Scrunkled by SCIENCE

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12taEOcB9SNkvURckufrLrqXER81OOdBIANauK5q3b7Q/edit

WC: 527

Ragged would be the best descriptor to describe what was staring back at me from the mirror. An already tired face seemed that much worse now. Countless hours of research just to make one poor creature look that much more pathetic. Not to mention all the money I put into this as a sign of faith in the brilliance of my companion, someone that had so often been shoved aside by science for their pursuits. My money! Gone! Wasted, even! What a joke this was, knowing my goals might never be reached.

Taking a closer look in some sort of misguided hope for anything to be different was the next step. Was I taller? No. My legs did feel like gelatin but that wasn’t exactly an exciting development, nor one that would stay once the remaining adrenaline wore off. Fangs, claws, hair, everything was just as it’s always been. Perhaps my tail was bushier but that could once again be blamed on the rush of the experiment.

I am now as I’ve always been. A giant cat with glowing wings.

I watch my reflection as the disappointment fades in, an involuntary twitch of my right ear catching the doctor's attention as a telltale sign of my dismay at the results.

“It could… be worse,” they argue, “it could’ve just…” They make the motion of dragging their thumb across their neck. True. It could’ve been worse.

“A result of any kind would’ve been better. I’ve been entertaining you for how long now?” The words out of my mouth are more bitter than I intend and you can see in the doctor's face that they hit hard. “We’ve been at this for ages. We deserve some kind of result. You… deserve a victory.” I say, a hollow half-attempt at showing that I care about them.

“Well I’d hardly say there’s no result. Looking even worse than usual is a result of a sort.” They point out and I finally turn to face them. A timid person by nature they recoil at the frustration on my face, a short, forced chuckle escaping their lips as they push their glasses up their nose. “Maybe not what we wanted, of course.” They add.

“So what was in this one?” I ask, stepping toward their desk to peruse the notes and diagrams. A few shards of glass from an unfortunate beaker litter the tabletop, clattering to the floor as they try to clean up the space with an uncomfortable laugh. “Nothing too expensive. Or poisonous this time.” They shake their head.

“Why are you so driven? Me I understand but… you? You could’ve given up dozens of attempts ago.” I look at them, trying once again to know why they’ve put up with so many failures.

“My aims reach beyond just this.” They respond simply, the response I’d gotten time and time again. “But this is just the first part. A stepping stone, if you will.” They offer a smile and I swear I catch something dark behind their eyes, something that makes me less certain of this whole plan. I guess that’s what you get when you fund a mad scientist's ambitions.