“Yes, good, good!” beamed Mr. Wickles, enjoying the classic moment of shock after the transformation takes place. It only gets better every time, he thought to himself with a chuckle, quite pleased with himself. “Stare with a touch more brooding and dramatic mystery; it’ll help you get into character.”
Both versions of Patches scoffed in unison and cast their eyes to the ground indignantly, serving only to further please an already gleeful creator. “See? You were born to fit this role.”
Ignoring Mr. Wickles’ comment, Patches tried turned his mind to business. His mind was certainly in an unbearably irritable malaise; visions of home and a warm snifter of milk pleased him more with every passing moment. In his burgling years, his stamina was indeed trained to bear long work hours such as these, yet even so, he could feel his feline form begin to long desperately for a nap. Looking upon the newly-created vampire creature, he wondered what thoughts might have been passing through the sparkly teen’s mind. Were they precisely comparable, or were they being compromised by this— this creature? Fascinated by the boy’s sudden interest in the room around him, Patches watched uneasily after his darting gaze.
Ignoring Mr. Wickles’ comment, the vampire turned his mind to more important matters: where on earth might there be some blood around this place? Surely it couldn’t be far, being in a laboratory and all, he considered with impatience. Trying to remain calm, Patches tried in vain to persuade himself that it was all in his head. Starving now, his eyes became quite suddenly wild and darted here and there. Pulsing and twitching with enormous energy, the boy easily found in himself an urge to hunt as his heightened sense of smell had a mind of its own. Never had he felt so alive, so primal.
Sighing, Mr. Wickles tossed a bag filled with a red liquid to the vampire, the contents of which were suckled with haste and without even a touch of ceremony— much to the horror of Patches, who watched on with disgusted indignation. “There you are then, deary! You must keep your strength up for what is shortly to follow.”
As Mr. Wickles ushered the vampire from the laboratory, eager to launch the plan at last, Patches looked on at the spectacle, unsure of how to proceed. Was he even interested in watching this nonsense as it played out? Knowing this without even so much as turning, Mr. Wickles smirked at the poor feline’s predicament. “Come now, burglar,” he called to him, adding a hint of foreboding as he left the room. “You will not wish to miss this.”