<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/5/51/Wicked.jpg/399px-Wicked.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Wicked (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8209926#msg8209926)<br/><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong>Zhayedan Squad/ Deathbeast<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Test Laboratory G4/ Briefing Room<br/><strong>Action Summary:</strong>Losing his temper<br/><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong>May<br/><strong> Open to Others?:</strong>Anyone<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>It certainly wasn't that Wicked was intractable or rebellious, of all the Prototypes, he took most naturally to the soldier mentality. That was the entire point of him, to see if they couldn't refine the pack and pride mentality into the military mindset, to create something that could be a predator and a soldier at the same time. To his credit, Wicked had never really proven to be all that difficult, given the traits they had purposely built into him. He respected authority, even if he did leave many of those with whom he worked the feeling that their lives would be forfeit if they showed any weakness.<br/><br/>None of that really mattered to the man who was currently squirming and struggling in Wicked's grip. Dr. Maisen was turning a rather vivid shade of purple-red as the huge paw clamped down upon his throat allowed only the slightest trickle of air and blood to move beyond the constriction. Beating upon the solidly muscled arm proved ineffective, he might as well have been hammering feebly on marble, only serving to use up what little oxygen remained in his bloodstream by his struggles. If the good doctor had ever seen a cat play with its prey, he might have understood something of the look in the glittering viridescent eyes as he studied the struggling creature.<br/><br/>It was not entirely Dr. Maisen's fault. The man had only transferred from another division a few weeks ago, and had not adapted to his situation so well as others. Most of the staff knew better than to mistreat the Prototypes, for, while no value could be placed on human life, each of the youths was worth billions. Besides that, Dr. Hart only had seven fingers and one eye because he had attempted to educate Wicked with the shock-prod a decade ago. One quickly learned that the paragon soldier simply did not take abuse from anyone.<br/><br/>The man had pissed himself, even if he could not hear the droplets hitting the floor, the rank smell flowed over Wicked like a wave, making him scrunch up his nose. The scent was unpleasant, acrid and sharp, but the fear was exhilarating, he could taste it on the air, in the rank urine and the cold sweat beading on his prey's flesh. The slash mark on his hand had already ceased to seep blood, it was a little scratch left by the metal ruler, nothing at all to one like him, but certainly an excuse. He hadn't liked the doctor, and he knew that there was one cardinal rule, he was a warrior, anyone attacking him was ready for war.<br/><br/>The remainder of the staff had quietly withdrawn, such episodes weren't rare but no one felt like being maimed because Maisen had acted like a nun from the 1960s. The security guards were similarly quiet, hands on their holstered guns but not yet willing to draw them, realising that they were faced with the dilemma of possibly killing a priceless specimen or, worse, failing to do so before said monster pounced on them. Maisen's nails had scraped faint red lines along the taut pillar of Wicked's arm, but there hardly seemed to be any saving the man, it was only the instinct to watch the prey suffering that kept him alive even then.<br/><br/>A soft voice flickered across Wicked's mind, soothing and quiet, and he turned to look at the petite young woman that approached. Dr. Franziska was someone he liked, which was why she was permitted to lay a hand on his arm without setting off his defensive reflexes.<strong>"Wicked, I would really prefer if you would let Dr. Maisen down. I am sure that he is very sorry for what he's done. He'd be happy to tell you that if you stopped choking him."</strong>She was terrified, he could tell, but that was something he was used to. They wanted people to be afraid of him, They would have worked hard to teach him to be intimidating if it hadn't come so naturally to him. Despite his instincts, he relented, his fingers gradually unclenching to allow his opponent to slump to the floor.<br/><br/>Wicked was quite ignorant of the man that crawled hastily away from him, rewarded for his acquiescence by the scratching of light fingers beneath his chin, drawing out a lazy purr from the hulking youth. It was rather easy for Dr. Franziska to lead him away from her colleages, she had him nuzzling into her hand by the time he found himself in the hallway, being summoned elsewhere. Without another thought, he went towards the briefing room, the rest of the incident effectively forgotten.<br/><br/>He entered the room in silence, moving with the same quietness to take a seat beside Maybelline. Long fingers were entwined on the tabletop, keen eyes fixed upon the human, it was all he could do but to wait to hear what might be said.