Godzilla vs. The Zillas
The air inside was thick with smoke, owing to the fact that everything that was physically able to be set on fire was doing so. The weaker walls had crumbled, and the more durable ones could go any second. In several of the lower places of the floor, there were large, gaping holes that led all the way to the New York subway. Sparks shot out from any random place every so often for no apparent reason. Lights flickered on and off, giving it an even more eerie atmosphere than if it was just dark. And the ceiling… well, there was no ceiling. In short, the building was a wreck.
This was Madison Square Garden.
When GINO nested in the Garden, its instincts told him when that when he was almost done laying his clutch to lay one individual egg in a separate place than the main nest. He crawled back down the subway tunnel that he used to find his way into the Garden, crawled further down it, burrowed down a bit in the middle of it, and laid the second egg. Because the egg was separate from the others, it wouldn't hatch until they heard some sort of other noise or simply waited long enough, whereas all the eggs in the main nest would hatch at the same time, awakened by the sound of... well, each other.
Or at least, that's what was supposed to happen.
In actuality, when all of the other eggs were hatching, one egg stayed dormant. This is a phenomenon sometimes noticed in other egg-laying animals; while all of the eggs of, for example, a duck, are supposed to hatch together, on rare occasions for reasons scientists don't yet know, one of them may lag behind for as short as a minute to as long as six hours. And, in an even bigger coincidence, the egg survived the explosion caused by the F-15s' missiles when they were ordered to blow up the building.
And so the egg and the small abomination inside it slept as the other two hundred twenty-seven eggs in Madison Square Garden hatched. The snoozing creature in the second egg stayed in that condition as the Garden was demolished by the F-15 bomber planes. Neither egg was disturbed when their father was slaughtered at the Brooklyn Bridge, even as the millions of true Godzilla fans around the world cheered and about three or four people wept for the fraud's memory.
But though the eggs were meant to hatch after the main batch, they still had to hatch sometime.
Suddenly, the egg in the Garden began to rattle, rocking back and forth as the lifeform inside struggled for freedom. A large crack split along the egg's length. A hideous head then thrusted its way forth into the world, solidifying its existence with a high pitched roar that ripped through the air like someone scratching the strings of a contrabass. The head was shortly followed by the rest of the creature's bipedal, lizard-like body. As slime from the egg dripped from the infant's form, it deeply sniffed the air the same way a hound dog does when on the hunt. The baby's smell was incredibly keen, keen enough to notice that in contrast to the thick stuffiness of the air around it, the newborn could smell the coolness of the air outside the burning building. Even better, it caught a whiff of… could it be? ...yes, there was no mistaking the fragrance.
The creature strode forwards with alien-like purpose. It was an animal of instinct, never considering resisting those impulses. Its mind screamed one command, one word: