I'm not exactly sure why I felt compelled to write this, but I suppose it's because Dr. Two Brains and Tobey are my favorite characters and I like to imagine what they were like growing up. The sonnet referenced in italics at the beginning of each little chunk is "Ozymandias" by Percy Shelley. Coincidentally enough, he was Mary Shelley's husband (and I reference Mrs. Shelley's Frankenstein very liberally here). I'm also taking massive liberties with the characters and I hope they're not too OOC.
As usual, critical reviews are very welcome!
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My name is Ozymandias, king of kings...
As a child, Steven Boxleitner often read Frankenstein.
He used to devour novels with a near terrifying velocity (Genius, his parents had said, notes of reverence in their voices, genius boy). After reading them once, he would explore their layers until they completely bored him-in his eyes, as beautiful as the classical prose usually was, the stories themselves lacked. He was a restless boy, filled to the brim with kinetic energy, and he often outgrew philosophies amd themes as quickly as one outgrew clothing. This remained true until one winter evening, when he tugged Frankenstein into his small lap and flipped back the faded cover.
This, now this, he liked.
Enclosed in the story he found an absolute truth: there is both beauty and terror in science.
His mind wrapped around this idea, toying with and molding it. After completely mulling it over, he called himself a scientist and began the novel anew. Years, and multiple readings later, he continued to tell himself that he was nothing like Doctor Frankenstein; there was no monster within, only a man.
He did this even when he caught a glimpse of a rotund mouse scurrying about in a kitchen cabinet, and wondered fiercely if it felt and thought as humans did.
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Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Tobey McCallister was classified as a problematic child.
Tobey was pensive (later he would be labeled a schemer) and inventive (later he would be labeled as destructive). Tobey was also an exceedingly talented actor. Self-raised on European classics, he acquired a keen vocabulary and a knack for theatrics (So talented, his mother had said, slivers of pride in her voice, talented boy). Tobey gradually grew into a fine classical actor, complete with an exuberant accent and overzealous pride in his intelligence.
He called himself an inventor, a creator of impenetrable and amazing machines. Fiddling with steel and chrome he felt powerful and complete, a paradigm of ultimate knowledge. Years, and multiple failed creations later, he continued to tell himself that he was Doctor Frankenstein incarnate; there was a form of both monster and man within and the act was not wearing thin.
He did this even when he caught a glimpse of WordGirl's expressive eyes and wondered fiercely if she ever struggled with building herself back together as he did.
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Nothing beside remains round the decay...
Teaming up had been a phenomenal prospect for them both. As they worked deep into the night on their joint creation, tying and melding together a mish-mosh of individual parts, they looked one another in the eye and found that someone finally understood.