Nature or Nurture Ch. 08

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A Penny Dreadful fanfiction.
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Part 8 of the 42 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 12/07/2015
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The next morning, they have some important decisions to make. They do agree that Vincent should go to the theatre as he is supposed to, to play tonight's show. He will take a gun and long knife with him to make sure he can defend himself on the way. But should he confront Simon, the male lead who set the gang on him, with his deed?

'I don't like the thought of your pretending nothing happened, Vincent, it will only invite other attacks.' Victor has a point, but..

'I want to continue acting, Victor, and without lead actor, there is no play, so I can't very well expose him. I'm not afraid of losing my self-control, but I don't want to stay victim of his tricks either, who knows what lengths that one'll go to remove me from his life more permanently?'

Adison agrees wholeheartedly with that last statement.

'You shouldn't just ignore what happened, my love, I suppose the best thing to do will be to inform the director. He hinted at the possibility of something like this happening, and he told you to come to him if you were set upon.'

'I'm sure that is my best option, he'll want to keep his play running, but he can also help to protect me from further attacks, if only by letting the other actors and staff keep an eye out.'

There are so many ways to have an accident in a theatre, with props and special effects possibly going wrong, that they are all very glad Simon was lazy and let others do the attacking. Staging an accident in the theatre would have had a much greater chance of succeeding.

Accordingly, Vincent goes to the theatre half an hour earlier than his usual time. They all feel some apprehension, though Vincent has proven repeatedly in the past that he can handle himself in a tight spot.

He goes straight to the director's office and spills the beans. The director is shocked, even offended that one of his players would sabotage their livelihoods in this way. Then he is concerned about Vincent's health, both physically and mentally. He did have to kill to protect himself, and he is clearly stiff and still sore from the attack. Vincent ensures him he can play his role tonight, and has no problem facing Simon on stage.

Having the director believe him is the most important thing, and a great relief to his feelings. They decide to keep quiet for now, leaving Simon in the dark about how much Vincent knows about his involvement in the attack on him and his friends. The staff and the actor playing the elderly villain will be informed and asked to also keep an eye out for foul play.

The stage-rats will do more than their regular check-ups of all their equipment behind the scenes, and they will watch Simon from their hidden places backstage when he is in the building and not on the stage. Simon has always treated them with contempt, so they will be eager to catch him in some mischief.

'And when this play is done, he will be out on his ears, and you can take his place as my lead player,' the director promises, 'I wish we could give him up to the guard, but that would be the financial ruin of my theatre, and besides, you did kill those men so they'd undoubtedly be asking you all kinds of difficult questions.'

Like where I was born, and who my parents are, Vincent thinks, hoping they will count the bodies left in the street as signs of a gang war flaring up.

And that evening the director does his own share of acting, welcoming his cast as usual as they prepare for the show, pretending this is a regular evening. But he keeps a sharp eye on Simon's reaction when that one notices that Vincent is present and no worse for wear.

The lead actor's stunned reaction as he sees Vincent sitting at his dressing table, innocently putting on his costume and getting his make-up done, apparently unharmed and ignorant, speaks volumes of his guilt. The other staff have been warned and instructed to safeguard Vincent from further attempts, as long as he is in the building.

Knowing for certain now that his lead player has endangered the financial future of the whole theatre and its staff and cast, the director makes his next move and calls Vincent into his office.

'I've seen enough, my boy,' he starts as soon as Vincent has seated himself. 'How well do you know the lead role?'

Having rehearsed together for months, every player knows at least half the lines of the other players by heart, inevitable for an actor if he wants to know when to deliver his own lines.

'Rather well, actually, sir.'

The director affirms with a nod. 'How long would it take you to know it perfectly? I want him out as soon as possible.'

'I think it will be two weeks work to replace Simon, I have seen his scenes in rehearsal dozens of times, and I already know most of his lines.

But who would replace me, who would play the villain? It is a small role, but it cannot be removed from the play or added to the main villain's role.'

The director has clearly not thought of someone yet, and Vincent sees his chance, and dares to try for it.

'I may know someone with a talent for acting who could take on this part in the same two weeks. I'll coach him towards it. He's a friend of mine, a Chinese man called Bruce.'

'I have never heard of Chinese acting in an English play. Are you certain he will do?'

'We've been exchanging lessons, martial arts for English language and acting, he's good. But I can understand if you think the risk is too high, he has no experience on stage at all.'

Never having worked with, or even seen a Chinese actor, the director wants to consider it first. But the more he thinks about it, the better he likes it, and he decides to give him a secret try-out in a week's time.

Vincent is amazed. Not only does the director believe his story, he is also determined to get rid of the snake in his group, and even willing to try out a total novice on his recommendation.

To the audience of that evening, something seems off.

The hero of the tale seems a bit subdued somehow, as if the actor's heart is not totally in his role. And though he kills off the villain's minion in a welter of blood, the new actor that everybody is talking about plays that smallish role with such fervour, and dies by the hero's hands with such pathos, that it almost seems as if the hero is the one who has sold his soul to the devil.

But of course everyone knows that heroes are good and villains are bad, so soon Simon manages to convince himself that though his plan failed, no-one seems to know what he has done. And he soon gets his act together, playing the handsome hero flamboyantly again, not noticing that his prop sword is checked and re-checked every time he has touched it, and that he is followed around and watched from behind the scenes wherever he goes in the theatre.

As Simon starts to feel glad his attempt on Vincent failed, realizing it would have cost himself too dearly had he succeeded, the rest of the staff is counting the days until the boss will confront him with his deed and throw him out of their group in disgrace.

And only the director and Vincent know that will be sooner than anyone suspects, to have him replaced by the object of his hatred.

Seeing Vincent leave to go to the theatre has been very hard for Adison. She knows she can't go with him, but she has no clue how she will get through the day, not knowing how he fares. They visit their patients, then settle in the doctor's workshop in the morgue to study a new object, a body just arrived which apparently has some interesting muscle and bone deviations.

Soon they are caught up in the dissection of the body, removing tissue layer by layer, carefully drawing and documenting each section before moving to the next layer. Adison has been tempted briefly to check the morgue for the thugs of yesterday evening, mainly to see if there were any survivors. But she feels it might be too big a risk to seem too interested.

Suddenly there is a disturbance in the hall leading to their room. Victor, his concentration broken by the noise, is trying to work on doggedly, ignoring the ruckus. But Adison, always the curious one, moves towards the hall to investigate.

A small group of people is coming towards their room, led by a staff-member of the morgue, pushing a body-cart covered with a sheet. Three people are unknown to Adison, a beautiful but slightly sinister looking woman, a gentleman of about sixty, and, she cannot think of another word for the guy's looks, a cowboy.

'This is the man you are looking for,' their colleague says, and heads back.

The trio enters confidently, clearly irritating Victor even more, so much so that he does not acknowledge their presence and just keeps going. The party has not seen Adison yet, focussing completely on the doctor. She decides to leave things that way, see what happens. It is clear that the three visitors want the doctor to take a look at their body, but it is also clear Victor means to be stubborn about this.

He greets his visitors with a sneer, not even looking up. His whole demeanour speaks disdain, such a difference from how she knows him. But the visitors will not be ignored. They seek to interest him in their corpse, telling him it is very important that no-one but him studies it. They address him one by one, from politely to very insistently, and still he will not budge.

Adison thinks it's high time to show their visitors that there is someone here who does have some manners. She walks towards them, and excuses him.

'Doctor Frankenstein is in a crucial stage of the process right now, he will be right with you.'

She delivers this sentence with some force, reminding him that appearances must be met, to see bills paid.

'Maybe I can help you in the meantime? I'm the doctor's assistant.'

At her mention of this term, the doctor stops what he is doing, but still he does not look up.

The gentleman explains they have a strange body that they need to have examined. He lifts up part of the sheet covering it, so that Adison can see it. It is a shocking thing to behold, a mockery of a human body, horribly disfigured, and clearly very evil.

Victor, having seen the creature as well, can no longer keep up his disinterest. He jumps up and does a rough exploration of the hideous corpse, unable to contain his rising excitement. Adison quickly and quietly picks up the sketchpad and her pencil. She expertly draws a quick liking of the outside of the corpse as Victor studies it minutely, then, keeping up with him, she takes a new sheet, ready to start on the next layer once he uncovers it.

It is even more disturbing, for it clearly proves this is not a human corpse. Sketching away, noting some of Victors comments in the margins of her sheet of paper as usual, she is visited by a premonition.

The appearance of this group of people will change life as they know it forever, making the upheaval of Vincent's birth and the attempt on their lives yesterday seem like nothing. In an instant she understands why they have all felt driven to practise weapons-craft for no apparent reason, and why it felt so necessary that Vincent learn to trust his violent feelings, to free his supernatural fighting abilities.

It was in unconscious preparation for a battle they will become involved in, whether they want to or not.

The woman gives her a knowing look, as if she has heard Adison's premonitions, or has even sent them to her without speaking. Then they both concentrate on Victor's work again, and Adison finishes the sketch of the inside layer as well. It is very disturbing, like a diabolical book inside a person, and strangely, the gentleman and Victor seem to recognize the script.

The doctor asks Adison to hand her sketch of the inner layer to the gentleman, not even requesting her to make a quick copy for his own use. Adison knows he feels the portent too, and she wonders if he is afraid at all.

Strangely, her next thought is of Vincent, how he is faring at the theatre. She wonders what his role in all this will be. For to her, it is absolutely clear that he already has been assigned one, and that it will be profound.

The gentleman tells Victor he will show the drawing of the hieroglyphs, for that is what the reliefs on the monster's skin are, to a specialist in Egyptology, and he will let Victor know their meaning. He also warns them that getting involved in this matter is very serious business, and probably very dangerous to both of them. But Adison and Victor know that there is no escape for them, they will have to see it through. They make their formal introductions, and agree on a time and place where they will meet next, just a few days from now.

Returning home in a strange mood, they have a cold dinner and go to the theatre to see Vincent play. The meeting with the director must have gone well, for he seems triumphant, outshining Simon who is visibly disturbed. The failure of his attempt on Vincent must have shocked him.

After the play they return home without incident, and Vincent tells them his news. He is elated, but soon notices his companions feel totally different. Are they afraid of repercussions, or that the director will not keep his promise? He soon finds out their mood stems from a totally different incident, as they tell him about the disturbing, evil body.

'How do you know it is evil, Adison?' Victor asks in surprise. 'It was a very ugly, disturbing sight, but how can you be so sure?'

'I just knew. That thing practically screamed it at me. Will you make fun of me when I tell you that that thing and Miss Yves caused me to feel a strong premonition?'

There is nothing funny about her demeanour as she says this, and somehow they cannot shrug off her words as female exaggeration of a nasty looking body and a woman with a disturbing aura. Adison is as accurate in her observations as the doctor, and she fears almost nothing.

'What was your premonition?' Vincent asks quietly, his earlier exuberance gone.

Somehow, her dry tone makes the fact that she has foreseen the future real, and kind of scary, for he can see she foresaw nothing nice.

'I suddenly knew that the appearance of that particular group of people would change our lives and our world forever, and that we have been driven by fate to learn weapons-craft to prepare for that moment.

We will become involved in a war against evil, and it is very important for Vincent to learn to trust himself completely, to be able to use his full potential as a fighter.'

Without speaking, Vincent gathers her to him, and takes her in a crushing embrace, not able to envision grave danger and a world at war, but still believing her utterly.

As soon as he touches her, he is stung by a flash. Is it foresight? Is it a memory from a past beyond the boundary of death?

He sees himself, dressed in a midnight black cloak, hair streaming behind him, on a big black charger galloping through a village at breakneck speed. The sky behind the village is glowing red. Him, a rider? He has never ridden a horse, let alone such a spirited one.

Instantly, the image is gone, leaving behind a feeling of determination. He will protect Adison and he will protect Victor, no matter what lies in the future or has been his past.

As they sit down on the four-poster bed, Vincent tells the other two about the flash.

Adison knows this may have been his first memory from before his death, and she asks the doctor for more information.

'Where did you get the body, Victor, was it from the morgue?'

In an instant,Victor decides to tell the whole truth, they deserve to know and he realizes half-truths or lies may turn out to be really dangerous in the time to come. They must be able to totally trust one another.

'When you were brought to me you were not yet physically dead. The watch took your body to my workshop instead of the morgue, because the body was still on the brink of death, having its skull crushed in a bar-fight. There was fluid in the brains, making them swell and cutting off the blood flow enough to put you in a deep coma.

You probably wouldn't have survived for more than a day or two, the brain slowly dying of oxygen starvation. I'd seen it before in cases with head injuries, and I knew I could repair the damage, but not without killing the patient in the process.

Since the rest of your body was in excellent shape, strong, well-muscled and clearly very healthy, and the physiognomy of your head promised a good intelligence, I decided I was finally going to perform the resurrection I had been planning for a long time. I had no doubts I was going to succeed in creating life, but of course, had the body been seriously damaged with wounds or sickness the body would have just immediately died again after the resurrection.

Please believe me, Vincent, I did not expect the pain of the lightning strike to be so severe, nor the shock of coming to life so great. I also never realized my suturing was so abominable, no patient had ever complained.'

Here, the doctor smiles wanly, he's not one for showing humility.

'I'm still very sorry for what I put you through, Vincent. Though I am also very glad that your heart was great enough to forgive me, to even love me in time, and that you and through you Adison, are now part of my life.

But I digress. Your clothing was well-made, of good quality materials and not worn. They were mostly black, trousers, cloak, vest, only your shirt was pristine white, or had been before you bled on it. There was no mark of ownership on any of it, and any valuables that might have been a clue to your origin had been stolen, probably by the watch, for they had not bothered with your clothes. No one of your description was reported missing, I checked that before I took the next step, which is something I'm not proud to tell the both of you.'

He stops for a moment to look at his friends, hoping they will forgive him the deed he will confess. 'I prepared everything I needed, brought your body to the attic where you found us, Adison. The old man a few blocks away had predicted a severe thunderstorm that night, and he is never wrong. Also, my barometer had fallen immensely a day earlier, so I knew something was brewing.

Readying my apparatus, directing the metal rod through the roof towards the sky, I then waited for the storm to hit. When thunder started to rumble, I smothered the unconscious man with a pillow. As soon as he was dead, I opened the skin on his skull, to remove the piece of bone pressuring his brain. I had to, or he would just have sunk into a coma again.

I assure you, the operation would have killed the body, so I couldn't have cured him. I say him, not you, for I think you are a different person now, though you may share some general traits and certainly muscle memory, for he was clearly a good fighter. He must have been killed through foul play, by someone sneaking up and delivering the blow to his head from behind, for he had no other wounds and he would have put up a fight.

I also opened his chest to see whether his heart and lungs and organs were in good condition, again not realizing the impact of that act on the living person I was creating. I have improved in empathy since then, I hope, for I was a hopeless arrogant and never thought beyond my own triumph.

Well, I did like the idea of getting a friend but never planned for raising him until he could speak or be left alone without fear.

When my preparations were done the thunderstorm was right above us. The air started to crackle with the electricity, and the lightning struck.

Minutes later, you came to life, not peacefully and intelligently, as I expected, but in agony and forgetfulness. And if I hadn't insulted God beyond reparation by taking a life in arrogance and then cheating death in even worse disdain of His rules, I would now pray to thank Him that Adison turned up, or I am sure I would have lived to regret the day I created a monster.'

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