Title: Puckzilla Is Bad For Tourism
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt, Puckzilla.
Genre: Comedy/Crack
Warning: Total crack.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.
Notes: Originally I wrote this as a quick and ridiculous response to a prompt, but now that it has spiralled into something even crazier I've decided it's time to put it up here. This story is unapologetic crack even worse than the bear!verse and contains a weird hint of Puck/Kurt that may turn into romance at some point. So if you're turned off by the idea of giant lizard-man/Kurt it might be a good idea to just leave now.
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Being a large, technologically advanced metropolis was not always a good thing. Everyone who lived in the city knew that Tokyo had a large, invisible target painted right in the centre of the CBD. War? Tokyo would be bombed. Terrorism? Tokyo would be suicide-bombed. Zombies? The city had the highest density of people per square metre in the northern hemisphere*, everyone was doomed. If you were going to live in Tokyo you had to live with the silent threat of semi-irrational doom. Residents knew full well that at any second an earthquake might awaken some giant slumbering beast that would come down from Mt. Fuji to destroy the city.
Tourists on the other hand...
Kurt Hummel stood at the window of his twenty-second storey hotel room and stared, mouth open, at the chaos just a few streets away from him. Slack-jawed and full of disbelief he barely remembered that he was in the middle of a phone call with his best friend until her voice chimed into his ear; "Kurt?... Kurt! Are you there? Don't tell me this damn thing aint getting any coverage again..."
"Mercedes," Kurt breathed, brought back to reality (reality apparently still had monsters). "There's a giant lizard destroying downtown Tokyo."
"... have you been drinking?"
"No! No, I swear it's true. I don't drink on business trips."
Spurred into action somehow Kurt dashed for the remote and turned on the TV, looking for some kind of news. He flicked through three stations until he found what looked like a news report. A calm, pretty female anchor was explaining the situation, current headlines running in a red stream along the bottom of the screen. Behind her was a green screen showing current live footage of downtown, people shrieking as they ran, blurred footage of large green scaly feet stomping about. Every so often someone would run right in front of the camera and the sound would pick up shrieks of "Puckzilla!", the soft l almost like an r.
"Oh my God it's on the news," Kurt told Mercedes. He watched, catching only one word in three, until suddenly an alarm went off and someone was pounding on his door. "I have to go," he said hastily into the handset, "I'll call you back later." Kurt tucked his phone into the inside of his suit jacket and flung open the door. "Yes?"
A man in the uniform of a hotel attendant bowed to him. "Excuse me sir," he said in accented English, "Puckzilla will be here soon, the hotel must be evacuated. Hotel insurance will cover any lost valuables and we will provide temporary accommodation should the hotel be destroyed. Please hurry before the elevators are disconnected."
The man bowed again, then hurried down the hall to knock on the next door down. Kurt almost suspected a prank until he heard the word 'Puckzilla' again amidst the rapid Japanese. Kurt stepped back inside the hotel room long enough to grab his passport and wallet, then hurried to the elevators. The lobby was chaos, with people everywhere all streaming towards the doors. Kurt was caught up in the madness and before he knew it he was being pushed out onto the street. He stood there a moment, dazed and disorientated, not sure where to go or what to do. He barely noticed that the crowd had made a hasty retreat until he found himself practically alone.
"Where...?" he asked himself, spinning around.
"Grrraaaaargh!" Something large and aggressive answered from behind him in a roar that made his toes curl and his hair stand on end.
Slowly, terrified, Kurt turned back around to face the source of the noise. Peering out from a nearby alleyway was a creature at least three times as tall as a man. Its face was eerily human, as was its body, which only made the rest of it look so much less human. It was green, covered in pebbled, scaly skin, with claws on its large paw-like hands and feet. A large, whiplike tail curved from the base of its spine, and a spray of small spikes down the middle of its head made it look like it had a mohawk.
"Puckzilla?" Kurt squeaked.
The creature roared at him in response, and tore a chunk out of a building with a forepaw. Rubble scattered in all directions, concrete pebbles peppering the ground at Kurt's feet. The creature took a step forward and the pebbles shook. It took another step, and another, and Kurt found that he was too terrified to move. The creature reached for him.
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and let out the girliest, most embarrassing wail he'd ever had pass his lips. He waited to be squashed or crushed or picked up and eaten but seconds passed without a thing happening. Slowly he cracked open his eyes, only to see the creature staring at him with its head cocked to the side. Kurt had the sudden and inappropriately-timed thought that this was not the sort of working vacation he'd had in mind when he'd booked that three week trip to showcase his design work. He stared back at the creature. And on impulse cocked his head to the side like it had.
In response it cocked its head in the other direction.
"So..." Kurt began, his voice unnaturally tight. "Are you... not going to eat me?"
The creature slowly dropped down into a crouch, its forepaws touching the sidewalk just a few short yard in front of him. Kurt decided to take that as a 'no'.
"Well," Kurt joked uncomfortably, to the sound of helicopters flying overhead. "I'm certainly not going to eat you... So..." He glanced up at the helicopters, then back at the giant green creature crouched in front of him. "You're Puckzilla?"
"Graah," the creature - Puckzilla agreed with a growl.
"I'm Kurt Hummel."
"K'Hmmm."
"Close enough," Kurt conceded, wondering where the hell the airforce was. Or the police. Or the Monster Exterminators or whatever this damn city had to get rid of giant destructive Puckzilla-things. Puckzilla-things that were now looking at him in open fascination, as if wondering why this scrawny little pale thing wasn't running away screaming like the rest of the humans. Well, Kurt decided, he may as well stall so they had some time to get the rest of the area evacuated. "So... Do you come here often?"
"Graargh."
"Right. Silly question. Well... I suppose we can talk about me until the Monster Exterminators get here." Kurt cleared his throat. Surely it wouldn't be long until help came. "Let's see... I'm twenty-three, a graduate of Stanford University, and a Sagittarius. I run a small clothing design company that I'm in Tokyo here trying to expand."
Puckzilla sat down and arranged himself comfortably, head still cocked to one side as he listened to the small pale thing talk. He inched a little closer every few minutes until finally he managed to get the small creature to actually sit on his leg as it talked. It seemed that all he needed to do to keep it talking was rumble an affirmative every so often and it was happy. Once, after it had laughed at what he assumed was a funny anecdote to do with expensive cars (he wasn't paying attention), Puckzilla tried petting the small creature. He was very careful to be gentle as he touched his paw to its head and stroked down its back, but the creature still jumped and squeaked just the same.
"Grrraaah," Puck rumbled softly to sooth it. He was considering taking it home as a pet.
He wondered what it ate. And what it would look like without it's suit in the way (which was admittedly a little odd, because he'd never been attracted to small pale things before, but granted he -was- the last of his species so it wasn't like he had other options past the lobster-monster that lived in the bay).
Kurt yawned. His throat was starting to get dry from talking for so long and there was still no sign of help coming. The helicopters circled over every so often, but he'd been able to make out the logo of a news channel painted onto the side of one of them so he could only assume they were news crews and not military. It was actually starting to get dark.
"You know," Kurt said croakily, and patted the creature's thigh, "you're not so bad really. When you're not destroying things and ruining my working vacation, of course."
"Graah," Puckzilla murmured, nudging him with its forepaw again. "K'Hmmm."
"That's my name," Kurt agreed.
Puckzilla gently nudged him off his perch on its leg. It stretched, rolling up into a crouch before standing up properly again. "Graaaooorrrgrahk'hmm," it said, a questioning lilt at the end.
"Yes, of course," Kurt replied, hoping to keep it happy.
It occurred to him, as he was being carried off back through the trail of destruction, that perhaps he should have asked for clarification. "Hello, Mercedes?" he said into his mobile. "Sorry it took me so long to call back, but I was talking to a giant green lizard-man and now he seems to be carrying me off back to his lair. Do you think you could maybe contact the American consulate in Tokyo to see what they can do about this?"