The Modern Prometheus and the New Dionysus

The Modern Prometheus

Victor Frankenstein slogged along the muddy road, the rain stinging his face. He'd put his goggles on, so at least his green eyes were protected, but he couldn't say much about the rest of him. He hugged his suitcase protectively to his chest, trying to keep his journals as dry as possible. They contained years of research-research that had gotten him expelled from the University in Ingolstadt, his work having been deemed 'unsound' and 'grotesque.' Victor gritted his teeth at the memory. They'd taken away the experiment he'd been working on for months, painstakingly stitching together veins and limbs and flesh in his pursuit of creating life.

A shiver tore through his body as a harsh wind sent the dying leaves around him into a whirl and blew his sodden black hair onto his goggles. Victor shook his head to get it out of the way. He wasn't going to stop until he made it to London. The city had become a central hub for science, and he was sure that, if he could just make it, then he would be able to pursue his experiments. He hated having to start over, but London was a large city, and large cities always had more corpses. Surely he would be able to complete his work faster there.

Victor fought against the cold as best he could, but it was beginning to seep into his bones, and he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering violently. He narrowed his eyes. If he stopped now, he wasn't sure he would be able to find it within himself to continue on. Victor noted with a touch of worry that his fingertips were starting to take on a tinge of blue. If he didn't warm up soon, then he would have much bigger problems than rain to worry about. Unfortunately, London was still miles away, and it would take Victor hours he didn't have to get there on foot.

As his limbs began to go numb, he thought about his family and friends. His father, whom he hadn't seen in ages, his mother, who had died years ago-he still missed her tender touch and loving voice. Ernest, his younger brother, he had been fun to tease, but it was all in fondness. William, his little baby brother, who wouldn't even remember him if he died. Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth. His adopted sister and distant cousin. How he missed her soft voice and lovely face.

And Henry Clerval, his childhood friend. Victor hadn't sent him a letter in months, and now he was beginning to regret that. He closed his eyes as he remembered how they would act out stories that Henry wrote, the countless swashbuckling tales of pirates, the exciting exploits of thieves, and even the occasional romance. Victor remembered the day Henry had had him play a horse, making him prance around clicking sticks together. He could almost hear the sound now, echoing across the expanses of his memory.

Victor's eyes opened as the hoofbeats grew louder. They were very real and very close. He froze as a black carriage, drawn by a sleek white horse, clattered to a stop beside him. His fingernails dug into the leather of his case as the door swung open, revealing a man. Most people would've assumed that he was elderly, but Victor had seen plenty of faces, and he could tell that this man was younger than he appeared, likely in his late thirties to early forties.

His hair was prematurely grey, brushed back out of his face. His warm brown eyes sparkled compassionately, and the corners crinkled slightly as his rosy cheeks lifted into a welcoming smile. His attire consisted of a white overcoat, soft orange waistcoat, and an immaculately tied cream cravat. Victor suddenly felt undressed in his wrinkled, singed waistcoat.

"Heavens, what are you doing out in weather like this?" The man asked. His voice was a pleasingly warm bass. Victor struggled to stop his teeth chattering long enough to answer. "I'm g-going to London," he said, anxiously avoiding eye contact. "That's where I'm headed as well! Please, allow me to offer you a carriage there. I wouldn't want you freezing out here!" The man said, gesturing for Victor to step into the carriage. He gratefully took the chance, stepping into the carriage and taking a seat across from the man. Within the warm interior of the carriage, Victor was able to set his suitcase down and focus on rewarding his numb fingers.

When he had stopped shivering, the man extended a hand. "To whom do I make my acquaintance?" He asked. It took a moment for his question to register in Victor's mind. When it finally did, he unsuccessfully tried to clean his hand on his pants before shaking the outstretched hand. "Victor Frankenstein, sir," he answered. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Frankenstein. I am Dr. Hastie Lanyon," the man, Lanyon, said, discreetly wiping mud off of his hand on his handkerchief.

Victor picked at his fingernails, nervously looking at anything but Dr. Lanyon's eyes. He'd never been good with interaction outside of a laboratory, particularly jovial men like this. "May I ask why you're traveling to London?" Dr. Lanyon asked. Victor pushed his sodden hair out of his face. "I-um-I'm a scientist, sir, and London is the best place for budding scientists," he answered.

Lanyon's face broke into a smile. "Oh, my apologies! Then it's Dr. Frankenstein?" He asked. Victor hesitated for a moment before realizing that, if he never spoke otherwise, no one would realize that he hadn't actually earned his doctorate. Besides, he knew as much as any other scientist, perhaps even more. Why shouldn't he go by doctor? "Yes, sir," he said, forcing himself to make eye contact. Lanyon's grin grew wider. "You should've led with that! I have a scientist friend who is looking for an assistant," he said.

Victor's eyes widened excitedly. "Really? A proper scientist?" He exclaimed. Surely it was too much to hope for. Lanyon laughed lightly. "I take it you're interested?" He said. Victor nodded energetically. "Oh, yes, sir!" He cried, bouncing excitedly in his seat before catching his behaviors and forcing himself to sit still, resorting back to picking at his nails. Lanyon's eyes sparkled with amusement at the young man's excitement. "Excellent! I was planning to pay him a visit tomorrow. I'll bring you along with me," he said.

Victor watched the rain hit the window of the carriage. It was rather serene, what with the dim, warm interior of the carriage and the soft sound of pattering rain. Lanyon would occasionally ask Victor a question, but the conversation never caught on. It was obvious the older man was quite a fan of conversation, which made Victor slightly anxious. He much preferred to devote his attention to a book or his research rather than a conversation.

They spend much of the rest of the ride in silence. Victor looked out the window at the rain pounding the glass, and he couldn't stop a crooked smile from spreading across his thin face. This could be the chance he'd always hoped for. He looked back at Lanyon, finally deciding to ask a question of his own. "What's this scientist's name?" He asked quietly. Lanyon smiled. "He's an old friend of mine, Dr. Henry Jekyll."

————————————————————————
And that's the first chapter! And oh boy, Henry Jekyll? Two weird science boys meeting each other? This absolutely won't go wrong at all.

I've idolized these characters since I was quite young, and I can't wait to explore them and write them in my own way.

Also, please, I'd love it if you comment on what you're thinking and how you feel about the story. I love hearing your thoughts, and I'm always looking for ways to improve.