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Project Maigo(27)

By:Jeremy Robinson


“Whoa,” Woodstock says, pulling us further back as Scrion is suddenly spinning through the air, spraying circles of blood. Nemesis has flung the smaller creature.

Scrion lands on the blackened shore, tumbling through a ruined neighborhood. When it comes to a stop and regains its footing, I expect it to do what any other creature in its situation would do: run like hell. And yeah, it runs, but in the wrong direction. After a long arcing sprint to build up speed, Scrion turns straight for Nemesis, charging the monster that’s nearly four times its size, the crazed look back in its eyes. When it reaches the shoreline, it leaps, soaring up and over the water.

Nemesis doesn’t react. She simply stands her ground, waiting.

The giants collide, but for Scrion, it’s like hitting a wall. The smaller Kaiju would have bounced off if it hadn’t bitten down hard on Nemesis’s chest, just missing one of those deadly orange membranes. The creature is fearless and savage, but clearly not very intelligent. It reminds me of a bully from second grade. Ricky Denali. Rick the dick. He was a runt, but made up for his stature through savagery. He terrorized kids twice his size, because of his in-your-face violent nature, his sharp tongue and the quickness with which he shifted between the two. That all changed when he decided to try the same tactic on Larry Studebaker, the new kid. Although Larry was a kind guy, he was also three times Ricky’s size, and he could take only so much abuse before he struck back. And when he did...man, one punch. A glancing blow. Didn’t take much.

One punch. C’mon...

When it happens, it’s not so much a punch as a bitch-slap. Reaching up one of her mammoth, clawed hands, Nemesis swipes down hard and knocks Scrion away. Scrion falls ungracefully, twitching madly, trying to turn itself over before landing. It fails miserably, landing on its side in fifty feet of water.

After thrashing about pitifully, Scrion rights itself. Still moving quickly, the monster breaks for the shore again, but makes it only two leaps. Nemesis takes a lunging step forward and thrusts out her clawed hand. Her index and middle fingers are the longest—the ring being small and the pinkie not much more than a spiked nub—and the claws extending from them are unnecessarily huge.

They’re also sharp.

Scrion falls flat as Nemesis’s middle claw pierces its hind leg, pinning it in place. But the monster isn’t done. Its madness compels it forward. Nemesis’s claw tears through the leg as the smaller monster pulls away. Brown blood gushes into the blackened earth.

And then Scrion’s free. For nearly two seconds. Then Nemesis is upon it again.

I almost feel bad for the pug-nosed Kaiju. Nemesis is clearly toying with it. Or perhaps testing it. Either way, it’s an unfair fight that could have ended the moment it began, which starts me thinking: Is this what she’ll do to me?

While pinning Scrion to the ground with her giant left hand, Nemesis catches hold of the wounded leg with her right, grips down tightly and yanks. Scrion’s head turns upward, eyes dazed, as the leg comes free, dangling tendrils of flesh and pouring muddy blood.

Then Nemesis lets go.

And damn, Scrion takes off running. It’s not quite as fast as before with its less coordinated, three-legged hop, but it’s still hauling ass. Not only that, it’s coming around again for another strike. For a moment, I’m impressed with the thing. It’s going to fight to the end. Then its arc becomes a circle. The dazed and wounded creature is playing ‘duck, duck, goose’ all by itself, sprinting around an imaginary ring.

Even Nemesis seems confused by this behavior. She stands still, watching. And then, as though she’s seen enough, she reaches down, catches Scrion by the protective plates of its back and lifts the pitiful thing into the air. Holding the smaller Kaiju aloft, she wraps her big hand around Scrion’s head and neck, and then squeezes. For a moment, there’s some resistance. Scrion is built similarly to Nemesis, and is no doubt powerful. But it’s no match for the original. Nemesis’s hand twitches and collapses inward, crushing Scrion’s head. A smear of brown and white fluid oozes out from between her fingers.

She relinquishes her grip, dropping Scrion’s body into the ocean. A wall of water rushes up and over the beaches, flooding the husks of empty homes.

And then—shit—she turns toward me.

And stares.

“Umm,” Woodstock says. He has us hovering a half mile away, which suddenly feels not nearly far enough. “So I’m officially starting to get freaked out by all the giant monsters looking at us the way Michael Jackson looked at kids.”

He’s right. Nemesis’s glare is decidedly unsettling. Unlike Scrion, who’s eyes—despite their focus on us—had beamed with mindless chaos, Nemesis’s eyes, which are brown and quite human looking, reveal something deeper.