Scourge of the Super-saurs
By C. L. Werner
Epilogue:
Murakoshi stirred in the hospital bed. He had no idea how he had gotten here. The last he could remember was being in the warehouse, facing down Mendoza, the Chinese man bursting into the room, guns blazing. Remembering made his head hurt, and the Interpol agent clamped a hand to his forehead to try and ease the pain. He knew that he was still in Costa Rica, but beyond that he was at a loss to explain his present circumstances. Murakoshi scanned the little hospital room, looking for some clue as to what had happened to him. His eyes settled upon a small object resting on his nightstand. At once, Murakoshi became alert and snapped the tiny object up with his hand.
It was a shell casing, the spent shell casing of a high-caliber rifle bullet. Murakoshi studied the shell, noticing at once the Japanese characters carved into the brass casing. The characters spelled 'Shinji Mafune'.
'Nurse,' Murakoshi cried out. Almost at once a nurse was at his side.
'Who left this here?' Murakoshi demanded. The nurse simply smiled awkwardly.
'I don't know sir,' she replied.
'Then, have I had any visitors?'
'Only the gentleman who brought you here yesterday,' the nurse responded.
'What?'
'A tall man, Chinese I think. He was very well dressed. He brought you here yesterday, said that you had hit your head in a fishing accident. He came back a little while ago to make sure that you were all right.' The nurse waited for a moment for Murakoshi to ask her anything else. When he did not, the woman returned to her rounds.
Murakoshi stared at the shell casing, remembering the man who had seemingly saved him from Mendoza. But that had not been the real reason for the man's coming. He had also been looking for Dr. Mafune, and for entirely different reasons, it seemed. Murakoshi stared again at the spent shell casing. After what he had seen the man do in the warehouse, the Interpol agent had a feeling that the Chinese man's meeting with Dr. Mafune had been most final. The world would not be hearing of Dr. Shinji Mafune again.
The nurse leaned over the hideous puddle of flesh lying upon the bed. Rescue workers had scoured the remains of the Hachiman Building for weeks looking for survivors. So far, they had only found this man, if survivor this thing on the bed could truly be called. The man's body had been crushed beyond recognition, a goodly portion of the skin cooked away. That there was any spark of life in it at all continued to amaze the doctors. The man had been found in some sort of basement room that had partially collapsed, the room's electrical equipment had been sending a current through the man for days. By all rights, the man should have been dead twenty times over.
The nurse injected the heavy painkiller into what was once an arm. She was nervous, even her professionalism horrified by this unrecognizable human debris. She did not notice the tip of the metal needle snap off in the man's arm. Nor did she notice the shard of metal burrow into the man's flesh, writing beneath the skin like some tiny steel maggot.
She certainly did not recognize the flicker of motion on what had once been a face. She certainly would not have recognized that motion as a smile. Tetsuo Tsukamoto was no longer human. And that did not disturb him at all.
Colonel Sho Kuroki of the JSDF sat on the opposite side of the table from Commander Aso of the UNGCC. The two Japanese officers were polite, if somewhat tense towards one another. The recent affair of the Super-saurs had exemplified the redundant nature of the overlapping duties of the JSDF and UNGCC. Officially, any communication from GARD should have been directed towards Commander Aso and the UNGCC. Instead, the vital information had been sent to Colonel Kuroki. This breech in protocol had caused Commander Aso to loose face. Now, the UNGCC officer was calling in a few favors to restore his prestige, and remove his JSDF rival.
'I think that this plan will help expedite any future emergencies of this nature,' Commander Aso declared, gesturing toward the report he had placed before Colonel Kuroki. The Colonel had already looked through it, but had thus far betrayed no emotion regarding the proposal. 'One of the most embarrassing things about this whole matter has been how everyone was stepping on everyone else's feet. Iterpol, the CIA, GARD, even the UNGCC and JSDF. What we need is an outside body to collect information and distribute it to those who require it.'
'And you have chosen me to head this team,' Colonel Kuroki stated.
'Although it will be an international group, the problem of kaiju attacks is still a principally Japanese one. I think that it is only fitting that a Japanese, one with experience in these things, be in command. And, need I say, I feel that a military mind is best suited to the burden of being leader.' Commander Aso smiled at Colonel Kuroki.
'I know that you have your commission in the JSDF to think of,' Commander Aso began. 'So, if you would rather pass on this position, I am certain that we will be able to find someone better suited to the job.'
'No, sir,' responded Colonel Kuroki. 'You are right. My skills and previous experience could make all of the difference. I will accept transfer from the JSDF to this new command.'
It was not the way he said the words but rather the smile on Kuroki's face that disturbed Commander Aso. He began to wonder if instead of ridding himself of a rival if he was instead commissioning his own replacement.
General Goodhue glared at the two officers standing before him. It had been some years since Goodhue had worn the uniform of a United States Army general. But the powers to be in the Pentagon had called him out of retirement to once again bail the bacon out of the fire. Goodhue turned on the Navy officer first.
'May I ask what in the Hell you were thinking! Withholding valuable information from the Japanese when their capital city is being torn apart by six giant monsters?' General Goodhue rolled his eyes. 'My God, if the UN ever got wind of this, or heaven forbid the Press!' Goodhue paused, as if daring Commander Brandon to say something. The Navy officer was smart enough not to take the bait.
'And you,' General Goodhue snarled, turning on Major MacDonough. 'If you feel that your commanding officer is guilty of dereliction of duty, there are channels to go through. You do not take it upon your own initiative to over-rule his orders! As it happens, you have set the Japanese Defense Forces and the UNGCC squabbling about who should have received your information.'
General Goodhue turned away from the two officers and returned to his desk. 'The Pentagon has put me in command of GARD. As the new commanding officer, I am reassigning both of you. We have just constructed an early warning station on the western most of the Aleutian Islands. Your plane leaves in two hours. I suggest you both find something warm to wear.'
Dr. Otani watched as the military engineers continued to construct the sonic transmitter towers. Soon, there would be a large ring of the structures surrounding the island, only a mile from the shore. It was curious to see so many people outside, but it was quite safe, the scientist and head of the Ogasawara Project realized. Rodan had retreated back into his volcano lair, so weak from the recent battle that the monster had not even tried to emerge for his feedings. Godzilla, Dr. Otani imagined, was probably in the same condition, slumbering somewhere beneath the waters off Ogasawara. Mothra, even if she could be considered a menace, was busy tending her egg, which professor Murai reported would be hatching quite soon.
Then there were the three new denizens of Monsterland. Or inmates, Dr. Otani thought. The sonic transmitter towers were being built to confine the creatures to the island and prevent their escape. The sonic transmitters would produce a frequency that would drive the monsters back onto dry land if they tried to escape, perhaps even stunning them into unconsciousness if they proved too stubborn to retreat from the towers. Of course, the towers would do nothing to keep Rodan or Godzilla on the island, but at least the other monsters would be contained.
Dr. Otani looked at the screen displaying the slumbering beasts. Anguirus, Gorosaurus and the fearsome Baragon, all lying on the sand like great bloated lizards sunning themselves. Dr. Otani rolled his eyes, thinking of the horrible task of maintaining the Project with three more giant beasts to feed. Already he had people trying to find a chemical to curb Baragon's runaway metabolism, an appetite suppressant that would make the fiend at least somewhat more docile.
Dr. Otani smiled and shook his head. Six monsters. Now even he was beginning to think of this place as Monsterland.
The demon glared at the bright, sunlit sky, imagining it instead dark with the smoke of burning buildings, choked with the soot of destruction. He could see the towering skyscrapers of Ginza all about him, defying his vision of doom. Over the years, he had twisted fate, manipulated the minds and wills of men and beasts to crush this sprawling megalopolis, to crush it and cast its ashes into the wind. Still, it stood, defying his efforts, refusing to die. But die it would!
The short man with coke-bottle glasses rounded the corner of the hedge. He sighted the tall figure standing beside the bed of chrysanthemums and raced toward it.
'The Imperial Garden is closed,' the man declared. 'It is Monday, the day the Emperor enjoys the tranquility of his gardens.'
'The Emperor would do well to build his home on land that is not accursed,' a deep, hollow voice resounded from the figure. The man with the eyeglasses stood still staring hard at the figure. It was a tall man, wearing a long green cape.
'Who are you?' the Emperor's aid demanded. The figure turned around. Now the aide could see whom he was talking to and the site caused him to retreat back several steps. The figure was indeed tall, almost six-feet in height. The man wore the uniform of a lieutenant in the Imperial Japanese Army, but a uniform that was over a century out of date. Black boots encased the man's feet; a peaked cap was pulled low over his forehead, hiding his eyes in shadow. White gloves encased the man's hands, standing in stark contrast to the rest of his green officer's uniform. As the aide watched, the eyes beneath the shadow cast by the brim of the cap seemed to burn from the darkness with an eerie yellow flame.
'I am called Kato,' the sorcerer declared, his mouth displaying a set of wicked fangs as he spoke. The demon swirled the cape about his body, wrapping himself in its folds. 'But the people of this city shall know me as DEATH!'
The necromancer's demonic laughter mocked the little man who stood froze in fear against the hedge wall. He watched as the sorcerer rose into the air before shattering into a thousand shards of midnight and scattering upon the suddenly howling wind. Indeed, the aide would have thought the whole event was a hallucination except for one thing. The bed of chrysanthemums the creature had been standing near. The once bright flowers had turned black.
More, when the Emperor arrived and plucked one of the diseased buds, the stalk wept. Not white sticky sap, but bright red blood.