A Light in the Dark

Mature Content

This page may contain profanity, violence, mild gore, or other forms of mature content.

aha here's a fanfic I started writing bout a year or two ago

then I decided last week I should continue because I actually like the weird concept

cooy and pasting from WoF Fanon c:

so it's a really weird story that is a mixture of Frankenstein, WoF, and probably some creepy gothic romance novel too. It follows two dragon who create an undead monster who starts to get attached to his creators. The main characters are Victory, a Doctor/Professor, Quetzal, her lab assistant, and Rose, the creature they create.

**Mature Warning: Some blood/mild gore.**

## Part One: The Experiment

### 1 (Unknown)

Unknown Time

I stared at the red-stained floor. Everything came crashing back at me, everything I did. I didn't mean to kill him, I really didn't.

He was the only one who actually cared, the only one who really liked me. I remebered his crooked smile, his head tilted slightly as he talked to me. The way he just started when I lunged, eyes not full of hate, or anger, just acceptance.

Tears dropped down, smudging the crimson patches. The world blurred. I'm so sorry.

### 2 (Victory)

**Summer; 2019 AS**

I woke up with a smack. Groggily, my eyes opened. The old robotic Dragon I invented years ago was lying on the ground... I must have knocked it off it my sleep.

I sat up wearily. Another one of my inventions, the ticking clock, told me it was almost 2 hours after sunrise. My mechanic vest along with my wrench and toolbelt stood on my wooden shelf. I picked them up and slid through the vest, adding the toolbelt right after. After I was sure I had everything, I knocked harshly on the nearest door. It opened almost immediately.

Inside was a winding maze of equipment and inventions, a graveyard of past experiments. The talking box, I remebered that one. It was lying on the floor, next to the smashed remains of an unidentifiable prototype. Glass shards pricked at my feet, a constant reminder of my failed experiments. That particular one had been smashed by a fairly angry scavenger I was using. Quetzal sadly wasn't coordinated to catch it. It made a real mess of things too, one that Quetzal had yet to clean up. The only thing that was still working was the door opener. It was clearly still working smoothly. The door had been thrust open without a sound.

On a table in the center, covered by a small white tarp, was my newest experiment. Slumped next to it was a small, mousy excuse for a Dragon. My faithful yet horribly ignorant assistant Quetzal.

He was, like I said before, tiny for a SandWing. His scales were a dusty yellow, his eyes generally a bright and slightly intelligent looking blue. An odd colour, but then again, an odd dragon. That is, when they weren't clouded by sleep. Which they were when I banged loudly on the desk behind him.

"Wake up, you lousy excuse for an assistant!" I snapped carelessly, not caring that I was being mean. You have to be strict with these dragons, otherwise you'll never get them to work for you. Professional advice, trainees.

His head was raised slowly. "Oh... uh, hey professor Victory."

I glared at him. My mind told me to say, "I told you to call me just professor, you insolent wretch!" But it's important to maintain a level of calm. So I calm replied, "just professor will do."

I stared at the project. "Has any progress been made yet?" I asked cooly. "Or were you sleeping too much to do that?"

"Well the limbs seem pretty good. I finished welding the left arm, the final limb. It's about half Nightwing, half metal. The heart should be a bit tricky, though."

I shrugged. "I've got an idea. Leave that to me. Meanwhile, work on some facial features. I want them to seem like a real Dragon, okay?"

That should keep Quetzal busy for a few days. One thing I know about my assistant is that he's lonely. Not that I care a lot or anything, but he was thrilled when I told him about my new project. Our new project, I should say. Has been mostly focused these last few weeks, which is a stellar improvement in itself.

I've been studying brain composition for years. Between my research and his ideas, this project is turning out decently, except for one annoying detail.

A working heart.

It's no big problem, though. I just need to figure out how to make it seem dragon-like. For that I need emotion, slightly muffled emotion. Just enough to make it seem real. Just enough to make me famous.

### 3 (Victory)

”Almost... there,” Quetzal grunted.

It had been two days since we attached the last limb. It was now time for a test. We had to make sure it all worked.

Quetzal looked really silly in that scientists coat and lab gear. The spark-proof cloak was probably five times the size of his slender frame. The goggles where... what's the word again? Overkill, right. They magnified his eyes twice their original scale, until very time he looked back at me it was like a starving Dragon seeing a mango for the very first time. Again he stared at me with those ultra-magnified eyes. "

The face was looking almost realistic. I inspected it thoroughly myself. If it weren’t for the patchy metal we had to use when we ran out of dragon parts, it looked almost like a regular NightWing. A NightWing connected to rows upon rows of electric wires, which in turn were hooked up to our big dashboard. A NightWing slumped on the table, but almost ready. The box beeped once. The box, one of my finer inventions. I promise I'll come up with a more inventive name... eventually. One if it’s many purposes was to inform me and my assistant about the condition of our subject. Maybe after this project I’ll try to sell it on the market. Maybe I’ll sell my other inventions too. If this project is a success, which I can assure you it will be, it won’t even matter. Pyhrria is clearly not ready for my inventions, and thats a good thing.

Quetzal's scales were dripping with sweat, his face contorted with concentration. This was one of the most crucial parts to our operation. Hooking up the brain.

The code had been tested, the exterior finished. We would come up with ideas for he heart, but for now we had to create the perfect servant. Feelings would come later. For now, I had put the heart of the poor Nightwing we were getting the other parts off of as a mannequin. It wouldn't really work, or course, but it would give me a good idea of what to do for the spacing. Provided Quetzal didn't mess this up by attaching the wrong thing, this was perfect.

Quetzal's claws flew, patching up holes, cutting off wires. I stood from behind, giving the orders. Eventually, one thick, black cord remained. Quetzal expertly tugged at it. It didn't come off. He pulled, harder this time. It didn't work.

He panted. I was about to help him, but I was tired, so I let him figure it out on his own. Which was a bad idea, because on his third try (note to self: things always happen in threes), he was thrust backwards, tripping over the wire. His tail caught on to it, piercing the wire. A long cut was visible on it. He knocked over the box. It fell to pieces on the floor. He looked over in shock. That wasn't good.

There was a tiny thunk. I stepped backwards instinctively. Then everything blew up. Like, boom.

"Quetzal?" All the lights had gone out. Something sharp penetrated my left talon. "*Ouch!"*That really hurt. A shard of glass had brushed against my coat.

"Quetzal?" I called again into the darkness. A small thump came from the far corner of the room. I stepped forward to investigate, but stopped when my gloved talons brushed against more shattered glass. "Quetzal, are you okay?" A hint of worry seemed into my voice. I swallowed it.

"Yep!" The soft reply drifted through the air, landed at my feet. "Everything's okay here. That's what the equipment's for."

I groaned. "*What*did you do?"

"There was a little malfunction. Then a small electrical discharge. Uh, nothing big. Good thing we were wearing these suits, though. Otherwise we would be kinda dead..."

"*I know*," I snapped. "I'm perfectly aware of that." Then the thought struck me. "Quetzal? What's the condition of the subject?"

"I’m rerouting power right... now.” A big flame cut through the darkness. "Nope. Any moment now.“ The lights turned back on. Quetzal shook his large, spark-proof claw, extinguishing the flame.

The subject was lying motionless on the table. "Oh no, oh no... Quetzal, don’t tell me the electrical discharge killed it."

"Uh, well, the monitor is just coming back on line. But I mean, it looks the same to me.” Quetzal shrugged.

"That’s *not*a good thing.“

”Oh wait, the computer blew up. Never mind.”

I walked towards the table, my eyes watering. Weeks of research, gone. I glared at Quetzal, turning my back to the table.

”This is a failure of the highest proportions. You might even lose your job.”

I began to walk off. "But madam Victory, Wait!”

”It’s *Professor*Victory. Or just *Professor.*“ I sighed.

”No! Doctor, Professor, whatever. Just turn around.”

"Why should I—“ I turned around, gasping. Four eyes were geared on me, instead of the overly-magnified two that belonged to Quetzal. Quetzal was probably smirking, or just staring in raw shock.

"No...” I stared at Quetzal, then over at the examination table. “Oh my gosh.”

Quetzal tore off his suit. "Well, Doctor Victory. It seems our project worked better then we expected.”

"It’s alive.”

### 4 (Quetzal)

Today was officially the best day of my life. Mostly because my boss was in a good mood, but I guess because of science too.

"Hello,” I said slowly as I waved my hand in front of it‘s face. It stared at me, it’s head tilted to the right.

”Greetings, experiment.” ~~Doctor~~ *Professor*Victory looked at it calmly, her suit discarded. Maybe she wouldn’t even make me clean up the residue and glass the explosion scattered. She smiled awkwardly, almost as if she forgot how to do it. It makes her look younger, much younger. I smile back.

“According to the brain map I made, its cognitive process should be sped more than 10 times the normal amount due to the artificial intervention. But of course, my calculations could be wrong.” She made a face as if to say, *but they aren’t. They never are.*

She grabbed a scroll and tossed it in his direction. He looked at it, confused.

“Do you think that’s going to work?” I whispered. She nodded confidently.

“I was hoping that it would have memory flashes from it‘s, uh, past life.” Doctor Victory (as I now call her) picked up a shard of glass. I stood next to her, looking at our shattered reflections. ”I don’t know how much the creation remembers, but according to my calculations it should—“

”H-hello?” The voice was gravely, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Victory smiled. “Good! The vocal box works perfectly! Hasn’t decayed at all. I’ll have to write this down, it’s so interesting. Hmm, this also suggests lasting ties between the brain and the organs, perfect.”

I stared at the monster. Metal fused over skin, wires visible. To think it used to be a NightWing, not that odd, strangely put together creature. But looking at it, I realized that though it was odd, there was something beautiful about it too.

“The others in my science club will be so impressed... ooh! Lasting motor skills, write that down!” Their creation had picked up the scroll and stared at it quizzically. I slowly walked up to it, starting into it‘s... eyes. One was bright yellow and had an unrealistic glow, like plastic. One was brown, and was the original eye that the creation used. The brown one swivelled to look at me. My stomach felt like it was flipping over and over. I swallowed hard, doing my best to smile.

"H-hello,” I stammered nervously. Doctor Victory was rapidly putting notes into a notebook. The invention just continued to half-look at me. “Can you understand me?”

The invention stayed silent for a few moments. Then it nodded once.

”Yes.”

## Part 2: Day and Night, Future and Past.

### 5 (Quetzal)

*Quetzal’s journal*

*Life is an interesting concept, isn’t it? Our days are numbered, sand slowly spilling out of an hourglass. Our hearts are timers, counting down the days to our demise. Death looms like a shadow. Eventually, your light, like the light of so many others, will fade. Do we live to die? Or do we die so that others can live? Ticking clocks, dimming lights, numbered days. These are the things that make life special and worth living. And once our timer, our clock runs out, it’s all over.*

*Or so I thought.*

I sigh, dropping the quill. Professor Victory’s soft snoring drifts in. Sleeping like a baby. It’s almost ironic, given how she stayed up almost every night to work on the project. And now that it‘s done, well, of course she won’t stay up. I roll my eyes.

—-

*”Wait!” the young SandWing called. He stared at the broken bodies in front of him, the blood staining the ground.*

 —-

I blink away the memory. “Well, I should get some sleep,” I say to no one in particular.

work in progress as I have to do research on Frankenstein as I haven’t read it 😖