Building The Perfect Beast

Victor Frankenstein was unusually distracted at Bridge Night.

“Come on, old chap,” von Stranglehoff said, eventually. “Vhat’s up?”

And so Frankenstein told the whole story. The Creature. How his elation turned to disgust when he saw the yellow eyes, the skin stretched tight over muscle and blood.

Von Stranglehoff paused.

“So… you make life. You reanimate ze dead. You succeed vhere everyone but ze Almighty has failed… and you are complaining because it does not look like Scarlett Johannson?”

Frankenstein threw down his cards and stormed out. Professor Vortechs looked at the vacant seat. “Do you think it knows Acol?”