Chapter Text
"Morons!"
Jamison picked a mechanical arm from his work table and slammed it against the ground, limb shattered into million of pieces. He proceeded to grab his tools and threw them as well, bouncing against the floor and denting the tiles.
"Idiots!" He hollered as he proceeded to just throw and destroy anything he could get his hand on; Jamison wasn't upset, he was furious.
The young scientist had just come back from his audience with Lord Reinhardt; despite the fact that Jamison had built so many perfect amazing beautiful automatons for the Lord, the buffoon never cared- he dared used his creations for nothing but petty servants, running around the castle as nothing but maids for the royal family; it made his blood boil.
"Shit-" He whispered, shaking as he finally started to calm down, heart beating violently as he looked at the state of his laboratory. Glass and metal laid destroyed on the floor, blueprints shredded at his feet as the silence took over.
He slumped against the floor, taking off his googles to rub at his tired stingy eyes. His jaw hurt, forehead covered in sweat after his tantrum.
His family had been royal to the Lord's family for generations, Jamison's father and his father's father, all of them had always followed the Lord's orders but for the first time Jamison truly understood his role. No matter how many more automatons he made, no matter how much he tried to prove himself he would be nothing but the "creepy doctor".
Jamison clenched his mechanical fist and slammed it against the ground. He had lost that arm working for Reinhardt. He had lost his fucking limbs working for Reinhardt, but it meant nothing to the man, it would never mean anything to him.
His family was a good family. His dad, his grandad- they all gave their lives for their village and no one in that miserable hunk of land cared. Memories of the townspeople pointing at them and whispering rude comments flooded Jamison's mind. They were good people, damn it! They didn't deserve all the abuse the village had thrown at their way.
Jamison hated it. It made his guts twist, anger spilling from his very being ever since he was a child. He couldn't understand why the villagers hated them so much, why they hated him so much. After his father died, now he was the object of abuse and mockery for the townspeople. Pathetic.
He was a genius damn it, and he would make sure his genius would be recognized.
But how? Jamison pondered as he stared at the mess on the floor. He had made perfect automatons, perfect machines that would follow any order you gave them but they didn't have a choice in the matter, they weren't alive-
Jamison blinked. He knew exactly what to do.
He quickly scrambled off the floor, slipping as his peg leg twisted around but he didn’t care, he was way too excited to care about flailing around like an idiot. The doctor left all the mess behind without care, running past his laboratory as he made his way to his personal library. The books he always read and needed to make his machines were throw into the floor or laying in pieces around the room. It was a mess, but he liked it that way. Few of the bookstands weren't even touched, books Jamison had gathered across the years which he figured would come handy at one point. Boy was he glad he kept those.
He practically took in his arm most of the books in one of the untouched bookshelves, the manuals and encyclopedias spilling from his hands but he didn't care for it, getting as many as he could carry. Jamison ran back to his laboratory with the book on his arms, dumping them on his work table as he dragged the many blackboards scattered across the room. In the blackboards were mechanical formulas, diagrams for the innards of his mechanical creations and notes. He rapidly cleaned them all off, erasing all those formulas he had been writing through the years without any hesitation- they wouldn't be of use for him anymore. He had other plans now.
He began scribbling into the blackboards with chalk, opening all the books on his table and staring at them, mechanical fingers tearing through the pages and ripping off the ones he needed. Jamison pasted them into the wall, drawing on the chalk boards at the same time.
Jamison was a blur, moving frantically from the blackboards to his work table and to the wall where he was pasting everything to. He would occasionally snarl to himself, erasing everything from the blackboards and starting all over again.
He had been at it for hours, mechanical hand creaking as he continued to scribble maniacally, Jamison laughter echoed through the laboratory as he finished scribbling the design of his next creation. The doctor stepped back staring at the design he had finally settled on displayed proudly on the blackboard, kneeling and hollering to himself.
A massive man was drawn with chalk, massive gut and hands (just like he liked them); not an automaton, but a being made of pure flesh.
Jamison has had enough of lifeless mechanical creations, oh no, this would be different, this would show everybody that Jamison Junkenstein was a brilliant man. This would make the townspeople respect him- this would make Lord Reinhardt bow to him and his intelligence. This would change his life for the best.
Jamison Junkenstein was going to create life.