Scourge of the Super-saurs
By C. L. Werner
Part III:
Moscow
Boris Mishkin was a very unhappy man. Once, he had been a high-ranking agent of the Soviet KGB. His name had been a word to instill fear in the highest circles of the Communist party, for no man truly counted himself safe within the corrupt regime. He had the respect of his comrades, and the dignity due his station. And more than that, Boris Mishkin had had power.
Boris Mishkin snorted in disgust. Power, he had little enough of that now. He wandered among the masses of wooden crates in the enormous warehouse and thought of how far he had fallen. From spy master of the KGB to head of the MARS Corporation's Moscow headquarters, what amounted to their bargain bin, buying AK-47's from Russian soldiers for the price of a week's lodgings and a few bottles of vodka. It hardly amounted to anything at all and did not command any respect from his superiors. True, there had been bright moments, such as the two nuclear warheads he had arranged to procure from a Russian general desperate to ensure a prosperous retirement, but such moments had been all too few and the memory of MARS all too short to sustain Mishkin's elevation.
Mishkin struck one of the crates nearest him, barely feeling the wooden splinters impaling his knuckles through the haze of vodka that warmed his body. If only that idiot Gorbachev had not been made premier, all would be as it was. Perhaps, Mishkin dared to hope, he might even have been made premier had the communists continued to hold power. Boris Mishkin, Premier of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, not Boris Mishkin, lap dog of the capitalist MARS corporation. Mishkin slammed his fist into another crate as his mind made the comparison between the man he had been and the man he now was. At first his befuddled mind thought that it was the vodka that made him stumble to the floor, that it was the vodka which made the crates and walls around him seem to tremble and shake. Only after a few moments more did Mishkin realize that his surroundings were indeed moving, that a violent tremor was crawling through the ground beneath him.
The ground shook, rattling the window frames of much of Moscow. Startled, frightened Russians staggered from the tremendous earthquake, clutching at the swaying brick walls of buildings to steady themselves against the bucking earth. And still the tremor grew in its fury. Window frames continued to tremble until they shattered the glass they contained. Apartment complexes and factories, constructed under the none too exacting standards of the Soviet, cracked and crumbled into piles of brick and mortar, burying masses of humanity beneath the rubble. Before the earthquake stopped, Moscow was already in a state of disaster beyond anything the city had experienced since the Second World War. Nor had its suffering ended. Indeed, the earthquake was nothing compared to what was to come.
The street before the Russian White House, site of the Russian parliament, erupted in a brown cloud of dirt and rubble. A low howl tore through the obscuring veil of dust, a low howl punctuated by a short, sharp bark. Emerging from the tunnel he had dug beneath the Russian capital was a monster from the Earth's primordial past, a tremendous beast that echoed the dead dinosaurs with a sound of horror.
In shape, the monster was like some gargantuan lizard, its hide covered in dark gray scales. The beast's head was long and pointed into a fanged snout. Atop the monster's snout, a short horn stood. At the back of the monster's head was a crown of larger horns. The creature's back was an armored shell, like that of an armadillo or the extinct ankylosaurus, its surface broken by a mass of sharp, spike-like growths. The monster's tail was long, and like the shell, covered in long, sharp spikes. Indeed, the very tip of the tail was a mass of thinner, sharper spikes, which stood in ranks as rigid as any Roman pikeman formation.
The beast barked again, scrambling away from the hole it had emerged from and plowing into a tenement building. The monster paid no heed to the screaming, fleeing insects which swarmed around him. There was no hunger motivating this giant reptile. He was Anguirus, the last of Dr. Shinji Mafune's creations, and a different urge propelled him deeper into the Russian city.
Anguirus sped through the streets of Moscow, his huge claws ripping apart the Russian buildings and gouging massive wounds in the surface of the roads. The monster's advance was so swift that some people were still recovering from the earthquake the creature's tunneling had caused when the monster was upon them. Hundreds were crushed beneath Anguirus' feet without gaining more than a fleeting glance at their killer. Anguirus howled again, the urge nearly satisfied. He could see his target ahead; a squat, ugly tan structure nestled beside a dilapidated government building. The giant beast hurtled forward.
The crack and thunder of artillery sounded above the sounds of Anguirus' triumph. A brigade of Russian tanks lumbered toward the beast, the tank commanders already ordering a second salvo readied. Most of the shells had struck the spiny shell on the monster's back, blackening it but failing to penetrate. The tank commanders hoped to draw closer still, where they could target the seemingly more vulnerable scaly underside of the monster. Anguirus turned toward the source of the attack. The giant reptile's eyes focused upon the line of Russian armor, narrowing as the long barrels of the Russian guns exploded and the second attack struck the monster's head and neck. The shells again failed to penetrate the monster's hide, but they did have an effect. Anguirus understood that he had been attacked, challenged by these small metal machines. The urge still drove Anguirus toward the tan building, but a deeper need filled the mutant ankylosaurus, a need for battle.
Anguirus howled and charged toward the Russian tanks at tremendous speed. The tank commanders were swift to react, some ordering their crews to fire upon the monster a third time, others telling their drivers to reverse their weapons away from the oncoming mammoth. Those who held their ground were trampled beneath the claws of the charging Anguirus, or swatted by the monster's powerful tail, the armored vehicles hurtling across the landscape to be buried in the walls of buildings. The tanks that retreated fared little better. Anguirus stared at the fleeing attackers, snarling at such cowardice. The reptile snorted derisively and charged after the vehicles, hunting them through the streets. Some thought to elude Anguirus by maneuvering around corners, putting towering buildings between the monster and themselves. It was a feeble tactic; Anguirus clawed his way through the buildings and fell upon the retreating tankers all the same. Of the thirty tanks that had thought to confront Anguirus, only five escaped with their lives.
Anguirus turned back towards the building that was his target. His pursuit of the tanks had led him far from the MARS warehouse, but it had cost the monster very little time. Anguirus again tore through the streets of Moscow to again reach his target. The enormous armored body burst through the structures which stood in his way, ignoring the massive blocks of stone and masonry that crashed upon his head. There were no distractions now, only the urge.
The Russian MiG fighters dove towards the huge creature as Anguirus stood immobile for a moment amidst the rubble of a devastated factory. Rockets exploded all around the huge beast, bathing the giant reptile in fire. Anguirus turned his head skyward, howling in rage at the planes as they circled around for another attack. For the pilots, there was a grim hope that they might drive Anguirus from their city. They might not be able to harm the huge monster, but neither, it appeared, could Anguirus harm them. In time, the beast might grow frustrated by the continued attacks and his inability to lash out at the planes and decide to leave Moscow. It was a feeble hope, but one the Russian wing commander felt was worth pursuing.
The MiGs dived again, once more unleashing the destructive fury of their missiles. Again, the huge monster was unharmed. Again, Anguirus barked at the jets as they circled around for a third attack. An attack which would never come.
A huge shape plummeted from the clouds at a speed beyond reckoning. The shock wave of the shape's descent shattered the formation of the MiGs, more than one of the planes spinning out of control to crash and burn in the streets of the city they had hoped to save. The few planes that could regain control sped away from the new arrival. Anguirus was an unknown quantity, a new creature which military might could, perhaps, control. The monster that had descended from the clouds was a different matter. It would take more than a handful of Russian fighters to drive off the terrible Rodan.
Rodan circled above the ruins, cackling his unearthly cry. The shockwave of his rapid descent had devastated entire blocks, turning them on the instant from homes and workplaces to tombs and rubble. Men and debris had been thrown across the city; some of the wrack striking the city's other attacker. It was more of an insult than an attack, at least to the mind of the reptilian juggernaut who turned his eyes skyward. Anguirus barked at the circling brown titan, daring it to descend and confront him.
Descend Rodan did, rocketing downward from the sky, streaking toward the squat beast which howled at him. Rodan did not deign to strike Anguirus, instead speeding past the giant dinosaur. It was the powerful shockwave which followed the flying terror that assaulted Anguirus. The tremendous blast of velocity lifted Anguirus, rolling the creature across the terrain, the monster's spiky back gouging huge holes in the ground as he rolled. At last, Anguirus crashed into the very building he had been sent to destroy. Ironically, the ruins of the MARS warehouse stopped Anguirus' tumbling. Enraged, disoriented, Anguirus rose from the rubble. He shook his head from side to side, trying to decide if he really did see two leather-winged terrors flying towards him.
Rodan cackled madly, rocketing toward the reptile now rising from the ruins. He did not pay much heed to the long spiky tail that arced upwards from behind the giant dinosaur's back. Nor were even Rodan's swift reflexes enough to halt his strike when several long, needle-like quills sped away from the spiky tail to embed themselves in the huge pterosaur's flesh. The impact was enough to cause Rodan's mighty wings to fail and the giant flying fiend fell from the sky, just as the MiGs had done before him, but with even more disastrous results for the city of Moscow. A great column of dust and debris shot high into the sky as the giant monster's body crashed into the earth, destroying an entire district in an instant. The city shook once more as tremors from Rodan's impact ravaged already weakened buildings.
Anguirus made to move towards where the monster had fallen, determine to pursue the battle, but an urge to flee filled him. It was contrary to his instincts to leave a battle unfinished, but this new command was far more powerful than that which had driven him towards the MARS warehouse and it would not be denied. Barking his own disappointment, Anguirus turned away and returned to his tunnel. With unbelievable speed, the armored dinosaur disappeared back into the darkness below the earth.
A few moments later, Rodan burst from beneath a pile of rubble, roaring in rage, flapping his massive wings furiously. The winged terror returned to the sky, circling Moscow for any sign of his enemy. The huge spines still stuck from his flesh, his radioactive blood drizzling down from the overcast sky like a crimson shower of disease. Anger and frustration caused Rodan's speed to increase his cries to become even more wrathful and enraged. Cars and trees were cast away by the howling hurricane the beating of Rodan's wings created. The flying monster circled the Kremlin itself, the shockwave of his advance shattering the domed minarets and towers. With a last cry of wrath, Rodan turned away from the desolation of the Russian capital, turning once again toward the Orient to nurse his wounds, and his desire for retribution.
* * * * * *
'Well, I guess we don't have to worry about where and when Mafune is going to unleash his fourth monster,' Comdr. Brandon of the United State's Godzilla Armed Response Division commented as the giant dinosaur's attack on Moscow was replayed on the screen before him. Murakoshi stared at the crass American officer. His look of annoyance was mirrored on the face of the UNGCC's Commander Aso. Brandon might be his counterpart in the United States, but that did not mean Aso had to like the man. He had gotten along much better with the old head of GARD, General O'Brien of the US Army, but after the Mechani-Kong tragedy, the general had been forced to step down.
'Perhaps this will see an end to it?' offered General Wilhelm Streicker of the MDH. A German Luftwaffe officer, Streicker had been given nominal control of the fledgling Monster Defiance Headquarters of Europe. Even he did not sound convinced by his words.
'I don't think so,' commented Murakoshi. 'Mafune has revealed his monsters, but we have yet to discover the pattern in these attacks.'
'Possibly he seeks to cripple the world's economy,' offered Director Segawa. 'He has already put the capitals of three great nations in ruin. Who is to say that he will not continue this pattern?'
'A terrorist, pure and simple,' snarled Commander Brandon. 'Wait and see, we will be receiving demands from this maniac soon enough now that he has unveiled all of his toys.'
'But who is to say that he has?' interjected Dr. Otani, his voice filled with worry. 'The documents Interpol captured are almost two decades old, who can say just how many creatures this madman has created?' Dr. Otani's words chilled everyone in the room. It was Murakoshi who at last broke the silence.
'We are faced with two problems. The first is to stop these attacks. The second is to find Dr. Shinji Mafune. If we can solve this second problem, then we will solve our first one. I am already following leads which I hope will put me on the right track.' The Interpol agent's voice was grave. 'I feel that I am closer than ever before, but bear in mind that Dr. Mafune has been wanted by Interpol for twenty years. Only a very clever and cunning man could elude capture for so long.'
'But what do we do in the meantime?' demanded Commander Aso. 'We cannot just allow these monsters to continue their rampages at will. Nor is fortifying the capitals of every nation on earth an option!'
'I must agree with officer Murakoshi,' commented Kohei Yamane. 'These creatures may be monsters in every sense of the word, but there is a human intellect behind them. There is a pattern to these attacks. If we can find that pattern, we can predict where the monsters will strike next. And prepare for their arrival.'
'Maybe you can use Rodan to sniff them out,' commented Commander Brandon snidely. 'He seemed to track down Anguirus easily enough.'
'Professor Kashiwagi assures me that Rodan's presence there was pure coincidence,' Dr. Otani said, his voice betraying his annoyance with the crass American officer. 'Rodan was likely searching for prey when he sensed the other monster and attacked. And need I remind you that Rodan did more damage to Moscow than Mafune's monster? Using Rodan against these creatures would be like fighting a fire with gasoline!'
Dr. Otani thought for a long moment before speaking again. 'Murakoshi is correct, there is a pattern to these attacks, and we must find it.' The Japanese scientist's eyes focused on the Russian carnage being displayed on the scene. 'We must find it before another city burns.'