Eizabella Bhaethoven
#1 “By the great ongoing scientific endeavor that fuels the evolution of mankind… Let. There. Be. LIFE!” With her celebratory declaration given, the mad-child slams down the lever she has her gloved hand around. Her face holding an expression of wicked glee as her laboratory is promptly bestowed with the presence of electricity coursing through wires and its aggressive light - a source of power that comes from the indoor generator nearby within the room and shocks the lifeless amalgamation of a sown-together corpse without mercy. The body twitches involuntarily and its limbs kick, reach, and quiver the entire time - a sight that somehow helps that little scientist's wide smirk grow even more eerie.
“Hold together and arise… I've given you all that you need. Let that still heart rest not a second more!” She exclaims as adrenaline pumps through her veins. Quick in her steps, the young girl moves to retrieve a tool - a defibrillator machine she's made adjustments to - rolling it along behind her by the stand-on-wheels it's on as she moves to step up onto the mini stepping-ladder beside the steel slate serving as a bed for her latest experiment. Before anything else, she swipes up the thick shade-goggles hanging from the stand and slips them on securely. Then she grabs the pair of wired tools and grinds the bottom of both against one another to create friction that sparks aggressive sparks of electricity.
“LIVE, YOU MAGNIFICENT SPECIMEN!” She shouts just before she slams the devices down onto the body's torso and increases its energy intake by tenfold. What comes about is a lethal output of electricity that lashes out like a living lightning storm. Crackles of energy-bolts zap various areas of the lab. One blowing a hole through a portrait of her father, others leaving scorch marks on the walls on the far right side of the room, while some pierces through the left side walls and out into the open space of the manor's second floor. It's blinding and inevitably grows to consume. Her rubber gloves barely manage to protect her as the flow of energy goes haywire.
“Guh! G-G-G-G-G-G–!?...” The shock session envelopes her soon, twisting and twitching the muscles in her face into absurd expressions, which her stubbornness and refusal to retreat to a safe distance brings upon her. Suddenly, an explosive force goes off.
“AAUGHKK! ” – TOOOOM!!!
The ambitious child is sent soaring like a human baseball, violently crashing into the steel door that obscures the interior of the lab with enough momentum to knock it out of place and cause it to go soaring over the banister of the floor her lab is on, leading to her landing on top of it with a metallic 'thud’ on the steps below.
“U-u-uuugh…” The girl grimaces, squinting behind her goggles as she awaits for the sense of dizziness and pulsing pain to pain to pass. Such a series of events would've killed any normal individual, adults being no exception, this child is glaringly different from the average person. She's no Power Inheritor or Experiment, but instead she was born blessed by the Greek God of War - ARES.
Simultaneously rising to sit up while removing the goggles off her head, she groans. Blinking as her unnatural and ominous crimson red eyes regain their focus.
“Hhhhuuuuunnngh….” A groan of contempt makes itself heard from her lab and the girl's glaring eyes swiftly widen with wonder. Scurrying up to her feet, she hurries to run up the stairs while the door beneath her winds up noisily sliding down the steps. She makes it to the doorway of her lab and pauses in her tracks. What she sees begins to draw another toothy grin across her lips. A mixture of pride and glee bubbles up inside of her until she's at a point she can't help but to give into laughter.
“Heh.. Heh-heheheheh.. AAAAH-HAA! HAA! HAA! YEEEEEEEES!!!” She practically growls up, lifting her forearms in a parallel fashion above her head as her fists tremble victoriously.
“I've done it! …I! Ezibella Bhaethoven!! Have cracked the biological enigma of the living and given life to a dead husk!!” She announces to the heavens that lie above the roof of her extravagant home.
“That's lovely, sweetheart! Papa’s very proud of you!” A masculine voice shouts in turn from the first floor near the steps afterwards.
“Thank you, Pa - Pa!” She turns her head and responds to her father. Then, her focus shifts back to the Frankenstein of a being sitting up on the steel bed inside her lab. She begins approaching, folding her arms behind her back the moment she takes her first step. During, her creation stares at her with a mindless solemn stare. If it were not for his long kempt hair, surprisingly smooth and easy-on-the-eyes face, and his posh Victorian regal suit - that gaze would probably be far more unsettling. She comes to stop beside him and resume her staring.
“Aren't YOU just a work of art…? grim and magnificent. You're like my very own life-sized Clauzerworth doll. Let's see how well you function, shall we? Stand.” The 11-year-old commands firmly. With a throat soft groan, the tall figure proceeds to remove himself from that platform and stand on his feet, facing her.
“Good. Now raise your hands.” Ezibella orders. Without hesitation, her creation raises his hands in a surrendering-like fashion.
“Now lower them.” That too he obeys and lowers his arms to idle at his sides again.
“Raise your left hand only.” She follows up. There's a hesitation before he obliges. Or at least, he attempts to. The girl's smile quickly flatlines and her left brow twitches with annoyance as she frowns with contempt.
“I said your LEFT hand, you dolt… Raise. Your. Left. Hand.” She repeats her command. This time he actually does so, but without lowering his right hand. Another display that aggravates Ezibella.
“LOWER THE INCORRECT HAND!” She shouts with rage, startling the being enough to make his eyes widen. He tries to obey again, but winds up lowering his left hand instead of his right. So bothered… So angered by his struggle to follow simple commands, her glare intensifies into a deathly one. Her bright crimson pupils begin glowing within the dark gray pools that are her scleras. As if her rage is some sort of ominous force itself, the lights in the room begin to flicker as the two stare at one another. Each time it happens, her eyes remain visible by way of their eerie glow.
Luckily, there's an interruption. The alarm from the c*ck on her work table goes off and snatches her attention. Suddenly, the atmosphere returns back to normal.
“Oh. My Magical Unicorn Adventures is about to air. Bah…” She forsakes the ordeal and turns her back to him while wearing a nonchalant look.
“Sit.” She orders. Within seconds, she hears shuffling that leads her into believing he does as he's told this time.
“You will wait here until I return. I'll assess your intellect further later after my show is done. I pray your comprehension capability doesn't lag behind that of a 5th grader.” She adds before taking her leave and flicking a switch to shut off the lights on her way out. She turns to head down part way of the corridor to her left and enters through a door. One leading into yet a personal room, but one with such a contrast in appearance. Instead of steel, tubes, and elaborate tools, the room is fluffy and pastel. From its pale pink carpeting flooring, to its cotton candy blue wall paint with white polka dots, to the pink child-sized recliner perfect for her size - much like the white mini sofa near it. What tops it all off are the two large cardboard stands and the dozens of small and comically big dolls of her favorite ponies from the franchise she adores immensely. The young genius goes on to grab two plush dolls and the TV remote before settling down onto the sofa facing the 72 inch screen embedded into the wall. She turns on the television and sits back, huddling with the dolls she has under both of her arms.
“Oh, Happy Merry McCunicorn… What will you get up to today?”
—“We interrupt this broadcasting to implement a sudden change in schedule. Please hold a moment!” A feminine voice announces from the TV as a placeholder occupies the screen. Ezibella blinks.
“...Huh.” All of a sudden the screen transitions to the opening of an entirely different show.
“What the–?” The girl suddenly sits up within her seat and uses the remote to navigate the cable guide menus to check the schedule. All and ANY mention of the show she was looking forward to watching this afternoon is gone.
THWAAAACKSSSH!!
Suddenly, Ezibella throws the remote and somehow lodges it into the wall to her right.
“...My day has been defiled. My mood, molested. My temper, boiled. My patience worn. My wrath WILL be satisfied… Mark. My. WooooooOOOrrrdsssszzzz…”
