Author's Note: This story is a crossover between Phantom and Dean Kootz's Frankenstein novel series. Enjoy.
"I'm very relieved that you took my offer. I know that this isn't the way that you've dealt with things in the past, I was worried that you would refuse," the strange voice admitted.
The man across the room shrugged in a casual, noncommittal way. As if the weight of the world's future were not on his shoulders. As if this were only another business meeting. "Well, your message was very convincing. To be perfectly honest, Mr. …?"
"Latour, but we both know that you already knew my name."
"Mr. Latour. Very well. Your message was direct, succinct. You didn't bother to use pretense, and I like that. It's refreshing." Victor smiled, but the smile disappeared quickly into stone-cold seriousness. "And it's also dangerous. Before this goes any further, you will tell me how you found out about my operation- you will tell me, or forget tomorrow morning, you won't see the next five minutes."
Erik nodded from his immobile stance. He stood mere feet away, leaning against the edge of his desk. "I understand, but I assure you I have no tangible proof of what I know. I found out about you by one of your very own creations…that is, unless none of what he told me is true, and this has been a great waste of time for all of us…but the fact that you crossed an ocean so quickly leads me to believe that there has to be a grain of truth somewhere in the story I've been told."
Victor's grip tightened on the drink that Erik had been happy to provide. The muscles in his jaw flexed in slight irritation. "That would depend on what he or she told you,"
The mask tilted to the side, as if in amusement. "It was quite a fantastic tale, really. The stuff comic books are made of. I can't recall all of the details, but there was some mention of a Mr. Victor Helios- formerly Frankenstein?- setting up shop in New Orleans of all places to create a master race that would, eventually, take over the world. Cleanse the planet of all mankind's mistakes. Tell me, is it true?"
Victor shifted- he'd not had anyone put his centuries-old dream into such a tight little nutshell before. He knew his aim; his creations knew the great plan behind the fronts of Biovision and the Hands of Mercy, but this…human man had put his life's work so plainly that it was almost disrespectful.
"Victor, if what I was told is true, then you are by far the most brilliant scientist this planet has ever known. I know that you've already had me investigated, so it'll be no secret to you that I've suffered more than most at the hands of men. Let me go on record as saying that if it's all true, then by all means, tear down man's empire and build it anew. But give me what I asked for first." Erik loathed those that begged, but he knew that he was in no position to demand anything. Victor had not come alone- there were men outside the study, waiting just outside the door.
Erik knew the risk that he was taking- but he'd exhausted himself in his quest; he could take no more. If Victor ordered him killed for his knowledge, Erik could at least die knowing that he'd given one last effort, even if that last effort had been born out of a sense of obsession coupled with desperation.
Pathetic, but he could no longer wait for what he always knew would never come to him.
Victor glanced up. "I don't have to give you anything. You know the people that came here with me are my creatures. What you were told is true, every word of it and then some. I admit it, everything. Now that that's out of the way, if you'll be kind enough to tell me who's betrayed this information I would be very grateful."
Erik nodded. "A priest called me, it's been almost a year since that first call. Father Duchaine. It was very late because of the time difference, but we've spoken several times. He told me what you'd done after having listened to my music; I don't mean to brag, but he said that "it moved something and nothing" within him, and that's why he had to stand up to you. I'm sure you've killed him by now, he told me that he was preparing himself for the end. I know that you did what you had to do; that's why you came here tonight. To tie up the loose ends that threaten your dream."
Victor allowed the strong whiskey to flow down his throat. "I came here because New Orleans- my facilities and home included- is under six feet of filthy water. What can I say? Even with the wisdom of over 200 years under my belt, I still had some faith in those levees. I had evacuated like anyone would at the threat of a category 5 hurricane- I had figured on heavy damage from the storm, but I hadn't thought the entire city would be flooded."
"I'm sure no one did, but you of all people should have expected the impossible."
"Yes, well. Perhaps next time I'll show some sense and won't establish my facilities in a city below sea level. No, my next body shops will be somewhere further north, away from the ocean. I think America's Heartland is very appealing." Victor scoffed as he strode over to the window to take in the view.
Erik felt small quirks at the edges of his distorted lips. "Why not Los Angeles? It has fine weather, beautiful beaches, and it's the one place in the world that no one will bat an eye at soulless, perfect machines walking about pretending to be real people."
They shared an unexpected laugh there in the study; the light from the fireplace danced on their skin, casting them both in gold flame. Victor sighed. "All right, enough small talk, Erik. Let's get back to your infamous voicemail, if you don't mind."
Erik nodded and drained his glass. "Not at all. I thought my message was clear enough,"
He scoffed, "You called my cell phone- a private number that I can only hope Duchaine passed to you- and left a message less than 30 seconds long. I believe your exact words were 'Mr. Helios, I know what you can do. Bring a female specimen with you to blah, blah, blah…' You also mentioned an exorbitant amount of money."
Erik took a deep breath and looked into the bottom of his empty glass. "If you can do what the priest told me, I'll triple the amount I mentioned on the phone. Is it true that you can…create a woman who would love a man, no matter what he looked like?"
Victor nodded. "Yes, although love is a tricky idea. It's an emotion, the same bullshit that poets and pop stars rave about- but chemically, it's just an endorphin release, no different than eating a piece of chocolate. However, I can ensure that the lucky girl won't care much what you look like under that thing," he said, gesturing to the mask that covered all but Erik's mouth and chin.
"You say that so easily, Helios, but you don't know…"
Victor rolled his eyes at Erik's morose tone and went on, as casually as ever. "I went through the priest's things- he had all of your works on disc. Patrick knew that I'd kill him- I could see it in his eyes. I took his music out of a sense of curiosity; I wanted to know what had compelled his sudden moral attack. I see now that it might have been a mix of things that combined to upset him- your music and of course the thought that there is a heaven he could never attain. Damn religion- he knew it was all a lie and he still began to believe it. Do you know that he asked me for his release?" Victor was clearly disgusted.
Erik shook his head. "He told me that when he spoke to you next, he knew that he would meet his end."
"Congratulations, Erik. It was your music in part that compelled him to feel such remorse that he betrayed my entire operation. I suppose it doesn't matter though, does it? I could have you killed right now, and I'd intended to do just that after I heard your message…but then I listened to some of your work while coming over on the plane. Erik- it's been over 150 years since I cried, but I cried after listening to Pygmalion for the first time. Your need for a companion suddenly makes more sense, and I see now how your music could so move Father Patrick. I can't tell you what that feels like." Victor said quietly, suddenly lost in his thoughts.
Erik didn't say anything.
"Take off your mask."
Erik looked up. "What? No,"
"Do it, Erik." Victor pulled out a digital camera from his pocket. "Let me take your picture so that I can take it with me back to America. I'll keep you in mind as we build our new facility. I've already made plans for myself; when the time is right I'll have my brain put into a New Race body. I've heard your music, Latour. Brilliant. More than brilliant! I can't believe I'm saying this but I've honestly never heard anything so moving! Your talent is too valuable to lose, even if you are of the Old Race. You're like me, Erik. Too good for the world as it is,"
Erik frowned slightly. "You can make people but can't do a brain transplant?"
Victor laughed suddenly, harsh and loud. "Creating life is one thing, Erik, the human brain is another! It's a little more complicated than you might think. You can't just unscrew the skull, pull out the brain and slip it into a new body. Besides, I'm a scientist, not a neurosurgeon- and for all that I can do, I can't operate on myself."
Erik crossed his arms. "Victor. The woman. I'll pay you enough to finance the new start of Biovision, just show me a woman that could love this," Erik said, removing his mask. Victor's eyes didn't judge, he simply absorbed the sight before him. And what a sight it was! Mottled, corrupted flesh and warped bones covered Erik's face in a terrible patchwork that left only a scant few inches intact. He judged that it had to be birth defect, botched surgery and scars responsible for the face in front of him.
No wonder he risked his life just to get in touch with me...
To Erik's humiliation, Victor smiled. He recovered his face quickly and glared. "What is so goddamn amusing, Victor? I've known you for less than an hour and shown you my face. There are people who've known me for years who will never have that chance. I didn't risk my life by inviting you here and exposing what I know so that you could sit back and laugh at me," he hissed.
Victor shrugged. "It has to be the jet lag. The stress. You left me that voicemail 49 hours ago, the flight here took 40. My dreams are under six feet of dirty floodwater; when the waters finally roll back, black mold will set in and eat away at both my facilities and my home. Right now, I have my people scrambling to get rid of all the evidence…" Victor took a deep breath and looked around the luxurious study as if seeing it for the first time. The leather wingbacks before the fireplace, the Persain rug on the floor, even the mahogany desk that Erik was leaning against. "Look around you, Erik, you have enough money to get laid whenever you want, so why bother to risk everything by getting in touch with me?"
"I'm not in this to get laid. I'm in this for something more. Don't think I haven't tried everything. I've approached women on my own, I've had friends arrange blind dates, I've tried dating on the Internet and even flat-out baiting them with money- everything I've tried has been a disaster." Erik declared, trying to justify himself. His excuses sounded pathetic to his own ears. "I've just…I want…"
Victor then did something unexpected, and put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I understand. I have a woman for you, just like you asked. I'm not afraid that you'll run off and tell the police. Hell, go right ahead- tell the whole world what I've done, who in their right mind would believe you? It doesn't matter anymore. I'll give you what you want- it's no loss to me, I could have a hundred more of her out into the world in six months' time. But your generosity would be a big help. The money, Erik, for the woman."