Chapter Text
The metal plates on his hands were cold, sending a chill through his upper body and mixing with his buzzing excitement. This had to work. He hadn’t done all of this for nothing, right? The chill left his hands as he placed the plates on the corpse’s chest (He really hoped this would still work through clothes….)
He adjusted his goggles (for safety reasons, of course) and made sure he was back far enough before flipping the switch.
This had to work.
A blinding flash of blue illuminated the room, followed by another. He could feel his eyes light up at the sight of it. He could see its fingers twitching as the electricity zapped at its body.
“Yes- YES! IT- IT WORKED! IT’S FUCKING ALIVE!”
He would’ve added a manic laugh for dramatic effect, but the electrical smell was so pungent and dry that he could feel it scorching his throat. He flipped the switch off to make sure his….[CREATURE] had actually been brought to life and wasn’t just a familiar corpse. It looked…semi-alive, but still wasn’t movi-
His internal monologue was interrupted by aggressive gagging and retching. The [CREATURE] bolted upward from where it had been laying on the table, somehow ripping through the fabric bindings that had been holding its arms down. He was going to say something, introduce himself as its creator, but before he could, the [CREATURE] had thrown basically half of its body over the side of the examination table and was heavily vomiting.
Maybe he should have checked the papers for the man's last meal before he took that stomach….
“You uh……you ok-”
He was interrupted with another groan before the [CREATURE] turned to him in confusion. It actually didn’t look that bad for someone who was sewn together from the skin of multiple dead people and was just brought to life before throwing up half of its body weight.
“I…perhaps I should introduce myself.”
He took a few steps forward.
“I am your creator. I spent months sewing you together in the perfect com-”
Another aggressive coughing and gagging fit from it.
“..I…ok I would prefer not to be uninterr- fine I give up. Just call me Protag.”
It looked back and tilted its head.
“..protag?”
“Yes, um…”
Shit. He forgot he had to give this thing a name…
Now that he thought about it, it was definitely disrespectful to call him a “thing” and refer to him using “it” as a pronoun.
Just- just pick a fucking name, Protag.
“Yes, Coworker.”
Really? Ok that name kinda sucked but- It…it would work.
He looked at Protag with a look of slight suspicion that faded into something of agreement (alright, maybe the name wasn’t so bad) before trying to stand up on his own, which was a horrible idea since Protag had to rush over to support him and get him over to a trash can in time before his labcoat could be soaked with vomit.
“Just…let it out, I guess-”
That was what people said, right? He attempted to pat him on the back, but the height difference between them made it hard. He hoped that would pass as comfort though. He wasn’t completely sure how long he stood there supporting Coworker, but it had taken a while until he stopped vomiting for 5 seconds.
“You all good now?”
He nodded, but it was clearly weak. He wasn’t doing well at all, was he?
“Ok…”
So…what did he do now? Coworker seemed to be in pretty bad shape, so maybe it was a good thing to let him get some rest? Yea- that’s what happened when you got sick, so it might work for him as well.
He started moving forward and up the stairs leading out of his lab, Coworker still leaning against him for support, and moved down the hallway (he didn’t know if it could really be called a hallway since the cabin was so small….)
Protag finally managed to half-carry him to his own bedroom (which happened to be the only one he had) and positioned him sitting on the bed with a small trash can at his side.
“Just stay in here and rest for a bit, ok? I’ll be down the hall if you need anything, so call for me.”
He nodded in understanding and Protag reluctantly closed the door. He hoped Coworker would be ok. Maybe he could just…check in again in a couple minutes to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep, right? Yea, that would be fine.
He slowly made his way into the makeshift living room and sat down on the couch with a book on bodily anatomy. He just hoped this would pass the time and keep his mind off of…something (or someone) for a while.
_____________
It wasn’t helping. His thoughts were swirling with the worst possible outcomes and he could do nothing to stop it. He could be dead. Still dying, even. Something could’ve gone wrong in every fucking way.
He abruptly stood up. He couldn’t do this anymore. Protag made his way back down the hallway. It had been long enough anyway, he had to go check.
Just in case.
He slowly creaked open the door in front of him. Not enough to let any light in, but enough to see inside.
He wasn’t dead (though Protag was fully convinced he was for 10 seconds.)
He was fine, just curled up on the corner of the mattress. Though he couldn’t actually see Coworker’s face, the rise and fall of his body was enough for him to be sure.
He’d been panicking over nothing. It was fine.
Protag clicked the door closed again and went back, flopping back down on the couch where he was before. There wasn’t much else to do besides lay there, but he supposed that was fine. It was late and he was a little tired anyways. He wrapped the blanket around himself and turned to face the empty fireplace after placing his glasses on the side table. The flame from the candle on the table danced in front of his blurred eyes.
And then it hit him.
He’d finally done it.
This project he’d been working on for years, it was finally finished. Years of blood samples and carrying corpses through the woods. Years of going into town with a cloak draped over his shoulders and face, hiding his identity while he looked at articles about him and feeling people stare. Years of needles and test tubes and skin and organs and those stupid leather gloves that he loved more than anything.
It was all finally over.
He could let his hands rest, though he knew that wouldn’t be the case. He could never stop. Could never take a break.
And he never would.
But at least he knew he’d done it, after all.