Chapter 1: The Worm Guy
The Pacific Ocean, 500 miles east of Kiribati, 1998
Sometimes it's amazing to consider how durable humans are. They may not put up well in a fight against predators like lions or tigers, but given the right tools and determination, humanity has proven to be capable of marvelous things.
Case in point, the Kobayashi-Maru. The Kobayashi-Maru is a large Japanese fishing trawler sailing about the South Pacific. Its goal, as well as the goal of its crew, is to catch as much fish as possible before returning to Japan and selling them at markets in Tokyo.
While humans by themselves would find it impossible to survive in the middle of the South Pacific ocean, especially during a massive storm, the Kobayashi-Maru and the hands that built her allows humans to thrive so far as to be able to watch television during the dull parts of the voyage.
While the winds roared and raindrops the size of golfballs smacked the protective glass of the bridge's windows, a man sat comfortably in his chair, staring intently at a sumo wrestling match that played out on the screen of a television set. Balding, with thin silver glasses, settled at the tip of a pudgy nose, the squat man had a fairly simple duty. While the captain and his officers had a meeting, he was tasked with overseeing the controls of the ship and the radar systems. This man had to keep the ship steered towards Honolulu, the last pit stop before Tokyo, and to check the radar systems for signs of a good catch.
Despite how it sounds, the job was quite boring and uneventful. Pushing up his round glasses, the man rapidly ate a warm bowl of noodles as he watched the television, not a sign of worry in failing his duty. The ship was on autopilot and an alarm would beep if something came up on the radar.
As for the rest of the crew, their tasks ranged from keeping the ship running to preparing the caught fish to be sold. Music played in the background of their workspace as an attempt to distract them from the uneventful task at hand. However, no matter what task or duty, everyone on the ship could share the feeling of intense boredom as the night and dreary storm continued.
And so it was until when, on the bridge, an alarm sounded.
The man looked over curiously at the flashing lights and phone-like ring. This alarm was sounded whenever a large school of fish was detected on the radar. A phone was placed nearby, to make calls to locations around the ship, but there was a button that sounded a ship-wide alarm that launched the entire crew into action.
The man, internally groaning as he did it, pushed his way out of his chair and strode over to the radar station. The radar screen was quite simple. There was a small white oval at the center that represented the ship, as well as white circles surrounding the ship that represented the object's distance. Anything of a large size or number would appear on the screen as a large, light blue blob.
However, something was odd about this catch. Usually, schools of fish formed erratic blobs on the screen. However, this object seemed to be one, tear-drop shaped entity that moved as one. This object also had the distinction of being quite large, even larger than the ship and…
… and shooting straight towards the ship at an astonishingly fast rate.
Upon seeing this, knowing that further delay would result in the loss of such a massive catch, the man sounded the alarm.
The alarm was a loud honk, a tone that was drawn out for two seconds and repeated every one second. This alarm blared throughout the entire ship, signaling the crew of a large prize ready to be caught. Throughout the ship, every crew member rushed this way and that, leaving behind their abandoned duties for a task of higher priority. It only took half a minute for the captain and his officers to burst onto the bridge and take their stations. One man picked up a radio and began giving orders, orders that were repeated throughout the ship over its broadcast system.
And all the while, in only a minute, the thing had enclosed from a hundred meters to ten. Although the majority of the crew didn't know it, the captain and those on the ship, watching the approaching blip, began to realize that this was no ordinary catch.
Meanwhile, in one of the ship's crew cabins, an older man was awoken by the alarms. Although confused, his questions were quickly answered when a crewmate burst into the cabin, alerting his friend of the situation.
And that's when it hit.
In a massive thud, the ship was rocked harder than the storm ever could. Through the halls, men were thrown from one side to the other, slamming against the walls or falling to the floor. In the cabin, the man suddenly found himself thrown off of his bunk, being showered by his items that quickly followed suit. On the bridge, the men were quickly thrown about and even sparks, sparks flew from the radio as its owner was thrown back.
Meanwhile, the man in the cabin had the distinction of being a cook, a master in the wielding of knives. However, the apparent collision forced the personal collection of knives to betray their master, falling and just barely missing the man as he lay curled on the floor. The knives stuck, their blades embedding into the floor, their owner staring at them with eyes wide with shock.
Then, came the end.
The ship, from causes unbeknownst to its crew, was suddenly being dragged down beneath the waves, the ship's wide bow rising high into the stormy night sky. Metal creaked and groaned, causing an eerie sound to echo about the internal halls, haunting the men, still recovering from their fall, to look about their surroundings with shock, confusion, and even fear.
However, one particular groan caught their attention. It wasn't the creaking of metal or the whoosh of waves. It was a deep, guttural groan, a groan that reached the ears of every man aboard the ship and haunted their thoughts. A groan like that of the sea monsters that plagued the crews' stories, myths, nightmares, and, at that moment, their thoughts.
But what is most unfortunate about this particular crew is that, while sea monsters typically resigned to myths and legends, the beast that haunted the men's' thoughts was very much alive and real.
Sure enough, a trio of massive, sharp claws burst through the ships hull and into one of the halls filled with a dozen crew members. Water immediately flooded the hallway, slamming the men once more into the opposite wall, knocking many of them out and drowning them all in a whirlpool of terror.
The sudden puncture on the right side of the ship's hall immediately resulted in its demise, causing the ship to slowly began sinking and tilting onto its starboard side. The men on the bridge, abandoning any attempt to send an SOS, immediately tried for the opposite door. Meanwhile, coming out from a door on the port side, just below the bridge, the cook stepped out onto the upper deck of the ship. The man had been successfully able to grab a life jacket and escape the rapidly flooding interior and make it to the outside.
He quickly wished he hadn't.
This was because escaping the hull of the ship and reaching the deck allowed him to squint out through the storm and surf and get a good view of their perpetrator. A massive, reptilian creature with large, triangular, dorsal plates that had haunted the man's childhood nightmares.
The man watched as the creature whipped about, swinging its tail right to left, the appendage slamming into the bridge and immediately killing everyone inside. The resulting impact also had another effect: knocking the cook from the ship, sending him hurling over the metal rails and into the South Pacific Ocean.
The Kobayashi-Maru, once a prideful example of human achievement, was quickly swallowed up by nature's seas and something else entirely.
Chernobyl, Ukraine, a few days later
The rain was pouring down and pouring down hard. Torrents of water flooded down over the roof, giving the windshield a hazy and shimmering appearance. Even the windshield wipers, which were proceeding at its fastest pace, couldn't do much to provide a clear view for the driver of the vehicle.
However, for Niko Tatopoulos, this didn't matter much. He was far to busy singing along to the admittedly ironic "Singing in the Rain," which was playing over the radio. Whether it be for the irony of the song's lyrics or his isolation that warranted Nick to sing along at a loud volume, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was his excitement for almost a week's worth of work finally coming to ahead. Hell, Nick thought, maybe it was him being grateful for the successful operation of the small portable radio, nestled deep in his pocket.
Of course, it wasn't the car's radio, Nick highly doubted whether or not he could get anything when in the middle of Chernobyl.
Dr. Niko, or Nick, Tatopoulos was a lanky man, the age of 36, currently dressed in black pants and a shirt of similar color. Over the shirt was a red rain jacket and atop his head was a small green hat. Snuggled comfortably about his ears, over the hat, and connected to the portable radio was a pair of headphones, to which the music came from.
However, what an American scientist was doing in one of the most infamously radioactive and secure places on the planet, one far away from his home in New York City, could only be explained with science. Nick was a biologist, specifically for the NRC, or the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. For the past few days, he had been working to catalog new species born from the infamous nuclear spill of Chernobyl.
Actually, despite being Chernobyl, Nick wasn't required to wear a hazmat suit. He was only equipped with a small tag, one that would record the amount of radiation that Nick had been exposed to and alert him if he was in any danger of succumbing to it. Of course, legal matters and red tape had forced Nick's research to take several day delays before he would even be allowed in the area. Thus, it was a thrill to be roaring past the abandoned factories of Chernobyl, ready at last to conduct his experiment.
This was perhaps another reason for his sing-along with Gene Kelley.
Nick continued down the abandoned, vine-infested road in his old, beaten down light blue van He continued singing along with the ironic tune, even bobbing his head to the beat. He drove around an array of obstacles, a fallen stick, an old fence, even an abandoned dump truck. However, although it felt like forever, Nick was pleased when he finally pulled up to his stop.
Nick's research didn't require much. The only reason his trip to Ukraine was a multiday one was due to the tight security that blockaded the abandoned power plant. All Nick needed to be a few odd supplies, which he already had at the back of his van, and a nice, open field.
There seemed to be another reason why Nick continued to sing along with the song, even going as far as to leave the headphones on as he stepped out into the pouring rain. Although the downpour made the already sad-looking factories look even drearier, the rain tremendously aided Nick in his experiment. Nick's experiment involved the collection and analysis of the population of, out of any other native organism, Chernobyl earthworms. Of course, nothing much could be said about earthworms. Although earthworms are very important to a healthy ecosystem, their lifestyle can be simplified into eating, creating waste and fornicating. However, nothing could yet be said of the Chernobyl earthworm for if Nick's theory was correct, then the native earthworms would be an entirely new species.
They would still be earthworms, of course. Nick's experiment merely revolved around the collection and measuring of earthworms. However, even earthworms may be a good enough example. Nick's theory was that if a natural organism was exposed to extreme amounts of radiation, there was a chance that that organism's DNA could be mutated and the creature into an entirely new genus. Thus, if Nick was right, the same could easily be said for whales, birds, sea iguanas, or any other creature possible creature. Radiation could take a simple reptile, and not only change its species, but perhaps give it new qualities, characteristics, or even abilities.
But for now, Nick was still stuck with earthworms. And despite being a relatively new experiment, Nick had already gotten a nickname from it, courtesy of his scientific colleagues.
The worm guy.
Nick shrugged these thoughts away as he rounded the back of the vehicle, pulling open the stale blue doors, still singing without care. Nick reminded himself that, although rain was typically a miserable occasion, for his experiment, nothing could have been better. The shower would make the small little field ahead of his van into a mud pit. This would make setting up his equipment and make it quicker for the worms to reach the surface. Hell, they probably were already there waiting for him, as even worms possibly mutated by Chernobyl radiation would come to the surface during a downpour.
When Nick opened the door to the back of his van, he only had to grab a few things. A few battery cables and two conductive poles. The battery cables were long, winding cables, with one attached to a battery box and one that wasn't. These cables were especially long, allowing Nick to not only take them to the other end of the car but also a few yards into the muddy field. The other ends of the cables were attached to the thin, metallic poles, which Nick stabbed into the earth about a foot apart.
Making his way back to the van's trunk, Nick grabbed the one end of the cable yet to be connected and prepared to begin collecting his data. Leaning forward with the strong jaws of the cable, Nick attempted to have the cable grab hold of the unoccupied metal bolt on the battery box. However, sparks flew upon contact and Nick briefly paused his singing to jump back and away. Now, with much more care, Nick attempted to connect the ends again. This time, his patience was rewarded with a successfully closed circuit and the friendly hum of electricity. The poles briefly sparked as electricity was pumped through, but soon that as well was reduced to a comforting hum.
Nick quickly trotted back towards the muddy field, arriving just in time to watch his quarry squirm out of the ground in an attempt to escape the electricity's shocking touch. Although there had already been a few worms squirming about when Nick had first arrived, the number now had vastly increased, possibly be ten! From what was once a section of a muddy field was now infested with wiggling worms.
Nick rushed back to the trunk again, this time to grab a small container to holds worms and some measuring equipment. He ignored the array of photos pinned to the side of a wooden box, its green paint dulled and peeling with age. These were photos of another time and were meant for when the time was available to recollect them.
Forgetting the photos, Nick returned to the field once more, now ready to collect worms, singing absentmindedly as he did so. It was quite easy to grab the worms. But this wasn't just because of their massive numbers, but also largely attributed to the worms' massive size. The average size of the common earthworm is about 14 inches or about 36 centimeters. However, as Nick made some quick measurements with his rulers, he discovered that the Chernobyl earthworms were now averaging at about 16 inches or about 41 centimeters. After further calculations, Nick noted that this was a seventeen percent increase in their size. And that was only the average, some were even larger, one of them reaching a whopping 15.75 inches long!
Smiling from ear to ear and singing all the while, Nick quickly grabbed the container, filled it halfway with mud, and began dropping worms into it by the handfuls. This discovery didn't necessarily prove that radiation could create new species. People once considered earth's position at the center of the universe fact. However, the sheer amount of worms and their massive sizes should provide plenty of evidence to suggest a mutation in the earthworm's DNA, and possibly a new genus of worm entirely.
That was when Nick heard something other than the pounding rain, squirming worms, or Gene Kelley's voice. At first, it was barely audible, muffled by the headphones and music, barely registering on Nick's conscious until it grew into a cacophony. Nick finally noticed the noise when it began to clash with the song. The sound was like a bass drum keeping time, thumping and thumping. However, the sound was beating at a far faster rate than the tune, thus alerting Nick to its presence with its awkward existence and its inability to sync with the song.
Nick, upon noticing the rapid thumps, slowly turned to view the sound's origin. Wiping away the fresh raindrops clinging to his glasses, Nick discovered that the source was a large, silver helicopter, touching down onto the muddy field about a hundred yards away. Mud was kicked up and the surrounding vegetation leaned away as the helicopter finally landed before Nick's eyes.
It was an odd-looking craft. Two sets of helicopter blades were mounted on the chopper, one on the tail and one directly above the cockpit. The cockpit itself was the entire nose of the craft, the pilots and their controls all easily visible through the glass windows that made up the walls of the cockpit. The tail of the helicopter was another matter. It bent up and away from the main hull of the chopper, extending at about a twenty-degree angle. Beneath the hull, other than the landing gear, were two large tubes that resembled jet engines and the massive double door was recognizable at the base of the tail. A red insignia was painted just behind the cockpit, a red eagle wearing a crown accompanied with some letterings, and a red star was noticeable on the rudder attached to the tail's extending wing.
The helicopter, with the insignias as the largest clue, seemed to belong to communist Ukraine. And this is what finally ended Nick's singing and replaced it with thoughts of anxiety and dread.
Nick slowly stood up from his previously crouched position, wiping his glasses once more, dropping the container of worms, and removing his headphones. He watched the bay doors of the craft, anxiety plaguing his thoughts. It was when the doors opened and several armed soldiers hopped out when the anxiety turned to panic.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Nick stuttered clumsily as the six camouflaged soldiers began running towards him. He began stuttering Russian, begging that he could get them to understand how he was allowed in the area.
However, to Nick's surprise, the soldiers didn't stop to aim their weapons. They ran past Nick and to his van. He watched as the men began to surround his jeep, opening up the doors and checking the contents. Nick continued to babble Russian at them, but such an attempt was useless. Nick eventually turned around, hoping to see a commander to speak with, but was yet again surprised when he found instead two seemingly government men walking towards him.
Both of the men wore black rain jackets, bits of business suit peeking out from behind the collar. However, one stood a bit behind the first, had a fedora atop his head, wore large, round glasses that Harry Potter would be jealous of, and was holding an umbrella for the first man. The first man didn't wear any hats or glasses, but simply a grim expression. The lack of a hat revealed short, floppy, ginger hair. He stood ahead of what was probably his aid and directly in front of Nick, his face remaining in a cold, stony position.
Nick continued to babber Russian at them, before giving up and switching back to English. The entire time, Nick had been trying to convey his ownership of a permit allowing him within the safer areas of Chernobyl and the neighboring Pripyat. Thus, after a quick curse, Nick asked, "How do you say permit? I have a permit."
The man seemed to completely ignore Nick. Instead, he asked, "Dr. Niko Tatapoulos of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission?"
Nick was quite taken aback by this question, but not just by the question itself but also at the accent. It was at this moment that Nick finally realized that these were Americans, probably from the government or the embassy.
"Yes?" was Nick's only reply.
"I'm Kyle Terrington," the man announced. "I am with the U.S. State Department."
Nick was about to reply but a shout from a soldier brought his attention back to his van. As it seemed, the soldiers had completely stripped the van of everything inside it. Boxes, bags, empty soda cans, the pictures, pretty much everything. They didn't even bother to give it cover from the rain.
Upon seeing this, Nick immediately whirled back to Mr. Terrington. "What are they doing?" he asked with fervor.
"You're being reassigned," Terrington simply explained.
"Reassigned?" Nick asked. His experiment hadn't been something assigned to him, it had been a project that had come from Nick's ideas. "But my work here isn't finished!" Nick explained.
"It is now," Terrington simply stated. "And if I know to be correct, you weren't staying here that long, were you?"
"Well, not here," Nick admitted, "but I was going to do some tests back at my hotel -"
Nick was cut off. "You can finish your tests later. Right now, the government is sending you to Panama."
"Panama?" Nick asked, his head buzzing with questions. "But why? And what about my stuff?"
Terrington simply said, "Your stuff will be reorganized and placed in good hands at the U.S. embassy. You will get them back after you have completed your assignment."
"What exactly is this assignment?" Nick asked.
Terrington shook his head, his first movement since his departure from the helicopter and with exception to the movement from his lips. "You won't be told until you get there." Then, he squinted, giving Nick an almost threating glare. "For now, get in the chopper. You can spend the night at your hotel to pack some essentials, but tomorrow you will come with us because you don't have a say in the matter."
And with that, Terrington and his aid turned and began their return to the helicopter, whose blades were still running. Nick briefly glanced back at his stuff in despair, now being repacked by the soldiers but occupied by them. With a sigh and deciding to believe Terrington's words, Nick turned back and began to jog towards the awaiting flight to Panama.
Papeete, Tahiti, French Polynesia, later that day
On a long, winding road that lined the mountains of Tahiti, three identical jet black jeeps sped down the road. Trees waved to the cars as their speed created a gust of wind that shook the vegetation's foundation. It only took a few short minutes for the jeeps to arrive at their destination, a small little clinic in the town of Papeete, Tahiti.
Lining up outside of the clinic entrance, several men began opening their doors and jumping out of their vehicles, numbering at four men. However, despite the professional look of their jeeps, the men that came from them were dressed in various degrees of casual. Even the man in the lead had quite casual looking clothes. The only thing that was unified and remotely professional about all of them were the white lab coats similar to that of what doctors wore, but even those were slung carelessly over their shoulders.
However, Dr. Julien D'aramitz couldn't help but get the sense that these guys, whoever they were, weren't your typical doctors. And that wasn't just based on the poor attempt to look like one. Julien knew that they weren't doctors. A few hours earlier, the La Rochelle Casualty and Property Insurance had called, announcing their visit to make a report on the small clinic's latest guest, an old Japanese man who had been found washed ashore with only a life jacket to keep him afloat.
However, Julien couldn't help but get the feeling that there was something more to these men's visit. First and most notably, what insurance company sent their agents wearing doctors outfits? Not to mention how badly they looked like doctors. Secondly, what were agents from the homeland of France doing out here in French Polynesia? Not to mention trying to meet with a man who probably didn't even speak a single word of French.
So as the lead man met with their last member, who had arrived early and (what was even more confusing) holding a camera, Julien got the sense that there was something more to these guys' visit.
Once the two men had finished their greeting they and the force behind them began making their way towards the hospital room of the target of their interest. This room was at the other end of the hallway, a relatively large room with glass double doors facing the clinic entrance. Julien stood in the doorway, holding the door open, but listening carefully in an attempt to pick up on the conversation.
To his delight, he could.
"Monsieur," the cameraman greeted the leader. However, his voice rapidly went quieter and Julien had to strain his ears to listen in, trying desperately not to appear as if he was eavesdropping. Fortunately, he was able to pull this off. "There's pressure from the Americans," the cameraman then said in almost a whisper.
"What have you told them?" the lead man asked.
"Nothing yet," the cameraman replied.
"Were there any survivors?" the lead man asked.
"Just one," the cameraman replied, "and he was very lucky."
That was when the two men and their company finally arrived at the door. Julien stood straight, trying not to betray his curiosity. The cameraman was short and stocky, his hair limited to only the back half of his head. The leader seemed old, probably as old as their guest, but seemed very fit for his age. His hair was greying but had hints of black sprinkled throughout. His mustache and the fuzz growing on his chin and upper neck was a silvery-white. Although there were signs of hair loss, most of it was still there, including a short widow's peak sitting on his head.
Reaching out a hand, he tried to introduce himself and be polite. However, the lead man ignored it, instead of looking over his shoulder and frowning. "Get them out," he said.
"Excuse me?" Julien asked with bewilderment.
"He wants your doctors gone," the cameraman explained, the five men pushing their way inside.
Julien sighed, saddened at the inability to learn what was going on. He turned back to the doctors and nurses looking after the man, looking up at him curiously. He nodded and they filed out. Julien himself then turned to leave but was soon stopped by the voice of the leader.
"Oh, not you."
"What?" Julien said, turning around.
The leader chuckled. "As you probably can tell, we are not doctors." With that, the leader and his men entered the clinic room. Julien, after a quick sigh, followed.
Julien, after making sure that the man was okay, decided to seclude himself and watch from a corner of the room. All of the men except for the leader and the cameraman had taken off their disguises, revealing their casual and mostly Hawaiian clothing, setting up all sorts of recording equipment. The cameraman took out a long, thick metal rod and began waving it over the Japanese man. A bunch of crackling came from the rod and Julien realized that the cameraman had pulled out a Gieger counter.
A second later, he realized that the Japanese man had been exposed to radiation.
In speaking of the man, they had found him clutching desperately at his lifejacket, unconscious, his clothes torn, waterlogged, but somehow also scorched. Now, of course, they had replaced that stuff with a fresh hospital gown, but for the past day, since they found him, he had not talked. Only staring up at the ceiling in what could only be described as terror. The mysterious arrival of these insurance agents only raised further questions.
Once the cameraman had finished sweeping the Japanese man over with the Gieger counter, he put the tool away and got out his camera. The leader nodded to one of his men. "Ask him what happened," the leader said.
A man walked over to the bed, adorning thick, plastic glasses, and said something in Japanese. The man did not seem to stir at the sound of his language. He simply continued staring up at the ceiling, his hands locked together in fear.
After several more attempts, the Japanese man still lay their, unmoving, and the man with the glasses shrugged at his leader. That was when the leader did something unexpected. He pulled out a lighter. Julien was about to advise him not to smoke in the clinic, but before a word could escape his lips, a tiny flame appeared from the lighter and the leader floated it carefully in front of the Japanese man.
And as another surprise, the Japanese man immediately turned his head, his eyes staring intently at the small flame before him.
"What did you see, old man?" the leader asked.
Other than the odd question, Julien was surprised even further when, despite the language barrier, the man replied. However, he only said one word, a word he repeated three times.
"Gojira… Gojira… Gojira…"
Julien frowned. What the hell did that mean?
The leader, however, seemed satisfied. Shutting off the lighter, which caused the Japanese man to return his gaze to the ceiling, the leader turned his attention to the cameraman, who had been filming, and nodded. Immediately he and the rest of their crew began closing up shop and packing away their equipment.
Julien himself walked over to the patient's bed and looked down at him, curious and confusing questions rambling about in his head. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning about, Julien came face to face with the leader, staring intently at him.
"You will not speak of this to anyone," the leader said sternly, "promise?"
Julien, fearing the worst, nodded. He could tell that these weren't exactly insurance agents, but he realized that he didn't exactly want to find out what they were.
Satisfied, and with his men ready to go, the leader turned and left the room, closely followed by his fellow agents.
A/N - And that is chapter one! We were able to meet Nick Tatopolous (without any bad pronunciations of his last name) and we got to see the first attack as well as the survivor's simple description of what he saw. As for the schedule, I was thinking about posting every Friday, maybe Saturday or Sunday depending on if I am delayed for whatever reason. If I don't uphold this promise, don't worry! It may just be that I am very busy with other stuff or I just need a break (which I would tell you about). Whatever the cause, I won't give up on this project. I think I like what I am doing with it so far and I hope you guys do too. Please correct any bad grammar or funky writing and don't be shy to give a suggestion on how to make this story better. Well, that's it for this week, and I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of Mutants and Monsters!