GTAG Chapter 13: Concessions
"What a perfect creature!"
In front of the containment tank, a man in a protective suit stared feverishly at the monster within.
The moment he learned that America was establishing a laboratory in Japan to study G-cells, he volunteered eagerly—just to witness the abomination before him.
But this was not a true experiment subject. It was a monster formed from a mass of Godzilla's blood, coagulated into a shape eerily similar to Godzilla himself.
Capturing it had come at a heavy cost.
In the end, only by injecting special coagulants had they subdued it. And even then, the creature lived. Stop the injections, and it would awaken again before long.
"I can only imagine… how much more awe-inspiring the real Godzilla must be."
Anyone who had studied Godzilla became obsessed, consumed by the need to know more.
But Godzilla had vanished back into the ocean. No one knew when—or if—he would surface again.
Most of humanity dreaded such a return. It would mean disaster.
But a small, dangerous few longed for it. They wished to witness the beast with their own eyes.
This secret lab housed not only the frozen mock-Godzilla but many other twisted organisms—lifeforms altered by G-cell transplants.
Some were animals. Many, horrifyingly, were once human.
Most died, unable to withstand the mutation. But enough survived to warrant continued study.
None, however, matched expectations.
They were failures.
Still, G-cells could replicate endlessly. No matter how many experiments they performed, they never ran out.
Yet the deeper their research went, the greater their fear grew.
For how could humanity ever hope to defeat Godzilla?
Inside one holding cell, a particularly twisted test subject hunched in the corner.
A two-meter tall humanoid, half its body consumed by black tumors.
The single uncovered eye was vacant—whether from madness or the corruption of G-cells was unclear.
Among dozens of wretched specimens, he was just another failure, ignored and overlooked.
That neglect was the only reason he survived this long. But his luck was ending.
Useless test subjects were repurposed—or discarded.
The lab was running out of space. The failed creatures would be transferred overseas, to serve as fodder in weapon trials against Godzilla.
Hiss—
As coagulant gas flooded the chamber, the mutant convulsed.
The tumors on his twisted half began to shift.
And then—eyes opened.
Dozens of them.
Every tumor peeled back lids to reveal milky, lifeless eyeballs.
Through the monitors, the scientists watched in fascination as the eyes twitched, pupils shrinking under the drug's effect. Proof that they were not just grotesque growths, but functional organs.
Soon the dose ended. Just enough to pacify the subject, not kill it.
The transfer went smoothly. The mutants were packed into containers, bound for another American facility across the sea.
But nothing about this shipment would be easy.
Godzilla evolved endlessly.
So too did G-cells.
These test subjects, warped by countless experiments, harbored changes unseen even by their captors.
The next day, international news carried a small, easily overlooked report.
A ship bound for America had exploded at sea. No survivors were found.
The cargo—mutants intended as weapons research subjects—had escaped.
Few paid attention. After all, the creatures were unstable. Left alone, they would surely die soon.
But some scientists feared otherwise.
They warned the escaped mutants might grow into monsters like Godzilla himself.
And in the endless ocean… how could they ever be found?
…
Godzilla, meanwhile, was restless.
Ever since returning from the world of Prometheus, he had searched tirelessly for new realms.
Each time, he burned through energy—only to come back empty-handed.
Was there some hidden method he had yet to grasp?
Between his searches, he wandered the oceans, leaving the undersea volcano that had been his home.
He was not a creature built for patience.
He had endured the silent deep for as long as he could, without distractions, without purpose.
No phones, no computers, no diversions.
Boredom gnawed at him.
His mind drifted back to the worlds of Prometheus and Alien vs. Predator.
Should he risk another journey?
He had already been to Prometheus' world. The other was too dangerous, even for him.
So, with a rumbling sigh, Godzilla pressed on in search of another world.
Meanwhile, he experimented with the power he had taken from Prometheus' Black Liquid.
The Alien body structure was ill-suited to him.
An exoskeleton granted immense defense—but created overheating problems.
The Xenomorph's whip-tail and inner jaws? Not worth the trade.
His tail was vital for channeling his atomic breath. To replace it with a melee weapon would be foolish.
And inner jaws would add nothing. If his atomic breath could not kill an enemy, teeth would not save him.
Worse, such modifications might interfere with his beam entirely.
No matter how strong another creature's traits might be, they had to bow before his ultimate weapon.
Unless something surpassed the atomic breath itself—it was not worth the concession.
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