The doctor laughed lightly, shoving a metal rod through the stomach of his creation. The skin was starting to rot, resulting in a strange ease when it came to piercing something through it. "Y'know, you're gonna be the most powerful thing alive." He stated, furrowing his eyebrows as he studied the decaying creature. "Well, not really alive, I s'pose." He giggled while he ran a shaky hand through his hoary hair. He hadn't washed it in what seemed like weeks, though time had become a bit of a foreign concept, with which he didn't bother to associate himself. The only indication he had was the slight crack in the wall of the tower, hardly to be called a window, through which light streamed tranquilly during the day, and the dull rays of the moon beamed once the night had fallen.
The doctor's flaxen eyes fell on his creation's massive physique, from the green, pig-like face to the large belly, stuffed tightly with putrid organs and scrap. A lot of people would've called it a monster. In fact, they did. The words of those who disapproved of the amalgam of body parts, the doctor's proudest creation, still echoed through the hallways of the dilapidated castle. The same words that haunted his thoughts whenever they weren't consumed by the misshapen thing in front of him, and the same words that seemed painted across the walls of the dimly lit laboratory. Of course, he knew what was waiting the people who'd condemned his actions, and while the desire for vengeance seemed to be the only thing that kept him going through the long nights of surging electricity through the corpse, it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
"A heart!" He suddenly exclaimed, shaking his head at his own idiocy. "I must be braindead, you can't have a living being without a heart." He muttered to himself, starting to rummage through the bags of body parts in the corner of his room. He'd acquired them all by himself, dug them up from the graves of people nobody cared about anymore, in the hopes they could be brought back to life by his genius. In many ways, he found relations between himself and them; to the town, the doctor was virtually non-existing, if he were to pass away in the seclusion of his tower, he doubted anyone would notice. But not for long.
The occasional lighting would pierce through the otherwise-charcoal night, momentarily illuminating the laboratory. Rain pounded on the roof, relentlessly, as if trying to enter the room to get a peak at the monstrosity. However, the sudden bursts of forceful wind and occasional flickering of the candles on his desk were not enough to distract the doctor from the task at hand. He paused the frantic searching for the organ, and let his bloodshot eyes fall on the creation in front of him, lifeless and sickly-pale. "They don't think much of you, now." He told the monster, well aware that it couldn't hear. He shook his head, a smile forming on his dry lips. "But just you wait." He sighed, staring with amazement at the hideous thing. "Heh." He breathed. "And to think they'd call me mad." The doctor cast a swift look outside the window, at the sudden slight appearance of sunlight, signaling the beginning of a new day. "I'll have ya ready before high noon." He promised, unable to keep himself from chuckling at his approaching victory. "To think they'd call me mad." He repeated, finally pulling a human heart from the bag. It required quite the force to insert the thing into the chest of his creation, but the smile never faltered from his lips. "We'll prove them wrong, won't we?" The question was followed by a brief pause, as the doctor forgot that the thing couldn't reply. At least not yet. But it would, — he knew it would. "As soon as you're ready, I won't be alone." He managed to confess, feeling his stomach sink as the words moved past his lips. "I'll be someone. We both will." He inhaled sharply, pushing those thoughts to the back of his already-busy head. "Plus, we've got a lotta people to prove wrong." The smile returned, this time with a hint of misfortune, a sudden desire to cause the mayhem he'd been longing for for years. They'd be sorry for not believing in him. They'd be really, really sorry.
