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Today is round #2 of our Classic bracket semi-finals! THE MUMMY VS FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER! Two very tough competitors! For the semi-finals and finals, intros will be shorter, but the story will be longer! For longer fighter intro’s, see round one fights! Let’s get to it!
The Mummy won his last fight against the Wolfman and moved on to be here! This isn’t some stiff dude in bandages! Imhotep is a force to be reckoned with!
The Monster won his last fight against the Creature from the Black Lagoon. The big guy is loved and revered all over the world as a horror icon. Possibly the most well-known monster in history and people still get his name wrong!
To whom it may concern regarding property of the British Museum,
It is of my understanding that you have recently come into possession of an ancient Egyptian artifact of great intrigue. Of course, I am referring to the “Scroll of Thoth.”
Being a man of science, I am deeply interested in meeting with you to discuss this ancient relic. I have reason to believe there may be more to the story than you know.
I also understand the scroll to be severely weathered, and I believe I may be able to assist with its restoration and or translation.
In return for my services, I have… a slight problem I think you can help with.
I have arranged to be in the area soon. We will chat then!
I look forward to making your acquaintance.
Dr. Heinrich Von Frankenstein
The fire burns bright against the backdrop of the black sky. The smoke blots out the stars, the clouds loosely cover the pale-yellow moon as they slowly pass by. They move lackadaisically, with no real purpose.
Kind of like him… nowhere to be, but everywhere to go. He didn’t understand why everybody hated him. They pointed and ran in fear, even called him a monster, a fiend, and a demon. He wasn’t actually sure what he was, but he knew he wasn’t any of those things.
No, demons are not created. They aren’t manufactured or built. They’re not put together in some dingey lab by a small man with a god complex or made from spare parts.
Demons at least have a sense of purpose. They know what they are supposed to do, and they have no disillusions about what they are. Not him...
Not only did he not know what he was, if in fact, he was anything at all, but he didn’t know why he was. Why would somebody bring him into a world, only to have that world hate and loathe the very sight of him? A riddle for another time, perhaps. He will get no answers today.
As the building burns around him, and the walls begin to cave under the heat, he stands and looks out into the distance. The angry mob that had torched the place only a brief time ago was now gone. Their screams of hate given way to the sound of red-hot embers popping and crackling all around him.
Damn miserable humans. They condemn him to death, but for what crime? What sin has he willingly committed? The sin of unsightliness? The trespass of repulsiveness? Who hath judged him on the merits of his heart? (Well, somebody else’s heart technically.)
There was only one. The little girl. He liked her, she was nice. She didn’t run or treat him like a monster. He liked playing with her. He still didn’t understand why everybody chased him out of town for throwing her in the water like the flowers. She was pretty, like flowers. He wanted her to float with them. They didn’t understand it was a game. He would never hurt her. She was his only friend.
That’s how it always was though. They hated him with no rhyme or reason. A curse bestowed upon him by his creator. Upon seeing how hideous and grotesque he was, his maker, in similar to fashion to these humans so-called “God” … abandoned him.
With the crowd no longer lurking outside, it’s time to continue his mission to find the man who gave him life. A life he doesn’t want but can not escape. Yes, he will find that man and his life will be the price. Nothing short of that. He exits the building slowly through a large hole in the crumbling wall, not looking back as the old, tired wood burns brightly behind him.
One week later, at the British Museum in London, England…
A knock on the door interrupts his reading. “Come in.” He replies, looking up from a single sheet of paper. His assistant peeks her head in.
“Sir, you have a visitor.”
“Visitor? Is it the translator?”
“No. It’s a Dr. Frankenstein, sir. He seems to be in a hurry.”
“Seriously? I thought that was a bloody joke.”
“Should I send him away, sir?”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary. Send him in. I’m actually a bit curious to see what this bloke has to say.”
A moment later Dr. Frankenstein enters the room. His hair is a mess, his clothes disheveled. His hand shakes gently as he reaches it out in greeting. “I am Dr. Heinrich Von Frank…”
“Dr. Frankenstein, yes. I was just reading your letter. Have a seat, please.”
“I’d rather stand if you don’t mind. It’s been quite the journey to get here.”
“As you will. What can I do for you, doctor?”
“As I mentioned in my letter, I would like to assist you with the Scroll of Thoth. I believe I can help.”
“Yes, you did mention that. You also mentioned a slight problem of your own, with which I might be able to help. What you haven’t mentioned, is why you would assume the scroll you speak of is here in the first place.”
“Science. It’s a small circle.”
“A small circle, indeed. Which leads me to ask, why have I never heard of you doctor?”
“My studies over the last few years have been, well, more of the private nature.”
“I see. I’m afraid that we ‘ve already called in a specialist to assist us with translating the scroll. In fact, he should be here shortly. An Egyptian man. He comes highly recommended.”
“I don’t see how two heads could be worse than one, sir. I seek no reward, only your help.”
“Right. With this… problem of yours that you mentioned.”
“Care to elaborate, doctor?”
Dr. Frankenstein looks at the nameplate on the desk. “Curator Williams...” He pauses briefly, then continues. “May I be frank, while assuming your discretion?”
The Curator leans in and then folds his hands on top of his solid mahogany desk, genuinely interested for the first time since the doctor walked in. “Yes, of course, doctor. It’s only us in the room.”
“The Scroll of Thoth, they say it can give life?”
“So, they do.”
“Do you believe it?”
“It is not my job to believe or disbelieve. It is only my job to display and care for the artifacts. The validity of their legends is of no concern to me. People believed it at one time. That’s why it’s here. Why do you ask?”
“Creating life has always been my passion, Curator. My life’s dream.”
“I am not going to let you try and use the scroll to raise the dead, doctor.”
“No, you see… I’m more interested in knowing if the scroll can take life away as well. For what I have given life to, is already dead yet reanimated. I would like to un animate it, if you will.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you were mad.”
“I assure you; I am quite sane, and this is of no laughing matter. The Fiend is probably still after me. He’s mad at me, you know. For creating him. He hates me. The villagers set fire to the place with him in it, but that won’t stop him! Nothing will! Nothing, I say!”
“Doctor, I have a lot of work to do. I bid you a good day.”
One hour later…
Curator Williams is once again disturbed by a knock on the door. “That better be the translator!”
“It is sir, shall I send Mr. Bey in?”
A moment later Mr. Bey enters the room. “My name is Ardath Bey. I believe you have something to show me, Curator?”
“Right to the chase, huh? I like that. I do, yes.”
The Curator removes a tube from inside his fancy desk. From it, he removes an old, worn piece of paper.”
“Yes, yes! That’s the one!”
The Curator is confused by the outburst. He looks at Mr. Bey awkwardly. “The one, what?”
“May I see it for a moment?” There was a strange longing in his face. An odd familiarity.
“I can lay it out n the table, let me get my stuff and I’ll…”
“I would like to hold it.” Mr. Bey looks deep into Curator William’s eyes as he speaks.
“Um, yeah… OK.” He hands the delicate scroll over, without as much as a second thought.
Curator Williams stands up but then steps forward and reaches for the scroll. “But, I can’t just…”
“Leave me!” Enraged Mr. Bey grabs him by the back of the head and slams his face down hard on the strong, dense mahogany desk. The impact crushes the front of his skull, caving his forehead in like a tin can. Blood flows down the side of the desk in a steady stream, pooling by his still feet.
“I am Imhotep… and this belongs to me.”
A moment later there is a knock on the door. “Curator! It’s Dr. Frankenstein. I was wondering if I could speak with you.” After receiving no reply, he tries the door and finds that it is unlocked. He opens it and enters the Curator's office.
“What the…” He pauses for a moment. “Oh, no. God, no. Did he do this? Did my monster do this?”
An unnoticeable twinge of a smile gleams across Imhotep’s face. “Monster?”
“It must have been him! He’s the only one strong enough to do something like... that.”
“We’ve got to find him! We’ve got to put a stop to it!”
“We? Put a stop to what?”
“I’m assuming you’re the translator that curator Williams was talking about earlier. The scroll, it might be able to stop him?”
“What are you talking about you fool?”
“I brought him to life, I need the scroll to undo it.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“How do you know?”
“It only gives life and believe me, you don’t want the life that it gives.”
“We’ve got to try!” Dr. Frankenstein reaches for the tube holding the scroll. Imhotep steps to the side and grabs the doctor by the throat, lifting him into the air.
The wall comes coming crashing down as The Monster breaks through with the force of a mac truck. He lunges at Imhotep. The doctor falls to the ground and rolls out the way.
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
The monster flings Imhotep into the opposite wall. He lands outside, causing people to scatter and go running. The Fiend follows, lifting Imhotep off the ground, choking him. The doctor was his to kill. No one else’s. He squeezes his big fingers around his neck like 5 hellish pythons, then drops Imhotep to the ground expecting the fight to be over.
The Monster turns to the doctor, sweet vengeance finally upon him. He takes a slow, deliberate step toward the frightened scientist but is then halted in his tracks.
Imhotep grabs hold of his giant arm and spins him around. He looks at the Monster wondering the hell it is. He jumps up and swings with all his might, connecting with its hideous face. The force sends it back into the wall hard. The Monster steps forward then stumbles. A rotten piece of flesh hangs from where the punch connected moments ago.
“Damn your one ugly bastard…”
This hurts the Monsters feelings and he charges straight at Imhotep. The Mummy sidesteps, landing another solid blow, this time to the ribs. The monster recovers quick and retaliates with a haymaker. Imhotep is caught off guard and it sends him back a few feet. He lands on his back hard but is unharmed.
The Mummy stands up and brushes off. A look of seriousness crosses his face.
“You can’t kill him! He doesn’t die!”
“There are other things than death doctor.”
Again, the Monster charges but is too slow. Imhotep sweeps the Fiend's legs out from under him. The fall shakes the floor as he lands. Imhotep calmly stands over the Monster, then brings his foot down hard on his knee, shattering it completely. The Monster struggles to get up but Imhotep reaches down and grabs his head. He pulls with all his might. He hears the sounds of tendons pop as he digs his fingernails in for leverage. With a sudden, and wet snap Imhotep removes the Monster's head from his body. He stands for a moment panting, high on adrenaline. He looks up, then tosses the head to the doctor. “Work out your daddy/son issues, or don’t. I don’t care.” He walks toward the writhing body on the floor and leans down, grabbing one of the oversized arms. “But…” He rips the arm from the body and tosses it to the side. “If you want to fix him…” He moves to the left leg. The socket makes a popping sound as its dislocated. The sound of the rotten flesh tearing is worse. “You're going to have to put him back together.”
He drops the leg to the floor with a sinister smile on his face. “But if you ever come after my scroll again, I’ll kill the both of you.” The sounds of sirens can be heard in the distance.
“Wh-wh-who are you?” The doctor's voice is shaken. His mind warped from what he just witnessed.
“I… am Imhotep. And my princess awaits...”
This had to end with a victory for Imhotep. I love Frankie. He’s a tragic character. A gentle brute. A misunderstood creation of society. A metaphor at its best. What he is not, is a match for the Mummy. Sure, maybe Frankie can’t just be killed. He can be stopped though.
In the end, Imhotep is too powerful for Frankie. Even if we were to take book Frankie in to account here, he would still lose. There’s one monster in this bracket who has a chance against Imhotep. Count Dracula, and you’re in luck! Because next Friday is our Classic bracket final! THE MUMMY VS DRACULA!!!
What do you think, does the Mummy take the win or am I way off? Yell at me in the comments and don’t forget to upvote your favorite fighter! Until next time, keep on geekin’ on, my friends.
Joshua "Prometheus" Scafidi