Kaiju for Dummies

by Nicholas Knight

  There’s a note off to the side that’s counting down the remaining cooldown time on my Burst Mode. It’s many hours away before I can even consider using it. Damn. Against someone like Xenatlas that would be incredibly helpful. Here’s hoping the MOAB and US military have weakened him sufficiently that he can be driven off.

  Sure. And maybe he’s calmed down and become suddenly reasonable enough that he’s willing to just talk out our differences.

  I am so screwed. All of my options are bad ones and all of them lead to either giving into an addiction and killing people while getting my face pounded in, or watching people get killed knowing that I have the power to step in and save them. It’s shitty all the way around. The worst part is I don’t know whether I want to take the first option more because I genuinely hate the idea of knowing I have the power to make a difference and save people and not use it, or because I just want to feel that power again. To be Taisaur again.

  I look over Taisaur’s stats. The first part of that quest netted me a lot of experience. Apparently, the Game Master’s didn’t require me to kill or destroy to get it, just complete my task. How generous of them. I’m close to leveling up again. Damn. A little bit more and I would have. That would have been a big help.

  I’m stalling, I realize. It has nothing to do with not wanting to be Taisaur and everything to do with not wanting to fight Xenatlas. Xenatlas, or rather, Gene Lawson, is smart. He came up with his own code to write out our kaiju’s stats and level progressions. He was always the highest-level kaiju in our group, always did the most damage, always was the biggest.

  There was a guard back when I was in prison named Gary. Gary was huge. More than that though, he had a mind on him. He used it and won the respect of both the guards and the inmates. The idea of fighting Xenatlas is a lot like the idea of fighting Gary. It was just a bad idea all around. Strong people are scary. Smart people are scarier. Smart people who are also strong and know how to use that strength are terrifying.

  The realization makes me mad. I assign the points to the new summon ability, pausing before I hit accept and make the purchase permanent. Those points moved into position faster than the last time. Like Taisaur is more eager for me to make this purchase than the others.

  I glance at my Kaiju. I’ll be damned if his red eyes haven’t fixed to the little purchase area. He’s like a tiger ready to pounce with his long ears laid back. I’ve never seen the kaiju look so serious or so calm. He wants this. Wants to come to my world and become one with me the same way I want to become him again.

  It puts my stomach into knots. Am I making a mistake? Max is an asshole but he’s got a point about the Game Masters. I know that I can’t trust them and by extension their game. But what about Taisaur? He’s a part of the game. But somehow, I’ve always kept some kind of mental barrier between my kaiju and the Kaiju Wars Online game. It’s naïve, bordering on hypocritical.

  And yet, isn’t Taisaur a part of me? When he and I both confronted Dr. Warden in the game, there’d been a connection between us. Something invisible but tangible. He’d obeyed me, held back at my command and attacked when I gave in. Just what are the kaiju we players have made?

  The choice is now whether or not I trust Taisaur.

  I accept the expenditure and purchase the ability. Taisaur throws his head back and roars.

  Naïve or not, this kaiju is mine. There’s a connection between us. I can’t explain it. Maybe I’ve made a mistake. Maybe it’ll end up consuming me. I have to risk it. Not just because there are so many lives at stake or because I’d be wasting our only effective weapon against the aliens, but because I just have to. It’s an urge, an impulse, and giving in to it feels more right than just about anything else I’ve done in the last four days.

  I withdraw from KAIJU and select ATTACK, then I select EARTH.

  Your default spawn point is within one mile of your current location, the AI cheerfully says as the world goes grey, then white. You may select and set up to three spawn points at a given time. Would you like to set your current location as a permanent spawn point?

  As much as I want to tell the thing to shut up and let me go I’ve learned my lesson about ignoring the AI. “Can I change it to something else later?”

  You can, Mr. Moretti. Is it just me, or does the AI sound surprised that I asked it a question? Weird.

  “Then yeah, let’s set up a permanent spawn point nearby. Can’t hurt.” I don’t see how it can help either, but fortune favors the prepared right? Mom used to say that luck is just what happens when opportunity meets preparation. So, let’s bare our teeth and ambitions and be prepared.

  The white turns into a riot of color and then I’m standing in the strip. I’m in Vegas, right next to the Paris casino’s Eifel Tower. It’s disorienting, actually being this big in a city that I’ve already walked through. At looking down those sidewalks and remembering walking down them, having those escort service business cards thrust at me every few blocks.

  The sensation is helped by the alienness of the setting. From the ground Vegas doesn’t seem all that changed because everything that’s changed is above us. As Taisaur the changes are more eye-level. I’m looking at a network of red webbing connecting everything. I can even see something of a pattern to the webs, like they were spun together around the city with a deliberate purpose. What that purpose is I don’t want to think about, but I can’t help but remember that city where I harvested Plague Doctor’s egg and imagining Vegas overrun by the maggoty young.

  An overhead roar draws my attention and I look up to find a trio a pair of fighter jets and the black triangle shape of a Spirit bomber rushing past. No doubt they’ve seen me. I’m hard to miss at this size. I just hope they don’t try to bomb me. This close to Paris there’s no way the refugees inside would survive the results.

  Another roar follows and instant later. I look down the strip to find the New York casino collapsing in a rumble, the rollercoaster weaving in and out of it tumbling to the ground in fragmented parts as Xenatlas tears through it. The Statue of Liberty follows, knocked carelessly aside by an enormously clawed hand to topple to the ground.

  Damn, Gene must really hate New York City.

  He pushes through the cloud of rubble until he’s standing in the middle of the famous strip, staring Taisaur down.

  Aaron, he roars, green light spilling out from his mouth. That’s new.

  Gene, I reply with a snarl. That pulls him up short. That’s right motherfucker, I know your name now.

  His HP bar is down to somewhere around a third or a quarter. The MOAB clearly did a number on him. Here’s hoping it’s enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

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  Lusitania’s goal was simple. Get the hell out.

  Daddy had spirited her away. To where? She had no idea.

  As best she could tell, he’d buried them away in an underground bunker that probably didn’t officially exist. There were soldiers and men in suits everywhere and several men in lab coats. Considering this was Nevada she was halfway tempted to think it was Area 51, but she doubted it.

  Wherever they were it sucked and so did her situation. Isabella had been left back in Vegas. Which was under quarantine because everyone in the city was dying from a highly contagious illness. Not that anyone had bothered to tell her this. She’d had to learn by listening at doorways. She’d found that even though they’d tossed her in a bunkroom and told her to stay put, that if she acted like she belonged and didn’t give herself away by trying to access areas that required a code or ID card, she was more or less free to move around. Her presence was an afterthought.

  Once outside she could make her way to anywhere, get her hands on some kind of screened device, and she’d be back in the fight. There were a number of logistics to work out, but she couldn’t worry about those right now. That would just distract her from escaping. Once out she could actually do
some good. At the very least she could respond if Plague Doctor showed up again. They’d taken her phone, purse, and other personal belongings when she’d been arrested with the others and she hadn’t seen them since. Getting hold of an electronic device with a screen would be her first step once she got out.

  Of course, she had to find her way out first. She had to be careful in her exploring or else Daddy, or someone else, might find out. Then they might lock her up and she really would be no good to anyone. Unfortunately, she’d gone just about everywhere she thought she could safely get away with and there’d been no sign of an exit. The best she could figure was that the area Daddy and his associates had set up in was between her and the exit, meaning she’d have to sneak past them if she wanted to get free.

  Despite the spartan design of the halls and the general lack of attention everyone paid to her, there were security cameras. They’d eventually know she was here, especially if she did something stupid to catch their attention. She’d have to move quick if she wanted to escape. So, she moved with purpose, like she owned the place, and simply strode down the hallway as if she knew exactly where she was going, only coming up short at the sound of an angry voice.

  For a moment her heart leapt up into her throat. Then she realized that the voice wasn’t directed at her. A nearby door had been left open a crack and the argument behind it was spilling out into the hallway.

  “What the hell does it want this time?” demanded an angry voice.

  “We don’t know, sir,” another voice said. “Last time it was clearly targeting Warsaw Dynamics in Manhattan. We launched a full-scale investigation into Warsaw Dynamics following the attack and our discoveries have so far proved disturbing. If it weren’t for the Patriot Act, we never would have pulled the information we have from them and we’ve made a number of significant arrests.”

  Lusitania started forward again, only to be brought up short by the next voice. It belonged to Daddy. “Are you trying to tell me that this…monster…deliberately targeted this corporation to expose their corruption?”

  “I…it’s the only thing that makes sense,” the second voice replied nervously. “Money laundering, bribery, extortion, political—”

  “Yes, yes, they were bad,” Daddy said. “I don’t give a fuck about Warsaw Dynamics. I want to know what the hell this thing is doing in my home state.”

  “It’s too early to say for sure and there’s not a lot of data to draw upon,” the second voice replied. “But I think…if it repeats its behavior from Manhattan—"

  “Are you trying to tell me this alien is a fucking vigilante,” the first voice demanded.

  “Actually, our source indicates that this particular kaiju is terrestrial in origin,” the second voice said.

  “Your source,” Daddy said thoughtfully.

  Lusitania could almost hear the other man bristle. “I promised his confidentiality.”

  “That’s admirable,” the first voice said. “I don’t give a shit. You’ll produce your source.”

  “I will not—”

  “This is a matter of national security, Dr. Fletcher,” the first voice said. “Hell, it’s beyond that. This is a matter of global security if these attacks don’t stop. From what you’ve told us we are not only dealing with biological attacks on an unprecedented scale from an extraterrestrial party, we are dealing with a group of disconnected terrorists, each with their own agenda and the ability to drop a God damn weapon of mass destruction wherever they want in the world.”

  Silence followed that proclamation.

  “You will produce your source, or I will arrest you and get me a pet scientist who understands priorities, do you understand me, Dr. Fletcher?”

  “Speaking of priorities, Agent Solomon,” Daddy said, his voice stern but not aggressive. “Vegas. Much as I hate to admit it, if this…this individual controlling the monster has a grudge against vice or corruption…well, it’s called Sin City for a reason.”

  “We’ve already dropped a MOAB on the bastard,” Solomon said. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing we’ve dropped on these creatures has been.” Lusitania could almost hear him shaking his head.

  “You’re not authorizing another one while he’s in my city,” Daddy said. “And so help me if I hear the words nuclear solution again—”

  “I will do whatever I deem necessary, Senator.”

  “Those are my people in that city, Agent Solomon.” Daddy snapped off the name like he was cracking a whip. “You will not needlessly endanger or sacrifice them, especially when your airstrikes are ineffective.”

  Dr. Fletcher spoke up, voice shaky. Clearly Agent Solomon’s threat a moment ago had shaken him. “What doesn’t make sense to me is why go to Vegas now if he’s some kind of corporate vigilante. It doesn’t match up with what we understand of his MO. What’s happening in that city that would draw him there.”

  “I’m more concerned with breaking the quarantine,” Daddy said. “It’s hard enough quieting talks of a nuclear response without even more of whatever weaponized virus Plague Doctor left behind getting out.”

  “Could that be his plan?” the one called Agent Solomon asked. “Assist the alien attackers in spreading their biological weapon?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Dr. Fletcher said. “If his modus operandi holds, then he’s there specifically to destroy something or draw attention to something he considers wrong.”

  “This is fucking Vegas,” Daddy said, raising his voice. “Do you have any idea how long that list could be?”

  “Hold up,” Agent Solomon said. “Satellite’s picking up activity in the city. There’s another one. Another kaiju.” He said the word kaiju like it was a foreign swear word he was trying out. “It’s that black one that showed up in Dallas.”

  Aaron. Lusitania almost gasped. He was still in Vegas. And if he was there, then Isabella probably was as well. And that dickhead Xen-whatever, was heading for them. Escape quit being her goal. She remembered what that giant fucker was capable of.

  Out of the three players Aaron had befriended and brought to help them out, he was the biggest and the strongest. Just because her idiot step-cousin had gotten lucky against Titanocobra didn’t mean he’d stand a chance against a half-competent player. Especially since he hadn’t even been fucking playing. Aaron’s brain was made of shit and he thought it didn’t stink. The sanctimonious fuckwad.

  She needed a phone. Or a tablet. A television. Anything with a screen. The sooner she could get her hands on something the sooner she could get Halira to Vegas. She knew how Aaron would handle things. The dumbass would throw down like this was a wrestling match and draw everything out instead of ending things before the fight could really begin. He was a fighter, a scrapper, and an idiot.

  Those people in Vegas didn’t need a fighter. They needed a sniper who could take out the enemy before he killed them, not engage in a prolonged conflict. Quietly as she could manage, she hurried off down the hall in search of something she could use.

  Chapter Thirty

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  I didn’t kill Dane, I say, Taisaur’s roar carrying my words down the Las Vegas strip.

  Xenatlas roars back. Light flashes between his horns, giving me only seconds of warning. I don’t believe you.

  The attack incinerates everything in its path, setting the casinos to either side of the street that don’t immediately collapse on fire. With Taisaur’s speed and the obviousness of the attack, I’ve got plenty of time to leap out of the way. But if I do that, Paris will be destroyed and everyone inside it will die. Isabella will die. They won’t have anything left to bury of her or Dad.

  I throw myself in front of the casino and activate the Burning Aurora, leaning into the attack as it washes over me and bracing myself. Taisaur roars. We’re pushed backward. My tail thrashes and cuts the Eiffel Tower in half. The falling half of the tower never hits the ground, burned away to ash and
slag bits by the energy Taisaur’s body and the Burning Aurora don’t manage to block out.

  But the casino is safe and so are the people behind me.

  When the attack ends, I’m left with a clear line of destruction leading straight up to me and forking out to either side. Xenatlas lets out a roar of challenge and satisfaction. What’s he got to be satisfied about? I just stopped his attack and with his HP so low I’ve got a real shot at beating him.

  He lowers his head and makes ready to charge. Found you.

  Oh fuck.

  He wasn’t trying to hit me. He was trying to find out if I’d stashed my body somewhere nearby. I’d been looking at this fight all wrong. Gene’s goal isn’t to beat Taisaur into a bloody pulp. He wants to kill me. And with a kaiju that will be all too easy. With those two words my entire strategy shifts from playing offense to defense.

  Xenatlas charges.

  Dodging isn’t the problem. But if I dodge, Paris will be smashed and everyone, including myself will die. So, no dodging, and I can’t do anything that leaves him with a clear shot of the casino. I’ve got to close and trade blows with a kaiju several levels higher and many tons heavier built like a tank.

  I charge forward to meet him. The more distance I can put between him and Paris the better. Taisaur’s stripes glow and I activate the Burning Aurora. We collide and Taisaur goes airborne as his horns uppercut us and send us careening backwards. It’s his HP bar that drops though, the Burning Aurora having shielded me from the hit and punished him for it.

  I deactivate the aurora the moment I land—I can’t afford to burn through my rage or we’re all screwed—and whip Taisaur’s spiked tail around. The spikes glance off his glossy armor and there’s only the barest sliver of damage. I can barely even register the drop in his HP.