Monster Verse: Indominus Rex

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Pentagon, War Room

The Pentagon was deathly silent. Another emergency meeting.

Another crisis spiraling out of control.

One by one, the secure video feeds lit up, revealing top military officials, intelligence officers, and global defense leaders.

But there were fewer windows than last time.

Too many faces are missing. Some had resigned. Others were dead.

The most prominent among those present was the President of the United States himself, joining from the White House bunker.

His face was stony, unreadable, but everyone could feel the pressure building behind those eyes.

The Secretary of Defense glanced around, eyes hollow. No one dared to speak first.

Until finally, the silence cracked.

"Mr. President," the Secretary said grimly, "Generals… now that our Navy, Air Force, and ground units have all been neutralized, what are our options against the Dinosaur King?"

Miraluz.

That name had spread like wildfire across every news channel, across every continent.

But to the public, he had a different title now, one whispered with dread in every corner of the globe.

Death Wing.

No one knew who coined it first. But it stuck.

It fit.

A monster that soared on titanic wings, who had crushed fleets like toys and survived a megaton nuclear warhead.

A creature that stood tall amidst irradiated hellfire and roared back at the heavens.

They hadn't just lost a battle.

America had suffered its first complete military defeat since its founding.

"What we're dealing with is beyond anything we've seen," General Collins said, voice tight with fatigue and barely contained disbelief.

"Even a direct nuclear strike did nothing. I repeat, nothing. We're out of ideas."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the digital room.

A few heads dropped, as if they couldn't bear to face the truth.

And then, the President spoke.

"There's one last option."

All eyes snapped to him.

The Chief of Staff leaned forward.

"Sir… what are you referring to?"

The President's voice was calm. Too calm.

"As early as the 1950s, after the first Godzilla sightings, we began developing a failsafe, a weapon designed not to destroy a city, but to eliminate a species. One that would function even against Titan-class organisms. A weapon beyond the scope of nuclear war."

He paused. Then dropped the name:

"The Oxygen Destroyer."

The silence that followed was thick with confusion and dread.

"It sounds like science fiction," General Monroe muttered.

"It's not," the President said.

"The concept is real. The prototype… almost existed. It works by initiating a high-frequency electromagnetic reaction that destabilizes oxygen molecules in the target zone. Anything that breathes dies. Cells rupture. Blood boils. No recovery."

"So… it suffocates them?" someone asked, incredulous.

"It obliterates them on a molecular level," the President clarified.

"It doesn't just remove oxygen, it turns every living thing in its radius into nothing but base particles."

A quiet gasp.

"If that's true," the Secretary of Defense said slowly, "why wasn't it used before?"

The President looked grim.

"Because it was never finished. The technology needed to power and deploy it was beyond our reach. For decades, the project was shelved. But now, with APEX entering the picture, development has resumed. There's also the Cloverfield project."

That caught everyone's attention.

APEX, America's leading tech conglomerate.

The same company that had developed AI-based pandemic vaccines, exosuits, and autonomous military drones.

If anyone could revive a doomsday weapon, it was them.

"How soon until it's operational?" General Collins asked.

"Best case? Three years," the President admitted.

"Maybe two."

Murmurs erupted again.

Two years was a lifetime in this crisis.

Suddenly, another window popped up.

Monarch's emblem appeared before the feed stabilized.

A Japanese man in a black suit, flanked by analysts, leaned into the camera.

It was Dr. Ichiro Serizawa.

"Mr. President. Generals. We have new intel. Following the nuclear detonation on Isla Nublar, we've detected two significant seismic disturbances."

Everyone leaned in.

"Godzilla… and the male MUTO… have awakened."

"What?!"

"They're moving, fast," Serizawa continued.

"They're converging on Nublar Island. It's not random. We believe they were drawn by the residual radiation and by Miraluz."

Before the generals could process the shock, another urgent alert popped up on screen.

A separate operations officer's voice blared through the speakers.

"Las Vegas has gone dark. We have confirmed sighting of a massive creature. Larger than the male MUTO. Massive EMP pulses, entire city is offline."

The screen flashed with shaky drone footage: a hulking creature with glowing red lines pulsing through its carapace, stomping through the outskirts of the city.

A hellish screech followed, rattling speakers.

"The female MUTO," Serizawa confirmed, his voice grim.

"She's active. And she's responding to the male's signal. They're both heading to Nublar Island."

Now there were three.

Godzilla. The MUTOs. And Miraluz.

Godzilla, a known Alpha.

The MUTOs, confirmed Beta-class threats.

Miraluz?

No classification existed for him anymore. He wasn't yet Alpha.

He was something in between.