanced back to Higgins to find the man glaring daggers, and averted his eyes again; certainly, the burgeoning kaiju confrontation in the field beyond provided plenty of available distraction.

He kept his voice low- unsure if he'd been speaking loud enough for Mike to hear, or if he'd taken notice.

"...Or else, that thing killed Mike Robbins in the process of analyzing him, and spat out an identical, living copy. Either way..."

He swallowed- turned back to look at the corpse once more, and caught Mike staring at him, looking stricken.

Ransikoff hesitated, choking on his words. He didn't want to say it- but there were enough eyes on him now that he couldn't simply pretend he ahdn't said anything; couldn't pretend that the thought hadn't occurred to him.

"...One of them will crumble to dust in seven hours."

[Dawsbfiremind]

Se below

[Dawsbfiremind]

Removed. Sorry guys, really I am. I won't make the mistake again.

[MinorBone Good]

Location: Binghamton, New York

Carly breathed heavily as she continued to wander through the thick fog. With tears still fresh in her eyes, she clutched the toy plane close to chest, trying to remember the heroic actions of Helen Parker. After taking several more breaths, she calmed down. "You can do this, Carly." She started to walk forward once more, continuing to build up her confidence. "Be brave. Brave like Parker." She began to try to remember on which part of town she was on. They lived on the north side, and she recalled her mother saying they had to go to the other side of town. The south side. There wasn't much she knew about about this part of town, except the recently closed Dunkin Donuts that her mother used to take her to when she got great grades in school. The only other thing that she knew about was the hospital further down the street. The thing that always caught her attention was around Christmas time, there was a large green star that shined from the hospital down at the people below.

Perhaps she could hide in the hospital and use it at shelter until the storm blows over? She had to find out where she was first, though. She walked further up the street, not noticing the curb of the sidewalk about a foot away. Carly took two steps, and her foot ended up slipping on the curb, causing her to fall down and scrape her leg on a sharp rock. She screamed out and dropped the toy plane. Carly started to cry again, this time due to the pain. She tried to stand up, but quickly fell back down again. She inspected her injury and noticed fresh blood running down her leg. Carly started to cry out even harder.

"M-Mommy!" She yelled out, hoping that she would be nearby. She called out, louder this time. "Mommy!! I-I need y-you!" She waited several moments before calling out once again, but once again, there was no response. "Why did I leave there car?" Carly thought to herself. "If I just waited for you to get back from the store, t-this wouldn't be happening.." She looked around, trying to find the plane. The bright yellow and purple plane seemed to blend in with the cold fog around her. Using her hands to search the ground, she came across it moments later. She quickly picked it up and hugged it tightly. Trying to think positively, she noticed something weird off in the distance. A weird, purple glow that seemed slightly different than the fog. Shiny almost. There was another thing that she noticed about the strange entity. Something that made her scream.

It was coming towards her.

[JAGzilla]

Marianas Island

Mike fell silent for a moment at Ransikoff's proclamation. What else could he do? What words or other reaction could possibly be appropriate response to being told one might unknowingly be an artificial copy of one's own self, destined to die horribly in seven hours' time, with nothing anyone could do to stop it?

There wasn't a proper way to respond. Come to that, there wasn't a proper way to respond to anything that had happened in the last few days, and so he'd largely been trying not to react. He'd thrown himself into anger and hatred because that was easy, easy to sink into as it tuned out everything else. All he'd done since arriving on this island was robotically put one foot in front of the other, fueled by a vague drive for revenge, giving no thought or emotion to anything else, just moving forward.

And now, here was Ivan Ransikoff, the botanist that talked to fairies, the man bent on raising an army of giant monsters to save the world from an alien invasion... telling him something else completely absurd, which was nevertheless a very legitimate possibility in the madhouse that the world had suddenly become.

He couldn't handle it, so he didn't. The proverbial camel's back was broken, and Mike began to laugh. It started as a light chuckle, but quickly built until he was doubled over in hysterics, his whole body shaking, tears pouring down his face. Not just tears of mirth, either- he'd given up, and was sobbing just as forcefully, like a little kid, somehow managing to do both at once as his overloaded mind failed to cope.

Ransikoff and some of the others were talking again, asking him something or other, then shouting, but he didn't understand them or care. He went on for some time, probably only a minute or so, though it felt longer... he was vaguely aware that the camp was shaking again, some ungodly roaring sound was drowning everything else out, people were running and screaming like always these days... it took a tremendous tremor lifting him off the ground and slamming him brutally back down a few feet away, a thick cloud of dislodged dust filling the air and turning his laughing/crying into a coughing fit, to finally bring him back to something that passed poorly for sanity.

He was sitting up, still chuckling weakly, wiping the tears from his red, stinging eyes, when Ransikoff and a few of the soldiers staggered back to his side.

"Mike..." Ransikoff began, clearly at a total loss for words.

Mike cut him off. "My- my girlfriend's dead," he explained, coughing. "Killed in an accident when Vrithigee Emerged from Dover. Never got to say goodbye. My parents and little sister, all my family, are still in Britain, with Ghagon swarming all over everything. They live in Lancashire, near the Atlantic coast, so maybe they had time to get out, I don't know. Haven't heard from them since this started. All my mates in the 11th Infantry, last I heard, are fighting the Ghagon east of London. They're probably dead, because that's what happens to people anywhere near kaiju."

He coughed again, getting to his feet. "And here I am, on an island that popped up out of the ocean a week ago, looking for some magic cure that'll save the world from literal monsters, and you-" he gestured vaguely in Ransikoff's direction, giggling foolishly, "tell me I might be a clone of myself, about to crumble to dust!"

"I-" Ransikoff started, looking stricken, but Mike wasn't finished. "That's what you said, doesn't matter what you're trying to say now, so shut up. Neither of us has a clue if you're right, and we won't for seven more hours, so forget it. All this, and I'm still in command for some bloody reason, so I've got to stop babbling now and pretend I have any idea how to keep you all alive."

The corporal whose name he'd forgotten stepped forward. "Look, I'm sorry, sir, but you're not fit to lead right now, so I'll-"

"No you damn well will not," Mike retorted, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. "Don't stand there and try to tell me you're in better shape than I am, because nobody is right now. I'm not dumping this on you. If I do end up as dust in seven hours, you can have the job then. For now, we've obviously got to get the hell out of here, and I've slowed us down enough."

An Uruguayan soldier, further away, peering around the far side of the Sphere, swore loudly. Gunshots rang out a moment later. It just went on. There were no brakes at all on this train of stupidity. Mike gestured in the sounds' direction, and the group took off, pounding around the looming Anomaly, to where Gabriel Muntenescu and Blade Harrison where crouched at the side of a bloodstained figure on the ground, firing at a group of lowing, metal-horned cattle bearing down on them. The few soldiers still armed opened up, blood and sparks flying as the panicked bovines broke off and scattered into the night.

As they reached the smaller group, Mike made out the fallen man's identity: Akhiko Ya-whatever-his-name-was, a Japanese research assistant or some such. He was barely conscious, appeared to have gone down hard, and it was immediately apparent why: a ragged hole, wide enough to shove a fist through, was visible in his chest. He'd clearly lost a lot of blood already.

"Medic!" Mike called automatically, casting around at his pitiful little band. "Do we even have a-"

"That's me!" an Indian-accented voice replied, as Private Budathoki shoved past him and dropped to his knees at the kid's side. "You-" he grabbed one of the British men by the arm, dragging him closer, "help me with him-"

As they set to work, Mike looked around the camp, trying to take some kind of stock of the overall situation. He belatedly realized that his head had cleared; he could no longer feel Epizona's overpowering presence in his mind. This was apparently because the bird had somehow fallen over, bright blood staining its feathers, and taking its place as the horrific figure towering over the camp... Thanatos.

He laughed quietly to himself again. Thanatos! Big, green, serial-killer dinosaur. It looked like something that could've walked off the set of a Jurassic Park movie, but was in fact the deadliest lifeform in the history of the planet. The stupid thing had murdered an entire city for no discernable reason, apparently just killing everything that moved for the sheer hell of it. Even among its fellow monsters, it was appalling. Most of them had some kind of visible motive for what they did, but not this ugly bastard. What had gone wrong with the world, that something like this could exist?

And now it was here in the camp, currently staring, transfixed, at the Sphere... but that couldn't last. He turned back to Budathoki. "Is he okay to be moved?" he demanded. "We can't stay in the open like this."

"I think so?" Budathoki sighed with a helpless shrug. "I can't tell if there's any spinal damage, but he's dead either way if he stays here."

"Let's go, then," Mike ordered, carefully grabbing one of Akhiko's arms. "Over there- west side of camp..."

Budathoki, Muntenescu, and two of the others helped lift the injured young man off the ground, and with the rest of the group providing what cover and assistance they could, they lugged him as quickly and carefully as possible into the trees at the forest's edge, slowing for a moment to try and pick out a usable path in the darkness.

"I think we can get through over here," the corporal said, stepping over a shattered tree trunk and peering through the stampede-trampled undergrowth. "They plowed us a trail as far in as I can make ou- UURK!"

His words were abruptly cut off and replaced with a pained, strangled gasping. Mike and the others spun to face him, the Uruguayan shining their lone flashlight at the man... to reveal a long, pink, tentacle-like thing wrapped tightly around his neck, his hands pulling feebly at it. Kraus and one of the soldiers lunged for him, but too slowly. With a last choked scream, the officer was yanked upward, hauled into the canopy by whatever was gripping his neck. The flashlight beam tracked him into the treetops, and exposed a horrific sight.

A ring of eyes glowed yellow in the light, surrounding a cluster of razor-sharp metallic beaks already tearing into the dead man's flesh as a tongue-tentacle held him in place, blood and shreds of uniform raining down. The Uruguayan played the beam around the nightmare face, revealing the monster to be a massive starfish, easily ten feet across, a dozen black arms coiled snakelike around the surrounding branches to hold it up.

Two of the soldiers shouted and opened fire. The monster hissed, releasing several of its limbs, swinging itself out of sight into the darkness. The flashlight tried and failed to track it, and the soldiers took to spraying bullets in its general direction...

"Stop!" Muntenescu snapped, breathing hard as he maintained his grip on Akhiko. "You'll bring Thanatos over here!"

"He's- shit. He's right," gasped Mike. Of course there were giant, carnivorous starfish in the trees. Why wouldn't there be? "Back to the clearing, can't go this way. North side..."

They staggered back into the opening, quickly skirting the treeline until they made it behind the flimsy shelter afforded by a cluster of fallen trees, barely out of the looming saurian's current line of sight. The medic set to work again, trying to get the kid's bleeding under control.

"There isn't much I can do for him, other than slow the bleeding down," Budathoki said tersely, clearly on the edge of panic. "And I gave him some morphine, for what that's worth. All of the equipment that could've seriously helped was flattened by the stampede yesterday. He's... he only has a few hours, maybe, unless we can get some kind of help."

Mike nodded, thinking. "I don't imagine any of the other medics are any better equipped-"

"They aren't," the Indian confirmed.

"-and taking him further inland trying to find Semaj and the rest isn't an option, with that thing and God knows what else hiding in the dark," Mike continued, as a Paladin's faint, distant screech reached them like an evil exclamation point. The only real choice was becoming clear to him. The Major might not approve, but he wasn't here, maybe not even alive, and the expedition's operational lifespan had obviously come to an end either way, at least for the moment.

"The American fleet," he said. "They're our only chance right now. We know the way back to the north beach, and have a trail already cut to get there. If we can radio the Patton now, they can probably have a helicopter waiting when we get to the beach."

"Assuming they'll even be willing to help," Kraus said, stroking his beard as he considered. "It's a risk for them..."

Mike shrugged helplessly, looking at the weary faces around him. "Do you have a better plan?" he replied. "Anybody? Like I said, I have no idea what I'm doing, but we're running out of time, and this is what I have. Does it make any sense, or is it going to get us killed?"

[Zarm]

"It's almost certainly going to get us killed," Ransikoff opined. "Isn't it? We were attacked by MetalMonkeys along that course the first time- and this time, we have far fewer numbers and far fewer weapons. How many of us are even still armed? And now, there are even more creeping horrors that only come out at night...? I can't imagine us surviving the trek."

He bit his lip, as he glanced down at Akhiko.

"...But I suppose we can't stay here, either. Is there any chance the Patton could send a chopper he-"

With a resounding thud, the mysteriously-hovering sphere dropped to the ground in the center of the clearing. The impact sent out a visible, slow-moving shockwave; a risen ring of raised earth, smoothing away all signs of the dual stampedes in its wake and returning the clearing to its virgin state.

Ransikoff found himself thrown roughly, headlong- bowled over by the dissipating edge of the wave, which subsided into the ground at the periphery of the clearing. And yet as he lay there amidst the scattered company, sprawled on the ground, the ground heaved a second time… and the ring rose before him, cutting off his vision of the clearing, as the shockwave reversed itself- growing and narrowing in toward the sphere once more. It rose to cover the sphere in a tremendous mound of soil, a miniature mountain in the center of the clearing.

Picking himself up, dusting himself off and concernedly checking the integrity of his laptop, Ransikoff missed the first signs- only the murmur of concerned voices of his comrades brought his attention back up… to where the mountain was moving. It quaked and trembled, jerking and twisting as something within thrashed violently… and then, the cocoon of soil began to shrink. Drawing inwards, collapsing like a deflating balloon- until a black, uneven surface appeared through gaps in the sifting dirt, the grains themselves sinking into its surface.

The ground beneath was being similarly consumed; as the dark mass grew and took shape, it did so in a growing crater- a pit made out of dirt not so much displaced as devoured. And in its center, growing and flowing upward like a candle melting in reverse, was a form that had the glossy, black surface the sphere had once embodied- but none of the form.

The central torso was far more like a barrel- a cylinder that bulged out in the center, before tapering to a sort of oblong hump on the top. The structure lacked any ‘head’ shape, but a series of small, beady red studs ringed it at intervals- whether eyes, camera lenses, or inlaid jewelry, it was impossible to tell. Below those, a series of large, dark holes that looked almost like gunports also circled the barrel-shape- as if, Ransikoff thought, Ragnarok’s decoy-form had been prophetic of things to come. Or an upstaging of this terrible wonder’s grand entrance.

Stupid Ragnarok.

The ring of gunports was, roughly, just beneath the ‘armipits’ of two long, lanky arms- which also, more subtly, shared the middle-bulge of the barrel’s shape, on both segments connected by a ball-joint 'elbow'. The hands were three-fingered claws, and the forearms were each flanked by a narrow, untapered pipe a third their width, held at a distance by a pair of small connecting struts. The legs were stouter versions of the arms, shorter and squatter.

From the sphere’s fall to this moment had been a span of less than 30 seconds of violent transformation- and now, as Ransikoff watched, the movement subsided. Small ports opened; small clusters or bits of raised detailing appeared across the glossy body- fine details whose purpose he couldn’t even begin to guess at forming across the shape like final revisions to a set of blueprints… and the glossy, black, oil-like surface took on a duller, glazed look, seeming to solidify in place.

Ransikoff’s laptop, seemingly intact, beeped insistently, and he bent to flip it open.

As he did, the figure swung into rapid movement- one connecting strut on each pipe detaching, and the pipes pivoting on the remaining connection-point to wing around, align... and merge into a seamless whole, 'held' at the wrists by the remaining struts and braced against the chest.

No, not braced, Ransikoff realized- it, too, sank into the surface and melded with it, become a single whole. The thing that had once been Anomaly 003 crouched, slightly, the tube braced against its chest, holding it in a very familiar manner.

“Mike,” he muttered, distractedly, typing his login, “I think you’re a father…”

And just like its progenitor, the moment its transformation was complete, the kaiju minigunner opened fire- pelting Thanatos' reptilian hide with a series of small, bruising projectiles. As the fire sustained, the obsidian being began to sink, slowly, into the ground; bedrock under its feet being, apparently, devoured up through the legs.

On the laptop's screen, Ransikoff saw himself. Himself, and Mike, and Gabriel, tiny red dots on the periphery of a satellite’s infrared imaging. He resisted the urge to wave skyward- focusing instead on the figure that dominated the center; the obsidian giant that was represented by a swirling mass of heat and contained energy, its welt-raising barrage continuing to pour, unabated, into the saurian in the clearing with an almost palpable fury.

According to Newton’s interface… a kaiju that would henceforce be known... as Asyrax.

[Godzilla165]

The Ghagon had never been this still nor this focused before in their single-minded lives. A stand off had commenced between the hope for Earth's very existence, and the ravenous locust of the Kaiju world. The Ghagon were baffled as to what exactly they were looking at; It wasn't food, and that is really all that mattered to them. Whatever this strange beast hovering above them was, it had the whole swarm unnerved and on edge. Hanjiru took note of this, the increasing turmoil flowing through the Ghagon from just her presence. This was good; Their collective focus was drawn entirely to Hanjiru, and not on France. Now, it was all a matter of who would attack first. Hanjiru never made the first move in battle, opting to instead wait and get a gauge on her opponent's dispositions and little quirks. She was just as content patiently waiting as the Ghagon were not engaging. But, there is always that one individual whom sets everything off, which is what a surprisingly bold Ghagon did. It screamed a terrible war cry that echoed across the city, and, without wasting anymore time, launched itself at the awaiting Hanjiru. In seconds, one Ghagon soon turned into hundreds, thousands and hundreds of thousands. It was a sea of dark shapes acting as a single entity, not unlike a giant school of fish swimming in sync with one another. The ravenous Kaiju flooded the skies, their slobbering maws spread and ready to eat Hanjiru alive. The latter, with a single flap of her wings, shot higher into the sky at blistering speeds.

Now having a very temporary height advantage, Hanjiru very quickly drew from her energy stores deep within her organs, and sent them skyrocketing up to her three windpipes. Condensing and combining this energy together, Hanjiru drew her head back, sucked in a huge gullet of air, and unleashed a monstrously frigid bout of wind from her mouth. So cold was the concentrated gust, that it near instantly froze the air immediately around it. When it connected with the Ghagon swarm, it visibly buckled it, feeling like hundreds of tons of concrete slamming into the faces of the ones that felt the brunt of said attack. Those unlucky enough to get hit, were killed on impact, frozen to the point where no heat could even attempt to escape, and their bodies disfigured and mangled from the sheer impact. Hanjiru was, for the most part, driving the swarm back. However, large groups had managed to avoid the winds and break off from the main colony, in an attempt to surround the ice dragon from her exposed flanks. Acting quick, Hanjiru thrust backwards with a flap, whilst still keeping the Ghagon army firmly at bay with her winds. Those groups that had separated were coming in hot, aiming to dog pile onto Hanjiru and rip her from the sky. The latter became aware of their swiftly growing presence, waiting for them to edge a little closer... And shot higher into the air. The groups of Ghagon could not halt their momentum fast enough to prevent themselves from colliding head first into one another, sending a handful of members spiraling to the ground. Finally, Hanjiru cut her assault to see what the Ghagon would do next. Sure enough, they didn't stop nor retreat; their minds were dead set on slaughtering their crystalline foe. Seeing them charging her, Hanjiru went on the defensive and flew away, fast enough to not get caught, but slow enough as to not leave the Ghagon behind.

Hanjiru rocketed out and away from the city, looking back occasionally to see if the swarm was still pursuing her. Though, she had noticed that it had gotten smaller, and she knew that wasn't completely from her doing. A few handfuls of the Ghagon had branched off to return to the city. Hanjiru would have to deal with the stragglers later; For now, she had a much bigger task at hand. Eventually, she slowed down after noting that she had cleared France, and was now above an empty stretch of land. Hanjiru whipped around in time to see the Ghagon voraciously speeding towards her like a sea of merciless locusts. The former outstretched her wings to the sides as far as they could go, and, with a tiny blue glow twinkling inside of her, released a pocket of cold air from her body. Soon, ice sickles formed from the frigid surroundings, freezing to a sharp point. Then, like a top, Hanjiru spun in place, sending the ice sickles straight toward the Ghagon army. The large projectiles, in the tens of thousands, pierced through the beasts' scaly hides with ease and taking them from the sky, to their Earthbound graves. A good number of the sickles missed and plunged deeply into the land below. Hanjiru had made a good call to move this skirmish away from the humans' concrete hive. Because, as well as the ice sickles, great winds had also begun to pick up from Hanjiru's attack, and it caused whole trees and other vegetation to be ripped free. Moments later, Hanjiru came to a stop, but not because she had willingly done so; her energy stores were starting get exhausted. She could hit extremely hard and fast, but not for very long. Within Hanjiru's body, her rocky heart started to blink in an orangish-red color every 5 seconds; she was running out of time. Her breathing was shortened and panted now, and her shoulders began to slump. A low coo of growing exhaustion was murmured from her as Hanjiru saw the visibly smaller, yet still outstanding swarm of Ghagon barreling towards her. Hanjiru sighed. She couldn't give up, not now, not ever. Earth needed her... Humanity needed her.

So, with a harmonious melody sung from her pointed maw, Hanjiru summoned the remaining bouts of energy she had left, and erupted forward to meet the Ghagon at supersonic speed. Her body now glowed with a blindingly blue light, combined with red glow of her beating heart. In seconds, the two parties collided with a titanic amount of force, and then... A flash.

A flash of white light followed...

[KaijuCanuck]

Location: Langley, British Columbia, Canada

Tyrosus continued to eat. Now that he had a way inside the shell, it was much easier tear off plates from within and gorge himself on the meat inside. His fangs, claws and tail retracted as he focused on filling his belly. His metabolism was slow, and he would not need another large meal like this for quite some time. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could resume his search for peace and solitude, away from the all the things in the world that seemed constantly to be out to kill him.

The faintest breeze swept over Tyrosus' back, perpendicular to the general flow of the wind. Tyrosus' body stiffened, and he raised his bloodstained maw out of the corpse of Dracochelys, letting a low growl roll out from under his lips. He looked around - nothing. He looked up and scanned the heavens - nothing but clouds and a flaming red sky as the sun continued it's journey upwards. He sniffed the air. If someone else was around, he'd know instantly - except that his nose had been busted by Dracochelys' concussive water attack. He smelt nothing but his own blood, which still filled and blocked his nasal cavities.

Tyrosus looked back down at his kill. His stomach rumbled, and his body relaxed again. He resumed his feast.

Location: United Nations Building, New York City, New York, USA

Unaware of the panic erupting outside within the sealed elevator chamber, Archie allowed himself to relax for what felt the first time in an age.

"So explain to me exactly what this is," said Amelia. "I've been working at the UN for four years, and not to toot my own horn but I'm not exactly a secretary around here. How the hell have I never heard of some clandestine strategy room underneath the building?"

"Well," said Archie. "I suppose it was never meant to be common knowledge. I think the Security Council nations put it in place -"

"I'm British," said Amelia. "I work at the UN and I'm from a Security Council nation."

"Right... good point," replied Archie sheepishly. Was he going red again?

"I think what Archie is getting at," Rachel cut in diplomatically, "is that in the chaotic, multi-sided world of international politics, this type of information can be on a need-to-know basis. The strategy room was put in place by the Allied powers who would come to form the permanent members of the security council - the United States, Britain, France, China and the Soviet Union - following the founding of the UN at the end of World War II. The aim was to cut down on the logistical issues encountered during the war of co-coordinating the militaries of several different countries at once. As long as all five of the allies could agree a crisis was a threat to them and to the world in general, the room could be opened. Essentially, the Strategy Room Directive activates a command structure that incorporates the entire worlds' armed forces, with the five at the top."

"You don't say..." Amelia said with a smirk. "So just hand them effective control of the world. Just how did they get everyone to agree to that?"

"It was made mandatory to be admitted into the United Nations," said Archie. "Secretly, of course, to prevent public backlashes. A clause that only top members of every nation's government ever read. This is also why the strategy room has been able to remain so secret, even to higher level UN employees such as yourself. We're talking about secret agreements made over seventy years ago, by countries that were ravaged and exhausted by war. Many would have found the security guarantee attractive. And most of the people who signed the agreements are probably dead. The few today who do know about it probably never brought it up before because the thought of it ever happening just seemed so... insane. But, the agreements remain as binding as any international treaty."

"Of course, as world events played out," Rachel went on, "a flaw in the plan developed - what if the Allies were no longer allies?"

"The Cold War," nodded Amelia, catching on. "Any conceivable world crisis would have probably involved the Soviets and the west at odds - meaning the strategy room would not be activated."

"Precisely," said Rachel. "So in the 1990s, with the Cold War over, the five nations met and revised the rules. It would still be them who would take charge of the room, but any five nations could open it. Sponsors, if you like. This way any divisions between the permanent five nations would not be factors in determining a world crisis, and they would be obliged to cooperate once the room was opened. That was how Archie and I were able to do it. Israel, Canada, Japan, Brazil and Slovakia have agreed to open the room, activating the Security Council's obligations."

"There have been some last minute revisions, too," said Archie. "Since word got out that the room would in fact be opened, the leaders of the five nations held an impromptu meeting last night. We're not really sure why, but France and Britain have agreed to have their seat condensed into a 'Europe' seat. The empty fifth seat will be filled by an African nation. I'm hearing Egypt."

"Egypt?" exclaimed Amelia. "Not exactly a big player like the others. Not even the most powerful nation in Africa. Does this have anything to do with the... rumours, we're hearing out of there?"

"Undoubtedly," Rachel grimly nodded. "I don't see why else Britain and France would agree to one seat, and a seat they'd share with the rest of Europe at that. The western countries would not give up their numerical advantage in the room over the eastern ones without a good reason."

"Okay..." said Amelia, her hands on top of her head. "I think I got a handle on this - so how does the room work, exactly?"

"Essentially, it divides the world's militaries geographically and puts a general of one of the five nations in overall command," answered Archie. "As of last night, the United States gets North and South America, as well as all US territories in the Pacific. Europe gets um, Europe, up to and including Turkey. Russia gets themselves as well as Asia east of Turkey up until Pakistan - then China takes over for the rest of Asia, as well as the rest of the Pacific. And, I guess Egypt gets Africa."

"Huh," said Amelia. "I can't wait to hear people's reactions to this. China in control of Australia's military? Russia back in many of their old Soviet territories? And you know how much South American governments hate the US?"

"Well... look, it's not an occupation," said Archie stiffly. "It's just a chain of command. My country is going to come under another's command too, you know."

"But Amelia's right, there is room for abuse," said Rachel. "Don't worry. The room will be filled with multiple advisors, diplomatic parties - we'll all be there, watching. If we're lucky, everyone will put away those tired old grievances of the past. We have a common enemy now. This not the 19th century, this is not about the superpowers carving up the world. This is about the human race organizing itself as efficiently as possibly. And finally fighting back."

Location: Marianas Island, Camp Anomaly

Chaos. Instinctively, Semaj had thrown off Blade's embrace, but before he could properly assess what had happened with the mercenary Blade was off, running for the Sphere where stood Private(ish) Robbins. Semaj made to follow, but his path was blocked by a storm of rampaging cattle. Pulling down his shotgun, Semaj managed to take one out before it gored him to death - the cattle slid dead across the earth and Semaj leaped over it, shouting orders at the top of his lungs as once more the camp scattered in a panic. Did they really have to endure this for the second time in less than 24 hours? Was his dream of careful, ordered movement through the island doomed to failure?

Semaj's eyes fell on the terrifying, gigantic form of Thanatos. His hands and knees trembled as he contemplated the great butcher before him. Maybe running was not so bad an idea - he glanced behind himself and saw a large group of men gathering by the Sphere. Okay. He would remain here. He was in charge, and he owed it to his men to form as complete a nucleus as possible before going out and regrouping the team.

Semaj cocked his shotgun - only to feel something slimy wrap around his neck and yank him upwards. Semaj looked up as he rose off the ground, his vision blurring from the asphyxian of the powerful tentacle as he just managed to make a out a metallic, gnashing beak suspended in the trees - he went black.

Location: Marianas Island, several clicks southeast of Camp Anomaly

Slowly, groggily, Semaj blinked his eyes open. Soft moonlight shone down past through the tree canopy as he moved through the jungle. He was moving. How? With a groan, Semaj reached to rub his aching throat - only to somehow find himself tumbling to the earth below. He heard someone swear in a foreign language, and then a pair of strong hands grasped hold of him and helped him to his feet.

"Thank you, I -" Semaj started to say, before recognizing the grizzled, perpetually irritated face of Dr. Ewaschuk. "Oh. Hello."

"I saved you," said Ewaschuk matter-of-factly. "Again." Only now did Semaj notice the machete at Ewaschuk's side, dripping in

"Again..." replied Semaj. "From what exactly? I remember a mouth..."

"A giant, marianasium starfish."

"Huh," was all Semaj could say in response. Made sense.

"You are very welcome. Again. And this time I might add that I carried you out of the camp, before something else could eat you." Ewaschuk paused for a moment. "You are very heavy. When you moved your arm I could not balance your gigantic body on my back. Please do not fall unconscious in that camp a third time."

Semaj frowned. Couldn't someone a little more polite have saved him? "We need to go back. There were still men there-"

Ewaschuk shook his head. "The anomaly... it was a kaiju. It transformed. The last I saw of it, it was engaging Thanatos."

Semaj's eyes widened. "It was a kaiju???? We... we need to go back! Those men... I have a responsibility to them!"

Ewaschuk shook his head again. "I am sorry, Major... Please, trust that I understand your feeling. But you're first responsibility is to the scientists. To the work they are doing. That is the mission. And many of them ran in this direction." Ewaschuk pointed in the direction they had been walking. "I saw Elizabeth and more run this way. We make sure they are alright. Then we find the others."

Semaj stared at Ewaschuk. He felt an anger rising at the Ukrainian scientist, his heart bursting at the thought of abandoning his men - but with a sigh and a heavy heart, he realized Ewaschuk was right.

"Fine."

Ewaschuk gave Semaj a nod. Suddenly, the pair heard a rustling in the bushes. "Elizabeth?" called out Ewaschuk.

Location: Marianas Island, Camp Temple

"But I thought you said the weapons were ready?" asked Major Thomas Cromwell angrily, huddled uncomfortably inside his tent. Cromwell and Prescott had the only tents of the group, which were nestled under heavy camouflage at the base of the hill on which the temple stood. The other soldiers all rested outside on the ground, expertly hidden amongst the foliage in their tiger striped camouflage.

"I... I mean they are ready," replied Doctor Prescott in his hurried, Irish accent, clearly intimidated by the Texan. "But what I keep trying to explain to you, and to K-"

"Ah!" shouted Cromwell. He put a finger to his lips, then, quietly - "we don't speak his name, remember? Some guys out there might know of him. Miltiades is the code word."

"Fine, Miltiades," said Prescott. "I tried to explain to him that we still needed time for tests. The weapons work in theory, but until we go through a full range of trials there is a chance they could... I don't know-"

"You don't know what?" said Cromwell in accusatory tone.

"Well... I mean, blow up in your hands? If that happens-"

"If that happens, Prescott, I'll make damn sure you're firing the next one," Cromwell said, jabbing a finger dangerously close to Prescott's jungle-dirtied glasses. "We're moving out ASAP, and I suggest you get to work. If those weapons aren't ready, we're all be dead anyways." Cromwell leaned in close to Prescott to hammer his point. "I trust you haven't forgotten Site A." Prescott went white, and gulped. He nodded his understanding.

The radio next to Cromwell's mattress began to squawk. "Speak of the devil," said Cromwell. He reached for it, then paused, giving Prescott a look. "That's your cue to ske-daddle there, sonny." Prescott leaped out of the tent as if something had bitten him. Cromwell smiled, shaking his head at the scientist, then placed a cigar in his mouth and lit it while he picked up the receiver. He sat down on his mattress. "This is Site B, go ahead."

"Site B, Site A here." the radio said back in a German accent.

"Guten Morgen, Dieter. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Cromwell replied laconically.

"Thomas," came another deep voice over the radio, this time in a North American accent. Cromwell's back straightened at the voice of his commanding officer, as if he were snapping to attention in his seat.

"Miltiades. Sir."

"The kaiju Thanatos has destroyed the Chinese and Russian fleets. There is nothing to stop the Americans from taking control of the island now," the cold voice stated back.

"Yes sir, we are aware. We are advancing our timetable to enter the temple as soon as possible."

"Good," replied Miltiades. "Time is of the essence."

"We have intercepted transmissions from Guam, Thomas," crackled Dieter's voice. "After the disasters UNEIS has come under, the American Navy is itching to simply storm the island with marines and take over the operation. They'll decide for sure once the Strategy Room convenes and the diplomats have discussed."

Cromwell's heart skipped a beat. "The Strategy Room has been opened? This is... this is good news! We may not even need to enact the... the Caesar Protocol."

"Good news for the world," Dieter said. "Bad news for you. UNEIS is under attack. Again."

"Yes, we've um... we've heard."

"They are likely to try and contact the Americans," Dieter went on. "And with the other fleets gone, and the great powers convening in New York, there is every chance the Americans will have the political backing to authorize intervention. And with more soldiers on the island, more chance you will be discovered. We'll do what we can from here. I can jam UNEIS' radios so they cannot contact the US fleet - but sooner or later, the Americans will probably come anyway."

"Copy that, Dieter," Thomas replied. "We'll get it done."

"Status report, Thomas?" came the cold voice once more of Miltiades.

"Everything is going according to plan, sir," replied Cromwell. "We did hit a bump on a reconnaissance patrol north of our position - there's a kaiju there. Thing lives in a pond of ambrosia."

"Disgusting."

"Yes sir. One of our boys managed to get himself, um, snagged."

There was a pause. Over the air, Cromwell heard the crackling sound of someone taking in a breath. Then -

"Ah well, at least now you know where the bastard is, right?" Miltiades let out an unsettling chuckle.

"Um... yes sir." was all Cromwell could offer in response.

"Good man, Thomas. Good man. I can't stress to you how important your mission is. We'll hope for the best from the Strategy Room, but if you fail, and if they don't start making the right decisions - well, let's just say we've planned for this."

Alone in his tent, Cromwell nodded. "Caesar." He said the word with trepidation. The thing which in many ways went against everything that Cromwell fought for as a soldier, everything he valued - but perhaps the only thing that could save the human race from extinction. The most terrible of salvations. That was what the Caesar Protocol was - the unthinkable.

"Caesar," replied Miltiades. "Signing off now - I have some business to attend to. God speed, Thomas. God speed."

[JAGzilla]

British Columbia

Sangrazotz continued his circling, observing Tyrosus carefully. Apart from one brief moment in which he'd seemed startled and scanned the area, the bear had done nothing but feed contentedly, appearing as relaxed as Sangrazotz had ever seen him, and gave no indication that he knew he was being watched. Which, logically, meant he didn't know: subtlety was not, to Sangrazotz's knowledge, a concept with which the Rex of the North was familiar. He'd visibly (and likely audibly) be on full alert if he felt any reason to be.

Still, Sangrazotz hesitated. When preparing to open hostilities with an Apex kaiju, which Tyrosus unquestionably was, one lower on the power scale could ill-afford to be anything less than positive that one was right. A single wrong move or bad decision might well be his last mistake. The red-eyed hunter could never forget the day, long ago, when he'd learned that lesson. His tail had been approximately twenty feet longer before he'd attempted to hypnotize a large cobra he'd found protruding from an underground burrow, and he was incredibly lucky that the tigers at Ryōmen no Hebi's other end hadn't managed to seize his wings instead.

But Tyrosus seemed to have no fight in him right now, and a dull, instinctive warning bell was going off somewhere in the back of Sangrazotz's mind, telling him that he shouldn't drag this out too long if he wanted to eat today. He took a careful look across the vast landscape spread out beneath him, endless miles of forests and fields, broken up here and there by towering mountains and those odd clusters of boxes. No obvious threats were around- wait. On the horizon, many miles to the south, he thought he caught a faint flicker of fire... but no. Just the sun reflecting off something or other, no doubt.

No, he seemed to be in the clear. And besides, he was hungry. Resolving to just go for it, he adjusted the angle of his wings, beginning a wide, elegant spiral downward, closing in on his quarry. As he came in close, the bear must have sensed a shift in the wind; he spun sharply, glaring around. Sangrazotz slipped easily around behind him, avoiding his line of sight, flapping as little as possible to reduce noise. Again, the bear whirled, huffing in confusion, and again the flying fiend danced out of harm's way. Finally, Tyrosus seemed to decide he'd been imagining things, and his posture relaxed once more, as he stared off in the wrong direction. Sangrazotz landed slowly, silently, in a crouch atop the mutilated turtle's corpse, wings still spread wide in case he suddenly needed them.

Tyrosus turned placidly back around to face his meal... and abruptly found his vision consumed by a cold, crimson glow. Sangrazotz leaned carefully toward him, focusing his power, forcing the great grizzly to remain calm... whatever passed for serenity in the bear's mind, whatever allowed him to feel at peace, at home... he should have been experiencing it. Sangrazotz kept his focus steady for a few seconds longer, edging forward... when he was certain he'd properly distracted the bear, he dropped the connection, and darted in close, positioning himself at Tyrosus' side and as far as possible from those wicked claws and teeth. Then his proboscis began to emerge, sliding silently out of his mouth, razor-tip gleaming in the morning sunlight, and plunged into the bear's flesh, finding a vein. He inhaled... and sighed contentedly to himself as he took in a long, indescribably delicious draught of blood.

[Zarm]

The first thing that Rachel noticed as she stepped off the elevator was someone, amidst the din of the bustling room, having a loud argument on their phone. But even despite that continual background presence, and the fact that it was half-impossible to make out any details of the space with all of the frantic-looking maintenance and janitorial staff rushing about to prepare it, she was instantly mesmerized.

"-is our only option! ...You know that we don't have a way of stopping them; Thanatos' head would already be decorating Tiananmen Square if we did. But they might."

The air in here was uncomfortably close, and humid. There was a chill in the air, on every surface- but the number of warm bodies rambling about the space was already bringing the temperature up. They clearly hadn't got the climate controls online yet.

Halogen lights buzzed and popped as they flickered on overhead, half of them still warming up. And yet, to Rachel, this gallery floor was beautiful.

Beautiful, because it represented something that the world desperately needed. That she desperately needed. Hope.

Work in this place, oh God!

"...And I'm telling you, sir, that we can't afford to turn down any potential allies right now! The world's been turned on its head at least three times in the last day! This is going to get a whole lot crazier before it's through, and you need to adapt!"

Hope. Here, in the central meeting place where ideas and dialogue could be exchanged freely. Below, in the pit, whose tiered rows of computer monitors and workstations arranged in a curved semicircle reminded her of old news footage of NASA's Mission Control. In the conference rooms, set to either side of this main floor, where impromptu meetings could be held, and the bank of telecommunication suites to the rear of the space, flanking the elevators, whose operators were just now arriving- a hotline to the world. A way to get everyone talking.

"-These negotiations aren't any more insane than a giant genie that's lost its bottle and decided to take a leisurely stroll through South America instead-?"

Rachel pulled out her phone and check the news alerts. But there was still nothing relating to the plethora of names that she'd entered into her search criteria, or the single place from which they all came. For the moment, Hawaii remained quiet. A small miracle, with two kaiju in spitting distance of the island chain.

"...You may have the authority to do that, sir. I've got broad discretionary powers under this charter, and even if you never anticipated this was going to be more than a ceremonial position that you could hand me to stave off my political ambitions- and don't think I don't know that- I'm ready to exercise them now. I'd rather not test the grey areas and boundaries of this power structure so soon- so if you countermand this, I'm not going to go against my commander-in-chief. But I urge you, sir- don't stand in the way. A majority of the five could still override anyhow, and this is something you need to be on the right side of. For your polls, and for our people."

As Rachel stepped up to the railing that divided the floor from the pit below, she could see that technicians were still booting up computers, and even pulling dust covers off of workstations on the bottom row. Beyond them, and past the five chairs where the managing generals could be seated at the forefront of the action, the broad screens that took up the entire front wall still displayed test patterns, and 'error: connection not found' messages. A screensaver logo bounced jauntily around the black edges of one, and another displayed one-fourth of the Earth's surface in flickering, false colors.

They were working like mad to get this place up and running, but even in its bleary, waking-up stage, the air buzzed with portent and potential.

"...Yes, sir. We won't have the uplink for at least another half-hour. But, Mr. President- if I don't hear a direct order from you before then to the contrary, I'm going to lead this negotiation. Or at least get out of the way of whoever is."

Rachel turned back to the crowded main floor. Through the frenzy of activity, she could already see Archie and Amelia making their introductions. Polite networking. Getting the lay of the land. It was savvy, and a smart move- one that she knew she ought to be undertaking, as well.

She had a good feeling about those two. There was no real justification for them to be down here; no tactical or logistical contribution, or official advisory role. But something in her gut told her that before this crisis was over- and she resisted adding 'one way or another' to that sentiment- the two would-be of inestimable value to the world.

She only hoped that she could be, too.

"...Understood, sir. Bridgewell ou- er, goodbye."

Through the knot of people, she saw a small clearing- a man whose face looked far rumpled than his spotless military uniform, festooned with medals and ribbons, did. He was the source of the loud conversation, being given a wife berth- and as he hung up the phone, Rachel recognized him. General James Bridgewell, the u.s. appointee for the leading council in the strategy room. He had a thin face with a long, hooked nose, eyes somewhere between a light blue and steely grey, and the kind of face that looked like it had an afternoon's-worth of grey stubble clung to it even though it was plainly clean-shaven.

The harried-looking man took a brief moment to look up, eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, and Rachel got a sense of an enormous weight resting heavily on his shoulders. The general was clearly already making do- despite the incapacity of the strategy room at present, and the lack of his peers having yet arrived.

It was a good place to start.

"General?" she asked tentatively, approaching him with all the boldness of an out-of-work artist petitioning the bank for a loan, and a posture even less confident than a supplicant approaching to confess a murder to the Pope.

People were Archie's specialty; she'd spent too much of her life speaking her mind boldly, in-between sessions with her nose buried in a book, to be any good at handling bruised feelings- only causing them.

But she knew it was time to come out from behind the junior diplomat's shadow; she had to make some inroads herself. If she was going to have any kind of influence to try and head off further madness, she needed to make some of them now.

He spared her only a cursory glance before someone shoved a ledger under his nose, and he began to read. At least it kept him from noting the caginess in her body language.

"Miss...?"

"Rachel Pacheco. I'm one of the designated advisors."

Without looking up, Bridgewell gave her a nod as precise and military as the uniform and haircut he sported.

"Been briefed on the Egypt situation?" he asked, by way of reply.

"Not... that I'm aware of."

Bridgewell motioned to an aid, who scurried over.

"Get her a Blue Loop binder."

The man vanished into the crowd, and Bridgewell return to reviewing his ledger.

"And what precisely is your specialty, Ms. Pacheco?"

"I'm a nuclear analyst, General, first and foremost."

Bridgewell looked up, giving her his full attention for the first time.

"A nuclear advisor? And what would your advice consist of for today?"

Rachel smiled brittlely.

"My advice would be 'don't.' And that's what it would have been even before New Delhi."

Bridgewell gave a small, humorless smile, obviously still distracted by the major task of acclimation- but after a moment, his gaze shifted and became fully hers.

"When you receive that packet, I want you to pay special attention to the scientific briefing in the back. Unstable wormholes and alike."

Rachel shrugged.

"Not really my area of expertise."

"Nonetheless, I'd like you to try and make it one. I'm hoping that enough of the scientific terminology is the same for you to get a basic grasp of the underpining physics. The forces involved."

"And why do you want this...?" Rachel asked, uncertainly.

"Because I want your opinion, as an expert, on whether a nuclear device might collapse one."

Rachel stared at him, horrified.

"General..."

"...'After the folly of last night, how can you consider...?'" Bridgewell asked softly. "It's all in the packet, Ms. Pacheco."

"Nuclear weapons have already proven-"

"-Useless against the kaiju," Bridgewell answered more brusquely, the weight of the day outstripping professional demeanor. "I know, believe me. Flew out of Panama in the middle of the night. The looks on my support-staff's faces as I boarded the plane, the hopelessness on their faces... that will be etched in my memory for as long as I live. Unless something even more horrible and traumatic burns itself overtop, which right now seems like a daily possibility."

He was picking up steam, and volume, and stopped himself as he seemed to realize it.

"Our world is being overrun; flooded with kaiju. A good twenty, thirty in the last twenty-four hours. Humanity is being squeezed off the planet. Only a matter of time before we can't help getting ground up underfoot between their territory struggles. The world is filling up, and the more of them there are, the more crossfire there is for us to get caught in."

A minute ago, Rachel had been ready to write him off that's one of the most obnoxious, blowhard windbags she'd ever had the misfortune of knowing. Now, as his shoulders drooped and his eyes could no longer meet hers, Rachel didn't know when she had ever seeing a human being so broken.

Except perhaps looking back at her from the ladies' room mirror, upstairs, hours before- when the images from New Delhi had come in.

"Speeding their job along with radiation poisoning and collateral casualties isn't the answer," she offered softly- instantly regretting the tone of reproach that she couldn't fully scrub from her voice.

Bridgewell gave her that same, grim, humorless smile.

"Just so," he noted, his voice faltering- then, clearing his throat, resume the commanding presence which he'd held when she answered. She wondered how much putting that mask back in place had just cost him. "But right now, there's a new front opening up. Kaiju from another planet. You're now one of a handful of people on Earth to know about this- and after you review the packet, you'll know a lot more. They're establishing a beachhead on this world, flowing in even faster than terrestrial kaiju are awakening across the planet. We don't need that kind of population density, and we don't need more problems right now. We have the potential for an alliance that may be able to constrain the beachhead- at the very least, someone who knows how these new kaiju operate. But whatever this 'gate' they're coming through is- and the unstable wormhole is our best theory right now- I need options for closing it off and ending this invasion."

Apparently seeing her stricken expression, Bridgewell reached down, took both her clasped hands in one of his, and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Negotiation is the preferred tactic right now," he added. "And as it always stands with nuclear weapons, God willing, we'll never need to use them. But right now, I need your opinion, as an expert, completely divorced from your feelings on the matter, on whether you think that nuclear weapons will be able to close this gate- assuming it is what we speculate it is. Can you give me that?"

Rachel hesitated for a moment, trying to take it all in- then nodded resolutely. For the first time since the conversation had started, she straightened to.her full height.

"You'll have my recommendation within the hour... assuming I understand any of what I read."

The smile Bridgewell gave her this time was sad, but genuine.

"That's all I could ask, Ms. Pacheco. A nuke may not be able to stop these things, but I'd like to have the option in my back pocket if it can stop any more of them from showing up."

[Andrew the Gojifan]

Location: Marianas Island

Asyrax pelted Thanatos. Thanatos flinched back, then growled. It was not a normal growl, it was felt throughout the island.
The small group of survivors heading north stopped.
"What... was that?" one soldier stopped
"Thanatos... We need to go! NOW!" Gabriel Muntenescu resumed running.
Thanatos sprinted and leaped onto Asyrax, biting the other kaiju`s durable body. Asyrax leaned forward and Thanatos slipped now below Asyrax, holding onto the enemy. Thanatos let go and ran off on all fours before rising to his normal stance. Asyrax continued to pelt Thanatos as he charged the green dinosaurian behemoth. Thanatos charged as well, the two giants colliding as Thanatos began to bite Asyrax, hoping to find a weakspot. Asyrax then began pelting Thanatos at close range. Thanatos flinched, going backwards on all fours to avoid the relentless fire. How dare that thing diminish his endless power! This battle was taking more than it was worth. He would end it quickly.
Epizona finally recovered from her shock. She stood up, and took off, her flight wonky due to the injury her wing sustained.
A massive shadow eclipsed Mike Robbins, he stared back at the rapidly approaching gaping mouth of Epizona.
Epizona smiled at her flawless catch, now she had to hope she wouldn`t swallow, if she didn`t her plan to gain the humans trust would have succeeded.
She took one last look at the battle of giants below her. Thanatos glowed yellow. Asyrax did the equivalent of staring down the barrel of a gun by never breaking eye contact with Thanatos as the massive beam rushed towards him.
The tree line was incinerated, boiling starfish screamed their dying plight to the sun, all before Thanatos` beam even left his gaping mouth.

[Zarm]

Location: The Strategy Room

One of the first functional hotlines, prioritized at Bridgewell’s request, covered a span of only a few hundred miles. Now, he sat in a corner with one of the privacy screens folded out around him, picking up the receiver of the freshly operational unit.

Less than 20 minutes on the job, he thought, and I've already putting my foot in it.

He hit the connect button, and waited for several long moments- before the screen beside the phone line lit up with the image of a slightly harried-looking, under-illuminated man in Canadian military uniform.

Bridgewell put on his diplomatic smile. By law, he had the authority to start barking orders to the lead generals of entire nations... But with only twenty-two primary subordinates- and more than half of them that he was likely to have little contact with, considering the size of the forces at their disposal- there was no reason to start things out on the wrong foot.

“General Klein,” he nodded, by way of greeting.

[KaijuCanuck]

Location: National Defence Headquarters, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Klein sat in his office opposite a special screen that rose from out his desk. He flashed Bridgewell a wide, charming smile.

“General Bridgewell.” Klein paused for moment. “Sir. To what do I owe this significant pleasure?”

[Zarm]

"The pleasure's all mine; I'm looking forward to working with, General. Actually- under the circumstances, I think a first-name basis is warranted; after all, no need to be 'general-yes-general'ing at each-other all day."

Bridgewell offered a wan smile.

"Under the current circumstances, I won't take much of your time. As part of administrative upkeep, I've dispatched some new standing orders regarding the disposition and assignments of personnel that I wanted to appraise you of before you see them on paper. Qualified civilian advisors and vehicular support have already been dispatched to assist with the transition."

[KaijuCanuck]

Klein titled his head a little, forcing his smile to remain on his face. “Of course, sir. James. I appreciate the candour. Which personnel exactly are we talking about here?”

[Zarm]

Bridgewell felt a hint of a frown creep into his expression before he could stop it. Ah, well- he'd never been a great diplomat.

"The recently-acquired ones. As of today, the training for any and all drafted personnel is going to shift to disaster relief and recovery. Canada is going to be taking global charge of refugee relocation, triage, and other first-response duties in the wake of kaiju attacks. Training turnaround should be far quicker than full combat readiness. As I said, numerous relief organizations from the U.S. with experience in this sort of thing are deploying your way, along with whatever vehicular requisitions are needed to facilitate this reassignment. I'm sure Canada has similar humanitarian groups that you can pull from for assistance in setting up the logistics and facilitating training."

He put the smile back up with an act of will.

"Of course, any voluntary- that is, pre-existing, I should say- military personnel will remain on combat assignment at your discretion, for the defense of Canada and deployment as usual. Nothing's changing there, and unless they're needed for a global effort, I intend to keep them operating under your direction, as you see see fit."

[MinorBone Good]

Location: Egypt, fifteenth miles south from Cairo

Soon..

A thought that plagued Valse for god knows how long. He was waiting so long to be brought back, and it was finally granted to him. It didn't matter that the desert's heat was nearly unbearable. He's experienced much greater heat from Fennikusu. That bird. The one that scorched his entire body into oblivion, inside and out. He was forced to play dead, and wait for Fennikusu to leave. Valse had to stay under the radar, burrowing himself for a short while. But unfortunately, that would turn out to be longer than expected. Oh how that owl will suffer. Him and that crab.. It would only be so long until they battled again.

This time, he would be victorious.

Location: Suigam Village, India

Lights flickered on in the recently created sinkhole caused by Kuma. A small expedition was sent in to collect some samples of the recently deceased kaiju that now lay on it's side. An Indian news team were down with the expedition, explaining the mostly unknown battle throughout India TV.

Dekkin Grey quickly turned off the TV in his hotel. He looked out the window again for the twentieth time. Looking at his broken car, the knocked over tree, giant footprints, and finally, the new hole caused by Kuma..

"Oh god, what have I done?" Dekkin said out loud, pacing back and forth in his room. After several minutes. he decided to make a run for it. They might catch on that he was the one that caused a new Kuma to pop up. He quickly bolted out of the hotel and never looked back.

Location: Dagestan, Russia

Kuma didn't know for how long she was digging for, but it felt for like a long time. She tried to avoid that strange gooey creature for now, she needed to regain her size first. Then she'd be ready for the challenge again! After continuing on her path for another hour, she started to dig straight up to the surface.

[Dawsbfiremind]

Olympus 10,721 years before current events

Bellona slid backwards, sword in one hand as she fought to climb the steep mountain of black metal.

Far below her a dark orange sea of molten metal rose from the planet’s depths.

Bellona cut her hand on a rock, ignoring the drops of ambrosia leaking from the wound as she climbed higher. She would not be caught. She would not let herself-

Something crashed against the mountain below. Whipping her head around, Bellona saw it was a metal replication of a man’s bearded face, eyes lifeless black hollows that stared upwards.

Poseidon, Bellona thought, watching the familiar face sink below the churning molten metal. So it killed you too.

A sound like distant sirens rang through the air. Bellona shook her gaze from where Poseidon’s face had floated, clambering up the last few hundred yards to the top of the mountain.

There she stood, sword at her side, waiting.

A rumbling hum sang through the air, so loud the pressure made Bellona’s ears pop several times in quick succession.

Then a sound like a foghorn came from her right. Turning slowly, she faced the smoke-shrouded thing.

It waded through the scalding sea on its thousands of stiltlike legs, maranasium body suspended at least a mile above the rising flood as each leg crashed into the liquid metal, carrying it forward. The massive head with its two glowling blue eyes gazed in Bellona’s direction.

Bellona was more concerned about the blood-red lens mounted in between its eyes. Her grip on her sword tightened.

A massive thunderbolt struck the side of the titanic metal scarab’s head, smoke curling off the impact point.

Bellona looked to the bolt’s source, seeing a kaiju-sized silhouette perched on top of another metal mountain, even as it cast another bolt against the scarab’s shell.

Bellona shook her head. “Why did you do that?”

The scarab turned its head, its eyes slone several dozen times larger than the metal-clad kaiju that tossed sparks against its carapace.

They stood there for a moment, the scarab and kaiju staring each other down, Bellona watching.

The scarab’s red lens glowed for a moment, then flashed, sending a red beam towards the kaiju and the mountain on which he stood.

The beam lasted less than a second, but, as Bellona saw, it disentigrated everything it hit, from the metal mountain to the marianasium armor worn by the kaiju. Nothing remained.

Bellona felt an odd sensation in her limbs. Looking down, she found herself surrounded by what appeared to be red fireflies.

The scarab turned its head back to where Bellona was, finding her missing.
____________________________________________________

Bellona opened her eyes, finding herself in a large hall.

Shambala, she thought. How did I get here?

She looked up then, seeing a massive, red, four-armed humanoid kaiju standing above her. Beside the red kaiju was a giant spider humanoid, his eight eyes looking down at Bellona with worry.

Bellona turned to the four-armed kaiju. “Kali...what was that?”
____________________________________________________________________

Present-day, in the Andromeda Galaxy

Khepri, Kali thought, searing pain in her left shoulders. Burning Sun of the Underworld. Machine of death.

Her gaze shifted to the black hole where she had kept watch, seeing again that it was empty of what it once held. Between her and it drifted her four swords and two left arms.

An immaterial hand brushed her face. She closed her eyes.

”Oh Kali, why did you do this to yourself?”

Kali swallowed and croaked out a single word.

”Earth.”

”Yes, Earth will fall. That it never did before is an inexcusable mistake, one we hope to repair.”

Kali felt the hand move to her collarbone.

”Warn them. Let them find you as an omen to their own fate, a lifeless shell drifting among the cosmos.

The hand reached inside her chest and pulled out a sunset-red lens.

As it did, Kali became limp, drifting towards the cluster of stars marking the neighboring galaxy.