Victor walked with a purpose, he strode through the streets of London, his face cold from the rush of icy, impoverished air. It was late now, around quarter to one in the morning, but still people milled around the marketplace in their droves. Victor knew what type of people they were.

"Just a shilling for the night, love,"

"Come on dearie, you can have me any way,"

Victor walked past, shaking his head and swallowing nervously, his hands balled into fists at his side. He would have been lying if he said he had never thought about losing his virginity to a prostitute but, being a doctor, and knowing the various diseases they tended to carry, he decided against it.

"Please sir, my child..." One young woman begged of him but he only swept past, momentarily closing his eyes. He hated this part of the city. Sometimes the girls brought their children out with them to pull in sympathetic customers.

Victor wondered how people could still believe in God.

"There's a den down this way Sir, you're looking mighty vexed," A child, only eleven or twelve, tugged on his sleeve excitedly. The grubby child had a smear of dirt on his face and wasn't wearing shoes. Victor flipped him a coin which the lad caught eagerly.

"I have my own," He muttered, walking on.

Victor was about to do something much worse than anything they could offer him.

The monster had demanded a bride, and though Victor had originally created him using the fresh body of a man killed in a bar fight, he didn't think he would be able to watch the light fade from a beautiful young woman's eyes any more than he would be able to talk one into bed with him. So he was looking for the next best thing possible.

By the time Victor reached his destination, it was verging on two am. He pulled his coat further around him, not from cold but as a weak form of protection. The shovel that was wedged inside of it pressed hard into his side.

The gates of the graveyard were, as expected, locked; Victor didn't wish to break so he withdrew the shovel he was carrying and tossed it over the high fence. Then, he threw himself at it, hanging from the side as he hauled himself up and rolled over its top.

Victor landed with a hefty thud, knocking the air from him. Sluggishly, he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a gloved hand. There was no time to waste, so, he got to his feet and began searching for an ideal candidate.

It took him nearly half an hour to find what he needed: a fresh grave from just two days ago, Miss. Abigail Slater, nineteen years old.

Victor shook his head with shame but that did not stop him producing his shovel and driving it down deeply into the hard pack earth. The young doctor grimaced as he muscles pulsed under his shirt, this digging was more difficult than he had anticipated and after a while of attempting to pull up the chunk of dirt, he concluded it was stuck.

"Half crown and I don't scream,"

Victor floundered, slipping from the grip he had on the shovel and tripping awkwardly to the ground. He looked up at the dark figure in front of him and smiled, it was only a girl.

Around eighteen she had dark hair fixed under a hat, her dress was ripped in various places which exposed it's under skirt. The poor thing was only about five foot one.

Victor sighed and bent forward to brush the dirt from his trousers.

The boot came down on the middle of his chest and forced him backwards, his head once again hitting the ground, "Half crown, sir,"

Victor's eyes widened as he realised what she was doing, with a look of indignance on his pale face he felt into his pocket for the money which he then handed over. The girl released him but only enough for him to sit up, she inclined her head towards the grave Victor was attempting to exhume.

"I can do that for you," She suggested, "I don't ask questions,"

Victor started at her, she was dawdling, swaying from side to side with a large satchel that bounced off her hip. Victor jerked to the side, he needed to escape but as he did so, she moved too. Victor reached up and tugged at her bag which popped from her shoulder and ripped, vomiting its contents onto the floor. The girl dropped down on top of him, her knees pinning both his arm to the floor.

Victor thought about rolling her away from him, she was tiny and he was sure he could but he was concerned she could have a weapon and, what's more, his heart was beating too fast for him to function properly.

On the floor lay a plethora of silver kitchen utensils, small ornaments and jewellery.

"You're a thief" Victor declared and the girl snorted uncouthly.

"I can assure you, you're in no position to talk, Sir,"

He swallowed. Hard.

She relaxed slightly, this man was no threat to her and by his nervously darting eyes, she was sure her pretty little face was doing its job.

"I need more than this one." Victor mumbled

"I'll explain again. I'll do this for you, Sir, for the very low price of £5 a body, that's less than I'd get selling them myself,"

Victor narrowed his eyes, the scientific side of him told him people never did anything out of the kindness of their hollow hearts.

"Why do you want to help me?"

"I'm not helping you!" She snapped.

"It's not the most moral way of a steady income,"

The girl pressed down on the softness of him arms and Victor winced.

"Who are you to judge me?!" She raged, "You're not the Lord!"

Victor laughed and looked up at the young girl's face, unmarred by scars or wrinkles, he was surprised she hadn't tried prostitution, not that he would have suggested it but deduced if she was in a situation as dire as this, she was desperate. Then again, maybe she had already attempted.

Take aback, she retreated from him, almost crawling away, tears in her eyes.

She straightened up and made to brush the dirt off her dress before looking at its current state and simply sighing deeply.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

Victor sat up, he had his reputation to think of; transporting bodies to and from his warehouse would be far too high of a risk and at least if she was caught, he could deny her.

He handed her a note and pressed it into her hand.

"Take this one here," He gestured to his shovel, "Then follow whatever procedure you usually follow to conceal it, you will follow me back to where I need to bodies delivered and then you will provide me with an address I can reach you at. You will be paid upon reaching the destination."

The girl moved towards the shovel and it was only then he noticed how physically fit she was, her waist sharply dipped in and he guessed she was wearing a corset under her dress.

"How do I know you won't kill me when you get what you want?"

Victor laughed woodenly, running a hand through his golden hair, he was tired, "I don't think I'd be able to, Miss..."

She made no effort to reply to him, Victor didn't even know if she had been listening to his answer as she shovelled dirt over her shoulder, working fast.

"It's Miss Hare," She replied eventually, "Elizabeth Hare,"

"My name is Victor Frankenstein,"