Victoria Frankenstein

It was hard to know when exactly you gained conscienceness exactly, or rather regained conscienceness; It was long before your body was complete, you remembered that much, but as you slowly began to shape up, more and more rotted pieces being sewn on, you began to feel more and more, gain more of a body to experience the world with.

Your creator, Victoria Frankenstein, was a nice lady. You had heard all about her problems as she paced around her lab, checking textbooks and running errands. You have come to love what she talked about, the way her brows furrowed and her tongue poked out when she sewed more of you together. She spoke of Philosophy and Psychology and Chemistry, but beyond those studies she talked about the boundaries of death. "If cockroaches can be controlled by electric impulses after death, why couldn't a human?!" She had spewed one night, likely buzzed on some harsh liquor, near the beginning of your conception. You were little more than a brain in a jar then... you couldn't remember your past life except for in fading glances. Victoria isn't like this anymore, she was once so full of life and happiness, but not now; Now she's mean, and bitter, and selfish. You're complete now, laying on a cold metal table, at least you think it's cold, your nerve endings aren't quite right. With a loud boom of thunder, lightning hits your body and you feel a pulse coming from your core.

Another pulse.

A twitch.

Your hand raises, your arm, your other hand, your other arm, your legs swing over the table and you rise.

"IT'S ALIVE!! IT'S ALIVEEE!!!" Victoria squeeled "They're gonna be so proud of me, they said I couldn't do it.." She muttered to herself as she walked off. It kinda hurt, deep in your being, you couldn't tell exactly why. But you were human... to a degree at least, with your pale, flaky skin and flesh that was bare to the bone in chunks, but not to her, you were little more than a petri dish with arms and legs. You were snapped out of your miserable thoughts by a tap on your shoulder, a slightly hunched woman wearing thick brass goggles with green-ish black lenses, a simple white button-up, and black Denim Overalls. "It's okay, Creature, Victoria is only absorbed in her studies, she'll come around. Come let's eat and talk." The woman spoke, in a very Peter Lorre way. She was Ygor, Victoria's Assistant, dedicated to helping with your life.