POV: Director Alan Kessler*
Alan arrived early the next day, the events of yesterday still weighing heavily on his mind. As he stepped onto the set, he paused, noticing something immediately strange. There, lying in the middle of the set, was Godzilla—or *Quest, rather.
He was sleeping. But it wasn't just Quest dozing off in the suit. No, it was *Godzilla*—the monstrous figure stretched out on its side in a pose disturbingly reminiscent of how an animal might sleep. Its massive chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths, the same strange, glitchy breathing they'd heard before.
Alan's pulse quickened as he approached cautiously. The rest of the crew began to trickle in, each of them stopping dead in their tracks when they saw the sight. The silence that followed was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what to do, what to say.
One of the production assistants leaned in toward Alan, her voice barely above a whisper. "Has he been here all night?"
Alan nodded grimly. "Looks like it."
They had all gone home after yesterday's incident, trying to convince themselves that Quest just needed some rest—that he was exhausted, and maybe the stress of filming had gotten to him. But this—*this* was something else.
Alan stepped forward, but every instinct screamed at him to stop. Quest—or Godzilla—was motionless, aside from the rhythmic breathing. His eyes were closed, the massive creature completely still. The suit had become his body, as much as his skin or his bones. It wasn't a costume anymore—it was him.
"Quest," Alan called out softly, hoping to rouse him gently. "Quest, we're back. Time to get ready for today."
There was no response.
He took another step closer, keeping his voice calm. "Quest, we need to get you out of the suit, alright? Let's take a break."
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
Alan's heart raced as he motioned for one of the crew members to approach, but no one wanted to get any closer. The memory of yesterday's unearthly roar was still fresh in everyone's minds, and no one was eager to risk angering whatever had taken hold of Quest.
They stood there, a few feet from the sleeping giant, watching in eerie silence as Godzilla slept like a predator who had claimed the territory as his own.
Alan rubbed his temple, trying to think of what to do. They couldn't just cancel the production—not with the government breathing down their necks, making sure this film continued. And yet, something was clearly very wrong with Quest.
"Let him sleep," one of the makeup artists finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Maybe he just needs time."
Alan wasn't so sure. But what choice did they have? Quest had refused to leave the suit, had fused with it in ways they couldn't begin to understand. And now he was here, sleeping like a creature that had claimed the set as its den.
"Alright," Alan finally said, exhaling slowly. "Let's give him time. We'll set up around him."
The crew, still uneasy, began to shuffle around, setting up for the day's shoot while keeping a cautious distance from the sleeping Godzilla. Cameras were adjusted, lights refocused, all without disturbing him.
As the minutes ticked by, Alan couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that Quest wasn't really asleep at all—that he was just *waiting*.
Whatever had taken hold of him, it was growing. And sooner or later, it would wake up.