Around Midnight

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

Norzagaray, Bulacan, just South of the Ipo Dam

He felt weak. Not the weakness of body, though he had been up a damn long time already, but of spirit. Combat always drained him, and as always it seemed he wasn't the only one it had that effect on. Two of the men from unit one were in the corner, being looked at by the medics, and it wasn't for physical injuries. Neither of them had been hit in any way during the combat. Hell, none of them had.

Ford picked his head up, looking around, before pulling the damp cloth he had been holding in the wash basin up to his face. The water felt good as it washed away the accumulation of paint and dirt he had built up there, one to reduce glare, one from the fires and tumbling in the forest. The smell of cordite was slowly receding from his senses.

The room was still dark, lit slightly by wan candles and an old lantern. They'd kept the whole place dark so they could keep their night vision without the goggles weighing on their heads and see the others filtering into the compound in ones and twos. It was a bit relaxing and Ford could almost forget the images of the roaring, hideously wounded, MUTO that flashed on the back of his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

Hideki was there, Ford could hear his voice, if he couldn't find him in the dark. The most affected, probably newest, members of the team were over in the darkest corner of the room and the psychologist was talking to them softly. Training for fighting giants, planning to combat things that you couldn't even touch the ankle of if you reached up as high as you could, was all well and good. Actually fighting them? That was hell.

Midas and the redhead, Ford couldn't remember the smaller man's name at the moment, were standing along the wall, talking softly to each other. You could tell the ones that had been at this the longest. The big sergeant was doing well, holding up his composure for the men, but Ford could pick out that he was feeling it. The redhead though? This was all old hat to him, he hadn't made a twitch out of place during the whole thing or the way back. Even had the occasional joke, though nobody was in a mood to laugh anymore.

The other Lieutenant, Brackman, was sitting in the corner, hat down, apparently getting some sleep, though he was doing it with his gun over his chest. Not safe to be sure, but Ford couldn't blame him. The MUTO, spilling whitish fluids and roaring from a broken mouth, would probably haunt his dreams for a while, if something worse didn't show up in the meantime.

The two medics, neither of which Ford had caught the names of, were keeping together, separating one man at a time and checking them over for wounds the soldiers probably wouldn't have realized they had until the night passed and with it the last of their adrenaline. There was always a quiet whispering coming over from their way, as they checked on this and that, then wrote down some notes and carried on.

Through a window to the East a bright blue light flared, as bright as the sun. It lasted for ten or twenty seconds, then it was gone again. The whole of the outdoors had caught its blue glow for the moment before the blaze faded away.

Ford's head was so muddled he really didn't manage to care. Two more men from team one had just made it back. The last of the diversion team. Of the ones that made it to the fighting, only the extermination team was left to go.

It was half an hour later before Koenig got a report over the radio from the Qod and the second team. They had the fires out at the battle site. It had been bright, but small and easily contained. The sparks that had started it had come from near misses to the power lines and the occasional brush against the towers. The high tension wires were still standing and no one had lost power.

At least there was some good news, nothing about the extermination team or the MUTO though.

Hideki made it back Ford's way and sat down beside him, "How are you doing?" the Japanese man asked as Ford sat there, looking into the now mostly empty wash basin.

"Cooldown." Ford pointed out, rubbing his face in his hands.

"In more ways than one eh…" Hideki started, then looked up and smiled wanly and added, "Well look who the cat dragged in."

No one had the energy left to manage even a hello for the two darkened forms in the side door. By the looks of it the fatigue was mutual. Ford really couldn't tell which of the two looked worse.

Zakaria limped into the door. He was bent over pretty far to support Hawkins' weight since the Chief didn't seem to be carrying himself very well. They both were scraped up pretty badly and Hawkins' left arm was hanging limp at his side. The two of them helped each other over to one of the nearest bare spots on the floor and let themselves down together with movements that suggested their pains had pains on top of them.

Ford and Hideki headed over as the medics swooped in on the pair of wounded. Separating Zakaria and Hawkins quickly each medic started going over their grocery list of injuries as Brody crouched down by them.

"How did it go?" the sailor asked.

Hawkins was trying to get a word in but the medic was too busy poking and prodding him so Zakaria, who seemed less hurt, started for them, "We hurt it, badly, got a few more good shots in." the guardian pointed out. Ford realized Hawkins had no charges left and only one mine on his left leg, while Zakaria's cannon was nowhere to be seen.

"Closed in when I was out of ammo and got some charges from Byran here." Zakaria continued, "We set some traps, got it down, barely missed the headshot with a limpet mine to kill it."

"So damn close." Hawkins mumbled, then grunted in pain as the medic worked on his limp left arm.

"We got separated. The other thing came back, don't know where it was hiding." Zakaria pointed out.

"Hit it hard." Hawkins confirmed, "We had split up, tried to confuse the MUTO. Something huge blew out of the forest, carried it across the river. They went East."

"Plowed everything in front of them." the Iranian continued, "Lost sight of them in the hills and forests. It was an unbelievable battle."

"Took Zakaria more than an hour to find me." the Chief added, trying to swat the pair of medics that were now crowding him, "I got blown back in the combat, was unconscious and it was dark."

"He was under some debris, more than twenty meters from where I'd last seen him." Zakaria admitted, "It took me forever to zero in on him, when I did we headed back here."

"Any idea about the MUTO?" Ford was rather more interested in the mission.

"None, but it was already hurt, against something three times its size." Zakaria said, and Hawkins nodded.

One of the medics, pulling out a blood taking kit, looked over at Hawkins and sheepishly said, "It's about that time anyway boss. We'd better check for contam levels."

Hawkins raised an eyebrow and looked at the medic then remarked, "Now? Haven't I lost enough blood tonight?"

The Chief looked over at Hideki who just shrugged. There was going to be no help from there. Resigned to it Hawkins gave the medic his working arm. The needle went in easily and they took a syringe of blood from him.

"Odd timing." Ford pointed out as the medics went back to bandaging Hawkins up.

"Ah, just some scheduled thing." the Chief brushed it off.

Some time earlier.

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Operations Room, just below Bunker #1

Unit Director Michael Stevens glowered at the monitors, his chin resting on his hands. He had a hard time believing what he was seeing, but the facts were right there in black and white. Sighing and cracking his neck he turned to look around the bleached white operations room. There were a number of conversations going on, people standing over the few that remained sitting and chatting about the readouts on the monitors. Stevens himself returned to the large drawing he'd been working on before, putting a few more details on it in pen.

Mr. Davis looked wearily at a paper tape readout in his hand, some old holdover of his from earlier days, and shook his head before turning to report, "All sensors implanted in experimental One-alpha are down sir. The creature isn't just dead, something apparently melted the sensors along with it."

"Confirm readouts before data disconnect." Stevens said.

"Temperature was passing 2200 Celsius on all monitors." Davis replied, sounding tired to the bone, "I'm surprised we even got numbers that high. It's far higher than the design tolerances."

"The MUTO's armor may have protected them." Stevens reasoned, then looked over to Restituto. The man looked scared to the core, something Stevens had never seen in him. The Director waved a hand at the mercenary and drew his attention.

"Sir?" Restituto said, looking at the monitors, "I hope you know my men can not defend against something like that."

"I'm less concerned about magical ghosts Mister Restituto, than I am about angry Americans at this point." Stevens replied, scratching a hand pensively, "I'd like you to call everyone you have in. Get them to sleep at the plant if you have to. We need every man in round the clock for the foreseeable future."

"Sensible, and understood sir." the mercenary replied, saluting, then turned to his subordinate lazing in the corner and got him up, "We'll get on it immediately."

"See that you do." Stevens said, his hand making a small twist of the pen and finally completing the project he'd been working on, the entire details of the G-Unit plan of attack before him on the paper, ready to exploit, "See that you do."

Dawn, 6:20 am, Monday February 15th, 2016

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

Norzagaray, Bulacan, just South of the Ipo Dam

The sound of plates and dishes being worked on was the first thing that woke Ford Brody up. The smell of strong coffee, tea and Mostafa's favorite breakfast bread was a close second. As he could figure it, sunrise was far, far to early to be waking, but Mostafa, unlike the rest of them, had gotten a full night's sleep.

With a creaking groan Ford pulled himself up off the collection of clothes scattered atop a half salvaged futon he'd somehow managed to land on in the kitchen when he'd passed out. Reaching a sitting position he looked up to see Mostafa racing around the stoves and sinks, getting things ready with the same zest the man used in just about everything. There was obviously too much food for two people on the plates, so it was likely Mostafa was getting breakfast ready for at least half the people in the house.

Ford did a double take when he realized the bomb maker was also finishing up a few parts of the bomb they were going to be working on later, during getting breakfast ready.

"You aren't going to get that mixed up are you?" the sailor asked the rapidly working Iranian.

"I don't know… what does Semtex taste like?" Mostafa asked back, though with a wink that made it obviously a joke before he switched gears, "Good morning! I hear you had some excitement last night."

"Yeah, that's one thing to call it." Ford said, scratching his chin, "Morning to you too."

"Ugh, anybody get the number on that truck?" Martins' redhead popped into the room, followed shortly afterwards by Martins, "I smell coffee, coffee, only one thing smells like coffee and that's coffee."

Mostafa gave the soldier a kind smile and handed him a piping cup of the dark brown liquid, then moved away from him like he wasn't quite sure the redhead was entirely sane. Martins all but collapsed onto one of the tall chairs around the countertop and stared into his cup like he was searching for the meaning of life, or at least double espresso.

"Hawkins and Zakaria are up already." Mostafa pointed out, handing Ford down a cup, "They look rather a mess, but neither wants to admit it. Oh, apparently the American intelligence men left a very large television in their room and everyone is excited about getting it installed down here."

"Do they even play sports in the Philippines?" Martins grumbled.

Mostafa shook his head and shrugged. He hadn't the foggiest either.

"Coffee." Zakaria, without preamble, said as he popped into the room.

"Oh you like this?" Mostafa asked, pouring another cup, "Seems bitter to me. I'd much rather my tea."

"I like my brain working." Zakaria set things straight, taking an overly large gulp and making a face, "Not much can be said for this taste though."

"French roast I think?" Mostafa remarked, looking at the label on the can.

"Ugh." Ford groaned after taking a sip, "Better not tell the French that."

"What are they going to do? Send Jean Reno after us?" Martins quipped, feeling a little better. The Iranians looked at each other in confusion before brushing the whole thing off as meaningless.

Ford stood up and straightened out his wrinkled clothing. He was far too used to sleeping in it, probably because of the last bad incident he'd been in. Deciding that he'd rather have cereal, since the cupboards were stocked pretty well with things he recognized, unlike whatever Mostafa was making, he grabbed a bowl and a box.

"Milk and spoons on the left." Mostafa said, as if it was for the tenth time today. Ford headed over.

Pouring himself a bowl the EOD got a good look at what was happening in the main room. A half-dozen people were jostling one of the largest flat screen televisions he'd ever seen into position on a comically small pedestal. Everyone seemed to be a different size though, especially with Midas being the only one large enough to get a good grip, and it was going rather badly. It seemed Hawkins was trying to direct, but since one of his arms wasn't moving as well as the other his hand signals weren't doing much good.

"Has anyone even checked if this place has cable or something?" a voice Ford didn't recognize by name, one of the Qod probably, asked.

"We have all the cables it was hooked up to." another man, one of the medics, replied, trying to slot giant TV A into tiny support B with little success.

"Yeah, thanks for that tripping hazard by the way." Koenig's dulcet British tones cut through the conversation, "Great start to a morning."

Ford put the likelihood of wires, probably a lot of them, mucking up the stairs, on his mental list of things to avoid for that day.

"No, no! That's not HDMI!"

"Does anyone even know what these wires are attached to?"

"Can we put this thing down yet?"

"Anyone who said a thin screen is lighter was full of it."

Ford peeked into the door when things finally went quiet and the TV slotted in with a serious clunk. The group had gotten the monster slotted into its miniscule base and had already plugged in the power. Someone was in the back plugging in cables and wires so the show would probably be started soon. Noting that there wasn't a single chair left in the common room Ford grabbed a folding one and pulled it around the corner before taking a seat.

With a crackle the huge screen came on… to the tail end of an episode of Pawn Stars of all things. Blinking Ford tipped his head and wondered where that came from. The channel switched quickly… to yoga. People were coming down the stairs now, and at least one was coming down faster than they had expected, with the sound of the TV. The channel surfing had just led them to an anime, not quite what they were looking for. Next they hit some commercials during something called Aksyon sa Umaga, which they surfed past.

"Maybe I should do it."

"Have fun, jackasses didn't take the TV, just the remote."

"Oh for the love of…"

CLICK!

Most of the people sitting on the floor stood. All eyes fixed on the television set, its enormous, high-definition, image showing a beautiful view of the jungle, which looked local, from above. Somewhere, not too far away, a helicopter was flying over a trail of ruin.

Ford looked at the surreal scene, glad that there weren't yet enough people standing to block his view of the huge screen. It reminded him of all the footage Elle had showed him from the MUTO incident. At least this time human-free woodland had caught the brunt of the mangling.

Someone was talking in Tagalog, explaining what they were showing to the viewers in voiceover. The captions in English, typical of a news program, helped Ford make sense of what he was seeing.

Deadly Battle in Norzagaray Wilds

The view switched to footage someone took from a distance the previous night. Head and body above the trees one could see the screaming and gyrating MUTO, lit by tracers and the nearby fire, as it was engaged. The footage was grainy and obviously zoomed, but the beast still looked terrifying, lit from below by flames and wreathed in explosions.

Stunning and Terrific Aftermath! Thirty Miles of Destruction!

The view switched back to the trail of wrecked forest then another cut to a ground camera brought the scene into the darkened space under the trees. Still large enough to dwarf the men standing around it, and covered with dripping ichors the MUTO's severed lower jaw was yet another terrifying sight. The police were clearing some locals away from the ripped clean mandible as hazmat suited men held Geiger counters towards it.

Bowl of Death!

Ford was confused by that headline for a moment before his eyes resolved the strange overhead view the program had switched to. By the yellows and the ocean he could tell it was probably a beach, but figuring out what was in the middle…

Ford almost dropped his spoon when he got it. He was one of the few people still sitting not to stand, and not for lack of wanting to.

Remains of Dead Beast!

Whatever could do that… whatever had done that… Ford didn't want to meet it.

It was the MUTO, what was left of it, burnt to a crisp. It sort of looked like a dead spider left out in the sun too long the way it was all curled up and cracked. Sometime, either after or during its destruction, the creature's legs had broken free and the whole thing looked like a giant compass in the sand… Just it wasn't sand anymore.

The bowl of heat formed glass the MUTO was laying in was four times its size. The arthropod horror was half buried in blackened glass and melted rock itself.

Midas and Hawkins shared a glance Ford couldn't quite read. Something close to concern maybe.

That was it. Ford finished off the last of his cereal and headed back into the kitchen. He had a lot of work to do.

A few minutes later

Above the corner of Quezon Avenue and West 4th street.

Crossing the pedestrian overpass.

"Got it, Economy Sized Semi Squeezed into a parking lot on West 4th street across from the McDonald's. How did you know to look near a McDonald's?"

Doctor Ishiro Serizawa let a wan smile cross his lips listening to the satellite imaging technician's voice coming over his smartphone. How did he know indeed? Really he simply had to know what his quarry needed, specifically high standing long-range broadcast towers, and who was among them, again specifically someone who had never avoided a McDonald's in his life, to figure out where they were.

With a glance over to the side Serizawa double checked that the huge, cement colored, semi was still in place, taking up some poor business's parking lot and probably making them unhappy but rich. Standing atop the pedestrian walkway gave him a good view. If an army traveled on its stomach they'd picked a great spot.

From a cursory examination the director could tell the truck itself, besides being huge, was set up with an extensive array of communications equipment. Serizawa was surprised to find, however, that the back roof of the truck looked to contain a massive set of heat sinks and air conditioning. It seemed a little excessive for a thin-walled truck and he had to wonder just how big of a computer system they had in there.

Heading down the staircase to the small fast food restaurant's parking lot Serizawa picked out the person he was looking for, ensconced in the front corner of the building behind the bay windows. He was surrounded by computer equipment as usual and paying for his space with an unhealthy amount of fast food. Some people never changed.

Pressing past some people coming through the door of the crowded shop Serizawa turned away from the cashiers and headed towards his target's corner. The man was around Serizawa's age or a little older, with similar salt and pepper black hair, though his was either European or American racially. His skin was a little more tanned than it had been in the past, but he, amazingly, hadn't given up on wearing white coats, even in public. At least the coat the man now wore wasn't a full floor length lab coat. Though he hadn't changed outwardly that much, Serizawa found it impressive that the person, who hadn't been technically proficient before, was now working on two tablets at once and using them to control three monitors over a pair of heavy-duty computer towers, both of which supported a bewildering array of flashing lights and connections to other, distant, systems.

Leaning forward the director glanced back and forth between monitors. The displays showed a mix of biological data, news reports, seismic readings and on the far corner, a number of cameras taking pictures of corridors in a facility the director was not familiar with. Pulling up his smart phone, Serizawa snapped a picture of what was on the man's computer screens and sent it back to headquarters. Images of the pint-sized MUTO wandering the clinically sterile hallways were, at the very least, something they'd be interested in. The director stifled a gasp when he realized how large the halls were, and that the MUTO was walking past many humans, by their dress lab techs and researchers, without incident.

As oblivious of the world outside his work as ever the man Serizawa was standing over leaned back and stretched, giving his all to a prolonged yawn with his eyes closed. The director just looked down and smiled, waiting for his target to finally see him. It only took a few seconds for the man, who looked like he'd been up all night, to open his eyes and find Serizawa staring him down. Rubbing his head Marion "Mar" Stevens, previously of Monarch, as of late the redoubtable G2, gave the director a bemused look, then a wide smile spread across his face and he waved back at an awkward angle.

"'Ey! Ishi-kun, 'ow's it 'anging?" Mar said, his words a little slurred. Serizawa choked back a chuckle. The man still couldn't put a h on the front of a word to save his life, "Pull up a chair… sure we got some around 'ere, it's only a fast food place."

Serizawa reached behind himself and pulled a chair around. He sat on it backwards so he could rest his arms on the back and possibly his chin on them. Somehow, even having been up for only an hour, he was already tired. Giving Mar his usual easy smile the director narrowed his eyes and raised his brows. It wouldn't be long before Mar got talking anyway.

G2 straightened himself out and turned his chair halfway around so he could keep an eye on the monitors and the son of his old boss at the same time. The way the director had sat, Mar remembered it fondly from showing the younger man the ropes and getting him up to speed on his father's business. Someone was expecting a story.

"Come on Ishi-kun. You know we don't work on the same team anymore." G2 scolded.

"Not, if I remember, for lack of trying to keep you with us." Serizawa replied, his smile genuine as he reminisced about just how much he'd been through with the man sitting before him.

"I know I know, 'ow I would 'ave loved to keep innocent all these years." Mar said with a nod, "But this ain't all science project any more Ishi. It's also a bit of a war."

With that Mar's hand went to one of the tablets and switched a screen between applications, from seismic analysis to video playback. Serizawa's brows furrowed. The sound was muted, if there had been any in the first place, but G2 had just brought up combat images, very close combat images, probably taken with gun cameras. Serizawa's heart almost broke, he had so wanted to avoid any more of this. Whoever was holding the gun, and by the time stamp, had been doing it last night, was in all but point-blank combat with a MUTO. Serizawa had heard preliminary reports of something happening to the Northeast the night before, but those were confused and fragmentary. This was nothing of the sort, G-Unit had fought a MUTO only hours previous.

It took a few moments for the scientist in him to kick in and start an analysis of what he was seeing, something else came to Serizawa's mind first and he asked it, "Was anyone hurt?"

"'Awkins dislocated 'is left arm, but it'll 'eal up soon enough." Mar answered, his lisp making it a little hard for him to sound as serious as he was being, "Few other boys got some scrapes and such, nothing bad."

"That's good." Serizawa said with a nod, then pointed to the screen, "But this kind of thing is another reason why we should be working together, not at odds."

"I don't see it that way." G2 said with a scowl, changing the screens back and taking anything too telling off as he realized what Serizawa would be seeing, "It's as bad as we thought it could be Ishi. People aren't taking this seriously enough and Monarch, bless its old 'eart, is just too behind the curve. I agree with the other guys from G. We've got to 'it and 'it 'ard now, early. Prioritize targets, conserve resources, learn and adapt with the sciences, not despite them. Too much is at stake to treat this like some kid's science project."

"I remember when it was some child's science project." Serizawa said, wistfully, "When did we lose ourselves? When did we forget what was at stake and start treating the world like it was ours?"

"'Eh, when did we stop?" Mar said, leaning back in his chair, "Remember the eighties? Plenty of research to do, lots of new technology. Practically no MUTO incidents. Those were the days."

"I remember it differently." Serizawa said, sighing, "Monarch was a ship with a wheel but no rudder. It drifted about and I hoped it would stay that way, because the alternative…" the director motioned to the screens again, "We've just seen the alternative."

"Yeah." Mar agreed, head down, "But the lack of a rudder, it left people wander into some dark places they never should 'ave been. Damn, but my brother's son is deep in it now."

Serizawa tilted his head, processing that. It was true that almost all of the Stevens' line that Mar belonged to had joined Monarch in one way or another, but the name was common in America.

"I was unaware that anyone from your family past yourself and Ralton had joined Monarch." Serizawa pointed out.

"Ah, Ral's kid Mickey snuck in on some administrative assistant thing." Marion said, waving a hand dismissively, "No one would expect a Stevens to be in Monarch as anything but a scientist I suppose. 'E was always an odd one. 'Ideki-kun says 'e got a touch of the devil in 'im. Lord knows where that came from. Never did like 'is mother that much though."

"He's changed." Serizawa said sadly, "He's not that old, yet his blond hair is nearly white. Something is dead in him. I thought I understood his goal, but now I feel I know nothing."

"I wonder what the people in the Darwinian Pool Room would think about this?" Mar remarked, not taking the whole thing too seriously and going back to one of the philosophical arguments he and Serizawa had always sparred with in the past.

"You knew then." Serizawa looked up and said with a nod.

Mar snarled at that, "I know that when Ral was killed it sent 'is wife off the deep end and she 'urled 'im out twice as deep." then went back to the inexplicably amicable daze he had been stubbornly holding onto all along, "Nothing to be done about it. Everybody alright down at your place."

Serizawa turned back toward the street and looked at Marion out of the corner of his eye. The devolution of his nephew into something that could release absolute destruction on the world without even blinking had obviously taken its toll on the scientist. While the director would eventually have to know about the exact processes of that devolution, trying to pry it out of his old employee would be useless and heartbreaking at the moment.

"So 'ow's the nutball family?" Mar continued, sipping something frothy and green from a paper cup, "Green apples and soda, would you believe it?"

Serizawa shrugged and turned to look fully out the window, "The Zamalek family is… themselves for lack of a better word."

"And that little chirpy that was following you around like a lost puppy those last couple years?" Mar said with a conspiratorial grin. Serizawa tilted his head and turned back to Marion with a look of confusion on his face. In the background Vivienne Graham snuck in the side door, saw the both of them talking, hid her face behind her clipboard, and snuck out.

"We lost Whelan in Janjira, a hundred more besides." Serizawa said, his head down. Marion just looked away, the expression on his face unreadable.

"When are you going to come around kid?" G2 remarked, packing up his tablets and locking down his other equipment, "It took my brother under twelve thousand tons of cement and words from the right group of people to 'elp me figure it. I know there are different situations, but sometimes with these things you've just gotta cut your losses and research the corpses."

"Like with Gojira?" Serizawa poked at G2.

"Nah, 'e's not that kind of situation." Mar said with a smile, then pointed over to the massive truck across the side street from them, "You need the lowdown on what's going on 'ere before things start up, and I don't know anybody better to give it but the guy in there. Just don't fret 'is jokes."

Serizawa wasn't in the mood to argue the point as he stood with his old colleague. Mar waved off to the restaurant manager before leading the director out and across the street.

"You won't impress me with a few pretty screens and readouts." Serizawa said, looking up at the huge, concrete colored trailer, "I've seen it all before, and this is better left to the professional military."

"And a fat lot of good they do 'andling it." Mar quipped, shaking his head and pulling down a staircase with rail on the side of the truck.

"If not for their consistent fear of Gojira and unwillingness to let him do what nature tells him," the director advised, "They would be the appropriate response to this type of situation."

"Our government thinks otherwise on that note Ishi-kun." Mar replied, heading up the stairs, "And as for Godzilla…"

"Godzilla is the least of our worries director." the slightly high-pitched but still imperious voice of G5 called down from on high, finishing Mar's sentence for him, "He's more of a last-ditch solution to our problems than the problem itself."

Serizawa looked up to find the tall, thin, G5 standing above the both of them in the recessed entrance to the truck. The man let G2 pass and with an easy smile reached out and shook Serizawa's hand.

"Marcus Piccolo, Colonel, US Marine Corps, retired, at your service." G5 introduced himself, "Nice to finally meet you Director Serizawa."

As G5 stepped aside to let Serizawa in the director noticed how recessed the door was in the side of the truck. He'd expected the outside of the truck to be storage for the computer systems and communication equipment the group would need. It wasn't. Raising an eyebrow Serizawa found himself looking edge on to about a half meter of tank armor. He thought back to his first view of the truck and things made far more sense. There would have been no need to heavily air condition a normal truck but as it was more of a heavy mobile bunker filled with computer equipment, cooling it would prove a major difficulty. Looking back the director wondered just what kind of engine they were using in the cab to propel something so massive. Even the suspension system…

"She's a beauty, isn't she, director?" G5 said with a wry smile, noticing Serizawa's confusion, "You don't need to be concerned with her weight though, she's much lighter than she looks. That's mostly impact absorber, we don't need very thick armor on her because of some special materials."

Serizawa nodded and stepped past into the trailer. He found the inside a rather familiar setup, similar to his building's Situation room and the combat command center on the Saratoga. The screens were showing mostly facility plans with a number of superimposed arrows here and there, and also images of men readying themselves for combat. A few dossiers showed on smaller monitors but the most prominent feature of the darkened chamber was a single ten foot wide, one foot tall red digital clock, one that was counting backwards.

12:19:42... 41... 40...

"What is that one counting down to?" Serizawa asked, afraid he already knew.

"Worst case scenario, based on appearance location, mostly oceanic route." Piccolo explained to start, then added, "That's when it all becomes academic and he gets here. Then God help us all."