Project Maigo(93)

No longer a frightened child, I open my eyes and face the monster, which is now equal parts my father, Alexander Tilly and Scylla. The thing roars and charges, but it never reaches me. It lurches to a stop, surprise filling its wide-set eyes.

The two of us look down together. My arms...they’re not human. Gray skin covers my biceps, growing thicker and darker near the ends of my arms, where my immense hands, and the claws at the ends of my fingers, are buried in my enemy’s gut. I stare at the wound, which would normally horrify me, and smile. Then I pull my arms in toward each other, severing the monster’s torso in two. As the two halves fall to the floor, the room disappears.

I’m outside again.

In the real world, lying on my back, staring at the sky.

But everything looks different. My vision is screwy, like I can see more of the world than ever before. I’m still in pain, but it’s numb somehow. I open my mouth, which feels sore and loose, and try to speak Endo’s name. All that comes out is a strange sounding, far too loud and deep grunt.

What is wrong with me?

My whole body feels strange. I lift my hand, wondering if I’ve been injured. But instead of my black-clad arm and human hand, I see a long mass of thick black skin covered in plates of armor. My hand is huge, like in the dream, ending at massive claws.

This is Scylla’s body. I’m controlling the monster.

Holy fucking shit! I’m a Kaiju!





48



This is, hands down, the strangest experience of my life. Even stranger than the time in college when Ricky Mazoli snuck ’shrooms onto my pizza, and I hallucinated that I was being eaten by a giant pepperoni with udders that sprayed rainbow milk.

It’s not my weird vision. I’m getting used to that, probably because it’s still being processed by Scylla’s brain. And it’s not my new body. It feels different, but I’ve still got two arms, two legs and a head. It makes sense, especially because I understand that this isn’t really me. I’m still on top of the White House, a mile and a half away.

It’s the scale.

When I sit up, I’m overcome by a feeling of being too high, like I’m leaning over the side of a building and am going to fall. The sense of vertigo becomes so strong that my stomach—Scylla’s stomach—heaves. I pitch to the side, open my massive mouth and Kaiju-vomit into the Reflecting Pool. Large chunks of whale meat, fish and—oh god—people spill out. I can taste the vile stew as it streams out a second time, this time propelled by disgust.

When there’s nothing left inside the monster, I fight to control my revulsion and get moving. I lean to the side, groaning like a foghorn with laryngitis. Standing is easier than I thought, but once I’m at my full 300-foot-tall height, looking at the world through these crazy eyes, I have to stop and focus.

Scylla must look hysterical to anyone watching. The Kaiju generally look and act like you’d expect giant monsters to. But now, Scylla is acting like Jon Hudson after spinning around in circles. I’ve got my big, nasty hands on my spiky knees. I’m pitched forward, catching my breath.

The city around me looks fake. Like a model. This must be what it felt like to be one of those Godzilla actors, all dressed up and surrounded by a model city, ready for destruction. Pretend it’s a model, I tell myself. You’re still just six feet tall. None of this is real.

This line of thinking helps, but it’s the high-pitched roar that really distracts me from the vertigo. I turn my heavy head toward the sound. Typhon still has Nemesis by the head. She doesn’t have long.

I try to shout out that I’m coming, but it’s just an awkward roar. I charge out of the Reflecting Pool toward the previous location of the Capitol Building. In some ways, I feel like I’m moving slowly, but in others, I’m moving very fast. It’s the size, I realize. When I swing my human arm, it feels very fast, but I’m only covering a few feet’s distance. With Scylla, each step carries me a hundred feet at a time. I might not be pounding out a few strides per second, like a sprinting human, but I’m actually moving a hell of a lot faster.

Karkinos is on the ground between me and Typhon. The monster is thrashing about, fighting against its own bulk, trying to get back to its feet. I tuck that observation away for later and leap over its thrashing tail, which is tipped by a scythe-like blade.

Still feeling Nemesis’s extreme brand of anger, I’m merciless when I reach Typhon. I slam my pointed fingers into the Kaiju’s side, plunging them deeply into him. He lets go of Nemesis, but doesn’t cry out or roar. Instead he turns his horrible, stoic head toward me. Toward Scylla. He’s clearly confused by Scylla’s attack, but his brows slowly furrow.