The streets were wet at dusk. The scant light cast by the streetlamps was no richer than the grease in a beggar's bowl, yet people still went out at night. Perhaps their hard work during the day left them only this time to have a drink and ease their fatigue. Or perhaps it was even simpler: the old drunk had just woken from another dream.
But the bar had no business today. Only the owner, who also served as bartender, leaned behind the counter, looking up at the hanging television while absentmindedly polishing a glass in his hands. The lovely etched glass gave off a piercing squeak, as though it were screaming.
At this hour, it should have been the peak of the evening rush. But things were different now.
Two years had passed, and the authorities had resumed their investigation of Skull Island. It was still that damned "Overlord" Organization, working together with Washington D.C.'s shit-eating politicians.
A few days earlier, at a press conference, a Black doctor dressed like a painter had said that Skull Island might contain a gateway to a Parallel World beneath its surface. People had almost instantly gone mad, and then all kinds of rumors and wild speculation spread out of control.
In the past, people had known very little. They only knew that the island had monsters—a giant ape taller than a mountain, and Giant Lizards far larger than any dinosaur.
The government's last investigation had suffered heavy losses. This time, with an operation on an even larger scale, no one had any confidence at all.
Were such monsters truly something humanity could fight?
There were far more monsters on Earth than that one ape. Perhaps even now, some ancient creature slept beneath everyone's feet, ready to kill every person in the city