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I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my archenemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth.
— Frankenstein's Monster

The creation of the demented Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein's Monster is a large, undead monster created using mismatched limbs from stolen corpses. When young Victor Frankenstein took classes in biology, the man became obsessed with the idea of using electricity to bring dead organic matter back to life. Stealing from various crypts and graveyards, Victor assembled the body parts into a single human-like form and hooked it up to a gigantic machine. Lightning struck, and Frankenstein's Monster was born. 

Disgusted and appalled at his creation, Frankenstein fled. The Monster left also, becoming an outcast while learning to write and reading novels such as Paradise Lost.Feeling successful, the Monster returns to its creator, seeking to impress Frankenstein with how much knowledge he had obtained. Dissatisfied and still wary of the creature, Frankenstein coldly rejects it.

Driven by rage at this betrayal, the Monster begins a series of cold and brutal murders of all of Victor's loved ones. First beginning with Victor's youngest brother, the Monster begs for a mate to show his creator a lesson. Although at first deciding to build the Monster's bride, Frankenstein then brutally destroys his project in fear of it creating more offspring, and in response the Monster murders Frankenstein's best friend and his fiancee. 

Realizing Victor will give him no joy or compassion, the Monster flees to the Arctic, with Victor in pursuit. Frankenstein eventually loses the Monster and succumbs to his brain fever and hypothermia. Before Victor dies, he tells this story to the explorer who offered him safety, Walton. Taking the Monster as a guest as well, the creature throws itself into the frozen waters of the Arctic. 

Battle vs. Count Dracula (Novel) (by Cfp3157)[]

Tonight, my children; Our odyssey closes...

These were the words Abraham van Helsing muttered to himself as he mourned his comrades. As the Harkers sobbed quietly for their friends, Van Helsing looked solemnly at their ever-approaching comrades. As his wrinkled face felt heat lightly tickle across his face, he knew that night would soon approach them and their chance lost. 

"Come, my friends. Our job is not complete. We must end this now." 

Jonathan nodded in silence, reloading his Winchester rifle as Van Helsing readied his revolver. Slowing his breathing, the shooting began. 


Fear. 

Nothing but primal, inexplicable fear. 

This was all the Monster felt as he haphazardly sprinted through the thicket. He had hoped to find peace in the seclusion of these mountains...perhaps even happiness. 

But alas, no! I am a monster, and revolt all who see me. No one will accept me, how can I ever accept myself!?

"There 'e is! It's the Monstah!" The screams of anger and rage over difference sounded throughout the forest, followed by gunshots. Looking backward, Frankenstein's Monster let out a sob of pity- for himself, and for the blinding ignorance of his pursuers- and kept fleeing. 


BANG!

Dracula awoke from his slumber with a start, swiftly leaping out of his coffin. Observing his surroundings, he saw his hired enforcers doing battle with Harker and van Helsing. He could feel the growing heat as the sun wormed it's way closer from the mountains. Determined to return to his castle, Dracula immediately took off in a sprint.

A mere twenty yards away from the skirmish, however, Dracula felt a force collide with him and send him to the ground. Sent tumbling down to the ground, Dracula felt a hand push down on his stomach. As Frankenstein's Monster hurriedly lifted himself off the ground, Dracula snarled and landed an uppercut on his new foe.

"You dare to touch me, mortal?!" He bellowed as the Monster stood back up.

"Get out of my way, I need to go!" The Monster snarled back, slamming his shoulder into the Count and sending him recoiling away. Taking off in a sprint, the Monster pushed even further as the voices of the villagers drifted off. Looking back, his eyes widened in surprise as Dracula- who'd transformed into a wolf- pounced upon him.

The Count savagely snapped at his writhing victim, the wolf's canines easily piercing the undead flesh. Much to his surprise, the Monster made no painful screaming as chunks of his flesh were sent flying. Transforming back into his human form, Dracula tried to finish off his foe by sinking his fangs into the Monster's soft neck.

As he tried to suck the blood out, he yelped in surprise as he tasted nothing flowing in the Monster's body. Left momentarily stunned by his surprise, Dracula quickly regained focus as the Monster lifted him off of him and slammed the Count into a tree. The Monster landed several blows against Dracula, who's nose bleeds as the Monster's fist collides several times. 

Dracula swiftly, though, transforms into a cloud of mist, and the Monster crashes into the tree. As the Count reemerges, the Monster swings his fist around and sends Dracula careening into the mountain snow. Dracula swiftly stands back up, then sprints at the Monster. Before his target could comprehend what was about to happen, Dracula landed several swift blows against the Monster. As he falls back, Dracula conjures a fog to obscure himself.

As the Monster hastily searched around for his foe, Dracula sprints from hiding as a wolf and pounces on the Monster, sinking his teeth into the Monster's head. As the Monster screamed at the top of his lungs, Dracula continued to tear and shred at his face, reducing his head to a messy hunk of meat. 

The Monster let out a final painful yelp, before slumping into death. As Dracula stood up once more as a man, he sighed in a satisfied victory before feeling a sharp pain in his chest. As the stake pierced through his heart, he heard the whisper of a hateful man. 

"Die, foul beast. For my friends." Harker said, as Dracula's undead corpse fell to the ground beside his newest victim. 

Expert's Opinion[]

Dracula's incredible speed and strength, along with his centuries of combat experience compared to the Monster's bare none, gave him a simple win against Frankenstein's Monster. 

To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.

Battle vs. SCP-049 (by Aaron Siegel)[]

Prologue[]

The Monster, pursued by a vengeful Victor, found temporary comfort in the empty and lifeless shadows of the alleyways of an industrial London. Frankenstein had chased his creation across the world over the murder of his loved ones due to his ignorance, neglect, and hatred towards the Monster, and now he had finally found reprieve from the bloodthirsty man. He huddled in the dusty and dark alley, taking in whatever warmth he could from the burly cloak that covered him and hid his grotesque form from whatever poor souls found themselves in the alleyway.

“Bless you coat, and the warmth and cover you have given to me at these bleakest of times,” The monster whispered, “And let me finally rest here at my heart’s greatest content.”

This rest was short-lived, as the echoed sound of paced footsteps strode across alley, breaking the night's silence. The monster rose his gaze to swiftly snatch a peak at the intruder, but only caught a glance of a black garb similar to his own, albeit much more well-kept. Naturally curious, the monster took another look from the corner he laid in, this time nearly jolting back with surprise. He saw a man dressed in the attire of a classical Plague Doctor staring straight towards him, the man’s cold green eyes looking at the monster as if he saw straight through his guise, peering out of a porcelain mask.

“Friend! Or otherwise! Excuse my retreat, I hadn’t expected company in this bleak street,” the monster retorted, “I ask to be left, if you so choose, as I have not had a rest for some time.”

“No foes I see here, new friend laid on the ground,” the man spoke out, clearly ignoring the monster’s original request, “And to friends I offer this sweet treat, a cure for all those I seem to meet, as a Plague festers across this city of soot and death.”

"While I give thanks for that kind gesture, I'd rather decline. So long I have traveled without but one rest, so I repeat my previous request: I ask to be left alone, as it has been long since I have felt at home," the monster breathed out, hiding a rasp in his voice.

"Oh, my friend, but you look so pale, the skin on your hands are as if it was dead," Said the doctor, once again purposely ignorant of the repeated request, "I beg of you to take my cure, the plague has already proliferated through this cursed town, and I see the Great Pestilence in you," With a swift slight of hand barely noticed by the relaxed and cloaked figure, the thick fabric covering one of his arms quickly shifted upwards, exposing his raw, mangled, and grotesquely stitched flesh. The Monster then noticed a firm grasp on his arm, the leather gloves of the doctor now clenched on his biceps. "And I assure you, friend, my cure is most effective."

Battle[]

As his arm was held in the grip of an Iron Maiden, the bells of a distant clocktower chimed the dawn of a new hour. With each strike, the Monster felt his uneasy grip on life grow more and more distant, drowned in a welcoming numbness.

The monster felt warm and cold in the grasp of death, staring a familiar face in the eyes.

Before the numbness could fully grip him, however, the Monster latched onto reality. He threw off his cloak, revealing a patchwork of discolored skin, and threw the Plague Doctor with a renewed handle on life. The doctor flailed madly before skidding across the floor, his mask cracked and oozing a tarish liquid.

The fiend staggered as he rose, one of his arms motionless. It's tone grew cold and distant, interspersed with the thick thuds of liquid hitting the ground.

"Ad mortem, ad somnum. Ad mortem, ad somnum... Nam quid in morte possit somniis."

The Monster couldn't tell if its poor Latin was a result of delirium or some greater alienation. The thought was interrupted by an inhuman wail, so primal it seemed to have torn through the very strings that made the unholy melody in their throats.

It was calling its kin.

Four barren figures trusted themselves on the monster, their faces contorted into such an inhuman expression of wrath that they had lost all identity given to them by their creator.

"To die, to sleep,"

The greatest creation of Frankenstein felt his lifetime's struggle fade into insignificance as the scientist's stitches were torn out of place, wounds burning as his barren flesh was slammed into the bloody mud that coated the alley's floor.

"To die, to sleep,"

The monster tore at his assailants, crippled arms and legs, yet until their last breaths they clawed with a bloody lust that should have never crept its way to the world.

"For in this sleep of death what dreams may come..."

The monster, in a frenzied panic, threw the tattered bodies crunching against the wall, and leaped towards the doctor, who had pulled out a rusted and crude instrument. The doctor jabbed his knife into the neck of the monster, each of them leaking blackish fluid.

For a moment, each of them stood, staring into each other's paled eyes.

The doctor dropped to the ground, mumbling incoherent rhetoric on life and death.

The Monster looked at the trembling body of his opponent, and coughed blood before beginning to walk away.

Epilogue[]

SCP-049 Research Log

Addendum D-1: Level 4 authorization required: On 7-15-20██, samples from SCP-049's mask were successfully delivered to bioanalyists in Site-15's Euclid containment wing. Retrieval of the sample went smoothly, and was preformed by three Junior researchers previously cleared of the 'Pestilence' criteria (See Addendum A-1). Microscopic analysis revealed large streaks of scar tissue akin to that seen in severe muscular injury. Further analysis revealed that these scars persisted across the majority of SCP-049's mask and in portions of its left digits. When questioned by personnel about the origin of these scars, SCP-049 only replied with "An inspiration", before ignoring any other questioning.

Expert's Opinion[]

While SCP-049's minions had the numbers and durability to take on Frankenstein's monster, the misunderstood undead outclassed them in speed and strength, with an intelligence to match SCP-049 itself. While SCP-049 had a potent weapon in its deadly touch, the Monster's undead state of being kept it from being fully affected by the 'cure'.

To see the original battle, weapons and votes, click here.

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