It was a tough and turbulent time. Driven to the edge of town by its unrelenting townsfolk, men and women who had gotten tired of the scientist’s multiple attempts to merge ponies and a substance he called ‘humour’ , as well as his other horrific experiments, and treading on the edge of insanity, the mad scientist Valence sought refuge in an abandoned house, after its inhabitants mysteriously disappeared, a house he slowly rigged with his multiple inventions. His only allies were fighting their own fights as well, one of them ,pitted against some fiend that Valence would only term as an ‘O-level’.
“It is time for the procedure,” he bellowed, as Igor, with his back hunched and his right eye bulging out of its socket, retreated into the shadow, as the lights in the laboratory had begun to flash and sparkle. The scientist was not a friendly one – for the villager’s disrespect towards him, they would pay, dearly, he decided. He decided that he had to seek revenge on them, yet he could not do it himself, and he needed help, even if it came from the grave. “Igor, fetch me the body of the Russian.”
A crack of thunder, as he started cackling, his laughter tinged with just a slight hint of insanity, as he pulled the corpse onto the table and started dissecting him, his smile maniacal as he plunged into the corpse again and again with his scalpel, cackling with every stab and incision, his coat stained with blood. “They will pay for their insolence, oh yes, they will.”
Not to say that the villager’s ousting of Valence was any bit of a surprise, since they had barely made it through World War II, a small rural village on the outskirts of Russia, then part of the world-wide communist bloc. It was during this period that bodies found in the village and placed in the morgue slowly began to disappear – little children, dead soldiers, dead communist Russian soldiers – and when they were found in his possession, the village began to turn on him, and drove him away. Fools, he thought. How could you stand in the way of progress – my progress? For that, you shall pay, he bellowed, as though the villagers were already grovelling at his feet. But their demise shall come soon enough.
The Russian was the first corpse he preserved in formaldehyde. It was the body of a rather large man, towering over most others, even Valence himself. His face, stiffened with rigor mortis, was exactly what you’d expect a battle-hardened warrior to look life: brave, and fierce. “His strength must have been tremendous,” Valence pondered. “All the better to smash faces with.”
Another streak of lightning lights the sky, as the incessant cacophony of rain became louder.
“A little metal here, a little metal there – ahh, this power supply surely isn’t enough. Let us hope that the rain and lightning will suffice, ehh?” Another squeal of laughter, echoing off the walls of the house. A gun in his right hand, a motor in his heart, a crude device resembling a telescope in his right eye, and most of his face replaced by metal , with metal implants placed about the Russian: Valence had desecrated the corpse, and created a monster.
As if on cue, the roof started opening, and as the rain started pouring in, drenching both Valence and the mutilated corpse, he hurriedly strapped the corpse to the table. Only now was it apparent that that wasn’t a table; but a platform. As he started cranking the lever, the room started to shiver and shake from all its machinery: the walls were lit, each bulb a different colour and intensity, gears started grinding, and the platform began to ascend into the ceiling.
A flash, and a thunderous sound could be heard, this time, even Valence averting his eyes. It was a sound none of the two men had heard before: it was something from beyond this world, as though the cry of a monster, straight from the maw of hell.
The lights went out. Then, silence in the room, as the rain continued pouring. The two men remained gravely silent.
A beep in the night. Constant, yet soft, like a heartbeat. The faint sound of something moving could be heard, yet this sound, something that sounded so innocent, brought on this indescribable feeling of dread. As the lights come back on, another minion for Valence awakens. Steam billows from the pipes in the room, as the same dreadful noises could be heard again, this time with greater intensity, as the silence of the room was quickly filled with the sounds of machinery and Valence’s own peals of laughter, with him laughing as though he had never laughed in years, his voice , changed as a result of the toil of years of horrific experiments and his own maniacal urge to seek revenge upon the villagers, those who had dealt him such a cruel fate. As the platform descended, wet from the rain, he smirked. ‘Revenge is mine’.
The machine-like beast of a man stood around 6 and a half feet tall, his veins, bulging of out his gargantuan body, his metallic parts shining and shaking, his look, cold and emotionless, his breath as fresh as a morgue, to say the least. It ripped off its shackles with ease, and stood on the platform, looking down onto the scientist, wet with rainwater and euphoria, a most potent combination. His remaining eye reddened, as though painted with all the colours of Valence’s bloodlust. Glancing about the room, the monster leapt off the platform, breaking a thin pipe off the world, and bending it into a crude scythe of sorts, swinging it around as though to admire his first innovation, and weapon. It was only at this time did Igor step out of the shadows.
“W..what shall we name him master?”
“I…I don’t know.” The half-mad scientist replied, his face contorted into a half-smile, as though unable to grasp the fact that he had just played god, or simply to observe the monstrous being he had created, thoughts of revenge running freely through his pseudo-woods.
“Could I mak..make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead, Igor.”
“What about CyborgCommunist?”
“…I …I like it. It’s clever. Subtle.”