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This is Staff Disaster Plan #24: Giant Monster Attack. Although at first glance most people would say this is simply an expanded variation of Plan #23 (Monster Attack), planning for a giant monster attack more closely resembles planning for severe weather, such as a tornado or hurricane. For the purposes of this plan, a giant monster is a monster that is too large to enter a building without destroying it in the process.

When a warning for a giant monster has been given (meaning a giant monster has been spotted in the vicinity), you should immediately:

  • Evacuate to the lowest level of the building. Giant monsters typically smash the upper levels of buildings, as they are typically closest (there are always exceptions). It will also improve your chances of fleeing if the building is destroyed. Floor wardens should do a quick sweep of their floor to check for stragglers, but do not spend too much time on this. Your safety is important as well.
  • Avoid all windows. If you are near a window, you are likely visible from the outside and may attract the monster’s attention. Even if the monster is blind or does not see by terrestrial methods, flying and broken glass remains a serious hazard. Some floor wardens have reported that occasionally a person will insist on watching from a window because “they’ve never seen a giant monster before.” There is nothing you can do for these people except ask them to write their name somewhere on their torso.
  • If you are outdoors when a giant monster is sighted, you should immediately go inside the nearest building. Failing that, hide under or inside the largest object you can find. If there is no cover nearby, drop to the ground and curl up into as tight a ball as you can, then do not move. Do not make any noise. Try and minimize your breathing. Even if you think you have been seen, hold still. Many giant monsters rely on movement to track their prey. Get up and run only if you have no other choice.

Other emergency situations may arise as the result of a giant monster attack. Please refer to the appropriate plan as needed:

#1 (fire)
#4 (chemical spill)
#4a (poison gas)
#5 (earthquake)
#8 (flooding)
#13 (radiation leak)
#15 (virus/disease)
#19 (zombies/undead)
#20 (lycanthropy outbreak)
#23 (monster attack)
#27 (alien invasion)


Louis de la Bruyere, the tonton macoute, did not fear Baron Samedi, loa of the graveyards, or Legba Grand Bois Chemin, guardian of the watery green-black passage that drowns this world in the next.

With a wooden box of blood, the truncated hand of Maman Marie – nails pulled to their purplish beds and skin dried to a raisin silk – the tonton macoute chewed and swallowed the baka’s will, voiced fire, spit bedevilment, spoke fortunes at the crossroads.

In Port-au-Prince the danced religion spun bodies out of firelight in the night cemetery, rung by eyes, expecting. The tonton macoute donned black and purple, Legba’s colors, a phallus on twine around his waist. He shook in the rolling rhythm of the drums.

the birth of the world and the birth of the sun are one
fire is the child of Legba dwelling in water
blood is the drink of the starving spirits

Louis could spin hexes inside out and backwards, twisting and cracking the back of misfortune. He could command the loup-garous that sucked the blood of infants and flew in loops in a sky, that saw the fire-children dance below in a gravegarden rimmed with stones, that saw him dance, the tonton macoute, to own and bend the invisible.

The baka snickered in spaces the firelight could not press.

I’ve done it! I’ve bloody done it!” he cried, leaping into the air, clapping his hands, beaming, the problem finally solved.

Oxford blinked again. It was easier this time. Liquid dripped into his open mouth. Repeat. Eventually, he could whisper. “Who?”

The two masked figures turned to look at each other, then back at Oxford.

The humans (?) were completely covered in tight-fitting blue garments, yet no physical details showed through. No nose, no chin, no breasts, nothing between the legs, nothing. The figures were not only sexless but speciesless.

“How? When?” Only single words could force themselves past his swollen lips. He felt restraints at ankles and wrists.

The two stepped back, then beat a hasty retreat.

“Wait!”

They were gone.

Perhaps he was imagining their haste. If they weren’t human their body language might be completely different, his inferences about them all wrong. He wiggled his toes. He knew one thing for sure. They’d healed the severed spinal cord that had sent him to cryo in the first place. They had some kind of plan for him.

He was fed by a smooth-featured robot (designed by aliens?) until he could feed himself from a bowl. Over the next few days his strength returned. When he was able to stand the bed lowered itself to a few inches above the floor and the restraints vanished. He explored his cell. The ceiling was hidden in darkness, as were the walls, but he was able to find those. He was in a square about 20 feet across. A weak source of illumination above the center, and a bed directly beneath the light, were the sum total of its features. Food and drink appeared at intervals, apparently materializing on the floor in plain dishes (which proved unbreakable). Somehow he was never looking when the food appeared, and it did not always appear in the same place, so, clearly, he was being observed. Wherever he eliminated waste, the spot was clean in moments, even the bed (he’d had no bedpan in those first days). The dishes disappeared unobserved, just as they had appeared, no matter how fixedly he stared. If he held them, they vanished when he slept. He saw, heard, and smelt no one and nothing save for himself and his meals. He cajoled, implored, sang, composed letters, ranted, declaimed, jabbered, howled.

A man can only take so much.

His fruitless attempts at communication escalated over a few weeks to self-mutilation.

“I win again. Want to go for best out of 3?”

“No. Let’s try a different specimen this time.”

End

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