Dr. Junkenstein let out an unhappy groan as he tossed in his bed for the hundredth time that night. He knew that straw-stuffed sack that passed as his mattress wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it sure as hell hadn't tied him up into knots like this before. His spine felt like someone had tried to use it as a noose to hang him in his sleep. Perhaps it was the way he was laying? That had to be it. He usually slept on his stomach. When he tried to correct this abnormality, he was suddenly reminded of why he couldn't sleep on his stomach.
"Uhhg... Do me a favor and kill me now..." he grumbled against his pillow, reaching over blindly towards where his portly creation usually slept. His hand hit nothing but a large indention in the mattress next to him. He cracked one eye open, letting out another groan when he confirmed he was alone. Now where did his monster wander off to so early in the morning?
He sat himself up, which was considerably more difficult than he expected. Looking down, he quickly discovered why. Whatever creature those aliens implanted in him seemed to have almost doubled in size overnight. He let out a small yelp of surprise, staring down at his swollen abdomen. Well, he certainly wasn't expecting it to move along this quickly. On the bright side, that meant he didn't have to deal with this for much longer. Unfortunately, that also meant he had virtually no time to to figure out what to do about it.
Well, there was no use sitting there and moping about it. There was work to be done. He reached over and grabbed his mechanical arm off of the makeshift nightstand by the bed, plugging it into the brass socket that served as his shoulder. Once he had both hands on him, he reached over to install his other prosthesis. When he attempted to bend over and attach his peg-leg, he ran into a bit of trouble. He couldn't bend himself quite far enough to get his hands on his stump of a right leg.
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me..." he growled down at the hateful little thing in his gut. As if being seen like this wasn't embarrassing enough, now he couldn't even dress himself!
"Oi, you there!" he called over to one of the simple automatons that was milling about in the next room. This one hadn't been built for combat - it was an earlier, servant-type model - so it hovered over and waited obediently for further orders. The doctor held his prosthetic leg out to the robot. This was all the instruction it needed, and it proceeded to install the limb.
"Tell me somethin', fella," Dr. Junkenstein began as his robotic servant worked, "What did I ever do to deserve this crap? I mean, sure, there was that whole 'taking revenge on the whole bloody village' thing, but they all deserved it! I mean, you know good an' well what they did ta me!"
The robot, of course, didn't respond. It wasn't equipped to respond, and even if it was it didn't have the mental capacity to process what was being said to it. Dr. Junkenstein knew this well - he built the thing, after all - but it didn't bother him. He just liked having something moving to rant at.
Once all of his bits and pieces were attached, the doctor dragged himself up to his feet and grabbed his lab coat off its rack on his way out of the bedroom. A few seconds later he could be heard cursing to himself, having to struggle a bit more than he'd like to admit to button the last few buttons over his stomach. His general bitching continued as he stomped his way through towards his lab, intent on drowning himself in his work.
Before he could get to his main workbench, he tripped over something left carelessly in the way, damn near falling flat on his face. Luckily for him, it was a single strong arm that he slammed into rather than the stone floor below. He let out a yelp, clinging to that arm and looking up at who'd caught him. Unsurprisingly, he found himself staring up into the black beady eyes of his monster.
"Oi, I was lookin' fer ya, y'know! Where you been all night, ya giant idiot?!" the doctor growled even as he used the very monster he was chastising to regain his balance, such as it was. He didn't really expect an answer to his questioning, but much to his surprise he got one. The hulking creature pointed down at his creator's feet. When Dr. Junkenstein looked down, he spotted a sizable pile of algae-covered stones that looked as though they'd just been fished out of the river.
"Shiny green rocks," the monster grunted out inarticulately. In a flash the doctor understood. His creation must have gone out to continue his search for another spark of life not knowing he'd had one hidden away in his lab coat. He had to give it to the big lug, they certainly were green rocks. They might have even been a little shiny when they were pulled out of the river. He couldn't help but smile a little. For a giant murderous monster, his creation could be adorable sometimes.
"Aww, that's real sweet of ya, big guy, but when I said 'shiny green rocks,' I meant-" Dr. Junkenstein cut himself off when he looked back up at his monster, who was staring back expectantly. He paused for a moment, rethinking what he was saying. "Actually, yeah. Those are great. They'll be plenty for what I'm making. Good job, buddy!"
The monster puffed his broad chest out proudly at the praise, satisfied that he had managed to raise the good doctor's spirits even with all of the crazy things that had been happening lately. He may not have been a fan of taking orders, but he was quite fond of his creator, so he would be obedient every now and then if it kept him relatively happy.
"Look, why don't ya go lay down, yeah? Ya been out wading in the muck all night, and I want ya good and rested up for some early-mornin' grave robbing. We got another monster ta build!" the doctor said, clapping a hand down on the giant's shoulder and sending him on his way. His monster nodded enthusiastically before heading off towards the bedroom.
Dr. Junkenstein watched as his creation lumbered off, waiting until he heard the distinct sound of several hundred pounds throwing itself onto a half-flattened straw mattress. As soon as he heard the very distinct sound of snoring from across the hall, he hurried back towards his lab - this time taking care not to trip over any rocks.
He plopped himself heavily into a creaky wooden chair and started rummaging through the drawers of one of his work stations. It took him a bit to find what he was looking for in all the disorganized clutter, but after a bit of frustrated swearing to himself he emerged with a triumphant "Aha!," holding a large glass syringe above his head. He then blew off the fine layer of dust from the foggy surface before attaching a very long, very thin needle to the end.
"Alright, ya li'l space frog spawn, time ta figure out what yer made of," he grumbled down at the bulge in his stomach, brandishing that truly horrifying needle. He unfastened one of the straining buttons of his coat and turned that needle around to aim at his gut. "Trust me, kiddo. This'll hurt me more'n it'll hurt you."
Dr. Junkenstein hesitated a moment more, his eyes locked on the razor-sharp tip of that needle. One couldn't really blame him for being uneasy about it all. After all, the needle he was preparing to stick himself with was more than half as long as his forearm. Anyone in their right mind would think twice about impaling themselves on such a thing. Of course, Dr. Jamison Junkenstein had never been accused of being in his right mind, and he was never one to let a typical man's sanity get between himself and the acquisition of scientific knowledge, the more forbidden the better.
Before he could follow through with his little self examination, there was a loud bang and the syringe in his hand shattered into a million pieces. The doctor let out a shriek he wasn't entirely proud of, dropping what remained of the syringe and pushing himself away from his worktable so fast that he ended tipping his chair over. When he managed to regain his senses enough to look around for the source of the explosive disturbance, he found that a menacing form was now standing over him, the barrel of its weapon still smoking from the shot it had fired a moment ago.
"Good morning, Doctor," the Reaper hissed out with the same thick venom with which he addressed just about everyone, "I could have sworn you were told to behave yourself."
"B-behave myself?" the doctor stammered back, letting a nervous giggle burble to the surface as his eyes darted towards the wraith's weapons periodically, "I-I dunno what yer talking about! I wasn't doin' nothin'! I was just doin' my work, that's all!"
"Oh really?" the dark figure replied, kneeling down closer to where the doctor lay. Dr. Junkenstein gave a panicked yelp, shielding himself with his arms as a steel clawed hand reached down uncomfortably near his neck. Rather than strangle the life out of him, however, the Reaper instead grabbed the broken end of the syringe off the floor, rolling the long needle between his fingers. "Does your work usually include experiments on your own body?"
"Okay, first of all, just look at me, mate. Of course I experiment on m'self every now and then," he retorted, holding up his mechanical right arm and wiggling the fingers as though to prove the point. "Second of all, I wasn't gonna hurt the li'l freeloader! I was just gonna take a tissue sample, figure out what the hell I've gotten my arse into!"
"Right. And I'm sure you were gonna be real careful about it," the Reaper replied, turning that broken needle over in his claws once more before "carelessly" dropping it over the doctor's head below. Dr. Junkenstein let out a yelp, flinching away in fear as the needle clattered against the stone floor, just missing his ear.
The Reaper couldn't help but let out a sadistic chuckle at how easy it was to torment the mad doctor when he didn't have his overgrown lapdog around. Perhaps there was something to be gained from this pitiful babysitting job after all. His amusement was fueled further when the doctor looked back up at him, clearly unsure of what would happen next. His amusement was short-lived, however, as the delicious look of fear on the scientist's face suddenly melted into a grin of crazed glee.
The dark wraith immediately returned to his full height, pivoting on his heel and bringing both of his guns up to bear. He immediately found himself staring up into the furious black eyes of Dr. Junkenstein's very protective - and currently quite livid - monster. He didn't get the chance to tighten his claws around the triggers of his weapons before a huge fist slammed into the side of his head with all the force of a sledge hammer, sending him flying across the room. The Reaper scattered into a mist of black smoke before his body could hit the far wall, and the miasma snaked its way somewhere up into the rafters.
"What the hell took ya so long?! Ya know what that freak coulda done ta me while you were in there napping?!" Dr. Junkenstein barked out even as two strong arms hoisted him up off the ground. Of course, even though he was bitching the whole time, that didn't stop him from clinging to the big guy in a grateful embrace. He didn't expect he would be sending his creation off to do anything without him for a good while after this incident.