"Godzilla is the son of the atomic bomb. He is a nightmare created out of the darkness of the human soul. He is the sacred beast of the apocalypse."
- Tomoyuki Tanaka, creator of Godzilla.
"Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy."
- Ishiro Honda, director of the original Godzilla.
November 3, 1954
Mankind always leaves a trace, wherever it goes. Lagos Island is no exception to that rule. Whether it's for the best or for the worst, results in great beauty or immense destruction, it is one thing they've never failed at.
This time, it's definitely for the worst.
Lagos Island, post-colonization, is a desolate wasteland, decorated only in black, grey, a dull brown and unpleasant green. Those unfamiliar with what it once was would be unable to grasp it from seeing what it has become.
The sky above is an ugly mixture of grey and a putrid green, as if Zeus puked at the sight of what had occurred.
Trees exist in small pockets across the landscape, trunks and leaves stained black. Evolution by natural selections beautiful towers have been mostly replaced with man's own. Apartments, business centers, schools, restaurants, hotels... yet they are all empty. Deserted. Trashed. Messy. Dirty. Abandoned.
Half-eaten food remains on dirty tables of McDonald's restaurants. Pre-school classrooms have vinyl dinosaur toys and open books scattered all over the floor. Apartment beds unmade, dressers full, doors and windows still open. Yet there are no lights, no electricity, and least of all, people.
Venus flytraps and dragonflies still thrive across the landscape. Versatile creatures, they will make this maimed island their own.
The islands beaches can't decide if they are polluted from a day of recreation or from being the site of a war. Pop cans, plastic bottles, children's toys, food wrappers, most commonly cigarette butts, and most surprisingly, bullet shells and tank trails.
At the center of it all is the charred remains of what once powered the entire island: a nuclear power plant. It's inactivity can easily be explained by the obvious caved in hole, as if a rapacious animal tore into it out of a lust for food.
What once fueled man's facade of a utopia now fuels something else. An abomination that man never intended, too deviant and bastardized to be the work of evolution by natural selection.
Behind a hill separating the beach from the abandoned city, the demon rises from where it once lied resting on the sand. A 100 metre tall form so colossal it's only visible from the head to the shoulders.
Godzilla has awakened for the first time in his new incarnation. He looks to the disgusting sky and opens his jaws. The creature's bellowing roar echoes across these sterile lands.
Godzilla heavily resembles a Tyrannosaurus, but he's more of a freakish mismatch, as if evolution somehow blended Stegosaurus, Iguanodon, and even mammalian traits into the mix. His skull is still largely tyrannosaur-esqe, but with otter-like features; he has a thin, elongated snout that then rises to create a prominent ridge over the eyes. These eyes glow a malevolent fiery yellow. The sheer strength of his jaws and sharp metre-long bone-yellow teeth would allow him to crush titanium with ease, a pair of large fangs on the upper jaw contributing the most. His general build is reminiscent of man's early reconstructions of theropod dinosaurs, but with a wide, barrel-like chest. In line with his general build, his enormous, long, segmented tail drags on the ground like a kangaroo. This tail is powerful enough to tear through trees like a hundred bulldozers. His arms are relatively long for a theropod, more appropriate for a dinosaur like Iguanodon, and his legs are thick and muscular. All four limbs are adorned with claws sharp enough to rip through the hull of the Titanic. The creature is also lined with three rows of large, prominent bone-white dorsal plates along his back and tail. At first glance, they are reminiscent of the plates of a Stegosaurus, but these fins are more leaf-shaped, though angular and jagged, as opposed to the triangular shape of a stegosaur. Finally, his natural beautiful scaly skin has been replaced by rough, bumpy charcoal-black scars. His skin seems gouged, pitted with deep vertical grooves.
The beast scans the beach, a simple task deemed massive by his mammoth body. With each step, the Earth shakes, surrendering to his 65,000 tonne weight.
Awakening from hours of unconsciousness, he is dazed by unfamiliarity with his novel form, far larger then his old one. His view of the world is entirely different. The trees that stood far above him are dwarfed. If they were still around, the role he shared with the gargantuan sauropods that once roamed the landscape would be hilariously reversed.
His attempts to recollect the events of days past has been made difficult, the sand around him disturbed beyond recognition. But the further he looks, the more he comes across some remains of events that previously transpired; among the dozens of bullet shells left behind by what looks like D-Day, are the footprints of a dinosaur.
The footprints of another life.
1948
Lagos Island, currently undiscovered by man, is one of the most beautiful, tropical islands on Earth. It is also one of the most exotic. No place man has ever encountered yet resembles it.
The entire island is a living fossil.
It's lush environment has many different biomes. Vast forests of Cretaceous-esqe conifers tower over all. Open fern prairies allows titans to roam unimpeded by trees. Sandy beaches provide this as well, alongside the potential for an easy meal; a beached whale or shark is among the greatest blessings a carnivore of Lagos could ask for. Brackish swamps are home to many different types of turtles and crocodiles.
But this is a world ruled by different reptiles. Dinosaurs.
The K-PG mass extinction event was devastating for dinosaurs the world over, and while birds are the only dinosaurs alive known to man, they are far from privy to all of nature's secrets.
In the Cretaceous, Lagos' isolated nature dictated its dinosaurs be much smaller, and this allowed them to cling on through the seemingly eternal dark, ash winter that plagued Earth after the asteroid impact. Once the planet finally healed, mammals conquered every major continent, but on Lagos, the dinosaurs were able to reclaim their former glory. Continental drift united Lagos with other similarly small islands, also inhabited by dinosaurs, prompting its inhabitants to far exceed their Cretaceous ancestors in size. Whereas before, Lagos' dinosaurs would've been humbled by the titans of the Americas, Africa and Asia (had they met them), they are now the largest creatures on Earth.
Lagos' top predator, once discovered by the relatively intelligent upright apes that rule most of the world, will be named Manospondylus gigas. In the even further future, "Godzillasaurus", as a colloquial nickname. 14 metres long from head-to-tail and 12 tonnes, it is a descendent of tyrannosaurs, with a head shape reminiscent of a North American cousin of its ancestors, Tyrannosaurus, but a body shape closer to a far more distant cousin Carcharodontosaurus. Godzilla's upright body-shape is entirely alien to the natural variant of this species, with a horizontal body-shape just like its ancestors. His large distinct dorsal plates, however, have their roots in three rows of osteoderms along their backs and tails, and the fangs are already present.
In the exquisite evening orange sky, fitting for such a primeval setting, a 20-year-old male Manospondylus traverses through his territory. 20 may sound young, but a two-thirds of Manospondylus young are lucky to reach this age, and he is already 10 metres long.
His territory is made up of a large conifer forest and a nearby fern prairie. Just like their ancestors, Manospondylus have huge territories of hundreds of square kilometres that they fiercely defend, providing them with ample territory to roam as they please, as well as the necessary resources for survival.
Nevertheless, these massively long territories are a burden at this time of year. This Manospondylus is not looking for food. He is looking for a mate.
After what has felt like years, he finally encounters a female, sleeping peacefully amongst the vegetation. Her brown scales glow gold as they bask in the evening sun, making her look a graceful, elegant creature. Manospondylus' sexual dimorphism makes identification easy; the scales of males are greyer, and their general build is bulkier, though this can vary amongst individuals. Despite this, this female is taller then our young suitor.
The desperate wait has made the male anxious, but he must not attempt to speed or cheat the game.
It'd be suicide.
Despite his attempts to keep quiet, the female wakes up from the approach, hearing the subtle noises and picking out his scent. She remains on the ground, raises her head and hisses, curling her lips. Her tail habitually moves up and down on the ground.
The male ducks his lead low, submissively.
The female's tail suddenly stops moving.
His heart skips a beat.
The female studies him, but doesn't move an inch. The tension in the air is nigh unbreakable.
His nervousness doesn't stop the male from instinctively letting out soothing low frequency rhythms, the first step of the game, carved into his blood by natural selection. At the very least, it'll calm her enough to not attack.
The female still doesn't move an inch.
Time for step two. He paces, circling around her, but still from a distance. Deceptively simple, this dance follows a specific rhythm that, if not followed, is fatal. The long, segmented tails of Manospondylus are more flexible then that of his ancestors, allowing him to do graceful, sophisticated movements with his tail. As supple as a snake, it slithers across the sky like a beautiful ribbon dance.
Miraculously, the female begins to loosen up. Her lips settle and her tail continues it's natural habitual movement. It trembles slightly however, betraying her true shy nature.
Our male detects this positive signal and becomes eager. Bored of the standard dance, he attempts something daring that gets many impatient young males not too unlike himself killed: as he circles closer to her, he playfully rubs her head and body with his tail.
Suddenly the tensions have never been higher. Our male is not foreign enough to the ritual to know the risk of his move, but he was simply too impulsive to resist.
This could cost him his life.
But he is lucky enough to have found the right partner. The female is receptive and gives the male soft, low frequency purrs in response, her body relaxing, perhaps even shivering in response.
Even more surprisingly, this urges the female to rise and begin a pace of her own. Her dance is, astonishingly, in sync with the male, even down to the tip of the tail. Such matches as these are remarkably rare at this young an age.
The young couple's circular dancing reaches it's natural conclusion when they converge in the center of their invisible circle. The female is entranced, but too shy to move. The male is shy too, but his yearning exceeds it as he slowly eases into face rubbing the female affectionately. Just like their ancestors, their faces are adorned with areas sensitive to touch. Both the male and female are relaxed by his move, and they rub more passionately, equal in effort.
The male then initiates the final stage of the ritual, moving towards the back of the female as he rubs his body and tail across hers. She purrs in delight.
Hours later, in the beauty of the night sky, they rest on the ground together, having mated for the first time. It is the end of an era for our male, his days as a lone wolf having come to an end. If all goes as planned, he will now stay with his mate for life.
The world of man is unrecognizable from the primeval island of Lagos. What was once one of the the epitomes of the might, beauty, and majesty of the dinosaurs, North America, is now the epitome of man's. The buildings of its greatest cities far exceed the heights of any dinosaur (yet).
The heavenly light of the morning sun it flows into the window of an apartment building in New York City. A fan blows gently.
A woman giggles, suddenly. A mattress is bumped from underneath.
"I thought we got on the floor to cool off?"
Steve Martin lies on the floor of his bedroom, in paradise. At least, in his eyes.
To him, no morning was better spent then this one, lying hands and arms locked next to who was, in his completely unbiased opinion, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Laura beams with one of those soft smiles he'd die for. Her soft facial features deemed her smiles the most innocent and precious the human genome had to offer. Paired with clear skin, the graceful body of a dancer, and wavy brown hair dyed with blonde highlights, glowing gold in the sun, she is simply ethereal, and melts Steve to puddy quicker then the snap of ones fingers.
There was nobody that made Steve feel more relaxed, safe to be his true, vulnerable self. And the feeling was mutual.
Laura's sweetness is warm and comforting, melting any psychological armor and forcing those sensitive emotions to thrive. Her affection satiates a seemingly endless desire for an emotional high, calming him. Her presence of gentle strength and stability grounds him, keeping him from getting lost in the exciting yet convoluted mess that is his own head.
And to think that every morning would now be like this, having made the bold move to finally live together.
"We did genius," Laura quips. Her voice can't help betray that she finds it adorable when he asks such an obvious question.
Laura uses the excuse to check out her boyfriend, even if she didn't need one. She affectionately runs her fingers through his straight black hair that meets a handsome beard. She loves the way his facial hair perfectly compliments his otherwise soft facial features. She quickly admires his bulky, athletic build. And his personality, of course.
The passionate, undying flame that fuels Steve thrills her, his appetite for emotional highs creating enthralling experiences as she comes along for the ride that is his life. Yet, this flame also soothes her like a warm fireplace. She knows it only relents for her; it will never burn too much or too little, their relationship too symbiotic.
"Then why aren't we in bed where the wind can hit us?"
"I told you when we got it, I don't like the bed. It's too soft."
"I know, but you told me to pick out any bed I wanted."
"Remind me never to do that again."
A sly smirk slithers like a snake across Steve's face. "No, I like how it turned out for me."
Laura can't contain a laugh. "You're a selfish asshole, yah know that?"
"I love you too."
The phone rings on a small table next to the bed.
Ugh. Neither of them want to get up. But Laura, being the responsible one, grabs it before Steve can move, but still laying on the floor. She's not that responsible.
As she holds the phone to her ear, her smile slowly fades. She then turns to Steve, handing him the phone.
"It's for you Steve."
Steve contains his irritation, rises, and holds the phone up, shifting to a more professional persona. Steve nods slowly. "How soon?... Understood. I'll be there shortly. Thank you sir."
Steve hands Laura the phone, who stands up to put it back on the table. With both of them standing, it is now obvious that Laura is two inches taller then her boyfriend. Unconventional for a couple of this era, yet not unattractive for either of them. Quite the opposite, in fact, even if Steve is somewhat reluctant to admit it.
However, the news brought by the voice on the phone has soured the flirty mood. Steve turns to Laura, dismayed, but his persona of professionalism still intact, if slightly softened by the simple act of looking at his girlfriend.
"Laura, I'm sorry, I really am. But the deadline was moved up. The expedition leaves in four hours."
Laura is flustered. "That's bullshit, they can't call you in like that on such short notice."
Steve mechanically begins to throw clothes into his suitcase like a cog in a machine, moving with efficient experienced smoothness. He's done this a million times. "I don't like it either, but that's how this job works sometimes. This is going to be a huge story, and I can't miss it."
He turns to Laura with a comforting smile, finally lifting the professional persona. "It's only a three day expedition. I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone."
"Just be safe, ok? I don't want three days to turn into a lifetime."
"I will be, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."
Laura initiates a hug. Immediately upon contact, Steve holds her tighter, and she matches the strength of his embrace. The hug is prolonged as they melt in each other's arms.
Eventually, Steve legs go. He would've held on longer, but he started to feel self-conscious. He wipes a tear away and grabs his suitcase. "You can work on your novel without any distractions," Steve says with a smirk.
Laura smiles, also wiping a tear away. He always tries to make her feel better.
Steve leaves the room, returning to a mechanical persona. He takes special care to make sure no more tears leak out.
It's time for work.