Scourge of the Super-saurs
By C. L. Werner
Part I:
London
Peter Speare walked slowly along the bank of the Thames. Fog shrouded the dim London night, the chill and the damp combining to force the late night pedestrian to pull his pea-coat a bit closer to his exposed neck. Speare knew that by all rights he should be back at home, warm and snug in bed. But he had had another row with his wife and was of the opinion that a stroll along the river would clear his mind. The fact that his path would cross several pubs had in no way affected Speare's decision. After all, he had passed by two of the four without entering them.
A tremendous splashing sound intruded upon Speare's surly and somewhat inebriated thoughts. The Londoner turned around, facing toward the foggy water. He could see a dark, indistinct shape, concealed within the gray mist. At first Speare's befuddled brain identified it as Tower Bridge, but no, the bridge was yet a hundred yards off to the left, its lightposts shinning through the fog. But what on earth could it be? It was too big to be anything but one of the bridge towers. Had a large cruise ship actually made its way this far down the Thames? Suddenly, the darkness within the fog began to move. A second later, a mighty sound, like a gurgling trumpet, shook the night.
Peter Speare fell to the ground, crawling away from the river as quickly as he could; his eyes as round as saucers. The shape within the fog was a little more distinct now, and it was a living shape. All at once, the years were stripped from Peter Speare. No longer was he a fifty-year old man, but once more a ten year old boy, watching in horror as a gigantic prehistoric obscenity rose from the river and laid waste to London. Peter Speare had survived the attack of Gorgo on London in 1961. He would again survive the destruction of the city, but his mind would never return. Peter Speare would forever after remain a ten-year old boy.
The monster was huge, standing over eighty meters tall; his almost eel-like head perched atop a long neck. The monster was some manner of reptile, a foul corruption of some prehistoric dinosaur. His warty skin was a dark green mottled with red, his plated underbelly a dark tan. A large red crest topped the monster's head, towering above his over-sized eyes and fanged mouth. The arms were long and powerful, much more so than those of a normal carnosaur. The beast's tail was almost as long as his body and toped with an enormous, fish-like fin. Titanosaurus stood immobile, his eyes staring stupidly at the sprawling city before him. There was no malice in the dinosaur as it looked on the brick and stone buildings, at the little twinkling lights. It heard the distant rumble as Big Ben, rebuilt after Gorgo's rampage, tolled the hour, and began to shy away from the shore, apprehensive of encountering whatever being had uttered such a terrible sound.
Then, the monster's eyes narrowed, its entire demeanor changing, becoming menacing. A new urge filled Titanosaurus, an urge to destroy. The dinosaur swept its clawed hands in front of its body several times, anticipating the coming attack. Titanosaurus knew exactly where he must go and what he must do. Trumpeting once more, the towering monster emerged from the Thames and entered the sleeping capital of Great Britain.
Chairman Carmichael rubbed his eyes, unable to concentrate on the reports on the desk before him. For months now, MARS had been negotiating with Ugandan rebels to fund their uprising against the current government in Uganda. The fact that the rebels hoped to restore Idi Amin as dictator of Uganda had given MARS grave concerns. Idi Amin had been known for his reckless and impulsive behavior when he had run Uganda. It was entirely possible that he might not remember to pay MARS once he had settled into his former position.
Distant sounds caused Carmichael to rise from his desk and walk toward the massive window of his office in the Ares building, MARS' Old Street headquarters in London. The sounds appeared to be sirens and explosions, coming from the direction of the Thames and the Tower of London. The executive could see a dull red glow behind the fog, a sure sign that something was burning. The munitions manufacturer immediately began to calculate how much explosive would be needed to cause such damage. If he found out that the IRA was responsible, and getting their supplies from somebody else, there would be a number of openings in MARS' London office.
Titanosaurus tore through the line of warehouses, kicking the squat; ugly structures with his enormous clawed feet. Bricks and twisted steel flew in all directions. The giant dinosaur roared again, the sound overwhelming the cracking flames and the clanging sirens of the advancing fire brigade trucks. The dinosaur did not pay overmuch attention to the little trucks as they raced down side streets, trying to stop the fires left by the monster's advance. Titanosaurus did not notice the half-dressed mobs fleeing from him down those same side streets, crushing their fellows in their panicked attempt to flee the towering monster. A casual flick of his massive tail brought a distant tenement toppling into the street, burying dozens in a pile of brick and mortar. The screams of the dying were drowned out when their killer trumpeted again and continued to advance deeper into the city.
The centuries old Bank of England building was crushed beneath Titanosaurus' feet, its massive ornate columns rolling down Prince's Street. As if too punctuate the famous building's death, air raid sirens began to sound, announcing to all of London that the city was under attack. Not since the Blitz and Gorgo's rampage had the sirens roused Londoners from their beds. The warning only served to heighten the panic, as weary citizens peered out of windows to see a massive, prehistoric nightmare tearing through their ancient city. Soon, all of London seemed to be in the streets, racing for the imagined safety of bomb shelters and the open countryside. The streets were choked with a scrambling, struggling mass of humanity, making vehicle travel impossible. Hundreds were crushed beneath Titanosaurus' feet as the monster navigated his way deeper into the city.
Chairman Carmichael's mouth dropped open when he first saw the massive creature as Titanosaurus devastated the buildings on Chiswell Street. The MARS executive could not believe his eyes. Such a sight belonged in Tokyo or Osaka, not London. Carmichael watched in fascination as the monster continued to draw still closer. Ridiculous as it sounded, the monster seemed to be heading right for the Ares building. As Titanosaurus crushed both sides of Lamb's Pass, the ridiculousness of the situation was overwhelmed by the danger. Chairman Carmichael retreated from his office, scrambling for his private elevator and the bunker-like sub-basement of the Ares building.
Titanosaurus paused before the towering, glass-faced skyscraper. The monster could not, of course recognize the large silver letters which rose from the face of the building to spell MARS. All the same, Titanosaurus knew that this was his goal and he waited a moment as someone hundreds of miles away savored the moment. The moment passed, and Titanosaurus waved his claws before his body before leaping at the skyscraper. The gigantic scaly body crashed against the Ares building, shaking it with the force of an earthquake. Titanosaurus drew back from the damaged tower. The mammoth dinosaur bellowed and opened his mouth wide. Gill-like openings in the monster's throat began to suck in air at a tremendous rate. Titanosaurus' neck seemed to swell before the dinosaur released a jet of cyclonic fury. The hurricane-like gale blasted the upper stories of the Ares building, a crystal rain falling across London as the gale carried shards of glass far out into the night sky. Titanosaurus repeated the attack on the remaining levels of the skyscraper, blasting it repeatedly with his powerful cyclone breath.
The urge to destroy left the dinosaur and Titanosaurus turned away from the gutted superstructure of the Ares building, naked steel girders standing bare in the night sky, like some ghastly urban skeleton. The dinosaur sauntered back toward the river, following his path of destruction back to the Thames. A few RAF fighters arrived as Titanosaurus was entering the river, launching their missiles as the dinosaur sank beneath the surface. It was the only token of defense the great city had brought against the monster. It was too little too late. In the morning, over twenty thousand people would be listed as dead or missing, four times that number would be counted among the injured.
* * * * *
'This report just came to us from Great Britain,' the young Japanese lieutenant saluted Dr. Otani. The scientist removed the sheets of paper from the soldier's hand and read them hastily.
'This is confirmed?' the project leader of Ogasawara asked the UNGCC soldier. The uniformed man nodded grimly.
'We have received a few images of the monster. The attack was so quick that only a few stills and one very poor quality thirty-second video recording are known to have been taken. Judging by the reports, there can be no doubt that it is some manner of kaiju.'
'Is it Gorgo?' inquired a young spectacle-wearing man. Kohei Yamane adjusted his glasses as he posed the question.
'No, at least not unless the monster has been severely mutated.'
'I take it that the British are looking to the UNGCC for advice?' Dr. Otani said, already sure of the answer.
'If anyone has experience dealing with giant monsters, it would be Japan.'
'It appears that may no longer be the case,' Kohei Yamane commented as he took the report from Dr. Otani. Dr. Otani nodded at the UNGCC officer.
'Tell the British we will give them whatever assistance and advice they require.' Dr. Otani let a troubled smile cross his face. 'I hate to say it, but I find it to be of some comfort that it is not Japan this time. Perhaps fate has decided that we have already had our share of monsters.'
The sun glared down on the sandy beach of Ogasawara. An armored landing craft slid into the shore, its titanium steel door slowly lowering. As the metal portal slammed into the surf, a mass of black, hair bodies exploded from the dark interior of the ship. Twenty water buffalo, eyes wide with fear, the foam of terror dribbling from their mouths, scrambled across the beach, seeking the imagined sanctuary of the jungle. High overhead, cold reptilian eyes watched the animals flee.
Rodan cackled malevolently, diving from the cloudless sky to snatch a pair of steers in his talons. The enormous pterosaur circled the beach again and then made his way toward the volcano crater he had made his roost. The pterosaur dropped the water buffalo into the bowl-like depression and perched atop the rim of the crater. Rodan's beaked head darted down into the crater once, twice, the frightened animal cries silenced. Now, the flying monster would circle the island again, hunting the rest of his food. It was a scene repeated twice a month; the most dangerous duty any of the soldiers stationed at Ogasawara could draw. It had not happened yet, but none of the soldiers who piloted the armored landing craft could help but remember that Rodan had a well-established reputation for consuming human flesh.
Rodan did not perform as his 'keepers' expected this day. The giant pterosaur did indeed circle the island, but he did so only once. Cackling wildly, the monster flapped his massive, leathery wings, heading away from the island.
'Where is he going?' one of the soldiers in the wheelhouse of the landing craft gasped.
'Looks like he is heading for China,' the other pilot of the landing craft commented.
'Why would Rodan be going to China?' the other man asked, still shocked by the abrupt sundering of Rodan's feeding routine.
'Maybe he feels like Chinese food,' it was a grim and humorless jest. The pilot radioed the command center buried deep beneath Ogasawara's nuclear reactor. With the speed Rodan could achieve, the Chines would have less than an hour to prepare for the monster.
Dr. Shinji Mafune smiled as his old servant brought him a glass of lemonade. The wizened scientist let the icy liquid flow down his parched throat. Titanosaurus had performed exactly as he had expected him to. The London headquarters of MARS was a gutted ruin. The first phase of his revenge had been accomplished. Before he was finished, the MARS corporation would be nothing but a dirty, painful memory.
His children would see to that.