‘In every city where a kaiju has made landfall, there’s a guy like him: the guy who shows up just after the kaiju has gone down, greases palms, makes sure the authorities look the other way long enough for people- the right people- to get to work… And the godfather of that industry was Hannibal Chau.’
Just over this side of the work site was the kaiju’s immense skull. Over the decade since it fell, as the radiation grew less intense and the XZ population more reckless, the locals had made the skull into a temple. Candles, thousands of them, burned in and around it, flickering on the faces of the pilgrims who processed in and out of it in some kind of ritual.
“You know, some believe the kaiju are sent from heaven,” Chau said. "They think the gods are displeased with our behavior.“