GTAG Chapter 12: Strange Fish
The island nation.
Ever since Godzilla landed here and unleashed destruction, the country had fallen into despair.
Those who had the means scrambled to flee, while those who did not tried every desperate way to smuggle themselves out.
To them, staying meant nothing but rotting away until death.
Even the citizens themselves had lost faith in their homeland. The island was considered beyond hope.
This exodus worried many. Not just the island's leaders, who wanted to keep their people from leaving, but also other nations.
Of course, if skilled experts or wealthy individuals defected to them, foreign governments welcomed it.
But most of the refugees were ordinary people—and that made them far less desirable.
One superpower even demanded that the island issue a formal apology before talks could proceed, bringing up unresolved historical grudges.
In truth, however, nearly ninety percent of the fleeing islanders set their sights on the United States.
After all, wasn't America the "land of freedom and equality"?
And as the world's only superpower, it was seen as the safest refuge—even from Godzilla himself.
That was their belief, at least.
Whether reality would match those hopes was another matter.
Some friendly nations did indeed offer ships to carry them across the seas, but arriving on U.S. soil did not guarantee sanctuary. Deportation remained a looming threat.
After all, the island was in chaos but not at war, making returns far too easy.
Back home, however, Godzilla's disappearance did not diminish his cult—it only strengthened it.
Fueled by zealots, the so-called Godzilla Church spread rapidly across the island.
Now, its leaders even declared the nation a "land of divine visitation," claiming it rightfully belonged to their god.
A declaration like that was bound to stir the world.
Meanwhile, other great powers secretly poured resources into developing weapons against Godzilla.
Only the United States, with its stock of Godzilla's blood from its first evolution, had made significant progress. Other nations were still groping in the dark.
And then, something unexpected appeared on the black market—mutant fish.
Grotesque creatures carrying traces of Godzilla's biology.
At first, minor groups dismissed it as madness, but soon the truth was clear: these fish had been tainted by Godzilla's blood.
For the U.S., it was a nightmare.
They had gone to great lengths to prevent any of Godzilla's tissue or blood from leaking into foreign hands. They had even used carrier fleets to blockade the waters around the island during his first emergence, when blood spilled into the ocean as he transitioned from sea to land.
Fortunately, the amount had been limited, clumping together rather than spreading through the entire sea.
But now—how had these tainted fish slipped out?
The Americans launched frantic investigations, uncovering spies but no answers.
They were certain other nations were shielding the smugglers.
And to their fury, the sellers turned out to be the island nation's own leaders.
They were desperate.
Their capital lay in ruins from Godzilla's radioactive rampage. Even the remaining habitable areas were abandoned, citizens too afraid to stay.
International aid was woefully insufficient. With wealth fleeing overseas and riots tearing the streets apart, the government bled from every corner.
Money was needed, urgently and everywhere.
And what commanded the highest price on the global stage? Anything tied to Godzilla.
Originally, they had considered selling his blood directly. But that was too blatant.
So they chose a compromise: fish cultivated in Godzilla's blood.
The results were hideous.
Long, tumor-ridden flesh lumps masquerading as fish. Their scales were gone, replaced by pulsating growths. The uglier, the truer the proof of mutation.
And yet, on the black market, they sold for astronomical sums.
For the first time since Godzilla's rampage, the island's rulers smiled.
But that smile would not last.
Across the world, nations secured samples and began their own experiments.
In one underground facility, a team of white-coated researchers in protective suits studied a squirming, blood-red mass of tissue.
This was one of America's secret laboratories, hidden beneath the very city Godzilla had devastated—a place no one dared approach.
At the lowest level stood a massive containment tank.
Inside, the silhouette of a tall humanoid figure floated.
But it was no ordinary human.
It had a long tail.
And strange dorsal fins rising from its back.
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