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Kaiju World
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KAIJU WORLD
R.F. Blackstone
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2019 by R.F. Blackstone
This is for Mapi, still believing in me and pushing me to be better and better and for GDT for showing us all that Kaijus can be beautiful amazing monsters.
CHAPTER ONE
Bahía de Acapulco looks simply gorgeous from the beach in front of the Hotel Emporio. The Pacific Ocean is never so inviting or calm, unlike other beaches and coves, most in Mexico are almost perfect. The waves are almost non-existent, just occasional bumps. It's one of the reasons that Acapulco is so popular with tourists. No matter the season, the beaches of Acapulco are always busy.
And today is no exception.
Paragliders sail overhead as children run into and then back out of the cool refreshing water, parents sit in the shade of cabanas, sipping cervezas and tropical cocktails while others sunbathe or frolic in the water. Most ignore the large rock formation called Farallón Del Obispo that sits 200meters in front of Playa Condesa.
It has been there since before anyone can remember. The paragliders can see it clearly and there are many rumours and legends about what it once was and could be.
Only one interests Dutch.
He stands on the ocean's edge and uses high-powered binoculars to look out at the cove. The water laps at his ankles and he sinks into the wet sand, wriggling his large toes to get free.
"Looking good Dutch," a light voice whispers into his ear.
Dutch smiles and wiggles the earpiece. "Don't get used to it, next time you dress skimpily."
The voice laughs, "Are you being a sexist pig?"
"Always Roxie," he retorts, as his free hand pulls the board short wedgie out of his ass. "Any sign?"
"Don't change the subject cum-bucket," Roxie's voice sounds agitated which gets a large grin from Dutch.
"Too late," he says quickly cutting her off. "Any signs?" Through the earpiece he can hear faint mutterings. Oh good, he thinks, technical problems. "C'mon!" he says. Quickly he checks his waterproof watch, "The window is closing!"
"We know!" a lilting voice barks back. That's Lawrence, the team's resident tech-monkey. "Johann got the sonar wet."
"You take that back!" Johann's deep accented voice distorts the sound.
Dutch shakes his head. It's rare for him to grow tired of the constant bickering but this is one of the few exceptions. "Children," he says softly enough so that nobody will think he's crazy. "Focus. Do we have a sighting?"
Roxie speaks first, "Nothing yet boss. Sorry."
"Yeah," Lawrence chimes in. "Can't win them all, right?"
Right, Dutch thinks as he stares out at the water. He can feel it. The burn. Already his skin is sizzling and causally he wipes sweat from his face. Doesn't matter, he muses sullenly. That's the problem though, it does. It always matters because that is the job and whether they like it or not the team has to deliver. Which is easier said than done. It's been almost a month since they got the order and shipped out to Acapulco, and now all of them have to admit that by the second week they were tired and bored. This is their first hunt in Mexico and Dutch never wants to experience it again. There is only so much sun, sand and cool oceanic waters he can take.
Obviously there have been some perks; like seeing the ocean from a different continent or having proper tacos and not sushi. Dutch hates raw fish...well any fish really, which makes him laugh, considering his job...
The job; standard bag 'em and tag 'em operation but no two jobs have ever been the same since he was hired, Fuck! Bamboozled is more like it, he thinks. Since then, he and his team have travelled all over the world at least twenty times and so far, only eight subjects have been caught.
He sighs and thinks about the snows of Alaska. That's where he longs to be, back in the freezing cold. Not the fucking scorching sun. "Fuck the heat," he mutters.
"Amen!" Roxie replies.
"Fuck Gideon Pryke!"
Johann picks up the chorus, "Hallelujah!"
Dutch smiles broadly as he finishes, "And fuck the money!"
"Whoa, there," Lawrence's calm voice takes over the channel. "Now there is something to be said about the evils of capitalism and how it is used to corrupt a man's soul--"
"--Women have rights too!" Roxie butts in.
"Sexist," Lawrence says which is then quickly followed by a loud slap. "Why you have to go and punch me every time?"
"Only until you learn the lesson," her voice is steely.
As Lawrence continues one of his philosophical sermons that none of them cares about except for Lawrence and Johann who uses it as an excuse to make fun of the tech-monkey, Dutch takes a moment and looks out at the ocean. If I wasn't working, he ponders, this might actually be fun. That's the problem with the job, no free time. Even when they get to sleep they cannot relax properly since any detection needs to be investigated immediately. Maybe I could retire here, Dutch wonders as his eyes focus on the shipping container tanker anchored out in the ocean. The binoculars show the name as being the S.S. Venture and he guesses that it is waiting for the signal to come into dock but the man isn't sure how long it's been there for. He lowers them and his eyes linger on a buxom Latina frolicking in the waves.
"Boss," Johann's voice cuts the reverie short. "What's going on?"
The binoculars snap up to his face and Dutch begins scanning the area again, forcing his eyes to find the disturbance.
Nothing!
Lowering the binoculars, he swears to himself. A few children giggle at the new words they've learned. Dutch glares at them which makes them run away, feet kicking up the rapidly retreating water.
The water...
"Scan the lagoon. Ignore anything beyond the heads."
"Dutch, you got a feeling?" Roxie asks, her voice filled with excitement and anticipation. They all know that when Dutch gets a feeling, they best be ready for action.
"Boss always got a feeling," Lawrence laughs.
"Just get on with it," Dutch says softly as his eyes stare at clear blue-green water. It is being pulled out towards Farallón. Not low tide, he muses as he looks for a shadow. Around him he can hear the tourists and locals questioning what is going on. Dutch has the answer but there is no way he'll say it out loud. Sometimes even he can't believe his job.
A loud sucking noise causes the gathered people to scream in fright. The wind is being pulled towards the rock formation, as if a plug has been pulled. Dutch watches with a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes stay on the pile of rocks as it begins to shake and move.
"What the hell?"
"The reports didn't say anything about it being that!"
"Boss, what do we do?"
Dutch winces from the loud chatter blasting his ear. "Wait," is all he says. His team have been with him long enough to know better than to question him. Stepping onto the now drying sand, he keeps watching and waiting.
Far too small to be the target, he thinks as his mind calculates what category it is. Can't be anything larger than a kid, though he needs to be certain. "Scan and give me the category number."
Farallón moves!
At first it is slow and lumbering, just like an old man in a pool. As it tries to pull itself through the suction formed by the waves, a high pitched whining sound deafens everyone. Beneath the noise is a slightly low rumble that reminds Dutch of a thunderstorm. Slowly it begins to pick up speed and the motion smooths out. The remains of the fountain and stairway crack then collapse, crashing into the thing's wake. As it continues moving, the whining grows calmer and deeper, sounding more like a humpback whale's song.
"Category 2!" Roxie's voice is barely audible above the roaring of the waves and the alien whale's song.
"Lawrence!" Dutch shouts over the cac
ophony of sound. "Boost audio!"
A sudden blasting of feedback deafens him; his face scrunches up in a momentary reaction of pain, then, "Better?"
"Good. Roxie, what Category?"
"Category 2 boss," she sounds shaken which is odd, since finding her Roxie has been the perfect example of cool under fire. For her to be shaken is not good.
"Relax guys," Dutch says calmly. "We've dealt with Kids before. Remember Mozambique? Piece of cake."
"Dutch!" Roxie screams into his ear. "What happened to the tanker?"
The team leader blinks, trying to figure out what the hell the woman is talking about. "Repeat that, Roxie."
"Told you he wasn't paying attention," Johann smugly giggles.
"The shipping tanker. It's gone."
What? How'd I miss that? The binoculars smack him in the face and he feels a sliver of blood. He'll curse about it later. Peering through the glass he cannot see the tanker anymore, there is absolutely no sign of the large vessel except for splashes and waves from the displacement. "What happened?"
"No idea," Roxie says slowly. "We were so focused on the Kid that we lost track..."
"Motherfucker!" this is bad, really bad. Finally, they get their chance and instead of the big prize it looks like another bronze medal. Pryke's going to be pissed, Dutch thinks and he knows that he is right. Gideon Pryke, the man behind these expeditions is not one for disappointments, Dutch remembers the last time they came back empty handed. Nobody got their full wage. It sucked but the billionaire had made his point perfectly. It also reminds him of one of the man's favourite saying, "Go big or go home."
"Boss," Roxie interrupts his thoughts again, that's a bad habit he'll have to deal with later. "The Kid. Look."
The beach is empty, which is good. It means that catching the beastie will be easier. Dutch looks at the moving rock formation and his mouth drops open; the thing is bobbing up and down and the sound is now melodic, like it is singing, calling for something.
Or someone.
"We've got a spike on all of the scales," Lawrence speaks quickly. "The sonar shows a massive disturbance while the radar, radiation meters and the Tsuburaya Scale is measuring...Oh God."
"What?" Dutch needs the answer now. "What does the scale say?"
"At least an 85 on the Tsuburaya and the Serizawa reads it as being a 5."
That stops all the chattering instantly. Dutch isn't sure he heard the man correctly but he is also afraid that the man is correct. Taking a deep breath, he asks, "Say that again Lawrence?"
"Give me a moment--"
"We don't have a moment!" Roxie screams. "Serizawa says it's a Category 5. I repeat we've got a motherfucking cunt of a monster coming through."
"You positive?" Dutch needs to be more than one hundred percent sure of the reading. If it's correct then they'll have the biggest catch ever and Mister Pryke will be the happiest asshole on the face of the planet.
"Tsuburaya checks out, ceiling is at 90. I've never seen a reading like this before Boss. How can it be 90?"
Johann laughs, "Because you dumb sumbitch, it's a Category 5! We're rich bitches!"
"Shut it!" Dutch barks. He needs them to be focused if they're going to catch both. They have a plan; all everyone needs to do is follow it.
A water spout erupts into the sky; it is at least over fifty meters high. Dutch's eyes follow it up and he knows that...What the fuck is that? It sounds like the crashing of the waves mixed with cannon fire and lightning cracks. Looking around he can only find one place it could possibly be coming from; below the water spout! Dutch watches the water fall back into the ocean. He smiles at the thought of the hefty bonus coming to them all.
"What about the Kid?"
It takes a moment for Roxie's voice to register. "Huh?" Dutch blinks, "Use it as bait."
"No need," Johann says softly.
The tidal wave fast approaching tells him everything. The Category 5 can hear them. A bulge in the water speeds towards what used to be Farallón. The rock formation bounces happily, creating ripples that could be mistaken for large waves.
"It's literally a kid!" Dutch shouts.
"Fan-fucking-tastic," Roxie cheers. "Now, move ya ass!"
The shadow gets his attention. Slowly Dutch looks up and the smile disappears, replaced by awe and wonder.
It's the shipping tanker, soaring through the air spinning on its Y axis. He can just make out the claw scratches, deep gouges from the gigantic talons and the propellers still trying to grip the water and instead churning up nothing but air.
"What are those?"
Dutch knows what Lawrence is referring to. It's the crew or their bodies. They are whipped out and away, splashing into the water hard. He is more than positive each and every man is already dead. At least he hopes they are.
"Dutch."
The voice pushes him and the large man performs an awkward gait through the sand. He can feel the air rush and engulf him as the shadow of the falling tanker grows larger.
"Dutch!" Roxie screams as the ship slams into the sand. Its bulk crushes the wooden cabanas with the impact shoving the sand up and away, creating a crater.
Seconds later the shipping containers follow, raining down around the cracked oil and petrol leaking ship, hitting the sand and white hotels with the force of small meteors. Concrete, glass and furniture tumble to the sand. Some of the less fortunate tourists follow, scraping against the rough walls leaving trails of blood and bone.
From their stations Lawrence, Roxie and Johann stare in disbelief, they have seen destruction before but not on this level or magnitude. "Let's get to work," the woman orders.
CHAPTER TWO
She's running late again. It's the tenth time this week and Mako knows that Mister Pryke won't accept it for much longer. The problem is not her ability to be punctual. Not at all. What keeps her being constantly late is the layout of the facility. Pryke made it too big and it doesn't help that the man himself always gives her five minutes warning before a meeting.
Thankfully below the touristic areas; hotel, souvenir shops, cafeteria/restaurants and the information kiosk, nearly all of the corridors linking the different areas have maps and are clearly signposted. For Mako it is a blessing.
Rounding the corner, the young Japanese woman slides to a halt. As the soles of her shoes slip and skid, her butt hits the linoleum tiled floor and she feels the bruise already start to form.
"Ah! Miss Ikari!" the large booming voice of her boss, Gideon Pryke, echoes throughout the well-lit corridor. "Bully!" her boss extends a hand and trying not to feel too embarrassed, Mako Ikari takes it.
"Thank you," she mutters while putting herself into a semblance of order. Not even thirty years old yet she is already the top in her field, which always makes her laugh.
"What's so funny?" Pryke asks with that same conspiratorial look he always gets when trying to be in on the joke.
Brushing her multi-coloured hair back behind her ears, Mako says, "Just remembering what you said to get me to sign on."
His eyebrows rise inviting her to continue.
"'It's a brave new world'" she does a pretty decent impression of him though the only thing missing is the level of enthusiasm. "'And that means brave leaders.'"
"It's true!" he says beaming at her. His pale eyes twinkle and Pryke expertly loops his arm through hers. "Shall we my dear?"
Mako doesn't speak as the two begin towards the staff canteen. The food and menu are okay but cannot compare to the one in the main guest restaurant. She hasn't eaten there yet, but in the coming hour? A feast awaits!
"So," Pryke begins. "How are the lads?"
"They are neither male nor female," Mako answers, automatically going into work mode. "What we can tell is..." she frowns slightly. "What's so funny?"
Pryke is chuckling and holds up his hand, "My dear, it's an expression! I know they are asexual." His chuckle is infectious and Mako can't help but join in. "But, are they ready for our guests?" he asks.
P
ulling out a phablet the woman quickly checks reports and various messages from the different department she commands. Pryke shakes his head and gently pushes the device down, "A simple yes or no will do."
"Maybe," Mako says as they enter the staff canteen. It's busy with most of the administration staff having lunch; a mixture of hamburgers, salads, paninis, yoghurts, chicken tenders and various snacks, all free to the staff. They file past the tables and chairs with Pryke nodding politely at the various employees. The staff wears a mixture of business casual and uniforms while Gideon Pryke himself wears a safari inspired outfit; linen pants, white shirt and a brown leather vest. He carries a Panama hat and cuts quite a figure sliding into one of the booths.
"'Maybe?'" he rolls the word around his mouth like a piece of food. "What's wrong with them? Don't tell me it's a serious case of stage fright?"
Mako shakes her head, "Mister Pryke--"
"--Gideon, Mako."
She clears her throat, "Gideon, these aren't performing monkeys or a flea circus. We have no idea what they are or how they will react to being put on show."
Pryke stares at the menu, focused on what to order. "I think the hot dog will do today." He looks at the scientist, "And for you?"
Food is the last thing on Mako's mind; she can't eat, not until after opening day. Until then she'll keep burning the midnight oil.
"Juan! How is Yuri? Getting over her cold I hope," Pryke booms at the waiter who nods politely, clearly intimidated by the man. Pryke ignores it and continues, "Bully! So, I'll take a hot dog and a triple cheese panini for the talented Miss Ikari here." He has and never has had a problem with ordering for the entire table, as the waiter walks away, he casually checks his watch.
"Gideon," Mako speaks up after a few minutes of silence. "What do you expect to achieve with all of this?" She waves her hand at the room.
"Feed my staff," Pryke says earnestly then starts laughing at his own joke. Mako doesn't even crack a smile. "Oh lighten up Mako. You need to have fun, otherwise what's the point?"