Godzilla: Tactical Assault

by Locutus6

A gritty, mature, and serious take on Godzilla with horror elements. Written in the form of an ongoing television series. The military wages a desperate war to defend humanity against monsters who begin to appear around the globe. (FYI: If you liked 'Godzilla: Minus one', the plot to this story is actually pretty similar.) Latest Chapter: (The Secret of "Them").

13. Chapter 13: Goddess

Chapter 13: Goddess

In the immediate aftermath of Mothra cocooning herself in Paris, no one was quite sure what to do. A number of the Parisian residents ventured back into the city before the French military barred the roads.

The French Government wanted as few civilians as possible inside the city until they decided how to proceed. The military was keen to attack at first, seeing as the creature wouldn't be able to defend herself in her current state, but their plan was quashed by the civilian government when they caught wind of it. Though they had no issue with the military trying to kill the monster, they were, however, concerned with the potential collateral damage to the Eiffel Tower, which was a treasured landmark. The historic tower continued to hold up well under Mothra's weight and seemed stable for the foreseeable future.

On the second day of the deadlock, it finally occurred to the French generals that there was another possible solution which would not involve firing artillery at a historic site. Marcus had demonstrated that Mothra's silk could be cut with fire. It seemed reasonable to assume that the webbing she used to construct her cocoon could likewise be vulnerable to fire.

The French Army did have access to flamethrowers that had been invented during The Great War. They had been developed amidst the prolonged periods of stalemate that defined trench warfare. The generals were eager to employ them again. However, when using flamethrowers was brought up in a strategy meeting, Dr. Jacquier's voice was quick to ring out against them. He discouraged the generals, citing that such a strategy would be inherently dangerous. The doctor explained that he had been running tests on the strange material found within Mothra's eggshell, and his findings suggested that it was volatile when exposed to extreme temperatures. Thus, he suggested that the cocoon could also prove to be combustible if they attempted to set it alight. Dr. Jacquier went on to say, if the military tried to burn the cocoon, it might possibly trigger an explosion that could not only destroy the Eiffel Tower, but also damage or destroy numerous other buildings in the surrounding area. He felt they would risk spreading fires all over the city if they acted rashly.

The Generals at the meeting were skeptical about Dr. Jacquier's theories. But the civilian authorities on hand were horrified by the prospect of the Eiffel Tower or any other landmark being damaged. They didn't want to take any risks. For that reason alone, Dr. Jacquier's argument prevailed. His minor victory proved to be enough to buy the cocoon a few more hours while the French Parliament debated the issue.

By the next morning, word arrived that there had been a significant explosion at the secret research facility where Mothra's egg shards were being housed. The incident seemed to lend Dr. Jacquier's theory some much needed weight. As it turned out, the event was enough to convince the majority of France's National Assembly that attacking the cocoon immediately was too risky of an operation to undertake at that time. They would have to look into alternative methods of dealing with it.

With fire ruled out, that left the French Army with very few practical options to choose from. A more conventional attack with tanks and artillery carried the same risks. As it was, it seemed like their only recourse was to wait and see what happened. It was around this time that the French received even worse news. Varan was continuing his trek through Germany, moving westward. He appeared to be on course to cross over the Franco-German border. Thus, it looked like the French were on the cusp of having a second monster to contend with on their home soil, and the latter of the two had proven to be extremely hazardous to human life.

Marcus was with Admiral Nimitz in the American Embassy when they received word about Varan's threat. Understanding the seriousness of the situation, Admiral Nimitz was quick to pull out a map of Western Europe and began to mark out the locations in Germany where Varan had been sighted. He was looking for a pattern, and it didn't take him long to find one. Since Mothra had arrived in Paris, Varan had shifted his trajectory sharply from due west to northwest. And he had sped up as well. There was no doubt, Varan was on his way.

"Great, now we have to deal with an even-more destructive monster?" Williams grumbled. "How will the French Army stop it? That thing had no problem stomping the Germans. It'll have a veritable buffet in the countryside with most of the French military up here in the North keeping an eye on Mothra."

"Don't panic Commander, it has got to get around one thing before it can do any of that." Admiral Nimitz reassured him.

"He has to cross the Maginot line...?" Brock guessed. The Admiral nodded to Brock, confirming he was correct.

"What's that?" Williams asked, confused.

"You're joking right?" Brock baulked at him, appalled by his ignorance. "It's only the most fortified defensive position in the World. It was built to keep the Germans out of France following The Great War." He turned his attention to Marcus. "I thought you said these things were smart, why is it trying to go through there?"

"I said Kaiju were intelligent, not smart." Marcus pointed out. "Most animals are intelligent. Think about it in terms of dog breeds, intelligence can vary by wide margins."

"Yeah, my sister has a beagle… that little bastard is as dumb as a post." Brock noted. "It just sits in the back yard and barks at a stump all day."

"Thank you Brock, that was very helpful." Marcus sighed. "Anyways, I'd say Varan is coming for the cocoon. Mothra is a sitting duck while she's encased inside it. Easy pickings if Varan is hungry and tired of paltry human portions. And to your other point Brock, there's no way that Varan could know about the massive defense line between here and there." Marcus observed. "My knowledge of geography is limited, but I'm guessing crossing the Maginot Line is likely the most direct way to get to Paris from where Varan is?"

The Admiral used a pencil and protractor to project Varan's course on the map. He confirmed that the monster's heading was taking him directly towards Paris. This lent weight to Marcus' analysis. The admiral went a step further and did a little math on the paper. He promptly calculated that if Varan kept up his current speed, he'd arrive at Paris in less than forty-eight hours.

"So that is why Mothra was in such a hurry to get here." Brock noted confidently. "She knew Varan was on his way and she's trying to hatch before he gets here."

"That's what my gut says too." Marcus agreed with Brock. Just then, he got a flash of an image in his mind, and a jolt of fear shot down his spine. It was gone in an instant, but Marcus knew they needed to ensure that Varan was stopped at the Maginot Line to protect Mothra's cocoon. If they failed, something terrible would happen.

…

Within an hour, Admiral Nimitz made a call to Washington, and it was quickly decided that they would be dispatched to the Maginot Line to see Varan for themselves. It was an easy idea for Nimitz to sell to his superiors. The Secretary of Defense felt that getting firsthand knowledge of the monster was vital. The German Government had not been very open with the Western Powers about what Varan was, and what he was capable of.

Up until then, the United States had to solely rely on what their spies inside Germany were reporting. Primarily what those agents sent, were pictures and articles taken straight out of German newspapers. As it turned out, the German High-Command was keeping a very tight lid on what they did and did not allow journalists to publish. Not too surprisingly, there was very little information about the total losses the Wehrmacht had suffered, or the extent to which Varan had damaged Germany's infrastructure. Only some details about the monster had leaked. Thanks to the photos in the papers, the Americans would at least be able to identify Varan on sight, but they didn't know how resistant to artillery fire the monster was or how he might fight when confronted.

After obtaining Washington's approval, Admiral Nimitz phoned General De Gaulle to get his express permission to enter the Maginot Forts along the German border as military observers. Because Marcus had proved so instrumental in rescuing French troops just days earlier, they were still in the general's good graces. It didn't take much convincing to get him to agree.

It wasn't just De Gaulle's gratitude that motivated him, however. The shrewd general recognized that there were considerable political benefits ensuring that American servicemen were in the line-of-fire. If things went south during their impending battle with Varan, it would read quite-well in American newspapers if some of their own soldiers were present for the fight. It would undoubtedly make the American public more sympathetic to the French cause if they could relate to men on the frontline. And the French might very-well end up needing US military resources if they failed to stop Varan at the Maginot Line. Capturing the hearts and minds of the American people would be a fine first step in ensuring their support.

Arrangements were made, and a plane carrying the group of Americans was dispatched to an airfield that was located adjacent to the Maginot Line. They landed nearby the projected path of the monster. An offer had been extended for Dr. Jacquier to join them as well, but the scientist resolutely refused to join them. He was more interested in continuing his research on Mothra's Cocoon. Marcus suspected he just wanted to ensure the French Government didn't change their mind and try to burn the cocoon while he was away. Whatever the reason though, Dr. Jacquier elected to stay behind in Paris.

…

Off the Libyan coast, an Italian heavy cruiser and a pair of destroyers arrived to investigate the rash of shipping disappearances in the area. A large Regia Marina supply freighter had been added to the list of missing vessels overnight, which provoked the rapid appearance of the Italian warships. The whole area was quickly designated as restricted until the Italian authorities could come up with some answers.

Like Omar, the Italians almost immediately ruled out the local pirates as being responsible for the disappearances. While the pirates certainly weren't above raiding Italian merchant vessels when they got the opportunity, they never scuttled the ships afterwards. In most instances, the pirates would board the freighters, seize all of the supplies they could carry, and then be on their way afterwards. Seizing or sinking entire ships simply did not fit their usual M.O. Everyone seemed to recognize that something very odd was going on.

Omar watched from a dockyard as the warships swept the area looking for any clues. They didn't seem to be having any luck though. The warships passed, and Omar noticed something strange washing in with the tide. It was floating on top of the water, knocking backward and forward with each passing wave. It turned out to be a fish. Or at least in a manner of speaking, it was. The organism in question was so bizarre-looking that it took Omar a second to register it as a form of sea-life.

Omar had been a fisherman for close to twenty years, and in all that time on the water, he'd never seen anything like it before. The creature he observed was intact, but no doubt dead. The fish was about a meter in length and had dark grey scales. It had two small eyes on either side of its head, with proportionally large nostrils along with a huge gaping mouth filled with especially long and nasty sharp teeth. The fish also had an unusual appendage protruding from its forehead. At the end of the limb was a bulbous orb that was semi-translucent. Its function was unclear. To Omar, it was easier to describe it as a monstrosity rather than a fish. Looking upon it gave him an eerie feeling. He felt like it was an omen. Storm clouds were forming in the distance, adding to the ominous atmosphere.

…

Meanwhile in the Sea of Okhotsk, Akira was continuing to fly towards the coastal waters of Russia. Having flown countless missions over China, Akira knew how it felt to enter enemy airspace, but still, this somehow felt different. If he made a mistake on this mission, it could genuinely kick off a war. Something Akira didn't want to carry the weight of blame for.

Akira tried to stay calm, but it was difficult not to feel a great weight of apprehension as the mission took them further and further into Russian airspace. Up until then, he had been letting his mind wander during the flight. Allowing his inner thoughts to drift through countless imaginary scenarios to pass the time. However, Akira was now keenly alert to his surroundings. He continuously scanned the sky around him, watching for trouble.

As it just so happened, trouble seemed to have found them at that very moment. Akira spotted a Russian patrol fighter about one-thousand feet below them at one o'clock. Akira reacted instinctively, jerking the stick backward hard and taking the seaplane higher. The hydroplane was not a fighter though, and the sudden jerk of the stick was not followed by a smooth climb upwards as Akira had been expecting. Instead, the plane lurched clumsily. Inside the aircraft, the crew were jerked from their seats as the seaplane pitched.

Akira could hear canisters of fuel clanging around behind him, and at least one angry shout ring-out. He had to ignore all of that though. His priority needed to be getting his seaplane out of the line-of-sight of the fighter as quickly as possible. Luckily, he found a nearby patch of clouds that he could duck into. Akira flew the seaplane directly into the tranquil white swirls and disappeared into the safety of the fluff. His plan was to remain inside for a couple of minutes, hoping that the fighter had not spotted them and would move out of the area on its regular patrol route. However, if the fighter had noticed them, they'd be in a real fix. The seaplane was designed to be a transport plane first and foremost. Therefore, they wouldn't be able to outrun, outfly, or outfight the fighter if it was waiting for them when they came out of the clouds. If the warplane chose to engage them, they'd simply be target-practice.

To make matters worse, the seaplane was still loaded down with fuel canisters meant to get them back home. Akira's aircraft would likely go up like a box of matchsticks if the fighter strafed them. One stray bullet in the wrong place was all it would take to blow them to bits. Akira could always try to maneuver the seaplane back into another cloud bank, but that would only postpone their problem. They wouldn't be able to hide there forever, and if the Soviet pilot called in their position, which he would undoubtedly do, they'd have a whole squadron of fighters scrambled up to hunt them down.

As Akira flew through the soup of clouds, not being able to see anything around him, he considered their options should the worst come to pass. They could always bail out of their plane, but allowing themselves to be captured would risk exposing their mission's true purpose. On the other hand, if Akira allowed their plane to be shot down with everyone aboard, it would certainly lead to an international incident, but at least in that scenario, the Russians would never know the true extent of what they were up to. Either way, it didn't seem likely they would escape the situation alive in the long run.

Akira leveled out the plane, and Major Saito came into the cockpit looking for answers. Akira briefly summarized their predicament. The two of them agreed that staying in the cloud cover was their best option for the time being. Tense minutes passed as everyone aboard the seaplane knew that when they came out of the cloud cover, whatever they found would decide their fate. Either they'd be in the clear, or cooked.

Finally, Akira decided enough time had passed. He brought the seaplane out from the safety of the clouds and back into the open blue sky. Major Saito and the other army soldier were glued to their windows in the back, searching for signs of the fighter on either side of the seaplane. Akira was looking straight up as they came out. He was expecting the fighter to be up above them, waiting there to ambush them. Meanwhile, his co-pilot was looking down, just in case the fighter attacked from where they weren't expecting it.

None of them saw anything but blue skies. No sign of the Russian fighter whatsoever. They breathed a collective sigh of relief. It seemed as though they had lucked out after all. Akira's rough maneuver had spared them from being discovered, though it had come with one minor cost. The army soldier who accompanied Major Saito had been standing when Akira made his sudden evasion and the trooper had twisted his ankle. While the injury was far from life-threatening, it did present them with a problem.

The soldier's primary purpose on the mission was to help Major Saito carry the device through the Russian countryside to the rendezvous point with their contact. With a bum leg, the trooper wouldn't be able to fulfill his role. Someone would have to take his place. Major Saito would never be able to make the rendezvous on time trying to lug the mechanism all by himself.

Major Saito was already eyeballing Akira's co-pilot for the job. Akira could easily read the fear on the co-pilot's face as the aviator realized the risks that would be involved. The co-pilot was a young and relatively inexperienced airman. He had never taken part in a ground operation before, and he clearly didn't seem ready for it. Because of that, Akira volunteered to go instead.

At first, Major Saito did not like the idea of exposing his pilot to the most dangerous portion of the mission, but Akira assured him that the co-pilot would be capable of flying the seaplane back to Japan on his own, should it become necessary. Akira pointed out that he was physically larger and stronger than the co-pilot, thus he was the better choice for sharing the burden. Hiding from the Soviet patrol fighter had cost them valuable minutes already, and Major Saito didn't want to lose any more time arguing about it. Because of that, he agreed with Akira, and the matter was closed.

Twenty minutes later, the seaplane arrived off the coast of Russia. Akira landed the aircraft and taxied it through the shallows into a nook that had been preselected to conceal the plane. The site chosen made the seaplane hard to spot from the air, but just to be safe, they put a camouflaged tarp over it to make it even harder to locate.

Once they had secured the seaplane, Akira and Major Saito removed their Japanese uniforms and put on Soviet ones. They wouldn't fool anyone up close if scrutinized, but at least at a distance, they wouldn't stand out if they were spotted. One thing they had working in their favor was the close relations the Russians had with the Mongolians. Mongolia was a Soviet satellite, and not generally recognized as a sovereign nation of its own. As such, it wasn't unusual for Russians of Mongolian descent to serve in the Soviet military. Akira and Major Saito could pass for Mongolians to the untrained eye. Neither of them actually spoke a word of Mongolian though, and anyone looking closely, would notice some glaring issues. Mongolian people tended to have a darker skin tone than the average Japanese man, so the disguise wouldn't hold up under close inspection.

Major Saito handed Akira a Soviet-made PPSH41 sub-machine gun. It was known as a Papasha or "daddy" in Russian. It had a round magazine underneath. Akira thought it looked like a "Tommy-gun". The weapon of choice for American gangsters. Major Saito explained that if they were gunned down during the mission, they couldn't afford to be found with Japanese equipment on their bodies.

With that last vote of confidence, the pair grabbed a large duffle bag which had the eighty-pound radio device inside and began their journey to the rendezvous point. They had to walk over two miles inland to meet up with their contact. Even with two men, carrying that much weight over rough terrain was a fairly taxing ordeal. It didn't seem to bother Major Saito any, but for Akira, it was an uphill battle.

At one point, Major Saito stopped and had them put the bag down. Akira was most grateful for the break, but his relief was short-lived. The Major had stopped so he could inspect some tire tracks which had been pressed down into the tall grass ahead of them. They appeared to have been left there by a Russian truck, possibly a patrol. They were too far away from the rendezvous point for the tracks to have been left by their contact. Major Saito guessed that the trail had been made a couple hours earlier, so it was unlikely the vehicle that left them was still in the immediate area, but still, it put them on guard to know that Russians had been on the ground in that area.

The pair pressed on for an additional mile until they finally found their contact waiting for them. The man they met was likewise dressed in Soviet garb, but unlike them, he was in an officer's uniform. Their contact was a Russian himself, and it became clear that if they were stopped, he'd be doing all the talking. He introduced himself as Vladimir Vanchaco. He was a surviving soldier from the Russian anti-communist White Army which had fought against the Soviet Reds during the Russian Civil War.

Vladimir hated the current Soviet regime and supported the Russian people returning to an Imperial power. That wasn't likely to happen though. The Russia Vladimir had loved was long since dead. That was his motivation for choosing to align himself with Imperial Japan. He didn't see what he was doing as betraying his country. To Vladimir, it was his country that had betrayed him a long time ago. His condition for joining the mission was he'd be allowed to defect. He wanted to repatriate to Japan and be granted citizenship. He couldn't stand watching his country be overrun with communists. It was quickly becoming clear that Joseph Stalin's idea of communism was even worse than Vladimir had expected. If he didn't get out soon, he'd be tracked down and purged like so many others before him.

There wasn't too much small talk. Both Vladimir and Major Saito were men of few words. Each of them was keen to keep things moving. They loaded the device into the GAZ-64 4x4 Jeep that Vladimir had acquired for the mission and began to drive towards the Soviet Army's staging grounds.

…

Marcus, Admiral Nimitz, Sgt. Brock, and Lieutenant-Commander Williams landed at an airstrip adjacent to one of the Maginot forts. Marcus was awestruck by the sight of the complex. The unending line of fortifications stretched beyond the horizon in both directions. It was like a man-made mountain range.

In reality, the hillside fortifications were too small to realistically be called mountains, but they were also too tall and imposing to be called hills. They were impressive to say the least. The entire line of Maginot forts stretched fifteen-hundred kilometers. All the way from the Swiss border in the South to Luxembourg in the North. It had taken French engineers nine long years, and three-billion francs, to complete it.

The Maginot forts were built directly into the hills and were impervious to most forms of attack, including aerial bombings and tank fire. Only the heaviest of artillery could hope to put a dent in them. One of the fort's most unusual features was their retractable gun turrets. They could pop out of the ground, fire, and then retract back down again for protection and reloading. The forts also were supported by underground railways, which could quickly move troops and supplies to anywhere along the line where they were needed most. For soldiers stationed in the forts, there were state-of-the-art living conditions, including air-conditioning and an independent water supply. Men could stay inside almost indefinitely.

The Maginot forts were designed to save manpower for France, which counted just thirty-nine million inhabitants versus their principal rival Germany's seventy million. The French presumed the next major European conflict would be a war of attrition much like the last one had been, and they hoped their extensive fortifications would help make up for their shortage in manpower. Their strategy was to outlast the Germans behind their defenses.

A prolonged defensive war would favor the French. It had been calculated that the Germans would eventually run out of resources as the next probable war dragged on. If the French could just hold them off long enough, the Germans would be unable to continue in time. With the appearance of Varan though, it seemed like the defenses of the Maginot Line wouldn't be tested by the Germans anytime soon. The monster had eliminated one potential threat, only to take its place.

Marcus and the other Americans were met at the entrance by a French officer who had been expecting them. He brought them inside the main fort and offered to show them around. However, it was determined that they didn't have time to linger there, even for a short stint. Instead, the group all piled into the underground rail system to head North to meet the oncoming Kaiju threat. By that point, Varan was only twenty miles away from the forts. If he stayed on his current projected course, he would hit the line in just over an hour about six miles north of the team's current position.

Marcus rode the rails through the darkness, watching the occasional light fixture flicker by above him on the tunnel ceiling. His group had been in the passageway for almost a half hour already, and his mind was beginning to wander. He had always heard when people where close to death, they would feel like they were traveling through a dark tunnel with a white light at the end representing Heaven. The perpetual blackness of the Maginot tunnels made Marcus wonder if that was what people bound for Hell might see.

Eventually, the train arrived at the proper underground station, and the team disembarked. As the group came up the stairs leading to the main floor of the base, they were met by a French Brigadier-General who was in command of the forts. He informed them that the monster Varan was still a little ways away. Admiral Nimitz remarked how impressed he was with the underground fortress. He had never seen anything like it before, which led the general to take them on a brief tour of the base.

As the group went along, the French General pointed out the various gun galleries, the casemates, the kitchens, the barracks, the power station, the communications room, the command center, the infirmary, the air-conditioning plant, and the main magazine which stored the majority of the fort's ammunition behind large steel doors. Though they had only been in the other fort briefly, Marcus could see that the layout was very similar. He imagined they were intentionally designed uniformly so soldiers transferring rapidly from one post in the line to the next wouldn't have too many issues adjusting.

"I'll say this much, it sure beats the hell out of the snow forts I made as a child." Brock noted dryly.

"Yeah, me too." Marcus agreed. Both of them where thoroughly impressed, as were Admiral Nimitz and Lt. Commander Williams.

The tour finally ended with the Americans being brought to the peak of the fort's observation post, which housed the fire-control tower. Marcus had to cover his eyes, as there was real sunlight pouring in. He had been in the dark tunnels for so long his vision needed time to readjust. After Marcus' sight acclimated, the vantage point from the top of the tower was breathtaking. He could see the outstretching green landscape of the valley for miles beyond the French defenses.

A little closer to the tower, were the base's exterior defenses. There were miles of barbed wire, machine gun nests, mine fields, tank traps, iron obstacles, anti-aircraft guns, and portable artillery pieces that had been brought in to supplement the bases' already impressive firepower. A battalion of tanks had also arrived and were getting into position to plug the gaps between the fortified strong points.

As Marcus was continuing to inspect the defenses, the Brigadier-General's aid ran into the room and informed them all that Varan was within four miles of the Maginot line. With that news, Marcus and the others were rushed to an observation bunker, while the rest of the base was ordered into battle stations. Marcus ran through the corridors, dodging French soldiers that were getting into position. When he reached the bunker, he looked out and saw the same green fields and flowers from a position a little closer to the ground. It seemed serene. Anyone who didn't already know what was coming, couldn't be blamed for being unable to foresee the carnage that was imminent.

It didn't take long for the false image of peace to be shattered. The rumble of giant footfalls could be felt within the bowels of the base, and they were growing stronger and stronger with each passing minute. Finally, Varan appeared over a hillside in the near distance. The monster steadily moved closer to the network of French fortifications. At last, Marcus got his first live glimpse of Varan, and as he did, he felt a twinge of fear in his stomach. Varan wasn't unlike Baragon in appearance. No, he was not so different at all. There was one notable difference Marcus observed, though it was hardly comforting. Varan was actually slightly bigger than Baragon. Even at a distance, it was clear that Varan was the larger of the two Kaiju. However, Baragon was quicker. Having seen both in action, Varan was ponderously slow by comparison. Apparently, the extra bulk carried some disadvantages as well.

Varan Roared and pulled Marcus away from his inner thoughts. He could swear Varan even sounded a little like Baragon. The small pebble of fear in his stomach grew into a softball-sized rock upon hearing Varan's roar. His chest felt tight with anxiety. Where had the calm that he felt around Mothra gone? It seemed to have abandoned him in that moment.

Shortly after Varan made his appearance, the long-range artillery of the fortress began to open up. The force of the big guns shook the entire stronghold. Deafening thunderclaps echoed all over the valley. Varan pressed forward undeterred, and the mid-ranged artillery joined in the assault. One by one, every gun within the fort added to the shelling as Varan closed the gap gradually. The surrounding fortresses joined in as well, and before too long, Varan was completely engulfed by the hail of fire.

Through years of preparation and live fire exercises, the artillery was raining down with exceptional accuracy. Every yard of the landscape had been premeasured by French engineers. They had determined, and then marked out on a map, the specific elevation and degrees to which the gunners needed to put a shell on a target anywhere within their defensive perimeter. And they had done so for each gun emplacement in the fortress.

The intensity of the barrage did seem to be affecting Varan. However, the monster was still able to struggle forward through the torrent of cannon fire. There were so many explosions that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. The once green fields around Varan were being shredded and quickly replaced by the smoking craters of detonated artillery shells. The scent of burnt soil and gunpowder grew heavy in the air.

In an effort to escape the firestorm, Varan changed course. He was no longer heading in a straight predictable line towards the Maginot fort that Marcus occupied. Instead, he dashed left, and moved towards the neighboring mound of turrets. The amount of smoke and particulates in the air had risen quickly as the battle progressed. It worked in Varan's favor. His change in course was not immediately noticed, and the guns continued to fire on where they expected Varan to be, instead of where he actually was. Even something as large as Varan could be lost in the heavy banks of smoke that polluted the battlefield. The artillery's accuracy was hindered more and more with each shot that was fired.

Varan was obscured long enough to allow him to advance close to the outer defensive line of the neighboring Maginot Fort. In fact, he was close enough to start setting off landmines. The mines weren't effective though. They were designed to kill regular foot soldiers and had little effect on a monster Varan's size. He barely seemed to notice the series of crackles under his feet as he continued forward.

Next, Varan came upon the hedges of barbed wire that were intended to halt infantry assaults. French Soldiers manning machinegun nests on the far side of the quagmire of razor wire opened up on the monster. They proved to be next to useless though. Even the thinner armor of Varan's underbelly was too thick for regular bullets to penetrate. The barbed wire only managed to slow Varan down for a second or two before it overstretched and snapped. Only a little bit of it remained tangled on Varan's front paws, but they did not hinder him whatsoever. The barbs were dug into his thick hide but didn't penetrate nearly deep enough to have any impact. With the monster still coming at them, the machine gunners retreated down the passageways of their galleries, recognizing the futility of their attacks.

The French tanks dotting the hillside began their assault. It proved to be even less accurate and focused than the artillery barrage had been. Varan had made his way underneath the minimum range of the heaviest artillery within the hillside fort by that point, and that's when the defenders started to realize they were in serious trouble. There were still plenty of smaller-caliber cannon turrets that were meant for close-range fire support against tanks and other intruders within the defensive perimeter, but they had a lot less stopping power than their larger counterparts. They didn't do enough against Varan's armored hide. The men in the outer defenses began to abandon their positions as the monster had passed beyond all the remaining obstacles separating them. One of the braver mortar crews stayed behind to carry on with the fight and slow the monster down. They were snatched up and eaten by Varan for their trouble.

Varan trampled his way up the hill of the fortress and tore open the first turret he came across. The men inside met a similar fate as the mortar crew. One by one, turrets were smashed open and any soldiers who failed to flee in time met with a gruesome end.

With the defensive line penetrated, French aircraft that had been loitering above the battle rushed down to try to repulse Varan and force him back down the hill. The aircraft had little effect. The fortress was torn to bits section by section. Varan dug into the tunnels like an aardvark tearing through an anthill, consuming anyone he found. One of the French fighter-bombers came in too low, trying to hit Varan in the face, and was swatted by the monster's paw.

The warplane veered out of control and crashed into the main entrance of the fortress Marcus' team inhabited. He could hear French soldiers shouting through the tunnels as the entrance collapsed from the force of the impact. An instant after the crash, the bomb that was still within the aircraft exploded, causing further chaos within the fortress. A small amount of smoke even found its way up into the observation bunker.

Meanwhile, Varan had finished with the adjoining fortress. Marcus could hear the shouts from the surviving French troops running through the adjoining tunnel towards them. Sporadic fire was still hitting Varan, but not enough to deter him. In fact, the attacks seemed to enrage the monster, which made him advance on the fortress Marcus occupied.

A few tanks between fortresses felt Varan's wrath as he used his front claws to smash them to pieces. Marcus could hear more shouts of French soldiers within the fort abandoning their positions. After what they had just witnessed, he couldn't blame them. In fact, Marcus and the rest of his team took that as their queue to leave as well. They ran from their bunker to join the retreating French troops, only to find a disaster waiting for them in the tunnels below.

Not only had the plane crash collapsed the main tunnel entrance, but the bomb's explosion had also partially collapsed the railway passage as well, which would have allowed them to escape. Men could still get through the passageway, but only one at a time and on their hands and knees. With the added men from the neighboring fort, there were nearly a hundred soldiers all stacked up and waiting for their turn. No one wanted to go back through the fallen fort's tunnel, and because of that, there was a bottleneck at the only remaining escape route.

They were losing precious seconds. Varan would attack the fortress at any moment. Marcus knew if they didn't do something quick, they would probably all die, buried alive. He needed to buy everyone more time to escape. Marcus had a sudden flash of inspiration and knew exactly what he needed to do. He told Brock that he would need his help, but Brock was hesitant to leave Admiral Nimitz's side.

"Give me your lighter!" Marcus asked impatiently. It was more of a demand than a request. Brock handed it over.

Out of nowhere, Lieutenant-Commander Williams stepped forward and volunteered to help. There was no time for discussion, so Marcus simply nodded and ran back inside the dark corridors of the fortress with Williams close in toe. Marcus quickly found his way to the arsenal that they had seen earlier. It was located under one of the main turrets and contained the lion's share of the fort's ammunition. Luckily for them, some French soldier had left the door ajar in their haste to retreat.

"We need to work fast and careful." Marcus said to Williams as calmly as he could, adrenaline was pumping through his system as he tried to think. "Somewhere in this room there are fuses. You need to find them and bring them to me." Williams nodded and took off to look for them. It sounded simple enough, but with everything in the room labeled in French, it made William's task that much more difficult. Marcus and Williams both felt a tremulous thud as Varan began to rip into the outer defenses of the fort. The clock was ticking. They didn't have much more time.

While Williams ran up and down the corridors of the room, ripping open any promising-looking packages he could find, Marcus was opening a keg of black powder propellant. He made a long line of it around the room, leading from the main powder stockpile to the outer doorway. Once the line was complete, Marcus ran back to the powder storage and started opening more of the kegs up with a nearby crowbar. He ensured there was a large line of powder connected directly to the main supply and another line leading to the pile of artillery shells.

"I've got it!" Marcus heard Williams shout from the other side of the room. He ran back to Marcus with his prize in hand. "Here..." He handed a box over to Marcus, who took out the fuses and began to tie three of them together, end to end. "Wait, what are you planning?" Williams asked, noticing Marcus' handy work and being suddenly alarmed by it.

"A fireworks show for our visitor." Marcus muttered back to him grimly.

"Jesus Marcus!" Williams exclaimed. "You're going to blow us up right along with that thing!"

"It beats getting eaten by it." Marcus snapped back at him impatiently. "Get going, I can handle the rest on my own." If you happen to see anyone still in the fort on your way back to the bottom, tell them to get the hell out." Marcus instructed. Williams just stood there staring at Marcus. "What are you waiting for? Get going!"

Williams hesitated for just a moment before bolting out of the room. The fort was still shaking under Varan's assault. It sounded like the defenses were crumbling fast. Marcus did not waste time, he focused on getting the job done as quickly as possible. Finally, he was satisfied with his work and put the extended fuse into the end of the line of black powder. He pulled out Brock's lighter, and in a flash, the fuse was ignited.

Marcus ran for the steel outer-doors and pushed them closed with all his might. The doors were heavy and did not want to move easily, but he got them both shut. Once they were closed, he then sealed the hatch, making it nearly airtight. The effort cost him precious seconds, but it was vital that he got it done. Marcus could tell that Varan was very close by now. The intense rumbling in the tunnel around him was all he needed to know it.

With his task complete, Marcus dashed through the tunnel, knowing at any moment that it could come piling down on him under Varan's weight. Indeed, some of the citadel's bricks were starting to come loose above him. Dirt was falling from the ceiling and raining down onto Marcus as he tried to escape. He was racing both the monster and the fuse he had lit. If either of them caught up to him before he escaped the fort, he'd be dead.

Varan really must have been putting his weight into his attacks above. The tunnel was quickly deteriorating around Marcus. A brick hit him in the shoulder as he ran. It dropped him to the floor for a moment, but he quickly recovered and got back to his feet. The thought of being buried alive helped keep Marcus' feet moving. He could feel that his time was running out. Any second, the powder would ignite the arsenal and he was still one floor away from the bottom.

At the same moment Marcus reached the stairwell that would take him to the ground floor, the ceiling of the main barracks room behind him gave way and completely collapsed. Marcus lost his footing, and nearly fell headfirst down the stairs. Luckily, he was able to grab the guard rail and caught himself. As he staggered to a stop, he could see the dirt and soil piling in behind him. It occurred to him, if he had been just a few seconds slower, he would still have been in the room when the ceiling collapsed, and never would have left it. Marcus had no time to dwell on that though. He continued on.

Only a few seconds later, the powder magazine finally exploded. In an instant, half of the hillside fort erupted upward, blown away in a horrendous explosion. Varan himself had ensured that the force of the explosion had nowhere to go but up. Between digging up so much of the earth around the defenses and collapsing the tunnels below, bursting upwards was the only viable direction for the pressure to go. The fact that Marcus sealed the steel doors of the magazine also played a role in bringing the force of the explosion right into Varan's face. The monster was blown clean off the hillside and landed hard on his back in the valley below.

Varan just lay there stunned for a few seconds, having no idea what had just hit him. Debris landed all over the valley for miles around. The explosion had knocked the wind out of Varan, which was a new experience for the monster. As soon as Varan could get in a breath, he rolled onto his feet and began to beat a retreat back into Germany. He had decided he'd taken enough abuse for one day.

Marcus, meanwhile, crawled towards the rail tunnel on the other side of what remained of the fortress. Aside from some cuts and bruises, he was mostly okay. He was, however, covered from head to toe in dirt. The ironic thing was Varan had in fact saved his life. Even with the steel doors Marcus put in place, the force of the explosion would have gone right through them and straight through the tunnels behind Marcus if the monster had not collapsed them. In more ways than one, Marcus was lucky to walk away.

…

Back in Russia, Akira, Major Saito, and Vladimir were nearing the Russian's staging ground. Vladimir had scouted it out earlier, so he knew exactly where to go. He stopped the Gaz 4x4 Jeep on a cliff out of sight just short of the Russian camp. From there, the three men crept up through the long grass to look down upon it.

Akira was shocked to see just what a mess the Soviet staging grounds were. They could best be described as an organized rabble. It was clear to him that Stalin's purges were still having a negative impact on the Soviet army's ability to organize. There were thousands of tents, but they didn't seem to be put up in any coordinated fashion. It just looked messy. There was very little rhyme or reason to where things were.

The outskirts of the camp were bustling with activity as supply trucks came and went constantly. There did not seem to be any guards posted to keep tabs on any of the vehicles as they moved in and out of the base. The trucks were more or less allowed to come and go as the traffic in front of them dictated. There were no ID checks, no inspections of the vehicles. The Russian's top priority just seemed to be getting things done as quickly as possible without any other considerations.

Vladimir looked over to the Japanese men and smiled. He knew this was going to be easy. Vladimir already looked and sounded the part of a Russian officer if anyone even bothered to approach him. Without any ID checks of any kind, it was highly unlikely that he'd be scrutinized.

The plan had been to sneak into the camp during the night if security seemed tight. If Russian security looked particularly thorough, they could always activate the device nearby the camp instead, and not even bother to risk getting caught. Drawing the Rodans to the general area would probably prove good enough. However, none of those backup plans seemed even remotely necessary anymore. They were going to be able to place the device right under the Soviet's noses without breaking a sweat.

Vladimir went back and pulled some gas masks from the Jeep and handed them to Akira and Saito. The Russian's had used gas in their last battle with the Rodans, and even though they should have known better than to try it again, they couldn't be too careful.

Since Vladimir could hardly risk opening the duffle bag in the middle of the Russian camp, Akira took the radio transmitter out and activated it in the 4x4 and then hid it safely back inside the bag. With that done, Vladimir departed. He left the pair of Japanese men in their hiding place on the ledge, and then drove down towards the camp on his own. He cut his way into the line of trucks, as if he were a scout returning, and slowly crawled his way through the traffic into the staging grounds. They were at the point of no return. If Vladimir were to be discovered at that moment, they'd be in deep trouble.

After entering the outskirts of the camp, but before reaching the supply depot, Vladimir pulled away from the line of trucks and found a nice quiet place to deposit the bag. The device was difficult for him to move on his own, but he was a big and strong man and managed it nicely. Major Saito and Akira eagerly watched him through their binoculars. Vladimir was being very careful not to attract attention to himself and was being almost universally ignored by the Russian soldiers around him. With the device in place, Vladimir spared a few more moments to obscure the bag by piling a few other supplies around it. In its new hiding place, it was unlikely that someone would stumble upon the bag by accident.

With the device activated and safely hidden within the Soviet camp, Vladimir got back into the Gaz and slowly made his way back out of the camp. It only took him a few minutes to break away from the line of trucks bound for a supply station of the Trans-Siberian Railway to get more provisions. He returned to their hiding place on the cliff and waited for Major Saito and Akira to join him.

"It is done, we can leave now, yes?" Vladimir asked Major Saito.

"No, we can't." Major Saito replied flatly.

"What do you mean?" Vladimir asked, shocked and annoyed. "The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to get caught."

"Yes, I am aware of that." Major Saito replied coolly.

"Then why are we staying?" Akira demanded anxiously, joining the conversation.

"Orders." Major Saito replied plainly. Akira just sat there confused. Saito could see that his answer wasn't going to be enough for his two companions, so he elaborated. "We need to wait and see the results of this firsthand." He began. "Ensure that the job gets done, and that the device isn't found afterwards. There are explosives inside the transmitter's casing. If the Russians find it before the Rodans arrive, I'll blow it up. If the Rodans arrive as planned, I've been instructed to explode the device during the fight. We can't leave any evidence for the Russians to find in the aftermath." Saito Pulled out a radio controller linked to the transmitter's hidden explosives.

"There was a bomb in that thing the whole time we were carrying it?!" Akira exclaimed.

"Yes." Major Saito replied coolly. "You thought the thing was so heavy just because of radio parts?" He smirked at Akira's naivety before going on. "Command also wants us to take note of how the Rodans attack during a land battle. We've seen them in the air and on the ocean, and they kicked our butts on both occasions. Maybe they will prove to be more vulnerable on the ground?" He suggested. "I doubt it though. Anyways, I personally don't mind sticking around to watch some communists die. I lost an uncle during the Russo-Japanese War. What say you, Vladimir?"

"I would prefer to leave, but watching Bolshevik vermin get crushed is tolerable." Vladimir replied. Saito turned to Akira.

"Orders are orders I suppose." Akira agreed. He didn't like it, but he didn't have a choice.

…

Hours went by as the three men waited. Each passing moment increased the chance that they would be discovered by the Russians, and each passing moment, the tension seemed to rise. Akira tried to ignore the fear he felt in his chest, but even the stone-faced Major Saito was sweating. All of them had expected the Rodans to make their appearance a while ago. The thought of having to explode the device and then make a run for the coast had crossed each of their minds. It seemed it was going to be the most likely outcome as they continued to wait.

The day had grown more overcast as they waited, and in no time, clouds covered every inch of the skyline. With little else to do, Akira just watched the Russians in their camp below. He saw something that looked like trouble brewing. Several tank crews had started up their T-34s and were moving out of the camp. One of the tank commanders noticed the trail Vladimir had left through the grass and stopped his machine to eyeball it. The officer looked at the lines with suspicion. He grabbed his mic from below and then popped back up, appearing to report his findings.

Akira's heart was pounding in his chest from the tension. He was about to nudge Major Saito to alert him, when something else caught his attention. The clouds above them were moving, and not in the regular way that clouds should move. Sections of the heavens were churning in swirling, ominous wisps. There was no noise whatsoever, but Akira knew something was awfully wrong.

In the camp below, the Russians had no idea that anything was happening. They had no real reason to be alert, and none of them were watching the skies. Akira watched as the alarming scene continued to develop. Finally, he hit Major Saito on the shoulder to call his attention to it. Major Saito in turn nudged Vladimir. The three of them just watched as the clouds continued to move around in an unusual pattern. A soft breeze began to blow. Slowly and steadily, it began to grow stronger.

A Russian soldier finally caught wind of something not seeming right and looked up to see the clouds churning above them. One by one, the soldiers stopped what they were doing and looked up until nearly the entire camp was transfixed on the skyline. It was at that moment that something dipped down from the cloud-cover several miles away. At first, it was too far away to tell what it was. The soldiers could only make out a dark blot in the distance, but it was coming at them, and coming fast. Akira could hear men in the camp shouting in Russian as it approached, but he didn't have a clue what any of it meant. Clearly, whatever they were saying was urgent though. Soldiers were running in all directions, most of them were scrambling to grab their weapons or pile into vehicles.

Within seconds, it was clear that the object coming at them was one of the Rodans. It was moving at full speed and coming in low to the ground directly at the Russian encampment. Time seemed to slow down, despite the monster's rapid approach. Second by second, the monster closed in, until it passed directly over the camp. The supply base might as well have been hit by a seven second hurricane. Every single tent in the camp was uprooted instantly. Most of the soldiers who had not found their way into a heavily armored vehicle found themselves likewise flying in the air. Those men that were close to armored vehicles at the time, but not inside them, were dashed against the hard steel plating. Very few survived the impact.

Soldiers who had made it inside trucks were only marginally safer. The sudden concentrated micro-burst of wind sent the majority of vehicles flipping and crashing into anything around them, rolling over men and machine alike. Some bounced off of the T-34 tanks, and a few even exploded, starting fires all around the camp.

Though their position was a fair distance away from the Russian staging grounds, Akira and the others still felt the impact of the attack. The force of wind was so strong that Akira held onto a tree to ensure he didn't catch air. Major Saito and Vladimir meanwhile remained in the tall grass hugging the ground. The grass stocks whipped harshly against their faces as the hurricane-level wind barreled through around them.

Above the camp, Rodan made a pinwheel turn, and came back around for a second pass. This time, the monster was a little higher up, and crossed the section of the camp that was further away and hadn't been hit as hard the first time around. This section happened to be where the BM-13 Katyusha rocket-trucks were parked, and they didn't fare any better than the rest of the Soviet vehicles before them. They flew up into the air, and their rockets scattered all over the camp, exploding violently.

The second pass also caused fires from the first run to spread quickly in the resulting whirlwinds. Some of the Russians who had been lucky enough to have survived that first attack, were caught up in the flames, unable to move. Before long, ammo stockpiles were overrun by the inferno and started to explode, causing even more widespread destruction. It was at that point that Major Saito chose to set off the explosives within the radio device. In all of the chaos and confusion, one more explosion would hardly be noticed. Akira didn't much like the timing of it though, it felt like kicking the Russians while they were already down.

One extremely lucky Russian truck had survived in the hellscape and was attempting to flee at full speed. Rodan was heading in the opposite direction and hadn't yet seen it. So, it looked as though the vehicle was going to make a clean get away. At least it seemed that way until the second Rodan came down from the clouds and pounced on it. To Akira, the monster looked like a hawk diving down on a mouse. The truck and its occupants were immediately crushed under her talons.

Meanwhile, the first Rodan came back around and landed inside the devastated camp. He went to work, crushing the T-34 tanks he found there, as if he was personally offended that they survived his initial assault. The second Rodan quickly joined him, and together, they picked apart what remained of the Russian's assault force. Akira looked on in horror. The smell of burning flesh hung in the air and he saw one of the Rodan tilt its head back and swallow what could only be the remains of a man.

"They're eating people!" Akira growled to Major Saito in disgust. He had not witnessed that before. Akira had seen men die in battle, and he had fought the Rodans before, but never in his previous encounters with them had they done something so blatantly monstrous. He could hear the distance shrieks of soldiers as they faced death. It was terrible, but the worst part about it was knowing that he played a part in making it happen.

Meanwhile, Major Saito was satisfied with what he had seen. The battle was over, and their mission was a complete success. There may still have been Russian tanks firing on the Rodans, but it was already abundantly clear that they would do no good. It was just a matter of time before they too were destroyed. Major Saito decided they needed to clear out while the Soviet tanks still held the Rodan's attention.

…

In Libya, Omar was sitting on the beach and watching the Italian warships returned from their sortie down the coast. It was hard to tell, but he got the impression that they hadn't found what they were looking for. Omar could see crewmen walking slowly along the decks and they didn't look enthusiastic.

Omar got up and started walking down the beach. As he did, something washed up in the sand in front of him. It was the bow of a small boat that appeared to have been torn away from the rest of the ship. Splinters of wood still hung off of where it had been attached to the rest of the vessel. A portion of the name could still clearly be read on the side. It was 'Zafar'. Omar recognized it to be from one of the missing fishing ships that had belonged to his friend.

The small hope that Omar had been clinging onto for his friend's safe return was snuffed out by the sudden appearance of the wreckage. He began to tear up, but then Omar heard a noise coming from the ocean. It was a low-toned rumble that was quite a departure from the normal sounds of waves and seagulls he was accustomed to. Omar turned his head towards the water just in time to see one of the destroyers that was three-hundred yards out to sea get snapped in two. The ship's bow and stern were both jerked violently out of the water upwards as the midship section of the destroyer was dragged under the waves. The destroyer was sheared in half and the bow and stern fell back into the water.

The two remaining Italian warships rang out their alarm bells and their crews scrambled to general quarters. The second destroyer was the nearest vessel to where the first had been sunk, and it was next to fall victim to a lethal attack. A gargantuan tail rose from the sea and came down hard on the aft section of the ship. It was pulverized, and the destroyer started taking on water at an alarming rate.

The surviving cruiser took evasive action, turning out of the path of the two wrecked hulls of the destroyers in front of it. It was then that the attacker finally decided to reveal itself. An enormous green carapace rose from under the waves, followed closely there after by a head with a beak that was still clutching the remains of the first destroyer. Ocean water rolled off of the creature, allowing more of its features to become clear. To Omar, it looked like a mixture of a snapping turtle and some ancient dragon. The monster had clawed hands and two horns growing out of the back of its head. It had predatory yellow eyes with sharp black reptilian pupils. Its tail was short and bore what resembled a mace at the end. The mace-like structure was made up of armored bulbs with numerous spikes jetting out of them in rows of three.

The Italian cruiser was able to fire off several salvos with its main cannons, but the rounds bounced off the armored chest of the monster. Unlike Baragon, Varan, and even Anguirus, this creature's underbelly was just as well-armored as its back. Seeing his warship's firepower was next to useless, the captain of the cruiser tried to make a run for it.

The warship turned hard to port, attempting to build up its momentum and make it into the open ocean to escape, but the creature was too close already, and was able to get its claws around the hull of the ship. The monster's head dipped down and its beaked mouth bit into the ship's superstructure, tearing away the bridge and the command crew with it. The power of the creature's jaw was impressive. What was left of the steel armored bridge immediately bent like it was made out of paper under its strength.

Without its nerve center, what remained of the Italian cruiser floated helplessly on the water. The monster hadn't forgotten about the ship though, and soon fell upon it as well. The creature used its considerable body weight to force the warship under. The opening the creature had ripped into the vessel's upper hull quickly filled with seawater, which sealed the cruiser's fate.

When the monster was done with the ship, it turned its attention to the shore. Omar felt like his skin was turning white. It seemed like the creature was looking directly at him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he was frozen with terror. An untold amount of time passed as he stood there mesmerized. Finally, Omar came back to his senses, and he could feel the monster's footfalls getting closer and closer. He saw that the creature was only one hundred yards away from the shore at that point and closing quickly. The monster was huge and dominated the mostly flat landscape behind it. Omar did the only sensible thing he could think of. Run. He dashed off the beach as fast as he could.

Only moments later, Omar heard the monster smash through the docks behind him. He continued to run, knowing he had to reach the village to warn everyone of what was coming. It turned out that wasn't necessary though. The monster let out a sky-shattering roar that announced his present to every living thing within a five-mile radius. Every person in the village was alerted to the impending danger. Still, Omar needed to reach the village and get his family out of harm's way. His wife and little girl were no doubt waiting for him there.

Omar could feel the creature closing in on him with every gigantic step it took. He knew he was losing ground fast. It just kept getting closer and closer. Finally, one of the monster's footfalls got so close that it knocked Omar off his feet from the impact. Omar rolled into the sand and looked up as a shadow loomed over him. The last thing he saw was the creature's enormous foot coming down and crushing him.

…

Marcus and the other Americans arrived back in Paris. He had been cleaned up after escaping from the tunnels of the Maginot Forts and given a new uniform, as the one he had been wearing was bloodied and soiled beyond restitution. Fresh reports had come in, and they revealed that Varan was continuing to retreat back into Germany. With that news, there was abundant jubilation throughout France. A major crisis had been averted with the monster being repelled at the border.

Paris was still mostly empty due to the presence of Mothra's cocoon, and the subsequent military blockade. But the citizens who were still in the city gave Marcus a hero's welcome. While they didn't overlook the efforts and sacrifices of the other fighting men, word of his desperate act of heroism had gotten out. And it was no secret that Marcus' actions alone had turned the tide against Varan. He had been the essential linchpin in the operation.

Marcus quickly retreated from the French crowds, overwhelmed by the attention. He didn't want to live in the spotlight. He only did what he did, because it had to be done. Brock pulled Marcus into a jeep, and they drove to the forward command post near the Eiffel Tower that was monitoring the cocoon. They found Dr. Jacquier there, and he took them into a nearby tavern to update them on all the recent events they'd missed out on. As it turned out, the situation with the cocoon had changed very little. The doctor had ensured the military hadn't taken any aggressive actions. Brock seemed a little disinterested with the conversation and left to go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Dr. Jacquier bought Marcus a drink.

"A small thank you for saving Mothra." He said to Marcus as he handed the glass to him.

"Dr. Jacquier, I've been meaning to ask you something." Marcus said, accepting the drink, but immediately setting it down. "Did you just make up that story about the cocoon being explosive, or is it actually true?" The doctor could tell by Marcus' tone that he was very serious. His recent brush with death had done a lot to sweep away his subtilty. He wanted to know, and he didn't want to beat around the bush about it.

"Would you prefer a subtle lie, or a blatant one?" Dr. Jacquier answered, caving into Marcus' pressure.

"That's what I thought." Marcus sighed.

"Well, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?" Dr. Jacquier asked. "I imagine you'll want to turn me in?"

"I should..." Marcus began.

"…But you know what they'll do if they find out." Dr. Jacquier cut in with a smug smile. "And you're like me, certain that would be wrong."

"I don't know what I think." Marcus countered impatiently.

"That's not an enviable position to be in." Dr. Jacquier smirked arrogantly. "I imagine that makes your decisions very difficult for you. Agree with me or not, I know exactly what I'm doing. I have been certain about all my actions since we found the egg, no regrets."

Just then, a French officer followed by four armed soldiers burst into the tavern. They marched right up to Dr. Jacquier and pointed their rifles at him.

"Dr. Jacquier, you are under arrest for the bombing of the Ambroise Research Center."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Dr. Jacquier replied, unconcerned. "I wasn't even present when the lab exploded. I've been here in Paris for days."

"Spare me, doctor!" The officer spat back at Jacquier spitefully. "We have your lab assistant in custody, and he's confessed to everything. He planted a bomb in the lab under your explicit instructions. Your conspiracy is tantamount to treason. You will come with us now!" The officer demanded.

"I suppose the game is up then." Dr. Jacquier stood up, resigning himself to being detained by the soldiers. "No regrets Marcus... no regrets." He said boldly, showing his resolve. The soldiers walked him outside. A moment later, Brock returned to the table and stood there confused.

"What's going on?" Brock asked. "Why have they arrested Dr. Jacquier?"

"They figured out that he fabricated the story about the cocoon. He also arranged for an explosion at the research center." Marcus informed him.

"Well, son of a bitch…" Brock replied in shock.

…

With Dr. Jacquier's treachery exposed, the French military's leadership called a meeting to discuss what their next steps should be. They decided to proceed with an operation to destroy the cocoon with fire. As it turned out, they were willing to risk damaging the Eiffel Tower. However, they couldn't act immediately. It was going to take one day for the French Army to gather all the necessary equipment that was required. Primarily, they would have to wait on the flamethrowers. The operation was set to take place the following afternoon.

Marcus was against the plan, but he didn't have a say in the matter. Even his newfound hero status didn't give him enough pull to do anything useful. If he protested too much, he might end up arrested just like the doctor. He walked out of the command post flustered, needing to blow off some steam. Marcus resorted to walking the perimeter of the park around the Eiffel Tower, trying to think of a way to save the defenseless cocoon. As clever as he was, he didn't have the power to affect the situation. The men in charge had already made up their minds. Marcus leaned on a rail of the park's metal fence and just stood there stewing.

"Comment vs tu?" A soft voice said, addressing Marcus. He turned to see a young French woman at his side. "Es-tu l'américain de la lignée Maginot?" He didn't understand a word she said. He'd been taken so off guard that he didn't know what to do. "Tu asun baeu unifrome." She came closer and touched his arm.

Marcus was in a near panic and embarrassed. At that moment, he wished Ling was there to translate for him. Unfortunately, he was not. Marcus must have looked like a deer in the headlights to the young woman. She waited for an answer for a moment, but when Marcus failed to reply she continued.

"Faire vous parler langue Francaise?" She asked. Marcus felt himself flush and he started to sweat. He knew she had asked him a question but had no idea how to answer.

"Pardon, il ne fait pas." Brock said as he walked up to them. "Et je crois qu'il est pris, Mais il est flatte." Marcus still didn't understand a word, but whatever Brock said seemed to disappoint the woman. "Je suis à votre service bien." He continued. Whatever he said didn't seem to land with her, because she walked away from the two after rolling her eyes at Brock.

"Brock, you speak French?!" Marcus asked, flabbergasted by the revelation.

"A little." Brock replied. "When you've been in the service as long as I have, you pick up a few things. It's something you apparently need to work on. Because of your little shortcoming, I think you just missed out on a good thing."

"Well... I..." Marcus began to reply, but before he could finish, he was tackled by another woman.

"Yeesh, how is this little chump so attractive to the locals?" Brock grumbled, somewhat jealous as Marcus went down in a heap with the girl on top of him. "Need some help again, or do you got this?" Brock asked sarcastically.

On the ground, Marcus had recovered enough to see that it was no stranger that had launched themselves at him, but rather a familiar face. It was Shauna. Marcus was more bewildered by the fact that it was her, rather than just some stranger that had tackled him. She only allowed him a moment to look at her before kissing him.

"Wow, these French girls are even more aggressive than I thought." Brock smirked.

"I'm not French!" Shauna laughed up at Brock. "I'm Marcus' sweetheart.

"Oh, well that makes sense, I guess." Brock baulked.

"No, it's true Brock, I know her from back home." Marcus confirmed. "Shauna, what in the devil are you doing here? You're the last person I expected to run into. I mean, I'm happy to see you and all, but how did you get here?"

"Well, it wasn't easy." Shauna replied. "Getting into the city was actually a bit of a chore."

"You snuck in?!" Marcus asked.

"Heck no, don't be silly." She reassured him. Marcus looked relieved. "I just paid off some of the guards at the roadblocks." That statement brought Brock to a full-fledged belly laugh.

"You aren't AWOL, are you?!" Marcus followed up, growing more concerned.

"No, no." Shauna laughed. "My term of service is up. I know it's a little crazy, but I just needed to see you. When you said you were in a bad place in one of your letters, I knew I needed to come." She explained.

"Wait, so you came all this way just to see me?" Marcus was dumbfounded again. "I don't know what to say."

"The look on your face says it all, that's all I need." She embraced him tenderly.

"I just can't believe you are actually here. How did you even find me?" Marcus asked.

"Well, the way you were talking in your letters, I just figured you'd be following the big bug around. It's been parked here for about a week, so I thought you'd be close by if I came to the city and walked the perimeter of the park long enough. I figured I'd find you eventually."

"I'm blown away by the lengths you went to, you're amazing." Marcus nearly teared up. "You came all this way by yourself?"

"Don't be too impressed." She replied. "My family is pretty wealthy. I've been to Paris before on a trip a couple years back. It was just a matter of purchasing a ticket for a flight, and then using a little deductive reasoning to find you."

"Jeez Marcus, you best never cross this little lady, she's resourceful." Brock laughed. "Do you have a sister by the way?"

"I do!" Shauna beamed. "But... she's engaged." Brock looked legitimately disappointed for a second before recovering.

"How long do you plan to stay?" Marcus changed topics. "I appreciate you coming in all, but it's not safe here."

"Well, I had planned to be here for another two nights, but if you don't want me here..." Shauna teased.

"It's not that, it's just I can't exactly leave, and there are giant monsters roaming the countryside." He clarified.

"Well, the giant cocoon is not going anywhere tonight." Brock cut in. "Let me talk to the Admiral and I'm sure he'll be glad to grant you one day of leave. It would be a shame to make the lady's trip all for nothing. You should wander the city, see the sights."

…

Brock was as good as his word. Marcus indeed was granted his leave, and with Shauna, explored Paris. They toured the Louvre and visited the Notre-Dame Cathedral and Sacre Coeur Basilica. The architecture of even the most common buildings in Paris were beautiful, but the monuments were unbelievable. As evening set in, Marcus and Shauna wandered the streets, and in the dark, found out why Paris was called the City of Lights. They came upon a sidewalk cafe that was still open and had a romantic candlelight dinner. Afterwards, they walked along the serene Seine River and sat under the Arc de Triomphe.

When they were done exploring, Marcus and Shauna returned to a majestic hotel near the command post that they'd been put up in. Marcus had never seen such a fancy place before. It also had a fantastic view of Mothra's cocoon on the Eiffel Tower. Upon entering their room, they found a note attached to a case of wine. The note was from Brock, who relayed that it came from the French President himself as a thank you for their efforts at the Maginot forts. Marcus and Shauna spent the rest of the evening in their room with the door locked.

…

At eleven thirty-two, Marcus was just getting out of the shower and turned on the radio to listen to while he dried himself off. The radio was tuned into a news station which was rebroadcasting a report from earlier in the day. The host was describing the sudden appearance of yet another monster in North Africa, which was cutting a swath of destruction through Libya. It had been named Kamerus and was moving eastward along the coast, destroying anything it came across.

'Another one?' Marcus thought bitterly and turned off the radio. He walked to the balcony and just stared out. Shauna came out of the bathroom and noticed Marcus wasn't in the room. She found him standing alone in the cool night air, and sensed something was wrong. She came up from behind and then wrapped her arms around him. He held her hands in return. They just stood there like that for a time.

A bright flash of light from the tower brought both of their attention to the cocoon. Something was happening to it. Splashes of color flickered from within the silk laden bulbs and the edges of the cocoon seemed to pulse with movement. Marcus and Shauna held their breath, realizing they were seeing something very special. The top of the cocoon started to rise as a head began to push its way through gently. The silk started to tear, and a gold powder poured out of the opening. The area around the tower was flooded with the golden dust. The head came completely through and revealed two small white antennae and a pair of compound eyes that were a brilliant shade of sapphire. The head also had a light brown stripe down the middle. The newborn creature slowly crawled the rest of the way out of its cocoon. Its thorax was brown with splashes of white and its abdomen was striped white and brown. Once its whole body was out, it turned itself around and clung tightly onto the empty shell of the cocoon.

From there, the creature just sat perched. Its wings were crumpled tightly against its body. Little by little, they started to grow, seemingly inflating themselves. Marcus could see the veins within the wings moving blood throughout their framework, giving them more shape and form by the moment. Within minutes, the wings had extended to full size, revealing all the color within them. The primary colors of the wings were orange, yellow, and black. Arranged in beautiful patterns. The creature moved them ever so slightly to help them harden more quickly. Once they were finally set, Mothra took flight. She was being careful not to flap her wings too hard. She moved them just enough to stay in the air. She passed directly over the balcony that Marcus and Shauna were standing on, and her golden powder trickled down onto them. They were both in awe.

"I'm glad I was here to see this with you." Shauna whispered. She now understood the feelings Marcus had about Mothra. Watching her fly by was a powerful experience. She was simply majestic in flight.

The golden particles hit Marcus' face. As they did, the world seemed to bend around him. He collapsed, falling backwards. Halfway down, he heard something that was somewhere between the sound of thunder and a body hitting water. His vision blackened, and before he knew it, he was standing on a beach. Marcus didn't recognize where he was. It was a place he had never been before. Wherever he was, it was night.

Marcus looked up towards the sky. There, he saw a patch of red stars. They lit up one by one until there were five of them total, burning hotly against the black canvas of space around them. Marcus' eyes shifted to the moon, and upon the face of it, he saw speckles of yellow run all across it. His attention was then drawn to the water in front of him. He saw his reflection in it, and below the water, there was a pulse of blue. The pulse made a ripple in the water that seemed to extend into the sky.

There was a rumble next, followed by a large statue that rose from the water in front of Marcus. It looked ancient, like it was thousands of years old. Carved into the stone was the face of a man surrounded by runes. The statue began to crumble. Piece by piece, it fell back into the water and blood rose from where the statue had been, but there was more. A pit opened up in the earth below the water and Marcus could see fire and shadows within it. The shadows were creeping up towards the surface.

At that point, Marcus could hear something coming from behind him. Before he knew it, he was picked up off the ground and flying through the air. He rose higher and higher until he was above the clouds. He continued to be carried higher yet, until he was far above even the clouds. Below the veil, there were flashes of what Marcus assumed was lightning, but they were not.

Suddenly, a section of the clouds rose in front of Marcus. They continued to rise in a solid column, but then they began to branch out at the top, once the pillar had grown to a certain height. When it was finished, its form resembled that of a great tree, but it wasn't a tree. Marcus knew there was something dangerous about it. Under its fluffy outer exterior, there was a burning light that stung his eyes. At the base of it, there were shadows. Marcus thought he saw wings flapping, but there was dust and debris, so he couldn't make out what they were.

His attention was drawn back up to the top of the cloud, which was starting to change shape. The first thing he could recognize was the outline of an open mouth, and it was filled with sharp teeth. As it continued to take shape, Marcus could see that it was a head. Once it was fully formed, it reminded him of Baragon in its appearance, except there were no horns or ears. Whatever it was, he knew that it was big and terrible.

The landscape around the center column started to take form too. It was like a city that was on fire. Marcus saw a long bridge overlooking the metropolis in the distance and felt a sense of dread, though he couldn't understand quite why. Something about it got to him on a personal level. He knew what he was seeing was important somehow but didn't know why. A moment later, he heard a roar behind him which made his blood curdle. He began to turn to face the source of it but was shaken awake before he could see it.

Shauna was desperately shaking Marcus, trying to get him to wake up. She was in tears, having no idea what had just happened to him.