Project Maigo(18)

All of this is fresh in my thoughts as we close in on the...whatever this is. “Needs a name,” I say to myself, but Woodstock can hear me.

“We could call it Fucktard,” he offers, with a twitch of his mustache. He’s enjoying himself entirely too much.

I looked at the shelled monster, plowing through the city’s remains, still headed straight for us. “Scrion.”

“The hell is a Scrion?”

I’ve been brushing up on my ancient mythology, hoping to turn up more information about Nemesis’s origins. If we can understand where she came from, we might be able to figure out a way to stop her, or kill her. “Scrion was the son of Poseidon. A bandit.”

Woodstock glances at me. “You know it’s Sciron, not Scrion, right? You’re not the only one who’s been catching up on their Greek myths.”

I frown and wave him off. “Scrion sounds better. Who’s going to know?”

Woodstock shrugs, indifferent. “And this ugly prick reminds you of him, why?”

“He was eaten by a giant sea turtle.”

“Makes sense, I s’pose,” he says. “But I still prefer Fucktard.”

So do I, I think, but the codenames I come up with will be used by local law enforcement and the military. The powers that be, and the media, not to mention the vast number of people in the world without a sense of humor, wouldn’t appreciate it.

I lift my phone, which is actually more of a hand-held supercomputer that looks like a phone. We call it ‘Devine,’ which sounds like a transgender stripper, but is really just a cute way of saying DVIN (Digital Vanguard Intelligence Network). Granted, that’s the name of the network and not the phone itself, but we got a kick out of effeminately saying, “That’s just Devine,” when calls came in. It does everything modern smartphones are capable of, just a lot better, much faster and with a few bonus options the public will never see on their devices, like the ability to pilot a drone or paint an airstrike target.

I switch the communication app so everyone can hear me. “Attention all response units, target Kaiju designation is now Scrion. Images are incoming.”

Yeah, Kaiju. The word that came to define the giant monster genre that includes city-stompers like Godzilla and Gamera has become our official term for any creature that is...well, not natural, with the understanding that it be reserved for things capable of mass destruction. A snail with tentacles wouldn’t qualify—unless it was ten stories tall. Scrion? It’s a Kaiju for sure.

I aim the camera’s 75 megapixel camera through the front windshield and snap a photo, which is instantly sent to everyone with access to Devine. I switch the phone back to its private mode so not everyone can hear me talking to Woodstock. “Take us around. I want to get this thing from every angle.”

We bank left, low to the ground, the g-forces pushing me into the side window, allowing me to keep an eye on Scrion. It’s still moving forward, but tracking us with his round eyes and squished-up face. When its head can’t turn any further, the body follows.

My eyes widen.

It’s following us.

It is after me!

“Faster,” I say.

“Faster, why?” Woodstock asks and then banks the chopper the other way, intending to circumvent the monster. He understands when we level out and he’s still looking at Scrion head on, through the side window. “Shee-it. The son-of-a-bitch is chasin’ us!”

Betty’s front end dips forward as Woodstock pours on the speed, but Scrion is fast.

Very fast.

Its wild eyes look frenzied, like it’s lost in some kind of drug-induced craze. Its jaw drops open. This thing is no Nemesis, but it could still make a quick snack out of us.

“Hard left on my mark!” I shout. Woodstock could hear me through the headset if I whispered, but the volume of my voice does a good job of communicating my urgency. “Then head for the ceiling.”

I crane my head back, face squashed against the window. The monster leaps, shoving off the ground with its powerful hind legs. As it lifts into the air, I get a look at its armored underside, which is covered in dark gray plates, split horizontally by three stripes of bright orange membranes.

“Now!”

Betty cants hard to the left. I couldn’t pull myself away from the window if I tried, and given the proximity of Scrion’s closing jaws, I would really, really like to lean back. But then I’m seeing blue sky above. The sound of a thunderous impact reaches my ears. It’s followed by a jolt of turbulence. Scrion is back on the ground, no doubt once again giving chase.

A curse from Woodstock reaches my ears. I’m about to ask what the problem is, when I see for myself. The streets in the ruined part of town have all been cleared of debris. Only a few of them are open to the public, to ease traffic in other parts of town. Travel through the rest of the ruins is restricted, because the streets are rife with sink holes and every structure is ready to collapse. It’s not a safe place to be. And yet, the Kaiju fanatics and sightseers can’t seem to keep themselves away.