[theRAGEbeat]

[L.ithium]

It was a Saturday evening. That meant the research team was gone for the weekend. The only people who came in on these days were a team of caretakers who slid food in through a mechanism in the glass doorway, retrieved the old plates, then scurried off as quickly as they had gotten their task finished. It may have had something to do with an incident a few weeks ago, on a Thursday. His filet mignon had been overcooked when he explicitly specified rare. Someone had to pay for their egregious error, and one of the old caretakers had been a bit too careless and used his hand to slide the meal-tray in through the slot. Maxwell of course had been immediately tranquilized, but he heard that the bite had been particuarly nasty. Nearly cost the poor man his hand. It hadn't been the caretaker's fault, but somebody had to pay.

That's right, somebody had to pay. For the steak, for the confinement, but mostly for his sheer and utter boredom. The creature paces along the back wall of his bullet-proof glass cube, bone structure in his limbs shifted so that he could move easily on all fours. Back and forth along the wall because there was nothing else for him to do. His route carried him up and over his bed repeatedly as well, but the climb did not seem to slow him down. Eventually growls start issuing from his throat, in the same repetitive fashion as his pacing. He was bored, there was no doubt about that. And there was nothing so dangerous as a bored "demon."

Demon. Ha. Only humans would label him as such. Humans and their ignorantly relgious ways. Maxwell could not inform them of a proper name for his species only because there were so few of his kind it had seemed among them, when they'd gathered on one of those infinitely rare occassions many years ago, that it was unnecessary. So he could not correct his captors on even such a small thing as that. Additional thorns in his side.

Five days of tests, two days alone. Tests and alone. Five and two. It had been the same routine since he'd gotten here. Routine was paramount in Maxwell's eyes, but even for him, this was getting to be a bit much. Frustrated to the point of crazed, he snaps out of his linear course and rushes at an opposite wall, digging claws into and down the glass with a sickening screeching sound. Surveying his work, he found that the cage barely showed any evidence of his abuse. Dissapointed, he sighs and goes, tail dragging, to curl up on the suede comforter of his king-sized bed.

How many more minutes until the caretakers came? He had lost count. They would only be here for a moment, but at least it was a break in the monotony. Ten minutes, thirty, two hours, more? He didn't know, but somebody had to come...

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret Brennan pushed past the doors labelled restricted and ascended the steep steel staircase, gripping the banister tightly. She reached the floor and swiped her ID card in order to gain access to the area. This was the first time she was seeing the beast.

She had heard talk of this creature, mostly by overhearing private conversations. She was not sure of the authenticity of these claims until she was called into the president of Corealis University's office. He asked her if she would like to be involved in the project. Her human side seemed to think it was unethical, keeping a creature like that purely for study. An animal should be in it's natural habitat, or, in the case of zoos and wildlife centres, an area that is as close to its natural habitat as possible. The professor in her though really wanted to study this specimen. She was curious. Very curious.

The security device beeped and the light turned green, signifying that it had been unlocked. Margaret opened the door and walked into the laboratory. This is where she first laid eyes on the creature...

He was in his glass enclosure, to ensure the safety of those around him. Margaret's jaw dropped. The beast was hideous. He looked like something out of a bad science fiction movie. He was grotesque.

Still, Margaret couldn't help but wonder how the animal felt about this. The thing was locked in a glass cage. There was no vegetation, no warm bed, nothing. Nothing but a cold concrete floor and blatantly see-through bullet-proof walls.

Margaret walked right up to the glass, just staring at the creature...</sub>

[L.ithium]

Maxwell's head snaps up as soon as the card swiped in the lock outside the door, his body following up onto hands and feet. Finally. The caretakers. Something to break up the monotony.

However, he had never seen the woman who entered. She wasn't a caretaker. He could tell that much. Instantly suspicious, the creature bares his teeth and snarls in her direction, the noise muffled by the glass but still quite audible. New people were trouble. Who knew what the humans wanted now. Was he to be poked and prodded and ran through tests every day of the week now? Was the current agitation he put up with not enough?

Visibly agitated by her appearance, he begins his pacing of the back wall again, moving effortlessly on all fours, the bones in the limbs shifted to an almost dog-like formation. They had tried to x-ray his skeletal shifts once already, and he had taken to moving exclusively quadropedally rather than risk shifting his bones again to walk like the humans. He was quicker this way anyway, a fact which was soon demonstrated to Dr. Brennan. It may have been a bit shocking as well that he was, rather unindicatively of his rumoured high level of intelligence, fully nude. However, upon closer inspection (if anyone should choose to pay attention) he was not terribly immodest, as the structure of his genetalia was more internalized, like that of a dog or horse, and his tail for the most part kept him covered from the other side. The tail is currently held stiffly, as claws scrape repetitively over the hard flooring.

As he paced, he began throwing looks at her, and despite the solid black of his eyes the expression was obvious: a glare. Staring. What was she doing, just staring at him? Was he some type of amusement attraction for her? Finally fed up, he lunges unbelievably swiftly at the glass where she stood, turning at the last moment to slam his shoulder against the clear wall, and despite its thickness, the structure shuddered. Then he stared back at her, defiantly.

Who do you think you are? The voice came without sound, directly and unsettlingly into her mind. A strange sensation of voice even though the brain had no signal from the ears.[/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret just continued to watch the creature. She was very close to the glass now. The professor was always curious when it came to any sort of new experiment.

She watched him. She could tell he was distressed. The poor thing was pacing and snarling, much like a caged tiger at a circus. She had never seen anything like the creature before. Was he part dragon? Some sort of demon? Was his appearance just from some sort of horrible experiment gone wrong? The thing was terrifying, but Margaret was still intrigued. She continued to stare at him.

The animal lunged itself at the glass. Margaret jumped backwards, startled by the sudden pounce. Her heart was racing, but with a few deep, calming breaths, she managed to settle herself. That is...until the animal "spoke."

Margaret somehow heard the words coming from him, but it wasn't really hearing. It was just knowing. She thought she was imagining it at first. Telepathy was not logical. Then again, neither was this creature, and he was as real as real could be.

Margaret swallowed hard. "I'm Dr. Margaret Brennan," she said. "I'm just hear to observe. I won't hurt you."</sub>

[L.ithium]

The creature smirks as she scrambled back from the glass wall. Particuarly acute hearing picks up on her racing heart. She was afraid of him... good for her. It was the logical reaction. After all, he did not have claws and long canine teeth for decoration. Humans may have been omnivorous, but Maxwell was clearly of a predatory species. Even now, the racing heart made him itch to lunge again, to chase. This tremendous hunting instinct was kept in check by his logic. Of course it would do no good to lunge at her with that horrid glass wall between them. Nor, on a grander scheme, would it be wise for him to kill one of the humans. Probably it would be curtains for him as well.

As the professor returns to the glass, Maxwell sits back on his haunches and looks up at her with his black eyes. Listening. 'I won't hurt you.' Ha. He didn't believe her, and it was obvious. As if every other human who traipsed in here hadn't told him that at one time or another. Three months ago he hadn't known what a needle was, and now he'd had more than his fill of them.

But to 'observe...' That in and of itself wasn't horrible, but he was still apprehensive.

And you see something interesting to you, Dr. Brennan? he questions, with a bit of mocking. The implied meaning was: why are you here? This use of metaphorical speech by what the research team had labelled as an animal was a bit unsettling, to say the least. So was the way he was now sitting quiet and poised in front of her, staring and listening. Calmly... or so it appeared...[/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret began feeling very anxious, but she refused to be scared away by some creature. She had dealt with her share of crabby cats, aggressive dogs, and unruly horses. What made this creature so different? He was behind bulletproof glass. He couldn't hurt her.

Margaret took a deep breath. "Yes," she said bluntly. "You are quite fascinating. I have never seen anything like you." She was still very nervous around the animal, but she refused to move.

It seemed almost like if the beast was playing a game with her the way he "spoke," like the game Hannibal Lecter played on Clarice Starling in the film Silence of the Lambs. There was something so eerie about the beast, but he was fascinating all the same.</sub>

[L.ithium]

The blue-haired creature's wings suddenly fan out slightly, and he makes a noise like coughing in response to her speech. Combined with the expression on his face, however, it because obvious that he was laughing. Laughing at her.

Such an astute observation. Of course you haven't. My kind are incredibly rare... if there any others left at all? haven't you read the files yet? I've already told the scientists at the other lab[/i] (Maxwell had no concept of government; to him it was merely a name for the other group of scientists) I have no way of knowing if others are still surviving. He suddenly sobers up and regards her solemnly, ragged wings folded again. And do you think we would parade about before the humans, if this is how we are treated?[/i] Then, because she had not yet shown an indication of being a threat, he rears up onto his hind legs so that his face was level with the professor's, balancing with a front 'paw' on the glass and his tail straight out behind since he hadn't shifted his limbs to the more 'human' bone structure. Why don't you tell me what you are really here for, Dr. Brennan? [/font][/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret sighed slighty. "I've already told you what I am here for. I just want to observe. I am a professor of anthropology at the university," she explained. She was surprised at the intelligence of the creature. He seemed almost human...except for his appearance.

She tucked a piece of fallen brown hair behind her ear. It was too short to fit into her neat ponytail. She continued to watch the creature. "Where are you from?" she asked simply.

((Ugh, I have no muse tonight! ))</sub>

[L.ithium]

I have been many places. They captured me where they call it 'Las Vegas.' The furthest back I can recall spending an extended period of time would have been in the frozen lands... The area you would call Siberia, I suppose.[/i] Although with his thin-skinned appearance, and the lack of hair in all but the usual human places, this seemed somewhat improbable. However, Dr. Brennan obviously was not near enough with the glass between them to experience the surprisingly high temperature of his skin. Other scientists had described it as a 'feverish' feel, and when they finally devised a way to get him to accept the thermometer (via tranquilizer), they discovered a baseline temperature of around 115 degrees. Thus the Nevada desert was the less probably place for him, since like dogs he didn't sweat and had a difficult time cooling off. But it had been the dead of winter and nighttime, and the lights of the city had drawn him much too near.

Settling back on his haunches again, he returns with a question of his own. Why do you study anthropology? Are you envious of the way humans used to live? Human intelligence, yes, but definitely not a human point of view. Though what he'd seen from a distance of the modern human civilization was almost addictively thrilling to him, Maxwell's logic forced him to conclude than humans did, in fact, have a better lifestyle in more ancient times...[/font][/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret listened to the story. He didn't seem cut out to be living in Siberia. Most animals from Siberia had a thick layer of fat and hair. The beast had neither. It did not seem logical to her that such a creature could live in such a place, though, she was not aware of his internal body temperature.

Margaret thought for a moment. "Anthropology is something I love," she stated simply. "I suppose you could say that I like the way humans used to live. Not so much the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, or the instances where women and minorities were treated as property, but times seemed simpler back then. I love old movies, television shows, and music for that reason. And classic literature too."</sub>

[L.ithium]

Maxwell had been sitting calmly before her for a while now, no longer appearing bent on scaring her off. In fact, now he was barely moving other than his tail moving slowly back and forth through the air behind him. Not wagging; prideful creatures like cats (and whatever Maxwell was), did not wag their tails like dogs estatic to see their masters. Now that he was relaxed, it even seemed as if his claws had been retracted somewhat; or at least they did not appear so threatening.

Literature? he questions in his silent way. I am not familiar with the term. Books were another thing Maxwell had no concept of. The written word was lost on him. He could extract meaning from human speech in almost any language, but had never seen a book, and thus could not read. Oddly enough, though, he did not question her mentions of 'television' and 'movies.' Music he was intensely familiar with. As the government scientists had found out, the creature quite enjoyed music of all types...[/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>The professor felt more relaxed now. The beast didn't seem so intimidating anymore. She no longer felt like he was toying with her, or wanting to hurt her. She was still fascinated by him.

Margaret realized that it was silly for her to list all those art forms. The creature was not aware of many of them. "Literature is...it's the written word. It can be a story, or a play, or poetry. It's quite nice. Reading a good book can transport you to different places and times. You can really get immersed in them. And plays can be so entertaining, whether you are reading them or watching them. And poetry can be very soothing. You can really relate to a good poem sometimes," she explained.</sub>

[L.ithium]

Maxwell waits, and does not interrupt the professor. There is a slight change in the tempo and stiffness with which his tail lashes the air, however, and a slight impatient scratch of his claws against the concrete floor that hinted that he was not entirely satisfied with the answer he had been given. Really it didn't answer his fundamental question: what was literature? What was the written word for that matter? She was attempting to explain to him the purpose of something he had no concept of, and it made Maxwell very frustrated.

I still do not understand what you mean, the creature says immediately after she had finished. Perhaps the next time you come, Dr. Brennan, you can bring along a more concrete example.[/b] Or perhaps there would be something of use laying around the lab. After all, the other professors had to be taking some kind of notes. Maxwell's irritation has also increased because his hunger was gradually growing. And thanks to the humans who had trapped him in this cage, he could do nothing about it but sit and wait. There was nothing to hunt. Not even anything to scavenge. There were other amenities lacking in his enclosure (somewhere to bathe and cool off, a proper bed, and some kind of entertainment, among them), but right now his hunger was foremost in his mind... Surely those caretakers had to be coming soon. The food they brought was delicious (when properly prepared), but not of the sort he was used to and never enough...

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret thought for a moment. "These words...these words that you're expressing to me telepathetically, and that I am speaking to you, can be written down. There is something called the English alphabet. It is a series of twenty-six letters...uh...symbols if you will, that when placed together in varying amounts and types, form words. These can then be written onto paper," she explained, hoping it would make more sense to him.

She suddenly remembered that she had an example. Margaret picked up her purse and opened it. After a few seconds of rummaging through the large bag, she pulled out a tattered and worn novel. "This is a book, an example of literature," she explained. The book was "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen, one of Margaret's favourites.

She watched the way the creature was staring. He seemed to be quite hungry. Margaret's own stomach was starting to grumble. She checked her wristwatch. It was noon; lunchtime. "I'm sorry...um...sir...thing... I don't really know what to call you," she murmured. "You must be getting hungry, and I'm not sure where your caretakers are. I don't have the jurisdiction to feed you."</sub>

[L.ithium]

The creature sits with increasing impatience through her explanation of letters and words and writing. Not that her explanation was poor, as he was starting to get the idea, but Maxwell only had so much patience for anything to do with the humans. Speaking was no exception. And this discussion was quickly losing its entertainment value for him. Perhaps if he were allowed out, or at least had something to do in his confined area during the discussion he would not have tired so quickly of talking. Multitasking was almost mandatory in any encounters between two of his species. Humans, however, seemed to find it rude or as if he weren't listening.

The novel, however, piques his interest again. Once more he rears up to put his front feet against the wall, studying the cover intently. For all intents and purposes it seemed odd to him that something that was meant to convey words and meaning as Dr. Brennan had described should have a picture of women dressed in such formal and antiquated garb on the cover, but perhaps this was the 'classic' portion of the literature. Other types of literature no doubt had other types of images.

He is still musing over the book as she speaks to him again, and for a moment his tail flicks in annoyance. Obviously her curiousity had gotten the better of her and she had not read the files before coming. My name is Maxwell.[/i] Having his fill of the book's cover he backs away from the glass again, lying out on his side and making that odd coughing-laughing noise again. I find it odd you should say so. None of the other members of the research team behave as if any jurisdiction applies to them. Certainly not common decency.[/i] He suddenly looks back at her with a more obvious hunger in his gaze. Of course, if you were to bring me food, I should neither complain nor tell the others. And you must be hungry yourself...[/i] A bit of a glimpse at his manipulative side. Some of the other professors were slowly starting to cave to it... his diet had already been upgraded once from regular grade cuts of steak to the more expensive (but of course more choice) filet...[/font][/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret gently put the book back into her large handbag. She laughed slightly and smoothed out her lab coat. "I am not that easily manipulated, Maxwell," she stated. "But I will see what is taking your food so long."

Margaret pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number for the maintenance department of the university. "This is Dr. Brennan," she spoke into the phone. "I am at Bridge Laboratories and Maxwell has yet to receive his meal. Listen, we still do not know much about this creature and quite frankly, I do not want to see how unruly he gets when he's hungry." Margaret winked at Maxwell. She figured if she exaggerated a bit, the workers would be a little quicker. "Thank you," Margaret said, closing her flip phone and ending the call. "They're sending someone immediately," she said.</sub>

[L.ithium]

Maxwell growls a little, upset that he had not been able to fool her into breaking some rule which (while he was unaware of exactly what it might be) was sure to exist.

(OOC: uggh.... sorry, i'm working on it!! freaking too many customers today)[/color]

[Chelmarant]

_{"Oh stop that," Margaret snapped, in the same way that she would correct a bratty dog growling because it didn't get what it wanted. "You didn't think you would actually fool me did you? I'm a professor Maxwell. I'm not some stupid freshman you can manipulate."}

(OOC: It's alright. Life's been busy for me too lately. It's no problem. )

[L.ithium]

The creature suddenly grins a very wicked grin. She had caught on to him. No matter, he would find a different way to win her onto his side. After all, there weren't only bratty dogs in the world. Some dogs were suck-ups, some con artists with their puppy eyes, and some were just downright mean. Maxwell didn't have a set way to deal with humans. He had avoided humans most of his life, and now that he was in this situation, his instincts guided him toward survival, not being socially acceptable or consistent in his mannerisms.

Shortly thereafter, the animal care staff who was there for the day (who ironically, was a freshman, a poor scared girl who in her initial enthusiasm to do whatever she could to aid the research of the new species, had gotten in way over her head) came in through the door. Maxwell instantly rushes forward towards the door of the cage, his laughing attitude toward Dr. Brennan instantly turned threatening to the freshman worker. It got results better with her.

Through the snarling, cat-like hisses, and squeal of claws raking along the glass box, the young girl said a shaky, "Sorry for being late, Dr. Brennan..." But really, did you blame the girl? She hurries over the the cage and carefully (making sure to use the pole, unlike the worker who had been injured) slid the plate in through the opening. Maxwell lunges to swipe at the pole, and the shaky girl drops it and mumbling some excuse to the professor, bolts from the room.

The Demon sits looking pleased with himself.

So you think I am manipulative, professor? I can't imagine why.

Again, that humored coughing that just slightly resembled a laugh.[/color]

[Chelmarant]

<sub>Margaret nodded in acknowledgement of the freshman. "Just don't let it happen again. It's fine," she stated.

She then turned her attention back to Maxwell. "I think you're very manipulative Maxwell. You're clever, and you most certainly do not seem like the type that would use that cleverness for good," Margaret explained.

She smiled slightly at the creature. "So Maxwell, anything else you'd like to know?" she asked.</sub>