~~~~~~~~~~CHAPTER 2 "OUR LEADING MEN"~~~~~~~~~~

Pacing determinedly through the halls of the central corridor of the Academic building of the KRI, a young woman in a steel grey skirted business suit maneuvered through the constantly shifting crowd of students. She adjusted her platinum blond hair affixed in a tight bun, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Entering the massive foyer, she locked eyes on the front doors where students entered and exited. The doors themselves were constructed to be locked-down in the event of a Kaiju incident, a back-up in case the outer safeguards failed.

Just as she approached the waiting spot, the multinational delegation was being escorted inside. Surrounded by professional security guards, several well-dressed men and women entered, taking in with awe the small island of civilization nestled in amongst monsters.

One of them, an older swarthy man in a western business suit and a maroon turban pointed to the center of the hub, where the ceiling to floor terrarium contained the Green Kamacuras.

Sensing the opportunity, she made her move.

"Welcome to Nullius Ager Lady and Gentlemen!" Her tamed but evident North Carolina accent greeting them warmly. "My name is Tawny Snow, and I'll be your guide today. I hope you all had a safe trip."

Due to the unique circumstances of visiting Monster Island, civilian transportation was prohibited, both for the safety of the passengers and to avoid provoking the Kaiju. No helicopter could enter the airspace without an armed escort, only a few ships were permitted to enter the protected waters. Submarines however, had proven to be the most efficient method of reaching the islands, and it was in a private submersible craft that the potential investors arrived in today. It had docked at the underground port on NS10, and along with the regular assortment of supplies, it brought the newest round of wealthy individuals the Institute was hoping could make some worthwhile contributions.

Four had dared make the journey, an Indian manufacturing millionaire, a British oil company CEO, A Russian with diverse interests, and a Silicon Valley tech entrepreneur. Each for reasons of their own had decided to come, and they now stood at the threshold of the most dangerous place on the planet.

The Briton, a blond woman in her late 40's, dressed in a white suit, stepped through the security detail to extend a hand to the guide.

"The trip was safe enough, considering we came within a stone's throw of one of the locals."

"Ah, so I heard." Tawny had just come from the final briefing with Peter Darien, and was told that during their approach to the island, they had come within tentacle reach of Gezora. Fortunately, the countermeasures aboard the EDF-donated Calico II kept the kraken from attacking.

"Well Ms. Dunsworth, we certainly couldn't keep a facility here if the commute was too dangerous. Mr. Valchenkov, Mr. Misra, Mr. Edwards, let me thank you all for coming, and since you've already met one of the residents, let me introduce you to our pet, Frank!"

Tawny motioned over to the terrarium, wherein the Kamacuras perched itself on a branch. Leading the group closer, she noticed that the Russian was more interested in the architecture than the giant praying mantis on the other side of the glass.

"Frank here," She began "Is a member of the Northern Scattered islands species of Kamacuras. This green variety can grow to about 10-feet tall, and is omnivorous. Unlike his red cousins on the Southern Scattered islands, who are less in numbers, but grow up to 20-feet tall. They are primarily carnivores, but not estranged to cannibalism. Also unlike our friend here, the red Kamacuras also sports a long, spear-like appendage on it's right arm in place of grasping claw."

"Do you have a red one here as well?" The Indian asked.

"Oh no." Tawny responded immediately. "The Red are much more aggressive, and don't adjust very well to captivity. We've tried it."

The guests let out a collective ooohhh…

An old man passed behind them as they continued to marvel at the creature. He wore a classic professor's attire, tweed jacket over a slightly faded red vest. Ambling along with the aid of a lacquered wooden cane, he looked a bit like Charles Darwin, a large white beard protruding from his chin, his hair pulled back into a long braided ponytail.

Carrying his worn brown leather briefcase in his left hand, he made little deviation from his path through the throng of people. A few nodded politely in recognition, and he returned the small gesture. But nothing slowed him down as he made his way to the elevator on the side of the entrance to the west wing.

Reaching his destination he pressed the call button. He grunted discontentedly when the doors did not open immediately, a wad of 70 year-old phlegm building in the back of his throat. When they finally did open, he hustled inside and pressed for the 3rd floor.

Upstairs in the male dormitory, two roommates sat across from one another, the table covered in a scattering of junk food, dog-eared books, newspaper clippings, and an action-figure of a Japanese superhero who wears a cape and rides a motorcycle.

"I'm telling you man." The one sitting nearest to the door said, leaning back in his swivel chair and talking through a mouthful of lo mein. He wore a maroon zip-up hooded jacket over a grey t-shirt, and blue jeans with tattered cuffs. His legs were propped up over the edge of the table, and John Tarbtano had a very important point he wanted to make.

"Werewolves are totally plausible!"

"No they are not." His roommate objected with drawn-out pronunciation. Hiding himself under a large forest hunting camouflage hooded sweatshirt.

"Think about it." Tarbtano continued despite the objection, swirling his fork in the noodle-filled carton. "All we're talking about is a biological transmutation, it's not like it's creating something out of thin air. We know from the Venusian Revelations that they unleashed some kind of wacky energy on the Earth that has the power to transform. And, we know that people are just as vulnerable to this stuff as the Kaiju. Sorcerers like Pendragon and Sokurah were able to harness it like we do electricity and nuclear energy."

"Whoa, Whoa…" The roommate stopped him, "Those guys are myths!"

"Maybe!" Tarbtano countered, "Maybe those guys are myths. Alright, let's imagine that some virulent form of lycanthropy is actually a virus or infection. Super-rare, maybe only certain people are susceptible to it, or it has a hard time surviving outside of a human host. Man comes into contact with infectious agent, agent causes atavistic traits to manifest, agent can only activate these changes for certain periods of time, man reverts to normal during the day."

John's fellow occupant raised a dubious eyebrow. "So what's all the woo about 'full moons' and 'silver bullets'?"

"Well…" John took a second to concentrate, trying to fit the famous lore into a practical reality.

"Maybe the agent can't manifest without light, but direct sunlight is too much. Light reflected off the moon does the job. As for silver? Well maybe there's some part of its chemical make-up that that makes it fatal to the agent."

For about a minute, the two of them sat in silence; John taking another fork-wrapping mouthful of his food, the other thinking over the notions.

"I mean…{chew…swallow}… It's not like we live on an island with a bunch of giant monsters walking around or anything."

"Tell you what John, you bring me a video of a werewolf causing havoc on the streets of a major city, and we'll revisit this conversation."

John Tarbtano took his legs off the table and leaned in closer to his friend.

"We talking "Underworld" werewolves, or "Lon Cheney Jr." here?"

Before John could get his answer, a knock on the door drew both of their attention. Getting up from his seat, Tarbtano walked over and placed his hand on the doorknob.

"Who is it?"

"Kto vy dumayete, chto eto?"

John smiled, and opened the door without further hesitation. Standing on the other side, was an elderly professor with cane and briefcase in hand.

"Professor Obruchev! You're back." John exclaimed before pushing the door the rest of the way open.

Professor Vladimir Obruchev spoke in serviceable, but partially broken English, and he looked upon his student with kindly eyes brown eyes. "Yes, Johnny, my visit home was pleasant, but the work continues. Do you mind if I borrow you for a few minutes?"

"Not at all." Tarbtano patted his pocket to make sure he did in fact have his keys on him, and before stepping out, gave a quick wave to the roommate.

Proceeding down the hallway, Vladimir waited until they had come to the bridge that crossed over into the research wing of the building. There, they paused under the sunlight that beamed down from the glass windows above. The professor began to say something, but instead he choked down a frustrating notion.

"What is it professor?" John asked him, concerned for the septuagenarian's health. "Is everything alright?"

Obruchev waved the worry away like an irritating smell, "Da, moy mal'chik. For a man my age this is to be expected. You, I have come to talk about you."

"Me?" John had no idea what his mentor could be about to reveal, "Is this about funding for my project?" Some months ago, he had applied for a grant to take a trip to the American northwest/southwest Canada, to study the Skinwalker legends and traditions. It was his secret dream to discover the skeleton of a Lycanthrope. Plenty of Kaiju remains to be found, but no-one so far has found werewolf remains.

"Unfortunately nyet." the professor said, shaking his head. "But nonetheless, it is something that could make your entire career in a single stroke. An expedition that many people would jump at the chance to be on, moy mal'chik."

"Sounds serious. What ah… what's the deal?"

Obruchev grabbed his cane and bid John to follow him with a flick of his fingers. "You are aware that Dr. Darien has likewise returned to the Institute?"

"Yeah, she dropped in on Rajputamaji's class earlier." He didn't quite know where this was going, but John figured if there was any expedition that involved the famous Quinn Darien, it must be something big.

Continuing on into the section of the floor where professor Obruchev's office was located, they passed a large framed picture of Dr. Kyohei Yamane.

"Much like me, she has reached the stage where she must leave the mountain climbing and… chto takoye faza? daring-do, to the younger generations. Just recently, she has gathered information to her satisfaction of a theory which I will not speak aloud here, but, has tremendous implications. She has asked me if I knew of any aspiring young individual that might be interested in taking part in a very exciting, very secret, very perilous adventure."

Reaching his office door, Vladimir unlocked it, turning to John as he opened it.

"Naturally, I thought of you."

John was surprised by the torturous withholding of the truth behind it all, and a bit perturbed by the fact that when his mentor thought of sending someone on a dangerous mission, he thought of John Tarbtano.

"Why do I get the 'exciting, secret, and perilous' mission? Why don't I get the 'easy, luxurious, and rewarding' mission?"

The office was well maintained, a visual signature of professor Obruchev's meticulous attention to detail. A Persian rug on the floor, bookcases stuffed top to bottom, several old maps of different global regions, and a desk where each item on it was placed in a precise manner according to function. The one extravagant feature of the room, was the fossil skeleton of a velociraptor on the left side of the desk, it's claws clutching a copy of Plato's The Cave for it to read.

The professor set his briefcase down and gave John an appraising look. "Tell me moy mal'chik, is there any other student in this institute with the peculiar wish to locate physical evidence of Lycanthropus? Hmm? It reminds me of another student who came to their teacher, with fantastic ideas about mythological creatures being real. You should know who I mean, she founded this institute."

Tarbtano was taken a bit back by the comparison, but still, even he knew his objective was leaning more towards the fanciful side.

"To put it more bluntly John," The professor continued; "here is the thinking box…"

Obruchev created an imaginary cube with his hands in front of him, then reached over to his left and waved his hands like he was drying them.

"And here is your thinking."

"Thanks?"

"Take it as a compliment John, it is what sets you apart."

Settling down into his imported, high-backed chair, the professor took out an envelope from his breast pocket and gave it to John. Without a word he opened it and read the letter. It was from Dr. Darien, and explained that she was putting together an expedition team to explore a region that she had found more concrete evidence for the day prior. She was reaching out to her circle of trusted colleagues for potential recruits. She had sent a similar letter to Prof. Challenger, and was scouting a few people herself. It didn't mention much in the way of where in particular the mission was or what she expected to learn from it, but she described it as: "The greatest treasure of knowledge since Princess Salno told the world about King Ghidorah's first visit to our solar system".

"Dr. Darien is here today." Obruchev interrupted once he saw that John had finished reading. "She's meeting with her candidates, and beginning preparations. You can meet her if you like."

John handed the letter back, "This sounds like a big deal. Are you guys sure you don't wanna send some of those mutant super-soldiers instead?"

"Bylo by khorosho… Their agents are only deployed under official conditions. Darien wants to keep this project under the radar. Plus, we mere humans have been at this long before the mutants. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, I would hate to think John, that you are too timid to make that choice that so few of us get to make."

John Tarbtano knew perfectly well the professor was provoking his manly honor. And it was working. While he had never quite been Indiana Jones, he did come from a military family, and did feel the call to glory stirring in his soul. He crossed his arms, giving Obruchev a stiff upper lip.

"How bad can it be?"

ELSEWHERE

Between wide leaves of vibrant green, a Red Kamacuras stalked through the bush. It carried its body low to the ground, its legs in such coordination that it seemed to glide along more than walk. Searching for prey, it had no way to know that it was currently in the sights of another, more insidious predator. A rustle in the greenery drew the creature's attention, just a flash of movement that caused a single stem to whip back and forth.

The Kamacuras tilted its head, curious that the disturbance might be a sign of food. Red Kamacurai are voracious eaters, and the anticipation of a meal caused this one to salivate, mandibles already making small chewing motions. It approached carefully, shifting its body forward while stepping lightly, the spear appendage cocked and poised to strike out.

Suddenly, to the left was another rustle, another sound of scurrying. The Kamacuras gave out a curious chittering as it adjusted direction, fixating in. The twig wiggled again, and the creature lunged for it, trying to catch whatever had been so unlucky.

But the tables were turned almost as suddenly, and it was the Kamacuras who found itself in the clutches of death. The Man-Eater Plant lashed out as soon as the unwitting arthropod fell for the lure, and wrapped its appendages around it. The prey tried to struggle out, but very quickly found itself smothered by the thick clinging leaves, and swept off its feet, pulled back into the waiting hidden maw within the dense brush. Wailing in panic all the way, the Kamacuras was swallowed-up without much resistance.

"Hmm… Subject employs complex deception methods…"

Peering down through the glass dome into the large terrarium, a young man with short brown hair, glasses, and dressed in a lab coat jotted down a few notes on his clipboard. The Leeds accent of Tyler York resonated in the observation lab, below the catwalk he stood on was the 20-meter biodome, which had contained the adolescent Red Kamacuras but primarily housed his Man-Eater specimen.

"Specimen 04 utilized multiple lures to entice prey into range…Must have some means of observing prey's behavior… further testing required…"

"Mr. York!"

The booming voice resonated off the ceiling of the lab, and was more than enough to startle Tyler that he nearly dropped his clipboard over the railing. Clutching his work, and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he looked over to see an older man striding up the catwalk towards him. The man was dressed in a finely tailored black velvet smoking jacket over a matching vest and white collared shirt. Black slacks led down to polished Oxford shoes, carrying a man who filled the breast of his jacket with broad shoulders and the chest of a blacksmith. Hands that looked like they could crush coconuts swished with every marching step, one of them holding a half-spent cigar.

The man's face was no less imposing, a thick black beard that hung down to his chest framed a broad florid face. The hair was peculiar, plastered down in front in a long, curving wisp over his massive forehead. The eyes were blue-grey under great black tufts, very clear, very critical, and very masterful.

Tyler at once recognized the notorious Professor George Edward Challenger. He had called out to him in a bellowing voice, almost a roar from a man who spent so many years outdoors.

"Professor Challenger!" Tyler called back, surprised to see the KRI senior fellow in the lab. Unlike Tyler, Challenger preferred the sensation of fresh air and the feel of stone, and soil, and wood in his grip. A pack strapped to his shoulders, and some great adventure set before him. To find him striding about in this carefully crafted and maintained environment was antithetical to his character. Despite their many differences, or perhaps because of them, they had nonetheless struck a friendship during Tyler's first few years at the Institute and he considered the professor an exemplary, if lively man.

Tyler adjusted his glasses once more, making sure the vision was not the product of some defect in the lens. "What brings you down to my world? Come to see how natural research is done sans the specter of rockslides and bestial disembowelment?"

"Hardly so m'lad!" His ancestry reaching back into ancient Northumbria, Challenger's voice sung with a hearty thrum. "I've come to see if you've got the mind an'the mettle to join me on a little venture."

York met his mentor halfway and shook his hand, Tyler's own engulfed by the meaty fist of the professor. The younger man involuntarily raised an eyebrow at the notion.

"A little venture? I don't suppose you mean joining you for a banquet at the Royal Academy?"

"Ha ha!" A playful slap on Tyler's shoulder nearly knocked the glasses right off. "Those cervid-minded fools will never have me back within their walls. Don't you wish! No, I mean to invite you out into the real world, on an adventure that none but a chosen handful have the privilege to know about."

Fixing his glasses yet again, Tyler began to lead the pair of them off the pathway. "Professor please, I'm sure there are any number of starry-eyed students here who would love to go on your little holiday. Surely someone more idealistic would be better company."

"There are indeed plenty of the type, and some of them will be joining us. But I am picking you precisely because you're not like them. On this mission will be needed men of science, men of intellectual reason. I know you may not think so Mr. York, but I say you are perfectly suitable for this endeavor."

Passing by a wall of monitors, one could see various locations across the island chain in real-time, the lake of lava under Rodan's roost, the Shatters. The research hub of the facility was underground, part of the hardened redoubt in times of emergency, and it contained the bulk of the means by which staff monitored Kaiju activity. It was designed to withstand a nuclear strike on Ogasawara or Adona, a doomsday scenario to be carried out under the 1968 D.A.M. Compact.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but as you saw I'm in the middle of some very serious work. See, I theorize that the Man-Eater plant actually constitutes its own class of Kaiju. The largest specimen I've been able to document is almost 50-meters, and I am very certain that were it to escape the containment zone, the results would be calamitous. The one I've got here, was grown from a section I removed from another."

Challenger nodded his head and stroked his beard thinking it all over.

"All very interesting Tyler, very important work indeed. But, work that could be done by anyone with two good eyes."

They stepped through a bulkhead, and passed over the mini aquarium. The pathway hugged against the stone wall of a cavern, below them a small lake of water that was actually connected to the sea. The Gorgo pod had figured out that the space was protected, and so chose to hide their very young here. At the moment York and Challenger were walking by, a pair of Gorgo Leaneì the size of ponies were laid out on an outcropping asleep.

"You're being wasted here." Challenger said as they stepped through the bulkhead on the opposite side, into the office area. "You would be better served out in the field where you can make real observations, not these pets in a box."

That was a variable that had occurred to York, he never knew how much of what he saw was impacted by the fact that the specimens were in captivity. Examining Kaiju in the wild, in their natural habitats was where the most valuable findings lay. Begrudgingly, he began to come around to the fact that the professor was correct, that the next level in his work required leaving the lab. Otherwise his projects were threatened by stagnation and artificial limitations.

"What kind of expedition are you proposing?" Tyler asked, his resistance worn down.

"Ah! An expedition of awesome and fantastic consequence. Dr. Darien believes she has evidence of a biosphere long removed from the world we know. A more perfect assignment for someone of your specialty does not exist on the surface of the Earth!"

Challenger turned on a dime and stopped Tyler with an open palm, and pointed to where a map of the world hung on the wall.

"You see that Tyler? That's where the future of your career awaits you. Not confined to this subterranean labyrinth where you study life through a glass pane. Join us I beg you, join us and you will not regret it."

Tyler York looked at the map, the thought occurring to him that his only travel outside England was to the KRI. Then he glanced down at his hands, and noticed really for the first time that they were callous-free, and betrayed a life of comfort and safety. Were these the hands of someone whose life's work was the natural world?

George Challenger saw the eyes of the younger man find resolve in some unseen mirage of realization. Tyler looked again to the map, wondering where this proposal would take him. Would it be someplace cold? Hot? Dry? Wet? Already his mind began to construct ecosystems based on different conditions, animals, plants, weather patterns. His thinking shifted from the inconvenience of it all, to the clear-cut calculations of a scientific pursuit.

"I suppose I'll need someone to water the plants."

ELSEWHERE

"Alright! who's next?"

On NS-13, there existed a grassy clearing nestled in the bosom of the tropical forest. This island in particular had been partially cleared for future plans on expanding the Institute's facilities, and within a section surrounded by preliminary defensive measures, several men and women were field-testing their new baseball diamond.

The teams of international colleagues had come together around the pastime game. They were all past the student phase, and were each considered institute members, which basically gave them free-reign to pursue their desired projects. It also meant that they could take a boat out to the nearby islands for a little recreational activity. Sometimes this meant fun and games, and for others it included private fun. But on a sunny clear day like this, it meant baseball.

"Let's go Shane!" one of the women in the batting line called out, a caramel skinned Cambodian with an Anaheim Angels cap turned backward on her head.

Stepping up to home plate wearing dusty, worn jeans, beat-up sneakers, and a red and white long-sleeved shirt, Shane Redmond settled the helmet over his head, and bent over to grab the bat. Gripping the length of lacquered wood in his Toronto Blue Jays gloves, he spit out a wad of gum and focused in on where the pitcher prepared to try and strike him out. It was the middle of the 8th, one out, runners on second and third. He knew left field was the worst catch of the three outfielders, so a hit out to him could possibly score a double.

Shane Redmond was a lean young man, a son of Vancouver far away from his native element. Of average height, he was of excellent athletic condition after a youth of playing sports and a few years in the Canadian Army. After being discharged, he had went right after his dream of working for the Kaiju Research Institute and traveling the world to uncover new mysteries. His chosen field was lore & legend, and he absorbed stories from different cultures about all kinds of monsters, from Loch Ness and Mokele Mbembe, to Cornish sea serpents and Egyptian scourges.

At the moment however, he was concentrating on the legend of being the first man to score a triple on Monster Island.

He cranked his neck and squatted slightly, methodically swinging the bat to rehearse the motion. Settling into his comfort zone, he watched closely, the pitcher winding-up, and throwing what he quickly decided was a curve-ball.

Shane let muscle memory react, and swinging with a clear follow-through, he felt the bat strike the ball just the way he had practiced a thousand times. He knew he had nailed the hit, and immediately began to sprint towards first base. As he closed in on the corner, his peripheral vision noted that his teammate was likewise about to get home, he also realized that no one was rushing to stop them.

As he stepped a passing foot on first base, he saw that they outfielders were staring at the back fence. He had in fact become the first man to hit a triple on Monster Island, in doing so, he had also become the first to hit a homer into the jungle.

"Sshhhhhhhhhhit." he cursed under his breath.

"You're getting it!" the centerfielder said in his Chicago accent, pointing to Shane.

"Right after I take my bases!" He laughed in return, jogging past second.

Reaching home, Shane made a show of strutting up to home plate like Ric Flair.

"Greatest batter on Monster Island baby!" He sung, stepping onto the base with a declaritive "Wooooo!"

But with his celebratory lap over, now he had a more daunting task ahead of him. He tossed the helmet aside as he trotted over to the wall, solid steel with beams going across the inside that he used to make his way up.

The outfielder that had called him out watched with nervousness, "Hey, man, I was just joking! We can get another ball."

"Don't worry!" Shane called back, "I'll get it." Straddling over the top, he lowered himself down as far as he could until dropping the rest of the way. He landed with a bend in the knees and froze in position, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. The island had been selected for construction partly because of it's lack of a large Green Kamacuras population, but that didn't mean one couldn't be lurking five-feet away. Though they were the smaller of the two breeds, the Green ones broke from arthropod tradition and actually hunted in packs. If you saw the one in front, it was already too late.

Failing to sense anything to warn him off, Shane stepped gingerly through the foliage, careful not to disturb the brush more than absolutely necessary. On this side of the wall the jungle was surprisingly quiet, like he had crossed through a portal from civilization into the Cambrian period. After all, if there remained any place on the planet that could resemble such a time, this was it.

Shane spotted a patch of freshly disturbed soil, where the ball had first come down. He was able to follow the trail of its bouncing for several meters until at last he was able to spy the white orb where it lay in front of a rocky wall.

"There you are… let's not disturb any of the local color shall we?" He muttered under his breath.

With his left foot forward, he leaned down, smiling as his fingers wrapped around the ball. He noted that other than a little dirt smudges, it was otherwise perfectly fine.

"My lucky ball."

He must have spoken louder than he meant to, because an eye the size of a dump-truck opened in front of him.

"Ooooooh-no…"

The sound of trees groaning and branches breaking behind him drew his attention in a flash. The end of a massive grey-scaled tail came down between him and the way he had come, completely blocking the path.

The monster loosed a growl, lifting its prodigious head off the ground higher and higher until Shane's neck was nearly at a 90° degree angle.

Since Gorosaurus rarely caused any trouble, the staff didn't pay that much mind to him. Thusly, no-one had bothered to notice when he swam over from Ogasawara for some peace and quiet.

Trying to think of anything that could help his situation, Shane tossed the ball as far and high as he could, hoping to distract the Kaiju long enough to escape.

Gorosaurus watched the ball arc and fall, then promptly went back to glaring at the tiny human that had interrupted it's nap.

"Shoot, I was really hoping that would work."

With a sharp bark, Gorosaurus' 70-meter frame started to lean itself down, wide jaws beginning to open in Shane's direction.

"Ok…" He said, attempting to stave off panic by recalling what he knew about this particular monster.

"He's fairly average for a Kaiju, no fire breath, no flying, more or less a big lizard. All I gotta do is stay out of his mouth."

Instead of running away, which could very well lead Gorosaurus back to the others, Shane bolted to get underneath him. Surprised by the move, the kaiju moved its leg back to see where the human had gone, but saw nothing on the ground but its own footprint.

Curiosity and confusion replaced irritation, and rather than staying to figure out the strange doings of the tiny creatures, Gorosaurus elected to simply move somewhere else. Humans, in his experience, had always been more trouble than anything else, and if there was one here, there was likely more nearby.

Just as the reclusive kaiju turned to head back to the water however, he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of Rodan's war cry. Gorosaurus froze where he stood, tilting his vision skyward to see if the typically unfriendly warden of Adona was in the area.

Then the call came again, and this time he realized the sound was coming from below him.

Clinging to the bumpy, rough scales of Gorosaurus' ankles, Shane Redmond cursed the timing of the call as his phone rang out from his pocket.

"Please hang-up, please hang-up, please hang-up."

A three-pronged claw came swinging down to scratch at the stowaway, but Redmond managed to leap away just in time to avoid being crushed.

On another of the Northern Scattered islands, Dr. Quinn Darien sat at a polished wooden table in a room furnished for living quarters, her forearms resting against the edge. On the tabletop was laid her ringing phone, the speaker emitting a pleasant jingle.

Finally the other end was picked-up, but the first sounds were that of rapid breathing, followed by a hasty "Hello!?"

"Shane, it's Quinn, what are you doing? You sound out of breath."

[pant…..pant….] "Running for my life! Why what's up?"