Courtroom Conflict: The Beast vs. Frankenstein’s Monster

Witness Testimony

Did you know that we live in a society?

Um… Yes? I suppose?

Is there a joke I’m not getting here or something?

J-just forget it, it was in the script. Anyway, your worth in society can be judged based on a multitude of factors. Whether it be your job, your family, or your personality, the way people regard you is contingent on any number of things about your life. But as the saying goes, the first impression is everything, and when that first impression goes wrong… Well, that might be an entire connection that will never get off the ground.

Right, people can often be quick to judge you based on what they see at a glance. Which means that some people have to live their entire lives being looked down on by others just for living the way they do, or for looking a certain way – a fact of life that today’s combatants can fully attest to.

The Beast, Disney’s sour-hearted cursed prince…

…And Frankenstein’s Monster, the infamous reanimated man.

Before we get into the analysis, let’s make our source materials clear and clarify that we are being very limited with our research for these two. The Beast has different versions of him that vary widely in power, and Frankenstein’s Monster is one of the most famous monsters of all time and therefore has any number of adaptations that could be looked at. Because of this, for this match we are sticking to the very basics for these two: the 1991 film and its respective spin-offs for Beast, and the original 1818 novel by Mary Shelley for the Monster. Anything else will not be accounted for in the verdict, meaning we will exclude things like the 2017 remake of Beauty and the Beast, any material from Kingdom Hearts, and Boris Karloff’s famous Frankenstein from the Universal films.

And with those guidelines in place, I’m Starlow, she’s Squigly, and he’s Leviathan! Hold your loved ones close, everyone, because we won’t all be so lucky to have them after this Courtroom Conflict!

Here’s a hypothetical situation for everyone out there looking to test their quality of character. Say it’s late at night and you hear a knock at your door. When you go to answer it, there’s an old hag standing on your front step, shivering in the cold and looking for a place to stay the night. Do you let her in and allow her to warm up, or do you turn her away and refuse to open your home to a stranger?

Well, of course I would let her in! If it were me out in the cold and in need of help, then I wouldn’t want to be turned away when I asked for it.

A fine display of empathy, milady. However, in the case of a young prince named Adam on a cold Christmas night, his spoiled ways and selfish worldview drove him to turn away the woman on his doorstep out of disgust for her looks. Her frightful looks concealed her true nature, however, for after the young prince turned her away she revealed herself to be a beautiful enchantress.

Adam tried to apologize for his refusal to let her in, but it was too late: the enchantress had seen the true nature of his selfish heart, and to teach him a lesson, she placed a curse upon him and his castle. Not only would the surrounding world forget about the castle and its inhabitants, but the prince’s subjects and servants were transformed into common objects and tools of the castle.

And as the true curse, the enchantress cursed the young prince to take on the form of a horrible monster, bearing elements of many different animals and bringing the ugly nature of his unkind heart to the surface. She left the prince and his people with an enchanted rose, of which the last petals would fall on the prince’s twenty-first birthday, and if he could not learn to love by then, the curse would last until the end of time. Over many years of isolation, the prince fell into despair and loneliness… For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

…Hey, wait a second. The enchantress cursed an eleven year old boy? Of course he was mean to her, he was a child! That’s younger than Peacock and she’s just as bad!

W-well… the prince still needed to learn his lesson, I suppose. Although I do fail to see the logic in cursing his subjects, who did nothing wrong to her…

I mean, he was raised by them, right? They probably hold as much responsibility for raising him to be selfish and unsympathetic as he does for being that way. And after all, the prince saw his subjects as nothing more than objects, so… poetic justice?

Perhaps fairy tales aren’t so morally just after all.

In any case, the Beast’s curse left him lonely and depressed, so you would be right to assume that he’s ordinarily fairly passive and reluctant to fight. But Beast has a horrible temper on him, and the best ways to set him off are to disobey him or threaten someone he cares about – someone like Belle, who became Beast’s prisoner after her father was imprisoned for trespassing in the castle and she offered herself in his place.

You can probably imagine how poorly that relationship started, but over time Beast grew to have feelings for Belle, and so he would have to learn to love her just as the curse demanded. He mostly did this by giving her his huge library full of books and acting like a real gentleman, but he had to protect her from danger, too!

Because of his enchanted transformation, Beast is more than capable of dealing with anyone or anything that would threaten the safety of Belle. His claws and fangs are tough and razor-sharp, and his five senses are all drastically improved when compared to an average human’s. He also has an accelerated healing factor, shown when his body healed from several injuries after a fight with wolves in just a few days’ time with no scarring.

He’s also wicked strong! He overpowered and threw around a pack of European wolves, smashed furniture with a swing of his hand, and he makes his entire castle shake when he just slams a door! And even while wounded, he was more than capable of out-muscling Gaston, a guy who would lift a bench of girls in the air with one arm and smash a stone gargoyle!

♫ Nooooooo… Oooooooone… ♫

♫ …Smites like Gaston, no one’s quite like Gaston, no one’s theme cuts off preludes of fights like Gaston’s! ♫

Wow, you two can really sing! Anyway, Beast is also remarkably agile for someone of his size. He can leap around his castle and pounce on others like a panther, keep up with several wolves at once mid-fight, and even run at speeds rivaling Belle on horseback. For the record, wolves can run at speeds of nearly 30 miles per hour, which is just as fast as the fastest human ever recorded!

The Beast is also exceptionally tough, capable of persisting through copious amounts of pain. At the climax of the film, Gaston shot him in the back with an arrow, kicked him through a glass window, and shoved him off his castle’s rooftop, and once he got serious he was able to get back up and fight without a problem. And do you remember how Gaston shattered the head of a gargoyle with a stone spike? Beast caught a swing from that in his teeth without so much as breaking a sweat.

Yes, Beast is capable of being a truly deadly fighter when the lives of others are on the line. Aside from protecting Belle from wolves and fighting Gaston to the point where he could have easily killed him, he saved the castle, Belle, and his subjects from being crushed under his collapsing castle by destroying Forte, an evil pipe organ bent on staying as a pipe organ instead of letting the curse be undone. And after learning to love Belle with all his heart and nearly dying for her, the enchantress’s curse was finally broken thanks to his efforts to change himself for the better.

It’s no wonder it took the whole movie to do it, though, because Beast had some serious issues that he needed to get over for Belle. We already mentioned his depression and loneliness, but we really didn’t give his temper its due diligence, because wow can he be a mood-killer! He’ll snap at just about anyone when his will isn’t carried out, and he was even fine with letting Belle starve when she wouldn’t eat with him. Reminds me of Bowser in all the wrong ways…

It’s also worth reiterating that Beast usually isn’t an aggressive combatant. When there are no stakes to a fight or it’s only his life on the line, he’s often shown little interest in fighting, but put Belle in danger and he’s ready to kill someone. So even for all his impressive strength, he doesn’t always make the most of it.

But he did ultimately learn to love someone just like the enchantress wanted, so it’s not like he isn’t redeemable. If anything, Beast is the perfect example of someone being more than what their appearance and initial actions may suggest. At the end of the day, he really earned his happily ever after.

The Beast: This mirror will show you anything you want to see. Take it with you so you’ll always have a way to look back… and remember me.

When you bring something into the world, you bear the responsibility of seeing your efforts through and dealing with the consequences of it. This is a truth any artist or parent will know more than anything. But some things that are brought into the world do nothing but cause sorrow, destruction, and heartbreak unto others, and those who brought them about can do nothing but shoulder that burden themselves. Such was the case of the young Victor Frankenstein.

Born to a wealthy Swiss family in Naples, Italy, Victor and his brothers were urged to study chemistry and obtain a greater understanding of the world. This led Victor to eventually study at the University of Ingolstadt, and when his mother died of scarlet fever, Victor turned to his experiments and studies to distract himself from the grief of her death. Quickly developing a gift for chemistry and the other sciences, he was very, very smart… maybe too smart.

Yeah, Victor’s experiments eventually let him discover a way to imbue life into deceased organic matter, and he decided to play God by assembling dead body parts of humans and animals to bring a new creature to life. Despite his best intentions and his efforts to make his assembly of human and animal body parts beautiful, though, Victor wound up bringing to life a horrifyingly monstrous giant of a man that was not only destined for isolation and rejection from humankind, but would ruin Victor’s own life in the process. He has been given many names: Adam, the Monster, and the Creature among them, but you’d be best off addressing him by his most proper title: Frankenstein’s Monster.

This reanimation stuff is hitting a little close to home… I’m sure he couldn’t have been that hideous.

According to Victor’s own reaction on the night of the Creature’s reanimation, his skin was a rotten yellow and barely covered up the internal muscles and organs of his eight-foot-tall body, and he had blank white eyes and black lips.

…Never mind. Go on.

Victor couldn’t stand the sight of his own creation and fled from him in distress, leaving the Monster to escape, wander off, and discover the nature of his being for himself. And in that time between his creation and his next encounter with Victor, he would not only discover how he came into the world, but also what he was capable of.

During his time in the European wilderness, the Creature discovered that his unique constitution made him far stronger than any man or animal. He could overpower and kill adult humans easily, chop up several days’ worth of firewood in one night, and presumably tear apart a wooden cottage in a rage. And despite his huge bulk, he’s been observed to be remarkably swift on his feet, with Victor stating that he could move at speeds rivaling the flight of an eagle. That means that, if we assume this statement to be factual, the Creature could run at speeds exceeding 75 miles per hour!

However, the Monster’s greatest asset for terrorizing and surviving the horrors of man is not his strength or speed; rather, it’s his unflinching endurance. The Creature is not a being that requires much rest or nourishment to stay alive, and therefore his stamina is incredibly high. He can climb the harshest mountains, ford the deepest channels, and survive in the harshest environments on Earth with no issue because of this.

To emphasize this point, after murdering Victor’s wife, the Creature traveled from the city of Naples all the way to regions nearing the North Pole, surviving the entire journey and showing little but indifference to the harsh environment around him. Meanwhile, Victor got a deadly case of pneumonia and hypothermia when he was there and after he fell into the frigid waters of the arctic. And the Monster swam through them to catch up to the ship that picked him up without a problem!

Talk about literally being made of tough stuff! And here’s a tidbit for those of you who are used to the brain-dead, lumbering, groaning Frankenstein of the general consciousness: the original Frankenstein’s Monster is actually wicked smart, like his creator! He learned how to speak several languages by listening to others and reading books to himself, and when he was going about exacting his revenge on Victor’s family, he really showed just how cunning he was.

Indeed. He tracked down the Frankenstein family through Victor’s old journal entries, framed Justine, the family nanny, for the murder of young William, killed Victor’s long-time best friend Clerval in cold blood, broke into the inn where Victor was staying on his honeymoon and murdered his newlywed wife, and drove everyone left in Victor’s family to mental instability or complete despair, including Victor himself. When the Monster made his vow to exact revenge for his eternal sentencing to misery just for existing, he wasn’t messing about.

I guess that’s what you bring about when you create life. You’re not just filling something with life, but you’re creating the thoughts, emotions, dreams, and desires of a being all their own. And like any human, when that creature is denied its happiness because of something as surface-level as its appearance… well, can you blame them for starting to hate the world?

It’s not just the world that the Monster hates. He’s as terrified of his appearance as any human is, and the miserable state of his being leaves him often feeling a great amount of self-loathing. He even vowed to commit himself to being burned at the stake once the impact of his vengeful actions came crashing down on him after Victor’s death.

And while the Creature has immense bulk and frightening strength, he is not an invincible being and is susceptible to injury and death in the same way that any human is. He still feels pain when struck or pierced or shot, and per Victor’s own observations, his skin is hardly a full cover for the work of muscles and organs on the inside of his wretched frame. Akin to the humans he was modeled after, if he sustains too much damage then he’s down for the count.

Wait, count? Are we looking at Bram Stoker’s Dracula too?

No. One beast of Gothic literature is enough for this episode.

Well, in any case, it’s plain to see how the original beast of reanimation has captured the imagination of readers and writers around the world. Between his horrifying physicality and his depressed mental state, it’s hard to capture the essence of Frankenstein’s Monster that keeps him stalking the nightmares of man to this very day.

Frankenstein’s Monster: Sometimes I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart, I cursed him. 

Cross-Examination

Well, the research is done, and both Adams have been fully evaluated. It’s time to see which woeful heart will trounce the other.

Then let’s jump in! Beast meets Monster, no holds barred! Roll the fight!

Setting: Village

It was a night like any other in the sleepy woodland village. As a curtain of stars blanketed the evening sky over the heads of the trees, casting the glow of twilight over the town square as the shops and buildings extinguished their lights, villagers filed back into their homes in preparation for a good night’s rest after a long, eventful day. Others made their way to the village tavern for a drink and some conversation, and it was in this rowdy place of booze and merriment that much of the town’s night life resided. Inside, the working men enjoyed their drinks and talked each other up and down about the latest town gossip or happenings from work, happy to unwind after a long shift of work.

Something about that night felt different to the men and women of the town, however. A cold breeze was blowing through the trees, cutting through the town’s surrounding forest and into the homes of the villagers. A fool may have heard it whispering, trading the world’s dark secrets on its pervasive trails of wind where others simply heard the blowing of an evening current. But more than any secret, this wind brought with it a traveler cloaked in black, his path heading northward and cutting through the forest village. As the night had come and the forest’s shadows made for poor traveling, this wayward wanderer made his way toward the light and sound of the tavern, and as soon as he pushed open its swinging doors a reserved hush fell over the room. The wind followed him as he entered, rattling the wooden doors and blowing his cloak about as he wiped his boots on the rug and stepped inside. Wordless, he stepped past the silenced tables of men whose eyes followed him as he went, and he sat down at the bar before dropping a few gold coins onto the wooden counter top.

“Whiskey,” spoke the man in a harrowed voice that was heavy with solemn despondency. The bartender nodded, scooped up the currency, and opened a bottle of alcohol before pouring it into a shot glass. As the new arrival picked up his glass and sipped on his drink, some men rose from their chairs and, bolstered by liquid courage, stood around the hooded traveler like a pack of observant dogs.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, friend,” one remarked. “What’s got you blowin’ through our town at such an hour?”

The cloaked man finished his glass before setting it down, and after sighing in satisfaction as the warm whiskey slipped down his throat, he answered without so much as looking in the man’s direction. “Vengeance.”

An answer of such natural intrigue brought more prying eyes to the cloaked man, who paid the bar’s other inhabitants no heed as he watched his glass refill with the brown liquid he desired. “Well,” spoke another man whose voice was unsteady with drunken slurring, “I hope you don’t intend on leavin’ us hangin’ like tha’. Cummon then, revenge for wha’?”

The traveler picked up his refilled glass and tilted it between his thin and worn-down fingers, watching the whiskey swirl in its transparent container as if he were pondering his response. His silence left the crowd of villagers hanging on every breath until he finally responded, answering, “For friends and family, they who have met their end at the hands of he whom I created.”

“So, a family drama, then?” inquired a young woman from the crowd of bar attendants who had gathered around the mysterious traveler. “If your son’s done you wrong, sir, then I hope your revenge is carried out.”

“Dare I name the monster that plagues my existence as such?” the traveler replied, his tone wavering with emotional tension. “He may insist upon it, but I would with greater speed pronounce my devotion to the Devil himself than proclaim him, abhorrent thing that he is, as my brood. The name of Frankenstein, that of my father’s fathers and beyond, need not be sullied by attachment to that villain.”

Perplexed and excited murmurs sprang up from the crowd at the mention of a monster, palpable paranoia seeping into the crowded tavern. Hushed exclamations of “Monster?”, “A monster, here?”, “What sort of monster, sir?” cropped up among the crowd, and it did not take long for such talk to reach the ears of a large man in a chair facing a wall decorated with a fireplace and dozens of hunting trophies. His chair creaked as he rose from it, drawing the attention of the villagers in the bar and getting them to whisper among themselves even more as the town’s most famous denizen took interest in the new arrival.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, my good fellow,” Gaston said as he leaned on the bar next to the cloaked wanderer, “But I couldn’t help but overhear. You made some mention of a monster? What sort of creature do you mean by that?”

“One of incalculable grief and infinite wickedness,” answered the man before he indulged in the contents of his shot glass again. “With eyes of fog and skin of rotten parchment, his awful frame and countenance strike thy soul with a bolt of terror at a mere glance. The daemon! He would call me his creator, and that name I can accept, but not without naming that fiend my curse in equal parts!”

The cloaked man’s voice grew louder and more agitated with each word as he lamented on the monster’s atrocious nature, and by the time his sentence finished, his grip on the shot glass shattered it in his hand. The tavern’s inhabitants gasped as bloodstained shards of glass fell to the counter, and as the man breathed in and out with perturbed agitation, a smirk grew across Gaston’s face. “And would you say that this beast of yours is out there somewhere, stalking our fair village and threatening our way of life?” he asked with a glimmer of malevolence in his eye.

“It cannot be questioned,” the cloaked man answered. “I have been his shadow, tracking my foe from the buildings of Naples to this French wood. I have resolved to pursue it to the furthest corners of the world if I must, for he – foul creature! – has named me the benefactor of his short life’s misfortunes, and sworn vengeance on all mankind for my misdeeds in bringing its detestable spirit about.”

“Then what are we all standing in here for?” Gaston declared, stepping up onto a bar stool and swinging his muscly arms out as the crowd’s attention shifted to him. “Grab your things, boys! Anything that can pierce, strike, or shoot; arm yourself and meet me at the edge of town! We’ll hunt this monster down and save ourselves from this poor fellow’s sorrow!”

The crowd of villagers cheered in agreement, spurred by fear and paranoia into following Gaston’s proposal. They then broke out into shouts of war as they spilled from the tavern doors, awakening the sleepy village to prepare for their hunt. Gaston, satisfied, stepped down from the bar stool and clapped the traveler on the back. “Me and my boys will have this… thing, of yours mounted on my wall in no time at all, friend. Before we go, though, I never caught your name…”

The cloaked traveler sighed with an emotion that Gaston could not decipher before reaching up and sliding the hood of his cloak off of his head, revealing his sunken eyes and disheveled black hair. “You will have my god-given name; Victor,” he answered. “Victor Frankenstein.”

“Get yourself ready then, Victor,” Gaston replied as he strode over to his corner of the bar and picked up his blunderbuss, loading it and smiling with twisted glee. “We’ve got a monster to find.”

—

Meanwhile, somewhere in the forest encircling the village where a monster hunt was now being prepared for, a tall castle stood in the center of its once-elaborate castle grounds that had gone to ruin after years of neglect. The front gate, rusted and forgotten by much of the world, creaked on its hinges as it swung open in the breeze. The castle’s many spires and towers loomed over the surrounding trees, and despite its size and majesty, nary a light could be seen from outside that was illuminating the interior chambers. Like much of the wood in its midst, the castle was asleep, as were many of its enchanted inhabitants. Inside its grand halls, several servants to a forgotten royal family were sleeping, but few to none were in a bed of any kind. Instead, as every last one of the castle’s subjects were living as animated objects, and now they slept in their respective places of the castle. Dishes and cutlery slumbered in the drawers of the kitchen, wardrobes and dressers lay dormant in the bedrooms, and pieces of furniture slept soundly in their appropriate rooms.

There was just one member of the cursed castle’s native body that was roaming the halls at such a late hour, and it was none other than the master of the castle: the Beast. It was one of many restless nights for the enchanted prince, and on this ominous evening he was stalking his way up and down the west wing of the castle, riddled with an anxiety-induced bout of insomnia that kept him awake. With no subjects awake to disturb him, the Beast was alone with his thoughts, which were primarily focused on his curse as they almost always were. Through the windows lining the halls and the ornate rooms of his castle, he could see that the unpleasant weather outside was only growing, with the evening’s pale moonlight and starlight beginning to fade from view as grey storm clouds filed in from the horizon.

His silent musings were interrupted, however, by the sound of the castle’s main entrance opening. His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the massive doors creaking open from his place in the west wing, and his pace increased as he made his way through the darkened halls on all fours to see what, if anything, had entered his domain. When he arrived at the west banister of the main foyer staircase, he surveyed the darkened environment to look for any intruders, but all he saw was the tall castle doors swinging open in the breeze, their aged hinges creaking as they swung on them. Beast grumbled to himself, making a mental note to have Cogsworth see about fixing the doorknob as he grabbed the edges of the door and pushed it shut, killing the draft in the room and silencing the wind from outside.

As soon as the doors clicked back into place, the fur on the back of Beast’s neck stood up straight, and he instinctively knew that someone was indeed inside his castle. He turned around, his red cloak swirling around his arms as he walked around the center of the main landing, his senses focused for any sign of an arrival to his domain. The silence of his castle was beginning to feel more ominous than it had before, and it was then that he heard a sound from the adjoining den of wood being split and splintered. With great agility, the Beast approached the entrance to the den and peered in, baring his fangs at the sight of the intruder.

Standing before the already-burning hearth was a giant of a man clothed in a dark jacket and ragged pants, his massive hands ripping logs from the wood pile in half to add them to the fire. This intrusion alone would have enraged the Beast beyond comprehension, but there was something about this man that sent a chill down his beastly spine without even seeing his face. He couldn’t put his paw on it, but there was simply an air of… wrongness about him. Recognizing that he was still the master of his forsaken domain, however, Beast shook his head to clear his thoughts and bared his fangs once again, getting low on all fours as he stalked toward the center of the den. Between the crackling of the fire and the splitting of the logs, the man did not hear the Beast’s approach, and the cursed prince stood at full height once he was a fair few feet behind him, claws out and fangs showing, and finally spoke.

“Why have you come here?”

The large intruder paused in his breaking of the firewood, dropping the halves he had been holding prior to the Beast speaking up. “Apologies, sir,” he said in a deep and unnerving tone. “I have been wandering through the wilderness for many days and nights, and as I came across this place I ventured to strike up a fire to warm my sullen body.”

“This castle is not welcoming any guests,” the Beast proclaimed in a low growl. “I don’t care where you came from or what you’re doing. You will leave, NOW.”

“Can your heart not be compelled to show a soul as abhorred as mine any compassion?” the intruder answered, refraining from turning to address the master of the castle. “Long have I heard tell of the sympathetic heart of man, and yet even now it remains closed to a being as cursed as myself. This may well be my penance for persisting in the solemn quest of existence, but I implore you, be the first of any man, woman, or beast to show this creature a shred of-“

The Beast’s rage had been building as the giant made no move to exit his castle, and that rage culminated in a monstrous roar that shook the den and rattled the castle itself. The man recoiled, throwing his massive palms over his ears as the Beast’s deafening roar continued, and by the time his cry subsided the den was a mess and the fire in the hearth had been extinguished. With anger in his step and a growl still rumbling in his throat, Beast strode toward the hunched-over intruder, intent on throwing him out by force.

“You won’t find any pity here,” the Beast snarled as he reached for the scruff of the man’s jacket. “You WILL leave, or I’ll drag you out by your own-“

Now it was the Beast’s turn to be interrupted as the large intruder spun around with great speed, and with even greater strength his hands seized at the base of his fur-covered throat, grabbing it and beginning to choke him. With a surprised grunt, the Beast grabbed at his attacker’s wrists, pulling with all his strength. Despite the darkness that now flooded the den without the fire’s light to combat it, as he struggled against his assailant’s grip, Beast could see the face of the intruder for the first time, and a cold spell gripped his heart as he stared into a set of watery, half-closed white eyes set in the deformed and discolored face of the ghastly Frankenstein’s Monster.

“What!” Frankenstein’s Monster began as he stared into the eyes of the struggling Beast. “Has a monster like yourself no empathy for one whose very existence is as damned and wretched as my own? I am a soul abandoned by his creator, outcast by all mankind and doomed to wallow in solitude until the end of time. What room have you to look down upon me, thee whose wretchedness seems equal to my own loathsome visage?”

Growling despite the choke hold that Frankenstein’s Monster had on his neck, the Beast poured his full might into his arms as he pried the Creature’s massive hands away from him, turning and throwing his massive body out of the den and into the foyer once he was freed. The Beast continued to growl as he entered the foyer, watching the Monster recover from being thrown and get back on his feet. He crouched low to the ground, poised to pounce, and Frankenstein’s Monster unleashed a horrid shout as an agitated look crossed his ghastly features.

“Your sorrow means nothing to me, monster,” Beast growled, extending his claws and flashing his fangs in an angered scowl. “Last chance: get out.”

“I have crossed the whole of Europe in my sorrowful travels, and you will not open your doors for a single night?” cried the Monster, rushing in the Beast’s direction as the latter arched his back in a display of animalistic intimidation. “If thy heart so refuses to understand my unhappiness, then you shall instead feel the rage of a heart excommunicated from the world!”

Souls Of The Damned Shall Converge At Last!

The Beast and Frankenstein’s Monster collided in the center of the foyer, grabbing each other’s shoulders and straining against their opposing might. As neither could fully outmatch the other, Beast raised his claws and dug them into the Monster’s shoulders, piercing his sickly yellow flesh and extracting a shout of pain from his jet-black lips. The Creature’s stance faltered as the Beast’s claws dug into his body, and the latter took full advantage of this by ripping his claws out of his enemy’s skin and pouncing on him, driving them both across the floor of the foyer. As they slid, the Beast grappled the Monster’s huge body and laid a number of punches and slashes onto his foe’s face and chest, every strike accompanied by a growl of rage or a shout of hurt.

The two creatures stopped sliding after a short distance, and as the Beast was still on top of his opponent as he reared up for another strike, Frankenstein’s Monster grabbed a tuft of the cursed prince’s chest fur and, raising his legs to press the soles of his boots against his opponent’s chest, launched the Beast off of him, sending him sprawling across the floor after a short flight through the air. After a heavy thud and a single bounce off the foyer floor, the Beast extended his limbs and caught himself against the floor, but he was only able to start turning back toward the Monster before he was met with the backhanded swing of a fist to the jaw. As he staggered, the Beast was made to endure a rush of swift but powerful blows from the Creature, as his arms swung back and forth with surprising speed for a combatant of his bulk. After regaining his composure under his foe’s relentless stream of hits, the Beast crossed his arms in front of his face to block the attacks, but this was met with his wrists being grabbed by the Monster and his body being flung across the foyer like a sack of weights.

Unlike his earlier tumble, Beast caught himself on all fours once he came to the floor with ease, his claws scraping up the tile as he dug in to stop his momentum. Once he had come to a halt, he righted himself and snarled as Frankenstein’s Monster charged toward him, arms raised and fists clenched. Anticipating the Monster’s next move, Beast lowered his head and leaped forward with his shoulder leading the way, tackling the Creature in the chest mid-charge. Although the Monster momentarily lost his footing, he planted his unbalanced foot back down and clocked the Beast square in his jaw with a left hook, only for his beastly opponent to respond with a swipe of his paw that nearly took his chin off. Instead, the Monster learned out of its way in the nick of time, and he grabbed the Beast’s outstretched arm by the wrist before yanking back on it, dragging Beast in for a blow to the side of the head from the Creature.

As Beast groaned, dazed by the unexpected strike, Frankenstein’s Monster wrapped both hands around his wrist and spun him around once before flinging him toward the foyer staircase with a strained shout. Beast hit the stairs with a wounded yelp, and he raised one paw to rub the back of his head and nurse the aching of his skull, but he had no time to rest as he saw Frankenstein’s Monster lurch toward him through the darkened foyer with alarming speed, the amalgamated man leaping into the air and raising his fist to bring it down on his opponent. Thinking fast, the Beast pushed off the stairs with his legs and rolled across the floor a short distance, evading the Monster’s attack as his fist plunged through the surface of the staircase and created a hole in its extravagant woodworking where the Beast’s head had been moments prior.

Upon realizing that the attack had missed its mark, Frankenstein’s Monster ripped his fist out of the stairs and turned to face the Beast once again. He saw no trace of his enemy, however, as he looked down the stairs and around the empty foyer. It was then that the Beast exploded from underneath the banister to the Monster’s left, attacking from an unanticipated angle for the element of surprise. He swung up over the railing and planted his hind paws on it before pouncing on the Creature, digging his claws into the back of his head and dragging him across the stairs before slamming his face against the opposite railing with enough force to shatter it. Despite the poignant sting of his new bruise, the Monster persisted by kicking the Beast in the knee to loosen his grip, and once the cursed prince had flinched and fallen to one knee he got up and began to rush up the massive staircase, hoping to get the high ground on his aggressor.

Seeing the monstrous intruder move deeper into his castle infuriated the Beast more than ever, and he got over the Monster’s last attack with haste before getting on all fours and roaring angrily as he bounded up the stairs. He was in hot pursuit of Frankenstein’s Monster, who was just climbing the top step as the Beast leaped up with his claws poised to strike. Seeing the attack as it was coming his way, the Creature made a calculated sidestep and allowed the Beast’s claws to rake nothing but air before reaching out and grabbing the Beast by the jugular with one hand. The cursed prince let out a garbled roar as the Monster’s fist cut off his air again, but rather than merely choke him, Frankenstein’s Monster looked behind him to see a grand window on the back wall of the hallway at the top of the stairs, and he turned as he smashed the Beast against it with great force. Cracks shot through the glass as the Beast’s huge body was pressed against it, but before he could be rammed into the window again, the Beast stretched his neck around and sank his fangs into the Monster’s wrist, puncturing his skin yet again and causing a surge of agony to run up the Monster’s arm.

As Frankenstein’s Monster rescinded his grasp on the Beast’s neck to clutch at his aching wrist, the Beast snarled and whirled around with the ferocity of a whirlwind before swatting the Monster in the back of the head, launching him forward with such speed that his head smashed through the weakened glass window. Drops of rain from a growing storm dropped onto the Monster’s slick black hair and shards of glass dug their way into the flesh of his cheek, cutting him as he pulled his head back through the hole in the window. An unholy sneer spread across the Creature’s facial features as rage filled his body, and the Beast, having paused to nurse his own injuries from their bout thus far, let out a challenging growl as he lowered himself to all fours and stalked around his foe. The unsightly fighters paced around one another in a circle, neither saying a word as the aggression from their fight overtook their judgement. Bloodlust ran rampant through their minds in that moment, and as they both lunged with a shout, their only concern was rending each other limb from limb.

Ducking underneath a haymaker from Frankenstein’s Monster, the Beast brought his arms down in an X-shaped arc as he slashed the front of the Monster’s chest with his claws, ripping through his skin and the fabric of his jacket with two fell strokes. The Creature moaned in agony, but he converted that pain to strength as he swung the bottom of his fist down onto the top of the Beast’s head, smashing him onto the floor and shaking the foyer as a result. As the castle trembled under the weight of the impact, the Beast caught the motion of an old chandelier hanging over the top of the staircase, and an idea occurred to him just as the Monster kicked him in the head while he was down.

Thrusting himself away from his foe by the paws, the Beast put some breathing room between himself and Frankenstein’s Monster, allowing him to get back on his feet. The Monster was relentless in his assault, however, and the enchanted prince soon found himself under the brunt of another swath of punches that came at him faster than he could block them. Shouldering the brunt of the attack and using his fur-covered bulk to pull through, the Beast lowered his head before charging forward through the Monster’s punches, ramming him in the chest with his horns and taking him down to the floor again. With his foe underneath him, Beast swiped at the Monster again with his claws, ripping up the skin of the Creature’s abominable face with several nasty lesions.

This was merely an additional facet of the cursed prince’s plan, however, and he raised both arms up with his paws clenched into fists as if to smash them down onto the Monster, causing his foe to hold his arms in front of his face to block the attack. It was not aimed at him, however, and the Beast roared with strain as he smashed his massive paws onto the floor around Frankenstein’s Monster. The entire foyer shook, and a slight creaking sound from overhead that had been barely audible moments prior was now growing in strength as the walls of the castle were rocked by the Beast’s strength. The Beast growled as he abruptly jumped off of and away from the Monster, landing on the floor of the hallway that led to the East Wing of his castle and out of harm’s way.

Frankenstein’s Monster, confused by his enemy’s retreat, looked up toward the sound of breakage coming from the tall foyer ceiling. Through the darkness, his watery eyes pinpointed cracks in the ceiling splintering around the large chandelier’s anchor point, and the huge fixture was beginning to shake and sway as the tremor in the castle foundations shook it loose. After several seconds of further cracking and shaking, the massive light structure gave way and plummeted toward the Monster. Acting fast, the wretched monster sat up and pushed himself back toward the hallway opposite the one of the East Wing, performing a handspring after he fell back to the floor and landing on his feet with surprising agility just as the chandelier slammed onto the floor. The castle shook again as a huge blast of dust roared from the fallen chandelier, clouding around the top of the staircase as the light fixture itself rolled down the foyer staircase and came to rest in the center of the castle entrance, blocking the door.

The Beast and the Monster both coughed as the dust from the fallen chandelier settled around them, and both took a moment to recover from their battle’s collective trauma. As the Beast drew in labored breaths on all fours, the Monster pressed its palms to its knees and similarly caught its breath, but not without looking up at his opponent and speaking.

“F-foul villain!” accused the Creature between breaths, his sickly finger pointed in the Beast’s direction. “You would yourself destroy the home that shelters thee from the wickedness of the world? Your ungratefulness for thy life’s luxuries sickens even my blackened heart, the loathsome beating flesh! From earthen hovels to wooden cottages, I have seen and named many dwellings, but never have these eyes borne witness to such disregard for one’s own habitation!”

“Silence!” commanded the Beast in an angered tone of voice. “Do you think I would listen to someone as awful as you about having a home? How many places have you defiled with your unwelcome presence in the way that your trespassing has done to my castle, demon?”

Both fighters seethed with rage at these remarks, and they glared each other down from across the huge plot of flooring that had been smashed and cracked by the fallen chandelier. However, neither could make a move to continue the fight, as the Beast’s ears suddenly pricked up at some faraway sound and he stood at full height, wary of his enhanced hearing picking up on something from outside.

“Stop,” the Beast murmured to the Monster as he listened intently. “Do you hear that?”

“Do you seek to fool me, pretender?” Frankenstein’s Monster presumptuously retorted. “There is no sound in the air but the blathering of your arrogance.”

“No,” the Beast replied, turning toward the main doors of the foyer that were now blocked shut because of the chandelier. Puzzled, the Monster also looked toward the foyer entrance, staring through the windows of the castle from atop the staircase and out into the rain-soaked beyond as the Beast continued. “Somewhere outside… It sounds like…“

“MEN!” yelled Gaston from the front of the mob, raising his fist so that the attention of the villagers would be drawn to him as they marched through the dark and stormy forest. “Keep your weapons ready and your guard up! This monster could be anywhere in these woods, and there’s no telling when it will jump out at us!”

A rousing war cry was shouted from the crowd of battle-ready villagers, every man and woman armed with torches, pitchforks, swords, axes, or any other manner of easily weaponized tool. It had not taken long for the entire village to be roused under the threat of a creature stalking them from the darkness of the woods, and in a matter of minutes an impromptu militia had been organized for a hunt to take down the threat. Leading the charge from the front of the group was Gaston himself, sharpening his arrowheads and cleaning the inside of his blunderbuss’s muzzle with a rag. Accompanying him was Victor, for he had been the one to raise the suspicion of a monster in the first place, and due to his claim of having tracked the creature across Europe he had been elected to track it through the woods and lead the mob to it. In the thick of the angry crowd, people exchanged nervous conversation about the hunt, collective paranoia seizing everyone’s thoughts as they pioneered through the woods at Gaston and Victor’s direction.

“Aaaahhhhhh,” Gaston sighed as he tucked his blunderbuss back into its holster. “Nothing gets the blood pumping like the sound of an angry mob and the thought of a glorious hunt, eh, Victor?”

“I have never been a man of the crowd, my friend,” replied Victor, “Nor am I a hunting fellow. I suppose, in a life before this one, I must have enjoyed the company of scholars and intellectuals, for I studied the sciences in my youth.”

“Err, yes, science… What an… interesting, subject,” Gaston remarked, his voice laden with sarcastic disinterest. “But if you aren’t a huntsman, then how do you explain your tracking skills? You’ve been picking up on traces of your monster before even I could notice them.”

“Such abilities,” Victor explained, his eyes glued to the ground of the forest, “Are ones developed by necessity, not frivolity. Allowing my enemy to escape into the ether would abet the atrocities he has enacted upon me and those I cherish, a crime I cannot allow myself to commit.”

“You speak quite strongly of these horrible deeds,” Gaston mused, “And yet you haven’t explained them to me at all.”

At this, Victor seemed to seize up with tension that spread across his cloaked frame. Gaston arched an eyebrow at this, and although he could not see Victor’s face under the cloak’s hood, the vengeful wrath in the wandering man’s voice gave even him pause.

“My youngest brother… My closest comrade… And my dearest beloved, each slain by the hands whose animation I instilled. My father – God, save him! – sits alone, his loved ones thieved by death and his affections quashed by my sins unto mankind. Horrible fiend! Curse thy hands, thy extremities, and all thy tools of misery and devastation! Had I never thought to give life to your flesh, this world would still have place and solace for my unbridled sentiment!”

Victor’s tone grew increasingly agitated as he continued in his tirade, and by the time he finished he was in a fit of hysteria that threatened to cause him to faint. The villagers in the mob all stared on with unease as Gaston reached out and gripped the raving wanderer’s shoulders, shaking him to relieve him of his deranged stupor. “Get a hold of yourself, man!” Gaston shouted, holding fast to Victor’s weak frame until he came to his senses. When he did, Victor shivered and drew in heavy breaths, his cloak scarcely protecting him from the pouring rain that had set in over the forest. At this, Gaston frowned with concern for his well-being, for without Victor there would likely be no way to track the monster in the storm.

“Do you need an extra jacket, Victor?” asked Gaston. “I must have you at your readiest. Otherwise, at this rate we’ll never be able to find-“

“The Monster!” interrupted Victor, extending an arm and pointing toward a section of the wood untouched by the rain. He made his way toward it with renewed strength that blindsided Gaston and the villagers, and they all followed in his stead until he came to the place he had pointed toward. True to Victor’s indication, there was a massive footprint in the soil with the treads of a boot laid throughout, and it advanced along a path opened by force between the brush that led deeper into the wood.

“He has been here!” Victor cried. “Execrated daemon! He will have passed through here, headed in this direction!”

Gaston grinned as he watched Victor follow the trail left by the unknown creature. It was fortunate that Victor had not lost himself before that point in the forest, for otherwise he may have been left with an insane scientist to hang on his wall rather than an impressive beast. Drawing his blunderbuss and raising it to the cloud-covered sky, the village strongman turned to his fellow villagers of the mob, all standing and waiting for direction.

“This is it, boys!” Gaston spoke with invigorating declaration. “The monster will be around here somewhere! Let’s find it and bring its hide home, so it will no longer be a threat to anyone!”

Gaston’s proposition was met with a rousing shout of agreement, and the village hunt resumed as they pushed further into the woods with a collective battle cry.

“KILL THE MONSTER!”

—

“There’s a mob coming,” Beast growled. “I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re headed this way.” The cursed prince dropped to all fours as he stopped listening to the sounds of the approaching villagers, turning his attention back to Frankenstein’s Monster with an annoyed frown. “What have you brought to my doorstep, creature?”

“He approaches, then!” cried the Monster, his twisted expression bearing a look of surprise. “My mortal enemy and hated creator! He would seek to destroy me and wipe his failure from the earth, but I shall not linger in this spot. This very castle, vast and empty and unkempt shelter, will shield me from his wrath!”

At this the Beast furiously gnashed his fangs, reiterating, “I thought I already told you that you are NOT WELCOME HERE!” He sprang into the air at this, claws raised and brow furrowed as he leaped across the fractured top of the stairs at the Creature, who responded by raising his massive right leg and kicking his feral enemy square in the face once he got close. Beast roared in pain as he bounced off the cracked floor and slid to a stop in the same place he’d leaped from, but he didn’t have much time to recover from the counterattack as the floor at the top of the stairs cracked and shuddered again from him landing on it, giving Frankenstein’s Monster an idea.

“If you dare to cross my loveless soul again, beast,” threatened the Monster as he raised his foot. “Then I shall delight in rending that unsightly pelt from thy bones!” After issuing his threat, the unsightly creature stomped his foot onto the floor with as much force as he could muster, sending another shake through the castle and destabilizing the weakened flooring to the point where it completely gave out. The embellishment of the flooring fell to ruin as the entire top level of the foyer stair collapsed into the hollow structuring underneath it, creating a large pit in the castle floor. With the Beast’s path to him obstructed, the Monster turned and dashed down the hall that led to the West Wing with remarkable speed.

As Beast watched the Creature’s unsightly frame dip into the darkness of the West Wing hallway, a feral rage boiled in his chest and consumed his thoughts. Victor Frankenstein’s creation may have been ignorant to what was in the West Wing, but the Beast remembered full well what was housed inside its tattered and wrecked study: the rose that was bound to his curse. The thought of Frankenstein’s Monster getting his hands on the enchanted flower and endangering the future of the castle and its inhabitants enraged the Beast like nothing before, and he cried out as he backed up in the East Wing hallway. After taking the time to get enough room for a running start, the Beast snarled and charged toward the hole in the floor before leaping to the left, sinking his claws into the wall, and running along the wall for a short distance before jumping off and landing on the other side of the pit. Wasting no time, he immediately took off down the West Wing hallway in pursuit of his intruding enemy.

In moments, the Beast was at the West Wing study’s doors, but when he tried to pull them open the handle stuck fast, its deadbolt locking the entrance shut from the inside of the room. After jostling the handle a few more times, Beast began growling and shouting in frustration as he pounded on the doors with both fists, his rage driving him to break down the doors with pure force if they would not open for him. Under the strain of the Beast’s fury-induced pummeling, the hinges on the doors began to creak and budge from their places in the walls with each strike from the cursed prince, and after a few final blows the doors blew out of the doorframe and clattered to the floor of the darkened West Wing study.

Although the enchanted rose appeared untouched, still under its glass case on the ornate pedestal, Frankenstein’s Monster was not in the immediate view of the study from the Beast’s place in its broken-down entryway, and thus he decided to storm inside and confront his concealed opponent. As soon as he entered, however, his hind legs struck a tied-up length of shredded curtain that was tied over the floor like a tripwire, and it fell to the floor as the Beast knocked it out of place and unraveled its grip on something to his left. The sound of curtains whooshing and wood creaking rang out as the trap was sprung, and the Beast turned just in time for a dusty table attached to the ceiling by a strip of cloth to swing down and smash into his face.

Startled and in pain, the Beast yelped and swung his paw as he stumbled away from the trap, breaking the table into splinters. As he stepped further into the study, the growing storm outside illuminated the room with flashes of lightning through the glass panels along the back of the room, and as the light cut through the darkness Frankenstein’s Monster could be seen stalking up to Beast’s back as the latter recovered from being caught in the Creature’s clever trap. At the moment where the thunder that followed the lightning flash rumbled in the air, the Monster jumped and grabbed onto the Beast’s back fur, clinging to it as he pulled himself up and onto his animalistic enemy’s shoulders.

The Beast let out another crazed snarl while the Monster wrapped his legs around his neck and grabbed the cursed prince’s right tusk with his right hand to steady himself as he clutched at his enemy’s massive body. The storm outside the castle grew stronger by the minute, more bolts of lightning dancing between the clouds and flirting with the earth below it as rain poured down on the castle grounds. The bursts of light continued to illuminate the West Wing study, however briefly, and shadows of the two monstrous combatants struggling with one another as the Beast lurched about the room flickered and flew across the walls, painting a terrifying picture of the raging battle against the desolate wreck of the West Wing.

Despite the Beast’s best efforts to remove him from his shoulders, Frankenstein’s Monster held fast to his foe. Taking advantage of his position, the horrid creation of science tensed his left leg and pulled it tighter against the Beast’s throat, trying to choke him again between pummeling his head with his free fist and jabbing into his chest with the heel of his right boot. In spite of his cut-off windpipe and the repeating stinging pains of his foe’s attacks, the Beast persisted as his wrath gave him strength, staggering across the study and turning away from the walls as he lurched toward them to slam the Monster between the walls and his own bulk. The Monster’s gasps of agony as he was crushed between a beast and a hard place were loud and audible, but his grip remained strong, and so the two continued to struggle against one another for the better part of a minute, both unaware of the entire castle shaking around them in time with the Beast’s retaliations against his unwelcome rider as something hammered against it from outside.

Finally, after being slammed against the study wall just a bit too hard, Frankenstein’s Monster felt a jolt of strength run through his body in response to the pain, shaking his grip on the Beast’s tusk and causing him to pull on it so hard that he snapped the majority of it free from his opponent’s mouth. Filled with a sense of unbearable torture as the stump of his right tusk ached and throbbed, the Beast screeched and raised his paws to the Monster’s knees before ripping his claws into the flesh of the Creature’s legs and raking them down to his feet, taking revenge for the unbearable injury that had been inflicted upon him.

Frankenstein’s Monster wailed with pain-stoked rage and dropped the Beast’s disembodied tusk as the numerous deep wounds in his legs tormented him, but he had no opportunity to fight back as the Beast seized at his ankles and pried him from his shoulders. In the blink of an eye, the Beast began swinging the Monster around by the ankles like a club, destroying the furniture in the study and cracking the floor as the cursed prince slammed the reanimated man against every solid surface within reach. When there were no more intact pieces of furnishing left in the study, the Beast turned and threw the Monster past the magic rose and through the glass door behind its pedestal, sending him flying over the railing of the balcony just outside and onto the castle rooftop.

As murderous intent rippled through him, the Beast made his way through the broken door, exiting the ravaged study, and leaped over the railing in pursuit of his foe, rain falling around him as the storm continued to rage. With the aid of his claws, he landed on the arched outcropping below the study balcony, arching his back in a display of intimidation against Frankenstein’s Monster, who had gotten back on his feet despite the fall and looked prepared to kill. Rain splashed down on them and thunder rumbled in their midst as they sized each other up for a moment before breaking into a sprint at each other, Beast roaring and Monster howling.

Theirs was no longer a fight for the right to stay in the castle.

Theirs was a fight to the death.

—

“COME ON! PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT, BOYS!” Gaston shouted over the rain and thunder. The village strongman would have cupped one of his hands around his mouth to magnify his voice if he were able, but both were occupied in holding up the back end of a battering ram fashioned from a tree. He had cut it down after Victor had led them to the castle in the middle of the forest so that he and the villagers, who were holding the battering ram from the sides, could break down its massive doors, but so far their efforts had proven fruitless. The group swung the battering ram once more, and it slammed against the middle of the grand castle doors, but again they refused to give an inch. Inside of the doors, the huge foyer chandelier that had been knocked down in the heat of battle was laying against the doors, and no amount of mob power was going to make it move.

“It’s no good, Gaston!” yelled one of the men holding the log from the side, his facial expression as winded and miserable as those of everyone else holding the battering ram. “This door won’t budge for anythin’!”

“Blast it!” Gaston exclaimed as he finally let the log drop to the stone of the bridge that led to the castle, prompting everyone else to do the same and reconvene around him. “Victor,” he called out, addressing the weak traveler who had been watching the mob attempt to break the doors of the castle down from a distance. “These doors are practically frozen in place. You’re absolutely sure that the monster is in there?”

“There can be no doubting it,” Victor confirmed, his cloak billowing about in the storm. “His vile tracks in the woods prior all showed him privy to these palace grounds, and heaven-set on sheltering therein. This castle…” he continued, hobbling past Gaston and the mob to place a hand upon the doors to the Beast’s castle. “Such majesty and grace… Its construction is, in all divine senses, perfect.” At that, the desolate man collapsed to the bridge underfoot in despair, slamming a fist into a puddle of rainwater on the concrete and shouting, “Why, then, in all my most cautious plannings and outlines, was my grandest creation not beautiful, nor majestic, nor awe-inspiring, and rather awful, repugnant, and blasphemous to God’s image of man!?”

As Victor suffered yet another emotional outburst, some members of the village mob moved to console him at the foot of the castle doors. However, most of them, Gaston included, stayed put in their huddle, regarding the obsessive scientist with indifference at best and annoyance at worst.

“How much longer are we going to put up with this loon?” grumbled an older member of the crowd. “I say we should have thrown him in the asylum the moment he rolled into town.” At this, there was a murmur of agreement, but Gaston shook his head and everyone who had been agreeing with the elder was suddenly disagreeing with him.

“Normally, I would agree,” Gaston replied, folding his arms as a smug look entered his eyes. “But when he said something about a horrible monster, I wanted to see how true his claims were. And if I return home tonight without a terrifying creature’s hide to mount on my wall, this sap’s heading out of town not on his own two feet, but in the back of the loony wagon. And that’s that, or my name isn’t Gaston!”

“T-t-that’s all well and good,” shivered another from the mob, “But did we have to be dragged all the way out in this d-dreadful storm for it? We’re sooner to c-catch a cold than we are to s-s-see any crea-… any c-crea-… HAACHOOO!!”

The villagers all groaned and complained as the sickened man sneezed into the crowd, everyone taking a step away from him as he clung to his jacket like his life depended on it. Then, as one of the women stepped away from the crowd and onto the bridge, she happened to glance up to the higher parts of the castle, and her eyes shot open as she screamed in terror.

“What now!? What is it that you’re hollering about, woman?” Gaston shouted in response, irritated by the low morale among the villagers and the unflinching castle doors.

“U-up there!” the lady stammered, pointing up to the roof with an arm that shook not because of the storm, but because of her own fright. “O-on the roof! I-i-it’s…”

With the attention on her, the village crowd moved to see what she saw, and when they did they all gawked and screamed in a similar manner. Standing on a narrow sect of the castle roofing were two ghastly silhouettes, one of a frightening beast and the other of a towering man, facing each other high above the bridge on which the mob stood. Their features were difficult to spot in the evening’s pouring rain, but the brief, infrequent bolts of lightning dashing through the sky brought into view a few choice elements of their frames. Claws and a set of horns were poised to strike by the beastly creature, and elongated arms with balled fists were raised over the monstrous man’s misshapen head.

The townsfolk watched in terror as the two frightful beings stared each other down, neither seeming to hear their screams. “M-M-M-Muh…” stammered the old man from before, staring up at the scene of the battle, and when the monsters’ horrible shouts echoed down from on high as they rushed at one another, the rest of the villagers joined him in making the obvious observation.

“MOOONSTEEEERS!” screamed the mob, and as their fear combined with their misery of being out in the stormy night, everyone turned back to the forest and began to run back toward their village, dropping their weapons and tools on the bridge as they fled.

“What the- HEY! Where are you all going!?” Gaston yelled, his expression dropping by the moment as his faithful mob of townsfolk abandoned him. “Where’d all that bravado about killing a monster go, you cowards!?”

“Can it be true?” Victor murmured. Gaston lurched away from him in a fright, not having realizing that the delirious chemist was the only who hadn’t fled the scene aside from himself. Motionless and enraptured, Victor stood at full attention to watch the beasts battle it out on the rooftop, unfazed by the pouring rain and the cold midnight winds. “Can there truly be two monsters? Two horrid creations of mankind’s boorishness, fated to wage war on the peaks of royalty?” he continued. “If it can be so, then God, have mercy! Gracious God, look upon this wretched scene; Turn thy sacred gaze to the place where my sin, my greatest folly, fights for its very life, and smile upon me to have that sin forgiven: that frame, that unholy countenance, demolished and forgotten by all the spawn of Adam!”

“How can such a skinny human have the breath for all of those WORDS!?” groaned Gaston, exasperated by Victor’s wordy plea to the heavens. Then, having had enough of the scene, Gaston sighed and began to walk back across the bridge, trudging across the villagers’ discarded weaponry as he griped, “Pah, forget it! What’s the point in killing a monster if there’s nobody for me to do it in front of aside from a scrawny mental patient? Stay here if you want, but don’t expect me to come and save you. Personally, I hope they both come down and snack on your guts – it’ll be one less lunatic roaming around and leading me on a wild goose chase.”

With that, Gaston was gone, following the mob of villagers through the forest on a return path to their village. Victor, paying the strongman’s insults no heed, continued to watch from below as his monster did battle with the feral beast. His cloak swirled around him in the wind, the rain soaked him down to the bone, and the violent rolls of thunder threatened to knock him off his feet, but he didn’t care. Because for the first time in a long time, Victor was feeling something other than angst, guilt, and isolation.

He felt hope.

—

Oblivious to the fleeing onlookers that had been scared off by their duel, the Beast and Frankenstein’s Monster slugged one another with agitated punches and swings of their fists. With how narrow the outcropping on which they stood was, they had little to no room to maneuver around each other, and so their clash had become a full-force brawl for the world to witness atop the rain-drenched castle. The storm around them raged with the strength of the gods, slinging lightning across the sky and rocking the land with the resulting thunderclaps for a terrifyingly beautiful backdrop to the monstrous battle.

The world around the Beast and the Monster seemed to move in slow motion as they traded blows with one another. As the Beast’s clawed paws decked the Creature across his unpleasant face and he responded in kind with mighty blows to the Beast’s jaw, the drops of rain showering down from the thick grey clouds above them seemed to crawl their way down through the air, and the bolts of lightning slowly stretched across the otherwise overcast evening sky. Their bodies were drenched and throbbed all over with horrible soreness, but neither were going to rest until the other was finished for good, and so they continued to fight.

After catching Frankenstein’s Monster off his guard with a slash to the chest that sent him stumbling toward the edge of the arched railing, the Beast roared and leaped to the opposite end where the outcropping met the roof it protruded from and charged forward with his head lowered. Seeing the charge coming his way and having nowhere to run, the Monster planted himself as best he could and reached out, grabbing The Beast by his horns and straining to stop his reckless abandon from sending them both plummeting down the top of the castle. Against the force of The Beast’s charge, however, he could not stop himself from sliding back on the slick steel railing, and he looked over his shoulder to size up the dizzying height of the fall below him. What stared back were the abyssal depths of the trench around the castle, the bottom of which could not be seen in the pouring rain.

Not wanting to be the one who fell to his death, the Monster shouted with strain and frustration as he pulled to the left on the Beast’s horns, redirecting the cursed prince’s momentum and throwing him off of the railing. the Beast cried out in pain numerous times as he went tumbling down the steep rooftop of one of the castle spires, and the Monster jumped onto the same roof and slid down its incline to tail his enemy. Beast eventually caught himself on the flatter bottom of the roof, stopping his fall just before he slipped over the edge and fell even further, but he had no time to rest as Frankenstein’s Monster was already upon him yet again. The Creature jumped from halfway down the spire rooftop with his fist raised to strike from overhead, and the Beast just barely managed to get himself together and roll out of the way, his abhorred opponent’s knuckles instead slamming onto the tiles below the cursed prince’s last location.

Out of harm’s way for the time being, the Beast growled with less assurance than before as the accumulative weight of his injuries began to creep up on him. He clutched at his chest and hunched over somewhat, catching his breath and trying to fight through the throbbing aches that plagued his beastly frame. The Monster took a moment to recover as well, his shredded legs screaming in pain after dropping from such a height, but he was ready to continue sooner than his opponent was. The reanimated man rose to full height as the Beast was still doubled over in pain, his movements beginning with a struggling limp in his enemy’s direction that steadily increased to a forced walk, then a run, and then a full-force sprint with his fists raised and his face twisted into a sneer as an enraged wail escaped his pitch-black lips.

The first of the Monster’s reinvigorated strikes saw his fist drill into the center of the Beast’s snout, breaking the cartilage within and sending the cursed prince reeling away with a shrill, bestial yell of agony. The next attack found its way to the Beast’s shoulder, throwing him off balance and opening him up for the next several attacks. The Monster’s barrage was merciless and unleashed with blinding swiftness, and with every punch that sank into his person, the Beast’s suffering intensified and his inner anger increased. The Creature pushed him along the edge of the roof with each blow he dealt, and when the Beast’s unsteady footing was against the edge of the spire rooftop, he raised his arm and shifted his feet to throw his full weight into the final punch.

However, as he planted his foot back on the roof on his way down, the Creature’s boots slid on a trail of rainwater running down the steep roof, causing him to stumble and lose his composure mid-swing. It was at that moment that the Beast, released from the slew of strikes that had been pinning him down, felt his rage hit a fever pitch, and his pained demeanor exploded away in a rush of feral anger. In the blink of an eye, the Beast’s claws lashed out at his enemy’s exposed abdomen, digging into one of the rows of sutures on the Monster’s stomach and ripping away the entire layer of skin on his gut.

Frankenstein’s Monster let out a haunting screech as his inner organs were exposed to the cold evening rain, but the Beast’s rage clouded his vision and he continued to lash out, tackling the Monster by the chest and sending them both flying off of the spire rooftop. As they fell through the air toward the crest of another section of roofing, the Beast’s claws and fangs flashed like the lightning around them as he tore into the exposed organs of the Monster, shredding his insides and ripping out large chunks of his assembled flesh during their descent. Blood and tissue fell with the rain, splattering along the sides of the castle and creating a shower of carnage that surrounded the two combatants in midair. The Monster’s tortured screams were incessant and haunting, but to the Beast, they were invigorating.

Finally, after the Creature’s abdomen had been ripped open in several places and almost completely gutted, the Beast wrapped one paw around his enemy’s throat and planted his hind legs on top of his enemy, one on his chest and the other on his pelvis. This happened just in time for the two to land on the crest of the roof below them, and the Beast’s weight slammed down on top of The Monster as the jagged ridge cracked his spine. These forces combined split the Monster’s horrid frame in two, his viscera spilling across the tiles as his upper and lower body were parted at the middle of his spinal cord.

As the Monster’s agonized screams echoes across the castle grounds, the Beast’s rage subsided and he sighed as he collected his composure once more. With his paw still clutching at the Monster’s throat, he lifted his foe’s upper half to meet him at eye level atop the deluged roof, kicking away the Creature’s motionless waist and legs and letting them fall into the neglected gardens. As the Monster’s screams died down, his arms went slack as the fight drained out of him, along with drops of his blood and scraps of his rotten entrails.

“S-so…” groaned the Monster as he stared down the Beast, his voice weak and frail. “This is to be my end? Bested, savagely and utterly, atop this miserable place? Then I suppose in the creator’s eye, this ought to be my penance… Penance for killing, and instilling despair in the hearts of man… But was I not j-justified? Had my sufferings been a frightful nightmare, and nothing more, my deeds would not have been proportionate. True, too, that I felt remorse when I wrapped my hands around the throats of my v-victims… B-but you, creator of my own,” the Monster lamented, no longer appearing to be paying attention to the Beast, “You have ruled otherwise in your hallowed judgement… Have you not…?”

The Beast stared with solemnity as Frankenstein’s Monster turned his gaze to the clouds above, whose ruckus of lightning and thunder had abruptly gone silent. Now there was only the cascading of rain, the wetness of which washed away the Creature’s spoiled blood as it fell from his body.

“If you’ve caused others pain simply because you were in pain,” returned the Beast, “Then I have no sympathy for you. Save your words for whatever awaits something like you after death, because if you hate your existence so much…”

At this, the Beast put one leg in front of the other as he reared up the arm that was holding up Frankenstein’s Monster’s dying upper half.

“…Then I’ll put an end to it for you.”

And with that, the Beast tossed the Monster’s upper body over the edge of the roof, staring as it fell past his castle and into the deep river trench that encircled his palace grounds. As he fell, the Creature’s watery vision darkened and blurred, and by the time his sewn-together frame was demolished against the rocks below, there was no more life to be found in him. Victor, having seen all of this from the bridge, stared up in silence at the Beast’s shadow as the cursed prince turned and withdrew into the depths of his castle. The battle was over, and Victor, having seen everything he could have ever wanted to see, turned his back to the castle, shakily drew in a breath, and spoke as he began to take his leave.

“Justine… William… Clerval… Elizabeth. You have, each of you, been avenged this evening. I regret it could not be brought about by my own hands, these wretched tools that sculpted he who falls to oblivion tonight… But now, each of you may find peace. Fly these lands and seek sanctuary in the realm beyond mine, and wait not, for my due is paid. I shall seek to join you. Await me at the gates of our Father’s land, if there I may even be permitted. But I shall not trouble my thoughts with doubts of our creator’s judgement, friends…”

Victor trailed off, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head once again and venturing to disappear into the forest, but not without a final word to the ears of those beyond.

“…For tonight I have seen my cursed attempt at life meet his end. And that will forever satiate me in this mortal coil.”

…So did Beast actually win, or did he just do the Monster a favor? I can’t really tell.

Considering Victor was still around, I’d say he ended up cutting his revenge campaign a tad short.

An accomplishment that did not come easy, to be sure. This match was unbelievably close from a statistical perspective, with Beast and the Creature ranking about the same in terms of attack potency and durability. As Beast could shake his castle and the Monster could have destroyed a cottage, the best interpretations of their strength proved pretty much dead even when compared to one another, meaning that both would be hard-pressed to outmatch the other in a straight brawl.

They’ve both proved that they could survive around the same level of punishment as well. Both survived falling from great heights and could no-sell the attacks of angered humans, so that much is apparent. As for speed, while Beast could keep up with wolves, which average speeds of 30 miles per hour, Frankenstein’s Monster more than doubled that by being comparable to the flight speeds of an eagle, averaging 75 miles per hour at the least. So if he was just as tough as Beast and was over two times as fast, why didn’t the Creature win?

Keep in mind that the Creature being as fast as an eagle comes from a statement that Victor made, not from any concrete measurement of his top running speed. Plus, he compared his speed to that of lightning in a later encounter, which is a pretty big leap between his assertions, so these observations may have been hyperbole on Victor’s part and therefore wouldn’t be viable testaments to the Creature’s speed. It’s hard to say for sure, so it’s up to individual interpretation as to whether or not these statements can be treated as fact.

Right, but even if we accept them as indisputable truth, speed alone doesn’t net the Monster a win here. Beast’s heightened senses of smell and hearing could help him keep track of the Creature even when outmatched in movement speed, and despite the Monster’s impressive stamina, Beast has actually displayed a greater tolerance for pain. Look at his fight with Gaston: he was shot in the back with an arrow, kicked through a huge window, and knocked down a several-story drop all in just a few seconds, and he was back on his feet with no problem once he got serious about fighting back. Meanwhile, just being shot in the shoulder with a gun after saving someone from a river was enough to make Frankenstein’s Monster pass out, so even with the Monster’s high endurance and tolerance for rough conditions, it was unlikely that Beast would succumb to any injuries before his opponent would.

Furthermore, in a match like this where strength and durability were closely contested, it’s important to closely analyze secondary factors like experience and intelligence to help determine who has the edge. Frankenstein’s Monster was only alive for a span of some months before he went to commit self-immolation at the North Pole, and Beast has been dealing with the assets attributed to his curse for a decade by the time of the main film’s events. Therefore, it stands to reason that Beast has a sizable experience advantage over the Creature. As for intelligence, it’s highly probable that the Creature has a greater capacity for knowledge, as evidenced by how much he learned over the course of his short life, but Beast is likely more well-learned as a result of his royal upbringing and the size of his library’s contents.

And while the Creature’s cunning could have allowed him to set traps for Beast if given the chance, Beast has proven to be capable of tactical thinking in a fight as well, such as when he blended in with the gargoyle statues on the roof to get in an advantageous position against Gaston. Therefore, neither have displayed enough to say that one would definitively be better than the other in that department. Plus, going back to experience for just a second, it’s important to take inventory of how well-equipped Beast and the Monster would be to do battle with each other. By fighting Gaston to a point where he could have killed him, Beast has proven that he’s more than a match for brawny fighters with some cunning and above-average strength. Frankenstein’s Monster has never fought anything quite like the Beast, however – in fact, most of his victims are helplessly average humans, so Beast is a pretty big step up from his usual opposition. This makes it pretty clear to see that Beast would be more prepared for a fight against someone like the Monster than vice versa.

As a final point of contention, recall that Frankenstein’s Monster is a sewn-together mass of skin that barely covers up the collection of organic material underneath. This means that because his strength is so closely on par with the Creature’s durability, Beast’s claws and fangs would be more than enough to rip through his opponent’s defenses if given the chance. Even if we assumed that the Creature had full immunity to pain, simply not feeling the agony of his skin being ripped off wouldn’t save him from being disemboweled by Beast once he became bloodlusted. Both may be pacifistic and melancholy by nature, but with how hideous the Creature is, chances are that Beast would take their fight seriously from the onset.

Frankenstein’s Monster is a nightmarish opponent whose physical strength was easily a match for his competition, but Beast’s abilities, experience, and superb willpower meant that Frankenstein wasn’t the only Victor that the Creature needed to worry about!

The winner of this Courtroom Conflict is the Beast.

The Beast (Winner):
+Acute senses compensate for lower speed
+Claws and fangs
+Fur helps to absorb blunt attacks
+Has experience with foes akin to what the Creature could bring to a fight
+When disregarding statements, is probably faster
+Greater tolerance for pain
=Comparable strength and durability
=Bad temper
-Not as academically gifted or cunning

Frankenstein’s Monster (Loser):
+Faster movement speed when accepting statements
+Higher capacity for intelligence
+Far higher endurance
=Comparable strength and durability
=Bad temper
-Rotten and patched-together body