Tim the Yeti
Nightbringer
Punished GNPARIS
EIGHT HOURS AFTER FIRST KAIJU ATTACK (K-HOUR +8)
“Well, that's certainly not something you see every day,” Sophie muttered to herself as she watched the now viral video of the famed Statue of Liberty stepping down from her pedestal. Of course, it was far from the only strange video that was setting the internet aflame. The huge creature that broke every window and stripped the shingles from every roof in Singapore simply by flying overhead. The 250-foot long snake currently spraying corrosive venom over downtown Kampala that the press was calling Sesota after an old Ugandan folk tale. Despite efforts by the Chilean government to suppress it, footage of the twisted and only vaguely humanoid creature known as Patagon stumbling around the Atacama Desert was also beginning to emerge. And there was unconfirmed rumors coming in from all over the world, including one in Norway that was looking more and more credible. All of these, she was beginning to realize, were the same creatures that had haunted her nightmares for the past few weeks.
She only half paid attention, though. She was focused more on what she could produce. Agence France-Presse was streaming live and continous coverage of The Accuser's progress northwards, as as she learned details it was becoming clear that her nightmares had predicted the creature's exact trajectory. And so she struggled to remember as much as she could of what was going to happen, frantically making phone calls and posting warnings on social media, hoping they would be seen and heeded, hoping that they would save even one life. Sophie felt powerless to do any more than that. She wished Monica was here, Monica would know what to do.
She glanced at the streaming coverage. The French military was on full alert, of course, and according to the sweating uniformed man being interviewed, they were preparing to evacuate and defend the city of Lille just in case L'Accusatuer stumbled into it by accident.
“It's going to Lille,” she muttered as she hunched over her laptop, typing more messages on Twitter, Facebook, WhatsApp, any platform that might reach someone in Lille. She had long been in the habit of talking to herself when stressed. “It won't be an accident. It knows damn well what it's doing.”
Sophie heard another sound byte from the coverage. The armies of neighboring countries were mobilizing as well, out of fear of the Accuser, including Switzerland and the Netherlands. “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “The Dutch and the Swiss don't need to worry! They stayed out of it. It will destroy France and Belgium, then start in on Germany, Italy, Austria, Russia, Turkey, Bulgaria, so many other European states. It will swim to the UK, then cross the ocean and go after the US and Canada, or maybe go the other way and go destroy Japan, Thailand, Australia. But it won't touch the Swiss or the Dutch or the Spanish!”
“And how exactly can you be sure, miss?” a quiet voice asked from the door of the bookshop. Sophie spun around to see two men in the doorway, brushing rain from their conservative suits. They were nondescript, everything from their clothes to their haircuts designed to blend in. They had the look of government agents.
“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in,” she said lamely.
“That's alright. How is it you know these things?”
Sophie shrugged. She had never been afraid of saying things others might find odd. “It came from the Somme. It has come to punish us for sending so many to die there a century ago. But it won't bother the people who didn't fight in the war. It has nothing against them.”
The man shot his partner a look, then turned back to Sophie. “Fascinating,” he said dryly. “The fact of the matter, Miss Desmoulins-”
“Mrs.”
“I'm sorry?”
“Mrs. I'm married,” she said, holding up her hand so he could see the ring.
“Ah. Is your husband at home?”
Sophie scowled at the man. “My wife is away in England.”
He briefly looked sheepish, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat before continuing. “Well, Mrs. Desmoulins, it has been brought to our attention that you have made a great number of predictions as to the movements of The Accuser. All of them have turned out to be completely accurate, even the ones posted beforehand or without publicly released information. We would like you to come somewhere safe with us. We think we might be able to use your help.”
Sophie gaped. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Gather up anything you might need, we have a car waiting outside.”
She shut her laptop without hesitation and slipped it into a bag, began searching her shelves for any occult books or reference materials she thought she might need. She had a second thought, though, and turned back to the men suspiciously. “I'll need to see some papers, ID, something.”
“Of course,” he agreed. The two men pulled out official looking documents, walked towards her with them outstretched.
“Who are you with?” she asked as she reached out for the documents. “The Armed Forces Ministry? DGSI? Civil Defense?”
“No,” the man replied. “We represent a group called TERRA.”
LILLE
K-HOUR +8
ALERT CONDITION: RED
France's fourth largest city was in chaos.
The evacuation was going with some semblance of order at first. The southern section of the city, most likely the first to be attacked, was emptied out first. Trains, buses, and trucks were loaded up with those who didn't have their own transport. Meanwhile, soldiers, firefighters, and volunteers went door to door trying to find the ill, elderly, or stubborn that had not evacuated. And at the Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille, one of the largest museums in France, a different evacuation took place as soldiers carefully loaded trucks with priceless works by Donatello, Rembrandt, Rodin, Goya, Monet, and other artists.
However, it was only as the Army began to set up their defensive positions that the reality seemed to take hold of the good people of Lille. Leclerc tanks and Caesar self-propelled howitzers set up a cordon on the A25 roadway on the southern side of the city. Meanwhile, in the city itself, infantry set up machine guns, mortars, and antitank rockets on rooftops. Sagaie armored vehicles loaded their cannons in the streets below as engineers carefully set explosives on large fuel tankers parked in strategic locations as booby traps. Tigre attack helicopters loaded ordinance and flew overhead in formation.
Some Lillois balked at the firepower, worried it would do more damage than L'Accusatuer, and stayed behind to protect their homes in spite of all warnings. For others, it became clear how serious their situation really was. Fights and violence broke out on evacuation routes, holding up the process. The opportunistic broke into homes and stores looking for valuables, while the desperate did the same looking for supplies. Police and soldiers clashed with them in the streets even as they were trying to prepare for the real battle.
By the time The Accuser's long, spindly legs carried it within the low buildings of empty southern Lille, there were still plenty of civilians trapped or unwilling to leave in Euralille, Hellemmes, Mons-en-Baroeul, and other northern neighborhoods.
The artillery along the A25 was the first to open fire, followed shortly afterwards by the deafening roar of tank fire and the hiss of HOT missiles. The soldiers were briefed to aim for the head and legs of the monster, hoping to knock down or disable it. Very few rounds were off target, and the radio net was briefly filled with excited chatter as pieces of mud and twisted metal were seen to fly off the Accuser's body with repeated impacts. It screamed, that sound of thousands of men yelling, in what they assumed to be pain. Confidence surged among the defenders of Lille.
It quickly waned, however, as the Accuser continued walking through the heavy bombardment without breaking pace. The divots and gouges that had been torn into the Accuser's head and legs were seen to close and reform, scabbing over with fresh dirt, wrecks of autombiles, and chunks of masonry.
In a few quick leaps, the slender but towering monster was soon standing only a few hundred meters from the A25, absorbing the steady stream of fire. The huge gaping mouth opened, showing the huge teeth made from long-forgotten tombstones and rusted hunks of metal. That horrible scream echoed over Lille, and a long rolling stream of thick yellow smoke erupted from its mouth, covering the tanks and artillery around it.
A good number of the tankers, to their credit, remembered their training and immediately began NBC protocols- the procedures designed to seal the vehicle against chemical warfare. Others, caught in the excitement of the moment, did not move quickly enough. They were the ones who went blind, who choked on the massive blisters rising on their skin and inside their lungs.
The guns fell silent as The Accuser contemptuously kicked aside several Leclerc tanks and other self-propelled guns, crushing the soldiers inside. Others nearby hastily threw their vehicles in reverse and cleared a path.
The Accuser walked into Lille, swinging its massive fists at buildings. However, it jerked as the fire from the tanks and artillery began anew, though somewhat lessened. The troops stationed within the city said quick prayers, checked their weapons, received their orders.
The Battle of Lille was far from over.
EIGHT HOURS AFTER FIRST KAIJU ATTACK (K-HOUR +8)
“Well, that's certainly not something you see every day,” Sophie muttered to herself as she watched the now viral video of the famed Statue of Liberty stepping down from her pedestal. Of course, it was far from the only strange video that was setting the internet aflame. The huge creature that broke every window and stripped the shingles from every roof in Singapore simply by flying overhead. The 250-foot long snake currently spraying corrosive venom over downtown Kampala that the press was calling Sesota after an old Ugandan folk tale. Despite efforts by the Chilean government to suppress it, footage of the twisted and only vaguely humanoid creature known as Patagon stumbling around the Atacama Desert was also beginning to emerge. And there was unconfirmed rumors coming in from all over the world, including one in Norway that was looking more and more credible. All of these, she was beginning to realize, were the same creatures that had haunted her nightmares for the past few weeks.
She only half paid attention, though. She was focused more on what she could produce. Agence France-Presse was streaming live and continous coverage of The Accuser's progress northwards, as as she learned details it was becoming clear that her nightmares had predicted the creature's exact trajectory. And so she struggled to remember as much as she could of what was going to happen, frantically making phone calls and posting warnings on social media, hoping they would be seen and heeded, hoping that they would save even one life. Sophie felt powerless to do any more than that. She wished Monica was here, Monica would know what to do.
She glanced at the streaming coverage. The French military was on full alert, of course, and according to the sweating uniformed man being interviewed, they were preparing to evacuate and defend the city of Lille just in case L'Accusatuer stumbled into it by accident.
“It's going to Lille,” she muttered as she hunched over her laptop, typing more messages on Twitter, Facebook, WhatsApp, any platform that might reach someone in Lille. She had long been in the habit of talking to herself when stressed. “It won't be an accident. It knows damn well what it's doing.”
Sophie heard another sound byte from the coverage. The armies of neighboring countries were mobilizing as well, out of fear of the Accuser, including Switzerland and the Netherlands. “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “The Dutch and the Swiss don't need to worry! They stayed out of it. It will destroy France and Belgium, then start in on Germany, Italy, Austria, Russia, Turkey, Bulgaria, so many other European states. It will swim to the UK, then cross the ocean and go after the US and Canada, or maybe go the other way and go destroy Japan, Thailand, Australia. But it won't touch the Swiss or the Dutch or the Spanish!”
“And how exactly can you be sure, miss?” a quiet voice asked from the door of the bookshop. Sophie spun around to see two men in the doorway, brushing rain from their conservative suits. They were nondescript, everything from their clothes to their haircuts designed to blend in. They had the look of government agents.
“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in,” she said lamely.
“That's alright. How is it you know these things?”
Sophie shrugged. She had never been afraid of saying things others might find odd. “It came from the Somme. It has come to punish us for sending so many to die there a century ago. But it won't bother the people who didn't fight in the war. It has nothing against them.”
The man shot his partner a look, then turned back to Sophie. “Fascinating,” he said dryly. “The fact of the matter, Miss Desmoulins-”
“Mrs.”
“I'm sorry?”
“Mrs. I'm married,” she said, holding up her hand so he could see the ring.
“Ah. Is your husband at home?”
Sophie scowled at the man. “My wife is away in England.”
He briefly looked sheepish, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat before continuing. “Well, Mrs. Desmoulins, it has been brought to our attention that you have made a great number of predictions as to the movements of The Accuser. All of them have turned out to be completely accurate, even the ones posted beforehand or without publicly released information. We would like you to come somewhere safe with us. We think we might be able to use your help.”
Sophie gaped. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Gather up anything you might need, we have a car waiting outside.”
She shut her laptop without hesitation and slipped it into a bag, began searching her shelves for any occult books or reference materials she thought she might need. She had a second thought, though, and turned back to the men suspiciously. “I'll need to see some papers, ID, something.”
“Of course,” he agreed. The two men pulled out official looking documents, walked towards her with them outstretched.
“Who are you with?” she asked as she reached out for the documents. “The Armed Forces Ministry? DGSI? Civil Defense?”
“No,” the man replied. “We represent a group called TERRA.”
LILLE
K-HOUR +8
ALERT CONDITION: RED
France's fourth largest city was in chaos.
The evacuation was going with some semblance of order at first. The southern section of the city, most likely the first to be attacked, was emptied out first. Trains, buses, and trucks were loaded up with those who didn't have their own transport. Meanwhile, soldiers, firefighters, and volunteers went door to door trying to find the ill, elderly, or stubborn that had not evacuated. And at the Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille, one of the largest museums in France, a different evacuation took place as soldiers carefully loaded trucks with priceless works by Donatello, Rembrandt, Rodin, Goya, Monet, and other artists.
However, it was only as the Army began to set up their defensive positions that the reality seemed to take hold of the good people of Lille. Leclerc tanks and Caesar self-propelled howitzers set up a cordon on the A25 roadway on the southern side of the city. Meanwhile, in the city itself, infantry set up machine guns, mortars, and antitank rockets on rooftops. Sagaie armored vehicles loaded their cannons in the streets below as engineers carefully set explosives on large fuel tankers parked in strategic locations as booby traps. Tigre attack helicopters loaded ordinance and flew overhead in formation.
Some Lillois balked at the firepower, worried it would do more damage than L'Accusatuer, and stayed behind to protect their homes in spite of all warnings. For others, it became clear how serious their situation really was. Fights and violence broke out on evacuation routes, holding up the process. The opportunistic broke into homes and stores looking for valuables, while the desperate did the same looking for supplies. Police and soldiers clashed with them in the streets even as they were trying to prepare for the real battle.
By the time The Accuser's long, spindly legs carried it within the low buildings of empty southern Lille, there were still plenty of civilians trapped or unwilling to leave in Euralille, Hellemmes, Mons-en-Baroeul, and other northern neighborhoods.
The artillery along the A25 was the first to open fire, followed shortly afterwards by the deafening roar of tank fire and the hiss of HOT missiles. The soldiers were briefed to aim for the head and legs of the monster, hoping to knock down or disable it. Very few rounds were off target, and the radio net was briefly filled with excited chatter as pieces of mud and twisted metal were seen to fly off the Accuser's body with repeated impacts. It screamed, that sound of thousands of men yelling, in what they assumed to be pain. Confidence surged among the defenders of Lille.
It quickly waned, however, as the Accuser continued walking through the heavy bombardment without breaking pace. The divots and gouges that had been torn into the Accuser's head and legs were seen to close and reform, scabbing over with fresh dirt, wrecks of autombiles, and chunks of masonry.
In a few quick leaps, the slender but towering monster was soon standing only a few hundred meters from the A25, absorbing the steady stream of fire. The huge gaping mouth opened, showing the huge teeth made from long-forgotten tombstones and rusted hunks of metal. That horrible scream echoed over Lille, and a long rolling stream of thick yellow smoke erupted from its mouth, covering the tanks and artillery around it.
A good number of the tankers, to their credit, remembered their training and immediately began NBC protocols- the procedures designed to seal the vehicle against chemical warfare. Others, caught in the excitement of the moment, did not move quickly enough. They were the ones who went blind, who choked on the massive blisters rising on their skin and inside their lungs.
The guns fell silent as The Accuser contemptuously kicked aside several Leclerc tanks and other self-propelled guns, crushing the soldiers inside. Others nearby hastily threw their vehicles in reverse and cleared a path.
The Accuser walked into Lille, swinging its massive fists at buildings. However, it jerked as the fire from the tanks and artillery began anew, though somewhat lessened. The troops stationed within the city said quick prayers, checked their weapons, received their orders.
The Battle of Lille was far from over.