text: Liz tilted her head up to fully take in the disaster before her. Nine feet tall, with sickly bright green skin. Exposed bone poked out through the humanoid creature at its knuckles. Some tube was pressing against the skin from the inside like veins. “Do you like my work?” A sultry voice rang through the small room. A woman stepped into view, early twenties dressed in a black lab coat with a cheap suit beneath. She walked over to her “work” and stood beside it. “Quite Handsome, isn’t it?” “What is that thing?” “Like I said its my work in progress. A reanimated corpse that I made some adjustments to. Its a thug, I send it out to do my bosses bidding, usually fighting. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little inspired by Franken stein. The doctor I mean. I think I’ve put my own little twist on the concept wouldn’t you say.” She ran a finger along one of the exposed bones. “Its hideous.” Liz said. The woman chuckled. “I hear that a lot. People say they want art that will push things. The best art pushes against what is acceptable by society, mine apparently goes too far for anyone apparently. They want to be challenged but in a safe way that offends nobodies morals. Hypocrites. “I meant it looks shoddy.” “Yes, well you - what bitch?” “I mean look at it. Putting aside morals it looks ugly, inefficient. And by the way there is absolutely no twist here that thing *is* Franken stein.” The woman looked confused. “Looks ugly? Well of course it is.” She rounded. “It doesn’t need to look conventionally pretty. It just needs to be strong, and believe me it is that.” “You said it was handsome at the start.” “No I didn’t.” The woman snapped. “Well even if it was, I can’t see how the thing would work. You used a corpse as the base, probably the worst material to build a killing machine out of. Those bones at the knuckles aren’t doing it any favours, some of them are cracked. Its way too tall, most of its strength must be dedicated to keeping itself upright. And it’ll get weaker over time as the corpse rots. I can’t see how it would take anyone. It was good enough to take you in wasn’t it.” “Who cares if it beat me? I weigh as much as a pillow, a weak breeze could knock me over. Can that wreck handle any of the heavy hitters. You know, the kinds of guys and gals you would want an undead killing machine to handle?” The woman grimaced, hesitating. Which was all the answer Liz needed. “It might. Even if it couldn’t, its still a great achievement. I reanimated a corpse and made it walk again. I challenged the process of life and death and won. I am a rising genius.” “You’re a failure and a shit doctor.” The woman snarled and started stalking over to Liz. Was that a tear she could see, starting to form in the doctors eye. “Since you obviously don’t know, I’m the one they call the supplier. Its my job to grow bodies.” The Doctor stop. “I know when a corpse is unhealthy or has something wrong with it. If I didn’t, I would be out of a job. And in my professional opinion, that fucking abomination is the worst thing I have ever seen. I’ve made bodies that had scoliosis, I’ve made bodies with limbs missing or genetic deficiencies. And yet you have made the ugliest, least practical corpse I have ever seen. Its a failure of a homunculus, and you’re a failure as a doctor.” The doctor’s chest was heaving. Her head was shaking from side to side with her hands clasped over it. She was having an argument with herself and was clearly losing. “ I just can’t believe-“ “Shut up.” The woman took her hands away, tears were streaking down her face. “Shut your fucking mouth!” she roared. “You don’t know how much work I put into this. Who cares if its put shoddy. Who cares if it doesn’t live up to your standards. It works, it lives. It’s closer than anyone else has ever gotten. You don’t understand. No one understands how hard it is to make my art. No one.” “Darling, its not as complex as you’re making it seem. You’re neither a scientist or an artist. You’re an idiot who demands everything you make be praised and loved, no matter how bad it is. That corpse you made, that abomination? It’s not handsome, or a good thug, or even a piece of art. It’s crap. You’re crap. And everyone understands that. The woman glared daggers at Liz. “You don’t have to get mad about it.” “Fuck you!” She hit Liz. Again and again. Punching and screaming. “Fuck you, fuck you. FUUUCCCK YOOOOUUUU!” The woman backed off, breathing hard and clutching her bleeding hands. She barely hurt Liz, who grinned at her through a bloody mouth. “I don’t care what the boss says.” Her voice cracked. She stuck a finger in Liz’s direction. “I don’t care how important he thinks you are. I’m going over his head, and I’m getting a kill order on you.” The doctor left the room. “That won’t make you a better artist.” Liz called. There was no reply, other than a door slamming loudly in the distance.