Chapter 30: Signs of Life?
Marcus landed his helicopter back on the Essex. Inside the cabin, it was dead quiet. The marines had never been so silent. Everyone was reflecting on their experiences during the mission, chief of which, was the apparent suicide of Dr. Serizawa. His death rendered all of their fighting and personal sacrifices over the last couple of hours pointless. The mission was a failure and morale was quite low.
As the helicopter blades came to a stop, the marines slowly disembarked. They were worn out and beaten up. Brock still had his makeshift bandage over his shoulder instead of a clean and proper dressing. While he was still climbing out of his seat, one of the deck officers immediately came up to him to collect the notes he had recovered from Dr. Serizawa's lab. As soon as the officer had them in hand, he notified Brock and Marcus that Admiral Malek wanted to see them immediately. His tone suggested that they were in for it. Clearly, the Admiral wasn't pleased with the mission's outcome. The other marines were listening in and looked on sympathetically towards Marcus and Brock. The pair were on their own, however. The responsibility was theirs alone.
The deck officer whisked the notes away quickly and left Brock and Marcus in the company of a pair of marines as escorts. Having no other alternative, they followed the marine guards. They were taken to Admiral Malek's personal quarters where he was impatiently awaiting their arrival. When they entered, Malek was sitting behind his desk with a disappointed frown on his brow, reading through an after-action report. He looked up. Marcus and Brock did their best to stand at attention in front of him. Malek was quiet for a moment, studying the pair. Marcus was sweating it out, expecting the Admiral to explode at any moment. Brock was playing it cool though. On the surface, he seemed entirely unmoved.
"What went wrong out there gentlemen?" Admiral Malek asked, setting down the report. "As I understand it, you had it in the bag, and then tripped at the finish line. Why would you let Dr. Serizawa wander around all on his own after securing him?"
"Well sir, the fact of the matter is, he actually ran away during a firefight." Brock answered.
"I'm not talking about that, and you know it!" Malek responded sharply.
"It's not the Sargent's fault sir, it's mine." Marcus spoke up. "I didn't expect Dr. Serizawa to do what he did. After all he'd been through, I didn't see the harm in letting him have a moment to himself."
"You do now though, don't you?" Malek pointed out irritably, not trying to hide his disappointment. "I can't even begin to tell you what a game-changer that weapon would have been if we had it at our disposal. You both saw firsthand what it did to that monster in the bay. Imagine the next Godzilla that comes along; it could have been eliminated within mere minutes of rearing its ugly head. The lives we could have saved. That possibility is now in jeopardy because of your carelessness."
"Maybe if we knew something ahead of time sir." Brock interjected defiantly. "The briefing didn't mention anything about the Doctor having a death-wish. This was presented as a simple rescue mission. If we knew more up front, we could have taken precautions."
"From this moment onwards, consider yourself busted down to Corporal, Sargent!" Malek barked angrily, finally boiling over. "I will not tolerate your insubordination."
"Sir, I think he only meant…" Marcus began to protest on Brock's behalf.
"Don't defend him, there's no future in it." Malek warned crossly, cutting Marcus off. Marcus knew well enough to shut up after that.
"Be careful sir, I have a very fragile constitution." Brock retorted. "I'm delicate like a flower." He drew Malek's attention back to himself.
"Oh, you think you're a comedian now? One more comment, and I'll bust you down to Private." Malek cautioned Brock with a scowl. Brock finally got the good sense to shut up too. Just then, there was a knock on Malek's door. "Not now damn it!" He bellowed at the doorway.
"But sir, you said you wanted to know immediately when I had an update for you." The muffled reply of one of Malek's underlings came in from the other side of the door.
"Very well, enter…" Malek relented.
An Ensign came in and went around the Admiral's desk to whisper something into his ear. Admiral Malek sat back in his chair, listening intently. Marcus could see that the Ensign was holding the notes Brock had collected from the Red Bamboo's headquarters. They were partially sticking out of a folder he was holding under his arm. Whatever he was telling Malek, it seemed to cool his temper. He didn't quite smile, but his grimace lessened some. Once he was done, Malek waved off the Ensign, dismissing him.
"Losing Dr. Serizawa is a major setback, but not all is lost it seems. The notes you recovered from the fire give us something to work with." The Admiral seemed to relax, sitting back. "Once we get them into the right hands, we'll have a better understanding of what we got. Dr. Orsini has reviewed them, and he thinks what is in here is very promising." He bobbed back and forth in his chair once. "Thanks to you Marcus, our long-range fighter is pursuing that Red Bamboo transport plane even as we speak. It should lead us right to the next Red Bamboo base. We may be able to obtain even more information about the Oxygen Destroyer there."
"Sir…?" Marcus began to ask confused.
"Yes, that's the name of the weapon." Malek said, anticipating his question. "You're still busted to Corporal though." He pointed to Brock firmly. "Now, both of you get out, you're dismissed."
…
"You know Marcus, if Admiral Malek wants that new weapon so badly, then he's going to get it…" Brock began to say as the two of them got out of earshot down the hallway from Malek's quarters. "…far… up his ass." He growled, motioning with his hand upward in a vulgar and graphic fashion. Having heard that, Marcus decided to steer them towards the flightdeck so Brock could blow off some steam in the cool air.
"That could have gone better…" Marcus noted with a deep sigh, mostly ignoring Brock's insinuation.
"You know what your problem is Marcus?" Brock asked rhetorically, pausing only briefly before going on. "You're the type of guy who's always looking for approval. You want or need a mentor to look up to. Always needing to please your superiors, even when they're a piece of shit like Admiral Malek. You could have stood your ground in there instead of just taking your lashes. What was he going to do, discharge you from the service? You keep saying all you want to do is get back to your family now. That there was an opportunity. What would a dishonorable discharge really do to you? With your wife's family's connections, they could probably make that stain on your record disappear, and if not, they will always have a job waiting for you in any case. You'll never have to sweat a mark like that being on a job application. You're pretty much set for life as soon as you make it back to the real world."
"You know, I think you're right, I am always looking for someone to stand in that mentor role." Marcus agreed calmly, which seemed to take Brock by surprise. "I suppose I do latch onto older, more experienced soldiers to fill the void my father left. I guess that's just my way of compensating. It's always been like that for me, as far back as I can remember. I've had to learn so many life lessons from teachers, coaches, and even from you on occasion Brock." Marcus smirked over at him. "So yeah, you have me pegged there. That's good insight."
Brock just looked back at Marcus thoughtfully. The last thing he expected was for Marcus to agree with him.
"You know the last memory I have of my father?" Marcus asked. "It was the time he taught me how to sail. It was the last thing he ever got to teach me. He gave me my love for the water, and it has stuck with me ever since. It is one of the few things I remember about him. But it was so long ago now that it almost feels like something I dreamt up."
"Why do you always got to ruin the moment?" Brock asked annoyed, walking off and leaving Marcus alone. Marcus smirked to himself. He knew Brock didn't like talking about personal feelings. It was the perfect way to disarm him.
As Brock left, three marines happened to be walking by and gave Marcus kind of an odd look. There was a subtle distain in their gaze. Marcus couldn't discern whether it was just the typical level of animosity marines held for Navy flyboys or if there was something deeper behind it. Marcus suddenly got very worried that word had gotten out about the prior mission. In particular, the true fate of Lieutenant Lennox and his squad. In the chaos of the last couple of days, Marcus had almost let the incident slip his mind. His anxiety and insecurities about the event were starting to build up. It might have just been paranoia, but Marcus felt like a lot of the men around him were staring in his direction. A hand touched Marcus' shoulder from behind, which made him jump a little.
"Woah, easy there buddy." Joe said, taken aback by Marcus' seemingly out of place skittishness. "You may need to hit the showers and get some bunk-time Marcus. You look like hell warmed over."
"I've had a long week, that's all." Marcus replied dismissively. Joe was acting very casual. If he knew anything that had went on during the Matango mission, he sure wasn't letting on. "Sorry about that."
"Hey, don't worry about it." Joe smiled reassuringly. "The other guys might give you a little shit, but I know you're still a good soldier. Maybe you need to switch to de-caffeinated coffee though." He quipped. Marcus just stared at him for a moment with a blank face.
"To really be a good soldier Joe, you fundamentally have to be able to do two things: Kill and be comfortable with the fact that you can die at any moment." Marcus replied coldly. "I'm not comfortable with either of those things. So, I guess I'm not actually a good soldier."
"What's eating you?" Joe asked, puzzled. "I was just messing around. The mission must have been pretty rough, huh?"
"Yeah, you might say that." Marcus grumbled. "I'm starting to think you were right with your decision to stick to the deck guns." He noted. "Never go on an away mission if you can help it. Stay on the ship."
"Alright…" Joe answered. "…I think I can do that." He gave Marcus an odd look. Usually, he wasn't so serious. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, I'll be fine." Marcus replied. "I just need some rest like you said. I'll talk to you later Joe. Thanks." He turned away from Joe, letting him know the conversation was over.
Joe shrugged and walked away, leaving Marcus to look out over the ocean by himself. The calmness on the surface of the water was deceptive, much like Marcus himself at that moment. There was so much more going on beneath his facade. Marcus' eyes turned to the clouds. The sunny day was slowly turning overcast. Before long, there were just patches of blue sky peeking through here and there, which allowed only a few strands of golden sunlight to get through. As Marcus watched, one of the rays quickly blinked out and then back in, as though something had passed by rapidly. Another spot of sunlight blinked in and out, and Marcus realized something very big was moving above the clouds, and it was heading right towards them.
A jolt of panic shot through Marcus. He had no idea what was coming for them, and there was no time to alert anyone else before it would be upon them. He looked up to an empty area of sky that was nearly straight above the Essex. In a flash, a dark figure was there and then gone again. The silhouette was moving so quickly that it barely registered. However, the figure was there just long enough for Marcus to recognize what it was. There was no doubt in his mind, it was Mothra. He was sure of it. Marcus' anxiety started to bleed away from him. His chest lightened and his vigor was renewed. It felt as though Mothra's light was filling him up as it had done before. His fears and doubts began to evaporate. There was a big unanswered question though: What was Mothra doing there?
Marcus soon realized that no one else was reacting to Mothra's presence. Stranger still, there were no alarms going off anywhere in the fleet. Surely they would have detected Mothra's approach on radar and scrambled some jets to intercept her? She had passed over the fleet close enough to where she definitely should have been noticed, but everyone was still going about their business as usual. Marcus looked to the radar dish on the carrier's island. It was rotating in its usual pattern. They did not appear to be having technical difficulties. Marcus considered the possibility that maybe someone higher up just didn't see Mothra as a threat anymore, but that couldn't be right. Even if they did feel that way, by some miracle, they couldn't have been able to identify her just based on a radar signature. The technology simply wasn't advanced enough to single out targets like that yet.
Marcus decided to go up to the bridge to speak with the radar officer. When he inquired if the operators had picked up anything unusual within the last couple of minutes, the officer had no idea what Marcus was talking about. Nothing whatsoever had registered on their instruments since the Essex's fighters had returned from the mission earlier. Marcus couldn't believe his ears. How could that be possible? There was no way they could miss something that big. He couldn't have imagined seeing Mothra, could he? Marcus had been under a lot of stress. Perhaps his mind was just playing tricks on him? Regardless of it being a hallucination or not, Marcus still felt much better than he had before.
…
Thirty minutes later, Marcus found himself in the shower washing away the sweat and grime he'd built up over the course of the day. Brock came in and took the stall adjacent to Marcus to clean himself up too. Brock had been to sickbay and gotten some proper treatment to his wounded arm. The doctor wanted to keep Brock there for a day for observation, but he wasn't having any of that. Brock simply taped a plastic bag around the bandage to avoid getting it wet. Nothing was going to keep him from a hot shower. He needed to wash away the filth of defeat, as well as the physical blood and dirt from his skin.
"You're a poor judge of character Marcus, those new boys were just fine." Brock noted while hitting his arm pits with the soap.
"I suppose you're right." Marcus admitted, spitting some water at the wall. "I guess I just let the pressure get to me. That's all." He said coolly.
"I lost one of them out there you know." Brock remarked. "Damn kid was too eager. The line between bravery and stupidity is sometimes a thin one. You seem to be feeling better though. A little water is really all it took?"
"Yeah, I guess so." Marcus replied, not wanting to talk about his episode involving Mothra. Imagined or otherwise, there were too many other guys hanging around in the shower room. They simply wouldn't understand. Roger, who had recently been promoted to squadron leader, came in to shower next to Marcus on the other side.
"Hey Marcus." Roger greeted him warmly. "Well…hello Corporal!" He said to Brock in an embellished voice with a shit-eating grin. Apparently, bad news traveled fast on the Essex.
Marcus stopped washing his chest and looked over to Brock to gauge his reaction. Roger may have just poked the bear a little too hard at a bad time. Brock looked over to Roger with a grimace and Marcus was worried about what he would do next. Even Roger realized he may have made a mistake. However, Brock took the jab in stride, and simply gave Roger the finger quietly. Marcus sighed in relief. A shower-room brawl was not something he was interested in taking part of.
"I'm glad they gave you command of the squadron." Marcus said to Roger, quickly changing the topic to help break the tension. "I didn't want that kind of responsibility. I think Lieutenant Larson would have wanted it this way."
"Like hell he would." Roger replied incredulously. "He was constantly on my ass. Larson always thought I was a little too wild behind the stick. Too reckless."
"Well, he wasn't wrong about that." Marcus remarked with a smirk. "Even so, you're still the best pilot in the squadron. Congratulations!"
"Thanks." Roger replied. "Boy, it sure got sticky out there today. I'm glad I didn't lose any pilots assaulting those base defenses. Wouldn't look too good on my first day in command. I'm glad you guys are okay too. All joking aside, you guys got a raw deal out there."
"Thanks for saying." Brock replied.
…
An hour later, Ling was reading in his bunk on the Essex when there was a knock at his door.
"Enter." Ling said invitingly, raising his voice. The door cracked open, and in stepped Sargent Brock, the big mean marine who didn't like him all that much and wasn't afraid to show it. "What do you want?" Ling asked in utter shock. He tried to mask his unease. Brock just stood there for a moment. Behind him, Marcus was lurking in the doorway. The quarters were a little tight and it was difficult for him to get around Brock's bulk.
"Hello Ling, Brock had a question for you." Marcus said, making his way around. Brock gazed back at Marcus with a somewhat betrayed look in his eyes. Ling quickly read the situation and guessed that Brock was expecting Marcus to do all of the talking. Perhaps this was Marcus' way of forcing Brock to be more social. Brock looked back to Ling with some hesitation, but eventually began to speak.
"So, the thing is, Dr. Serizawa said something to me before he killed himself." Brock started. "Nobody who was there spoke Japanese, but I remember the words he used.
"And you want me to translate?" Ling astutely concluded.
"Yes, if I don't know what that man's last words were, it's going to eat me up inside." Brock said clinching his jaw. "He was staring me right in the face when he did it. I need to know why. It'll drive me crazy otherwise. Would you help me with this?"
"Well… I certainly don't want to see what you are like when you've been driven crazy." Ling replied calmly, lightening the mood. "Tell me what he said."
"He said:Jibun no sakuhin wo buki ni suru koto wa yuruse mase ne. gomennasai."Brock repeated it word for word perfectly, a fact that surprised Marcus a little. The moment really must have been etched into Brock's memory. Ling thought it over for a moment, to ensure he took in the full meaning, and then got a bit of a sad look in his eye. "Well, do you know what it means?" Brock asked eagerly.
"Yes, yes I do." Ling confirmed. "He said:I cannot allow my work to be used as a weapon. I'm sorry for everything."Ling sighed. "That's pretty much it. He got straight to the point and didn't mince his words."
"Wow, you have to respect the principles of the man." Marcus noted somberly. "The lengths he was willing to go to, protecting the sanctity of life."
"Yeah, and we may have jeopardized his sacrifice." Brock remarked bitterly. "At this point, it's unclear what we recovered from his notes, but it may be enough to reproduce the weaponized form of his device. I think I could use a drink…"
"Yeah, we're on a real losing streak lately." Marcus added. "We just handed the Admiral yet another potential super-weapon."
"Ah, I get it now." Brock said ignoring Marcus. "Dr. Serizawa was aiming to kill himself in the lab with the fire and trying to burn his notes at the same time. He wasn't trying to put out the fire, he started it himself. If only we'd gotten there a few minutes later…" Brock shook his head in shame. "I can always count on myself to fuck up the important things."
"What's done is done." Marcus said. "Dwelling on it isn't going to help anything now. Thanks Ling, I think we got what we came for." He noted, and then started to leave.
"Yeah, thanks." Brock muttered as he followed behind Marcus.
"You're welcome." Ling said as they shut the door behind them.
"See… Ling is a good guy." Marcus remarked. "You should cut him some slack. In fact, you should be more open to new people in general."
"Says the man who was certain less than twenty-four hours ago that two new marine recruits were going to gun him down on a mission." Brock countered sarcastically.
"Point taken." Marcus replied.
…
A detachment of the Archimedes fleet sailed into the harbor of what used to be the Red Bamboo's naval base. Some of the Red Bamboo's soldiers hadn't fought to the death in the earlier battle. A number of them had been taken prisoner after the fighting had died down. They were to be loaded up onto the fleet's destroyers. It was unclear what their fates would be after that, as there was no openly declared war between the United States and China. Thus, they could not simply be considered POWs. There were no Archimedes personnel being held by the Red Bamboo for a prisoner exchange either. The Chinese Government still had not acknowledged the existence of the Red Bamboo Organization, and therefore, they could be treated as a rogue paramilitary group. Terrorists in essence.
Unfortunately, the captured men had to have been at least vaguely aware of the Oxygen Destroyer Project, and because of that, Marcus did not like their chances with Admiral Malek. He had a history of ruthless aggression when it came to keeping state secrets at the expense of prisoners. His policy was brutal, but effective. With Malek deciding their future, the outlook was bleak for the Red Bamboo prisoners. At a minimum, Marcus figured those men were looking at rotting in a political prison for a number of years. Though, there time in captivity could be a lot shorter and harsher than that. Marcus didn't relish the thought. He hoped for the longer and more lenient road. Perhaps if they held onto them long enough, the prisoners could be used as some sort of bargaining chip later. It would simply come down to the Admiral's perception of their value. Were they worth more dead or alive?
As Marcus watched the destroyers out in front of the Essex, he couldn't help but notice that the carrier itself was turning to enter the bay. For what purpose, it was unclear, but he saw Dr. Orsini down on the deck with a pile of equipment surrounding him. He just might have an answer about that. Marcus made his way down to the doctor as the ship ventured further and further into the bay.
"What are you up to, Doc?" Marcus walked up and asked. "Looks like official business."
"Oh, the Admiral asked me to go down and see if I could find any samples of our recently deceased monster." Dr. Orsini answered. "He thinks it might help to understand the weapon's notes that Sargent Brock recovered. Other folks have collected water samples, but so far it just looks like water. No traces of the chemical have been found, if you can believe that."
"I actually can't…" Marcus answered surprised. "Interesting… so it all basically evaporated?"
"Yeah, once it boils its way up to the surface, it just seems to go poof without any residue." Dr. Orsini noted. "By the way, I led Admiral Malek to believe that the notes Brock brought back would be useful for recreating the weapon, and that's a bit of an exaggeration. There's not enough information in those notes to recreate the weapon outright, but given enough time, it would give someone a leg up if they did want to try to rebuild the weapon. It at least gives them a starting point to work from. The notes seem to lack one key piece of information, how to chemically create the Micro-Oxygen. Without that, the weapon will not work. I'm not a chemist though. I'm not one-hundred percent sure what they got there. There are some formulas mentioned, but it could just be a complex recipe for chocolate chip cookies for all I know. But I thought telling Malek something positive would help get you guys out of 'hot water', so to speak." He winked.
"Are you kidding?!" Marcus asked incredulously, trying to keep his voice down. "You could get in so much trouble for that. Malek is not a man to be toyed with. I don't think you understand how ruthless he can be."
"I'm not worried." Dr. Orsini replied coolly. "I told him from the moment he had me look over that paperwork that I wasn't an expert. He knew my answer was always going to be vague at best, and not one-hundred percent reliable. I'm simply the only scientist around that he could ask, and I gave him my opinion. The notes could be useful. The fact of the matter is, I just don't know one way or the other for sure. Besides, by the time he gets those notes into the hands of someone who'll understand them, and know for sure, I'll be able to transfer somewhere else. I can tell you this much, just as one person who knows how to read, those notes are definitely incomplete. The pages were numbered at the bottom and only about half of them where there. I imagine Dr. Serizawa burnt the rest already before you got to him."
"I think Brock will be somewhat relieved to hear that." Marcus remarked. "I know I'm certainly happy the weapon is out of Malek's reach, if only for a little while."
"Yeah, Dr. Serizawa was brilliant." Dr Orsini noted. "A genuine genius in his field. I don't know if there is enough information left in that report for someone to understand and duplicate. Best case scenario, whoever gets that assignment will have their work cut out for them for sure." Orsini started to put on his gear.
"You're really going down there by yourself?" Marcus asked. "You have no idea what you might run into."
"I've done this a hundred times before." Dr. Orsini assured Marcus. "I'm a marine biologist, this is my area of expertise." He added, putting on his goggles.
"Wait, don't you have to wear that whole robot-looking helmet and suit?" Marcus asked, looking surprised. "The equipment you got here looks a little light for diving."
"You mean that heavy, old-fashioned stuff?" Orsini asked with a smirk. "No… What you see here is a little newer and more user-friendly. This rig is aself-contained underwater breathing apparatus, or a 'SCUBA' suit. No heavy helmets and no tubes you have to breathe through that tie you to the ship. With this, my movements are not limited in any way. Therefore, I'm not on ashort leash. I can move about very easily underwater with these flippers to propel me. The oxygen tanks are a little heavy, but it's a small price to pay for the freedom you get with them. Just call me the Frogman."
Dr. Orsini picked up the rest of his gear and then walked over to the diving cage that was waiting for him hanging over the side of the ship. The Essex had entered the center of the bay and was slowing down. Marcus and Dr. Orsini looked out over the side. The aftermath of the Oxygen Destroyer's deployment was already plain to see. Even on the surface of the water, the sea felt still and lifeless. It was like they had sailed into a desert. It was eerily quiet. Even the seagulls were staying away, as if they knew nothing was there for them anymore. The color of the water looked a shade lighter than it had been and it was far clearer than before. Dr. Orsini's initial excitement for getting back to what he was good at was starting to fade. He put on his flippers and readied his mouthpiece. The sailors manning the lift connected to the cage opened the door for Dr. Orsini and then waited for him to enter. Orsini stepped inside and got a tight grip to steady himself.
"Just push the button when you are ready to come back up." One of the sailors instructed him. "We'll be watching and waiting." Dr. Orsini nodded in understanding, and they began to lower him down.
"Good luck down there!" Marcus remarked. Dr. Orsini just gave him a thumbs up as he started to descend inside the cage. He had already put the breather in his mouth.
Dr. Orsini sunk into the water. Once the cage was entirely submerged, he left it to swim further down towards the bottom of the bay. As Orsini dove, he only found open water. There were no fish swimming by to greet him. When he finally reached the bottom, he was horrified to find nothing but sand and rocks there. The whole area was devoid of life. There were no traces of the monster, but there were also no sharks, dolphins, turtles, octopi, sea cucumbers, starfish, sea anemones, clams, snails, kelp, crabs, seahorses, or jellyfish to be found. Even the reefs were gone. All of the natural wonders of the ocean had been wiped out. Dr. Orsini grasped a handful of sand and then let it slide through his fingers. Everything was gone. It was sobering to see just how extensive the damage was.
Here and there, pieces of the Red Bamboo warships had settled onto the bottom. Dr. Orsini moved on, swimming through the ridges of some rock formations that should have been teeming with life. As far as he could see in every direction, there was nothing to be found. No signs of life whatsoever. As Dr. Orsini came out of the ravine, a huge shadow suddenly loomed over him. There was a moment of fear. Perhaps the area wasn't so lifeless after all. He looked up and saw that it was one of the fleet's destroyers passing over head and blocking out the sun. His racing heart started to settle again.
After that, Dr. Orsini swam around for nearly an hour searching for anything he could find. He'd come up entirely empty so far. His oxygen was starting to run low and pretty soon he'd need to return to the cage and surface. However, just as he was about to leave, Dr. Orsini saw something move nearby his face. Something had passed very close by to him. Whatever it was, it was quite small. Orsini turned to see the lifeform moving towards a small rock formation nearby. He followed to get a better look at it.
Once Dr. Orsini reached the rocks, he saw a whole colony of the organisms. They were darting around the water very quickly. They were so small and fast, and there were so many of them, that he was having a hard time focusing on just one. Orsini looked around and saw that the whole area around the formation was still well-within the kill radius of the Oxygen Destroyer's payload. Dr. Orsini wondered where these lifeforms had come from. Perhaps they had simply migrated in from outside of the bay in the hours since the Oxygen Destroyer's deployment? It could be that the water currents had carried them in after the weapon had been fired. That would explain how they were there and alive when nothing else had survived.
The tiny creatures appeared to be some type of crustacean, but nothing like anything Dr. Orsini had ever come across in his travels as a marine biologist. Maybe they were an undiscovered tiny sub-species of shrimp? Dr. Orsini wanted to bring one back to study. A new species would be exciting. Maybe they'd even name it after him? Dr. Orsini reached out and tried to grab one of the creatures, but he was far too slow to catch one by hand. It easily slipped away from him. Orsini had not brought a net to make the job easier. He quickly recognized the futility of what he was doing and opted to give up.
Suddenly, Dr. Orsini felt a sharp pain in his right wrist, he turned to see a tear in his wetsuit. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that it wasn't actually a tear. There was simply a section of it missing. A whole patch gone. His skin was red and irritated where it had been. Had something bitten him and tore away the missing portion? Dr. Orsini looked around and didn't see anything big enough to be much of a threat to him. Just more of the little crustaceans, which seemed pretty harmless. Just the same, Dr. Orsini knew it was time to leave. The nearly lifeless reef, his low oxygen levels, and a mysterious bite by an unseen attacker were finally enough to convince him he was overdue to get back to the surface.
…
As the chains pulled Dr. Orsini back up, he found Marcus was still waiting for him, and he had been joined by Brock in the meantime. The cage was brought over onto the deck and then lowered. Dr. Orsini stepped out and found a stool to sit on. He pulled his goggles off and then set down his breather before sliding off his oxygen tanks. Dr. Orsini looked as white as a sheet. He didn't say a word to Brock or Marcus as he started to take off his flippers and wet suit.
"You ok Doc?" Marcus finally asked.
"It's worse than I imagined." Dr. Orsini began. "There's nothing left down there. The Oxygen Destroyer killed everything. Well… there's something, but I don't know what it is. I need to gather some more equipment and head back down there to collect some specimens."
"No-can-do doctor." The sailor operating the lift informed him. "The Admiral wants us under way as soon as possible. He was already barking at me to try to get you up sooner, but I told him there was no way to contact you while you were down there. Then he wanted me to send someone down after you, but I told him that wouldn't speed things up a whole lot. You were almost due back up anyhow, so I figured you'd be back before another diver could be suited up. Anyhow, I don't think Admiral Malek will let you go down again."
"Oh really? We'll just see about that…" Dr. Orsini said before heading over to a phone at the base of the carrier's island. He called up to the bridge to talk with Admiral Malek himself. The conversation was short, but anything but sweet. Dr. Orsini did not look pleased when it was over. "I can't believe it! He said it wasn't important enough to investigate any further at this stage! He's already got his eyes focused on the next Red Bamboo base!"
"Did you catch yourself on a rock Doc?" Marcus asked, noticing Dr. Orsini's wound.
"That looks more like a burn to me." Brock noted. "How the hell did you manage to burn yourself underwater?"
"Oh that...?" Dr. Orsini look down at his wrist. "I don't know. I didn't see it, but I think something bit me. It's not important. I'm going to tell you boys something though." He went on. "As close as you were to the Oxygen Destroyer when it went off, you're very, very lucky the device was detonated under the water.
"Why is that?" Brock asked curiously.
"I do not fully understand it, but from what I gathered in the notes, the Oxygen Destroyer literally does what the name implies." Dr. Orsini explained. "The weapon includes a capsule that contains what Dr. Serizawa described as 'Micro-Oxygen'. When this Micro-Oxygen chemical is introduced into water, it causes a violent reaction. You saw that much for yourselves. But what the weapon really does is split the oxygen molecules of its surroundings. The chemical reaction liquefies the oxygen, along with any animal or organic material around it. At first, its victims will begin to suffocate as the oxygen is eaten away around them. Then, as the process intensifies, oxygen is consumed from inside the afflicted subjects themselves. Ultimately, they will start to physically disintegrate. That's how that big battle-crab you saw disappeared into nothing. The chemical reaction ate up the entire thing alive. There wasn't a single trace of it left behind in the bay."
"What if they used this Oxygen Destroyer weapon on a city?" Marcus asked.
"Well, it would depend on the size and yield of the weapon." Dr. Orsini observed thoughtfully. "But let's say for the sake of argument, someone built an Oxygen Destroyer with roughly the same blast radius of a run-of-the-mill nuclear bomb and used it on an average sized city. I figure that the buildings made out of steel and concrete would be relatively unaffected, but it would virtually wipe out every single plant, animal, and person living in the immediate area. Basically, it would be just as deadly as a nuclear weapon, if not more-so, but without all of the physical damage and fallout. Much of the city's infrastructure would remain intact. If you wanted to clear out your enemy without creating a nuclear wasteland, that would be the way to do it. Sure, you'd have to reseed all of the trees, crops, grass, and other vegetation, but you wouldn't have to wait years for radiation levels to be low enough for the land to be livable again. I think the thing that scares me the most about the Oxygen Destroyer's potential is how willing governments would be to use such a weapon. Without the drawbacks of creating an uninhabitable irradiated wasteland, what's really stopping them? You'd have to rebuild wooden houses, but there would already be an industrial base to start with. There'd be a city's worth of vehicles and heavy equipment left sitting around, untouched, and just waiting to be repurposed. Resettlement could realistically begin within days under the right circumstances. Ironically, the real danger of this weapon is just how clean it is."
…
The Archimedes fleet did indeed get underway as Admiral Malek wished, leaving behind the decimated Red Bamboo base, and the even more devastated bay area. Marcus and Brock were once again summoned for a briefing to discuss the fleet's next target. It was getting to be a little too much of a habit by this point. They felt less like a defensive force and more like a war-fleet. Three major assaults in less than two weeks? These were wartime conditions. Akin to what Marcus and Brock had grown used to during the invasion of China.
"Gentlemen, there's at least one more Red Bamboo base out there somewhere, and they likely have fighters on site this time." Captain Hillard began. Admiral Malek was conspicuously absent from the briefing. "Let's assume for a moment that the cargo plane spotted fleeing our last engagement is heading for the same Red Bamboo base that launched the Migs which tried to defend their nuclear research site that Godzilla destroyed some weeks ago. Obviously, that base has to have a moderate to large airbase on it, which makes it a likely destination. If that is indeed correct, then we already have enough information to find it."
"This should be interesting…" Roger leaned in and murmured to Marcus.
"Unfortunately, the Sabre fighter we put on the cargo plane's trail had to turn back prematurely due to mechanical issues, so we could not pinpoint the exact location of the enemy base." Captain Hillard explained. "However, our fighter was able to pursue them long enough to establish the probable location of their base. If we examine the range of the cargo plane from the position of the naval base that it took off from..." He traced in a circle on the map using a precision compass with an attached pencil to illustrate the range of the aircraft. "…And then add the range of the Migs from the reactor base site…" He continued drawing in a second circle. "…Then we can narrow down all of the possible locations of the third and final Red Bamboo base. It has to be within the overlapping sections of these two circles." Hillard pointed it out for everyone to see. There was just a narrow sliver of overlap with a handful of islands within the boundaries. "As you can see, that leaves us with only three possibilities. Now, that may seem like two too many, but we can further narrow down the location by using the last known heading of the cargo plane." He drew in an arrow marking out the course until the line intersected with one of the islands. "And from here, we have our answer. It is Tongo Island."
"How do you know that is the last Red Bamboo base in the Pacific?" Brock asked skeptically.
"That's simple." Captain Hillard replied. "Aside from capturing scientific research notes from the Red Bamboo's naval base, we also found communication records between the three of them. There was the nuclear site, the naval base, and finally, our next target, the air base. The records we've obtained suggest that there are only the three. So, this is their last stronghold in the Pacific. Unfortunately, due to that very fact, this is probably going to be a tougher nut to crack. Most likely, they are already preparing for our assault. We won't be able to catch them flat-footed like last time."
"How do you plan to get around that, then?" Marcus asked.
"The first thing we'll need to do is neutralize their runways." Captain Hillard replied. "If we can crater those, then the Red Bamboo's air force will have to fight us with whatever assets they have in the sky from the outset of the battle. Their goal will be roughly the same as ours, limit or eliminate our capacity to launch aircraft. Thus, their first priority will be to neutralize our carriers. Whoever does this more effectively will win the battle. It's just as simple as that. Gun crews, that will be your opportunity to shine. Our fighters will shield the fleet the best they can, but even under the best of circumstances, there's likely to be lapses. So, you're the final line of defense. Aim well, shoot well."
"Sure, no pressure…" Joe shifted in his seat anxiously.
"Assuming things go well from the outset, the enemy will not be able to get anymore aircraft off the ground, and they won't be able to evacuate any high-ranking officers." Captain Hillard pressed on. "If we gain air superiority, then we can destroy ground targets at our leisure. They'll likely have a combat air patrol guarding the base; however, we should simply be able to overwhelm them with superior numbers. A significant amount of Red Bamboo fighters were lost fighting Godzilla at their nuclear facility. It's highly unlikely they've been able to replace those losses since then."
"So, they'll most likely be fighting us shorthanded?" Roger asked. "Good… I like that. I didn't want a fair fight. The boys and I would prefer a good old-fashioned turkey-shoot."
"I sincerely hope you get it." Captain Hillard smirked. "Admiral Malek has issued strict orders not to destroy any structures on the base that might be research buildings. Those are to be taken intact. If you're not sure, don't risk it. Therefore, there will be no naval bombardments with this assault. The initial operations will all be carried out by aircraft. Troops will not be landing until after air-superiority is achieved, however long that may take. That is all for now gentlemen. I will keep you updated as more information becomes available." Captain Hillard dismissed them.
…
Less than twenty-four hours later, Roger was leading the Essex's main strike force of Sabres towards the Red Bamboo's island-stronghold. Marcus was amongst the squadron, serving as Roger's wingman. Admiral Malek wanted every available plane committed to the initial stages of the fight. Airpower alone would decide the outcome of the fight. The squadron had closed to within twenty-five miles from the island, but the skies around it were strangely quiet. Not a single enemy fighter could be found.
"I don't like this Roger." Marcus radioed over to him. "Their radar has got to be picking us up by now. Where are their patrol fighters…? I'm not seeing any blips on my screen. There's no way we caught them this flat-footed."
"Yeah, even if they didn't have any C.A.P. up, which is pretty damned unlikely, they should have managed to scramble something to try to slow us down a bit." Roger agreed.
"Do you think it's some sort of trap?" Marcus asked.
"If it is, I can't even begin to understand how it's supposed to work." Roger replied. "We haven't picked up any radio traffic whatsoever. Let's play devil's advocate and assume the Red Bamboo somehow knew exactly when we'd arrive and had all of their combat aircraft waiting for us just outside of radar range. At this point, their men down on the base have not even attempted to contact their fighters and alert them to our presence. We're minutes away from their airfields. Even at top speed, there's no way their Migs can get back here to intercept us before we do extreme damage to their facilities. They have to know that their runways are one of our primary targets. If they're left entirely undefended, not only will they be unable to launch any aircraft, but they also won't be able to land any that are already up."
"Maybe they aren't concerned about that." Marcus proposed. "If their fighters are waiting out there somewhere over the ocean for our attack to begin, they could attack the fleet while we're too busy assaulting their base. They could do a lot of damage in return. Our base has to float on the water, theirs doesn't. They could risk damaging their planes landing in the grass. But if they were able to sink the Essex, our fighters would have nowhere to return to. The jeep carriers are too small for Sabres to take off and land on. We'd all have to ditch our planes in the water."
"If that's the case, hopefully our own C.A.P. and deck gunners can hold them off." Roger replied. "I don't think the Admiral will let us turn around at this point." He remarked.
The group of Essex fighters drew ever closer to the island. There was still no activity to speak of. They passed over the beach and then over the forested exterior. No AA fire was coming up at them from the trees, and no radio transmissions were being picked up.
"Even if they don't have a functional radar, they'd have to have seen us visually by now." Roger noted. "Why hasn't anyone set off any alarms? Why isn't there any radio broadcasts going out to alert their fighters to strike?"
"Do you think Captain Hillard was wrong about this island being the location of the Red Bamboo's airbase?" Marcus asked.
"I don't see how it could be at this point." Roger replied. "None of this is making any sense to me."
"Hey, do you see that?" Marcus asked. "Up ahead, there is a plume of smoke rising from the canopy of trees.
"I guess we'd better check it out." Roger answered. "This is Griffin Leader to Griffin Squadron. Hang back. Marcus and I are going to investigate this smoke. It could be an ambush. Keep an eye out for any trouble, and back us up if it arrives."
Marcus and Roger surged ahead to find the source of the smoke. They accelerated past the jungle and came upon what had once been the Red Bamboo's airbase. They found that nearly none of the buildings were left standing, but oddly, all of the runways were perfectly intact. The huge pillar of smoke which had brought them there, was billowing out of what had been the airfield's primary fuel storage area. It was burning furiously. The Red Bamboo's Migs appeared to all be there on the ground, but they'd been blown to pieces and scattered all over the base. Some of the planes had been burned recently, but the actual fires had burnt themselves out after consuming all of the jet fuel.
"Did a monster do this?" Roger asked confused.
"Maybe, but I don't see any obvious footprints." Marcus pointed out. "When Godzilla hit the Red Bamboo's nuclear plant, we found his trail. There's a lot of wide-open terrain down there and I don't see anything like that here. Perhaps it was a monster that could fly?"
"That's an interesting thought." Roger remarked. "Let's see if we can find any more of the base. Doesn't look like there's much left here. "Griffin Leader to Griffin Squadron, fan out and see what you can find. There's been fighting here already. The enemy's aircraft appear to have been neutralized. If you locate anything, report back to me immediately."
"I don't know about you, but it looks to me like the fight started here, but I doubt it ended here." Marcus noted.
…
Less than an hour later, the Sabres had thoroughly swept the island and found no opposition to speak of. The jets returned to the Essex. After that, helicopters were loaded up with marines to put boots on the ground to take a closer look at what had transpired on the island. Upon hearing what the jets found, Admiral Malek insisted on going personally. Marcus got the responsibility of taxing him around as usual. Malek wanted to return to the area around the airfield. They landed and got to work scouring the area for clues.
It didn't take them long to discover that the attack hadn't come from the sky as Marcus had suspected. Upon exploring the jungle just adjacent to the airfield, they found remnants of the island's ground defenses. In terms of strength, they were much the same as the previous islands' fortifications, only in this case, they had been completed. There were no obvious weak points to exploit. A fact that apparently did not matter to the attackers. Whoever or whatever had come for the Red Bamboo that day, they seemed to steamroll right through their defensive emplacements. There was a slew of dead Red Bamboo soldiers, but no casualties representing their attackers to be found. It was either very one-sided, or they'd simply carried off their dead.
It was hard to determine who, or what, had attacked the Red Bamboo. The areas around their positions demonstrated some very bizarre damage. Some of the trees had been cut clean through, showing some burning at the points of contact. They had not been blown apart though. There was no splintering in the wood. It was simply sliced through in one long and clean cut. Several of the Red Bamboo soldiers shared a similar fate. Some being cut in two at the torso, while others were missing limbs that had been severed. All of the wounds were straight and clean cuts. Other soldiers appeared to have taken hits by some type of powerful projectile that left big gaping holes in their torsos. Whatever had hit them didn't leave the typical types of exit wounds either. A rifle's bullet would leave a small hole in the point of entry and then explode out the other side. These holes, however, were the same dimensions on both sides, and every single one of the wounds were cauterized.
"What in the hell happened here…?" Marcus asked, surveying the area which was full of burn-out pill boxes and bodies. Brock came up with a squad of marines to report back to Admiral Malek from the beach.
"What do you have for me Corporal?" Malek asked.
"Best we can tell, the Red Bamboo were being attacked from pretty much every angle." Brock informed him. "By what… I couldn't even begin to tell you. Whoever attacked, they left no shell casings that we could find. No bodies either. We did find some very odd tracks though. Never seen anything like this. Every beach has hundreds of them. They were not made by boots; I can tell you that much. Casts are being made from them. That way we can get an idea of the depth and shape of the imprints. To me though, they kind of look like sharpened poles stabbing into the ground. I don't know, they're odd. The tracks are present here in the jungles too. They charged in from the beaches. Whatever was being supported on top of those appendages crushed every defense on this island without much trouble."
"What kind of weaponry do you suppose they were using?" Admiral Malek asked.
"Well, you've seen the blast damage for yourselves by now." Brock answered. "Since there are no shell cases, I'd say they were using some type of energy weapons, like super-heated beams. That would explain the types of wounds we've seen here. The burns, etc. Aside from the tracks and the burn damage, they left no traces. No bodies, no vehicle wreckage, no equipment losses. Whoever or whatever they were, this was a complete one-sided massacre. If the attackers took any losses whatsoever, it's not evident here."
"You don't think this was the work of a kaiju?" Marcus asked.
"It's possible, but I doubt it." Brock replied. "The imprints in the sand are not nearly deep enough to suggest something that heavy." He noted. "This was not one big something, it was a lot of little somethings. Perhaps thousands of them, and all in a large-scale coordinated attack. They came in all at once and methodically dissected the island's defenses one by one."
…
Moving out of the jungle, Admiral Malek and his entourage entered the grounds of the main airbase and started to look around. By that point, it was becoming clear that there were no Red Bamboo survivors on the island. The very last holdouts had been driven onto the airfield from the jungle. Marcus could see how the last couple of minutes of the battle had unfolded, Red Bamboo men retreating from place to place, and losing more men with each step they took.
The whole engagement seemed so lopsided that Marcus actually found it a little upsetting. The Red Bamboo were no angels, but it was so obvious that they didn't stand a fighting chance. He couldn't help but feel for them. The Red Bamboo soldiers had been trapped and slaughtered like rats. No hope of escape and no hope for victory. Just delaying the inevitable. The last of the Red Bamboo men took refuge in a heavy underground concrete bunker. Perhaps they thought they could hide there until the massacre was over, but they were wrong.
"This is it." Brock announced. "This is where they made their last stand." Everyone could see that the heavy metal doors had been forced open. They stepped inside and found absolute carnage within. The last remaining Red Bamboo soldiers had been cut to pieces.
"My God… these men were butchered." Marcus whispered. The eyes of one of the dead Red Bamboo soldiers was looking right at him. The dead man was staring up at Marcus, as if he was still looking for reprieve. These men were no friends of his, but they were still men, and they had died horribly. There was blood everywhere. Not a single spot on the floor was left unspoiled by the crimson horror. "I can't see this anymore." Marcus ducked back outside, getting out of sight.
"This feels pretty personal." Brock said, mostly unbothered by the slaughter. "The attackers didn't use any of their projectile weapons here. This was all done up close and personal. Malicious and brutal hand-to-hand combat."
"What makes you so certain?" Admiral Malek asked. "All over the island we're finding men cut to pieces, what makes these guys any different?"
"Alright, since you asked, this was done with some type of edged weapon." Brock bent down to point to a throat that had been cut. "See the jagged edges? I'm not a forensics expert, but I don't need to be to see what went on here. The other victims in the jungle may have been sliced and diced, but those cuts were clean, and in most cases, all the way through, and with strange burns. These wounds, on the other hand, are vicious and more typical of what I've seen before in close combat. These guys were hacked to death. It wasn't pretty. See here…?" Brock pointed to another slash into a torso. "No burns, and some of these injuries look to have been done post-mortem." Brock noted some missing ears and many redundant stab wounds on top of killing blows. A lot of unnecessary attention had been paid to the fallen soldiers. "Looks like they took some trophies to me." He noted. A head had been entirely removed and was missing from the scene. "I've seen that sort of thing done before in heavy combat. Still, all of this is needlessly savage."
"Seems to me like someone was awfully angry Corporal." Admiral Malek noted.
"Yeah, I've been thinking maybe these guys were trying to send a message." Brock observed. "And here's something else interesting sir." Brock pointed to a bloody boot impression left on the floor. "That wasn't left by any of the Red Bamboo soldiers. I'd say it was one of the killers who was lingering for a little too long and got sloppy."
"It looks like it was left by a man." Malek remarked. "So, this was not the work of monsters?"
"I wouldn't necessarily say that sir." Brock commented. "Monsters come in many forms after all. But it doesn't seem like a kaiju was involved in this case, no. I've never seen boot marks like these though. They don't look like military boots to me."
"What do they look like then…?" Malek asked.
"I don't know." Brock answered. "This is strange… These grooves in the front… you see the double lines around the outer edge, near the rim of the toes?"
"Sure, what of them?" Malek invited.
"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a layer of armor over the boots." Brock remarked. "You know, like knights used to wear."
"So perhaps the attackers were armored from head to toe?" Malek noted. "That could explain why the Red Bamboo's guns didn't do them much good, but then again, what kind of armor could repel modern bullets? There's a reason body armor went out of style about two-hundred years ago. Even rudimentary gunpower weapons could penetrate the best armor."
"This is a bit of a mystery then." Brock said. "This day is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I had expected."
…
The Archimedes fleet came in close to the island and laid anchor. They remained there to further investigate what happened. After a day of probing, there was very little evidence found to piece together who was behind the attack. The best lead was a fragment of strange metal found near a blast marker in the heaviest area of fighting. It appeared to have been blown off a piece of armor. There was blood on it, but a body wasn't anywhere to be found. The sample was taken for metallurgic analysis.
One of the few buildings on the airfield that was still left standing was a hanger for a prototype aircraft. The aircraft itself was untouched and the blueprints for it were still in the office inside a tidy untouched file folder. Whoever attacked the Red Bamboo base had no interest in the advanced aircraft, or the cutting-edge mechanics involved with the design. Admiral Malek, on the other hand, was more than happy to scoop them both up. No further information was found involving the Oxygen Destroyer, but the advanced aircraft design, and the prototype itself, were both an alright consolation prize.
As the Archimedes' forces were continuing to search the island, a series of interesting transmissions were intercepted by the Essex's radio operator. American listening posts were reporting distress calls from numerous military bases in mainland China. Some of the bases were known Red Bamboo facilities which they had intelligence on, while others were just regular Chinese military bases. That made things a little more interesting. The attacks occurred overnight and in the dark. Not much was seen, so the Chinese couldn't know for sure who was behind it. The information coming through was spotty, but apparently Chinese casualties were very heavy.
When Marcus heard the news, he was pretty concerned. Hitting legitimate Chinese targets could lead to a war. He hoped the Chinese Government wouldn't presume it was the Archimedes Organization behind the attacks, though considering how they'd just assaulted two of their bases, it would be the logical conclusion. Even Marcus himself wasn't so sure. The Archimedes Organization wasn't just their fleet. It was an entire branch of the U.S. military with a lot of moving parts, and with Malek in command, there was no telling what they might do. After two days had passed, there was nothing officially announced from the Chinese Government. Marcus decided to talk it over with Brock.
"Well, if you ask me, I'd say the Chinese really pissed someone off." Brock remarked. "I know you caught a glance at the bodies in the bunker. That wasn't a fight. That felt more like revenge. The whole attack feels like a large-scale reprisal."
"I think the Chinese have some idea who attacked them." Marcus noted. "They're not accusing us, and if I were them, we'd be suspect number one."
"Yeah, they've been oddly tight-lipped about the whole thing." Brock observed. "Almost like they're pretending it didn't happen."
"There has to be another organization out there." Marcus observed. "So many attacks in so many places all at once. And pulling them all off almost without a trace… Whoever they are, they're real good. Well-organized and well-coordinated." He paused while thinking. "Do you remember the Japanese depth-charges being sabotaged? They never figured out who was behind that either. And then the incident at the naval intelligence building where someone was trying to break in. That's also still unresolved…" Marcus' gut told him those things were all somehow connected. "Did you see the charts marking out the locations of the Chinese bases? Every one of those attacks were along the coast."
"What are you saying?" Brock asked.
"I'm not sure yet." Marcus answered. "It's just interesting is all."
"It's hardly surprising." Brock countered. "For anyone attacking from the outside, those are the easiest places to reach. Hit and run before the defenders can react. Simple military tactics."
Unexpectedly, Roger ran into the room.
"Hey, have you guys heard?!" He asked breathlessly. "Anguirus is attacking Japan again!"
…
Akira dove down in his Sabre, hammering away with both his rockets and cannons. His plane shook from all of the ordnance streaming out of it. He gave it everything he had. To Akira's disappointment, most of the ammunition bounced right off of Anguirus' armored hide. The few munitions that didn't bounce off simply exploded harmlessly against the monster's outer shell. Akira pulled up and circled around to watch. More and more firepower battered away at Anguirus from the jets following Akira's. No noticeable effect.
"Damn it!" Akira cursed. "We're not doing anything to him!"
The next wave of jets dove down and unloaded all of their rockets and bombs. Clusters of flashing orange explosions followed. None of which seem to slow down or even bother Anguirus one bit. Conventional weapons were once again proving to be pretty useless. Anguirus continued to march forward unabated, bulling his way through a five-story building and sending debris flying in the air. What remained of the structure after he passed through it was not able to support its own weight and collapsed into a heap. Satisfied with the damage he'd inflicted, Anguirus turned back to the ocean and slinked back beneath the waves.