Contact with the Unknown (18+)(Yellowmelon and Brinary)(Private)

[YellowMelon]

Boss

 

 

Height: 5’10”

Hair color: Blond

Eye color/s: Green (right) and blue (left)

Skin tone: Pale

Build: Willowy

Distinguishing features: Besides looking sickly pale, he wears a sapphire necklace on a silver chain. It is a family heirloom.

 

Name: Shel Everett

Age: 37

 

Shel may be British, but he only picked up an accent and a few British phrases and words from his parents. Ever since he was young, he always took an unconventional approach to life, so much so that he was called a sadist and he didn't deny it, and he still doesn't. Although having a somewhat complex personality, there are three simple way to describe the man: he is obsessive with what he likes, will do anything to get his way, and has low morals. He has a passion for studying the unknown, such as supernatural entities and extraterrestrial life, with the hope he could greatly advance science with his research. As a side note, he is greatly fond of glass jars.

Subordinate

 

Height: 6’0”

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Reddish brown (a.k.a. brown with a prominent red tint).

Skin tone: Dark olive

Build: Toned with prominent pectoral muscles

Distinguishing features: Has an X-shaped birthmark on his left cheek, usually mistaken for a scar. He also wears a pair of blank dog tags for fashion. He wants to have words inscribed on them, but he doesn’t know what words.

 

Name: Jonathan Beck

Age: 26

 

Jonathan is known to be an obedient individual, usually doing what he's told without question. He picked up this habit from his childhood, having four older sisters who liked to boss him around, and because of his family size, he is much more social and comfortable in the presence of a single individual instead of a group of individuals. He could talk for days on end if he was ever allowed to, with nothing specific in mind. He also absentmindedly talks to himself on the occasion when alone and with others, sharing his thoughts. A guilty pleasure of his is hard candy as he always carries a bag of the mixed candy with him.

---

BREAKING NEWS

“We are at the scene of where an alien invasion has been reported. It seems no one knows where these aliens came from or what their intentions are, but, as you can see, there is a group here controlling the situation. We aren’t able to film any of the aliens because they were taken away moments earlier. There isn’t a confirmed number, but people say they saw at least five of them. Who knows if more are to come.”

 

“Thank you, Cheryl, now-“

 

“Excuse me! Sir!....Excuse me!"

 

A man passed by the camera, briefly blocking the view of the newswoman and ignoring her calls. He could have gotten away if not for that nosy reporter. He could sense the camera on him without needing to turn around.

 

“Are you one of the people working here?”

 

“Yes, I am.” There was no avoiding it. His lab coat must have given him away.

 

“Do you mind telling us what you found?” The woman was still talking to his behind.

 

“What is there to tell?” He finally turned around, his different colored eyes looking directly at the reporter.

 

“Those aliens. What are they?”

 

A big sigh was picked up by the microphone. “As you put it, they’re aliens. A more intelligent person refers to them as extraterrestrial life forms. Other than that, I know as much about them as you and your viewers, which is why I brought my own research team here to collect them for study.”

 

“Study? What for?”

 

“To explore their anatomy, to find out what they’re thinking, and to see how they could become of use to us.”

 

“Is that ethical?”

 

“Ethical my ass,” the man snapped his response, clearly displeased with the implication he would care about such morals, “I’m not interested in giving them rights if they can’t understand us. What I want, as a scientist, is a way to make use of these ugly fuckers.”

 

Being live, the station could not censor the profanity, but the interview ended anyway as the cameraman zoomed in on the interviewee walking away. The newswoman tried to stop him again, but he returned to pretending she wasn’t there.

 

***

 

(A year later and some months)

 

They say time flies when you’re having fun, but time moves slowly here. A week after the breaking news report the so-called alien invasion was written off as a hoax. The careers of the newswoman and cameraman ended and the man who had been interviewed was deemed crazy by the public. That did not affect him though because he knew what he was studying. The report was very much real, and the secret proof were his specimen. He adored all of them, but his current studies lead him elsewhere. With the help of fellow researchers, he was able to juggle his personal goal with the research he was actually hired to do.

 

Over the year he had lost interest in the aliens and decided to shift his focus on something else. No one, not even him, could inform his boss about what he was doing. Shel did not want to get replaced. Otherwise completing his goal would be useless, as he would have no way of studying the being he wanted to bring into the world. What he wanted was to summon a spirit. Any spirit wouldn’t do. He had built the company’s headquarters on the resting site of the spirit he desired. It took a lot of research to uncover the location and even more to find it. His boss had trusted him with a map and the details of building, so he took full advantage of it. Maybe he really was crazy. Nonetheless, he had told no one about the specific details of the location he chose until the research facility was up and running. It would be a waste to tear down an established building that had taken months to build.

 

Shel was currently in the basement of the headquarters. He was not alone, however, as he had ordered three underlings to follow him and to bring certain supplies with them. The basement was a long, rectangular floor made of concrete. The walls, ceiling, and ground shared the same dull gray color. It was eerie, built completely beneath the ground floor, and the fluorescent lights flickered. It was the perfect place to do a summoning without disturbing anyone above because the concrete made the basement soundproof. The floor was in use but not frequently visited, which also made it easier to be here, so he wouldn’t be disturbed himself. As soon as the last person came in and the door was shut, he ordered the three individuals with him to start making use of what they brought. Shel, in no way, was an expert on how to summon a spirit, which was why he had the other scientists come up with ideas for him. One brought a Ouija board, another scented white candles (the smell was vanilla) and colored chalk, and the third a full-length mirror. One by one they tried the objects, then again, and repeatedly.

 

A mad scientist. Truly mad.

 

Hours upon hours had been spent trying to bring the spirit into existence. Shel certainly looked crazed with his curly hair sticking up wildly, multicolored chalk dust smeared on his white coat, and there were different shapes and words written over the concrete walls and floor. If he could reach the ceiling he certainly would have colored it, too. His back ached from bending over so much but he persisted. He connected the seventh point of his heptagram and surrounded the image in a circle. Five tips pointed to a letter in the form of a symbol, spelling “Terra,” and the other two pointed to a random symbol, seemingly meaningless. In truth, it was. The summoner didn’t know how to fill the empty space, so he ended those points with tiny stars.

 

“Get over here!” He yelled to his underlings as he stepped into the center of the star, wiping his hands against his lab coat and pants to clean them of chalk dust, “Set up the candles like you did before, turn off the lights, and stand back. Also, stop playing with that Ouija board.” It’s like he had eyes in the back of his head, knowing what his coworkers were doing while he was occupied. They had been playing with the board for as long as he was drawing. They were spotless, unlike him. The men did what they were instructed. One lit the candles and placed them inside the arms of the star, another hit the switch to the lights the lights, and then they all gathered behind the taller man. The mirror rested against a wall to reflect the scene.

 

“Spirit show yourself. I know you’re here.” He spoke firmly, but did not shout, admittedly feeling childish because of the words he spoke. He knew they were wrong. They were too simple and could be used for any spirit, not just the one he wanted. However, he wasn’t a creative mind and not being able to find a specific phrase or spell in his research which Terra would respond to forced him to use the internet. As he waited for a response, his patience grew thin. “Fuck it. He must be a heavy sleeper. I’ll have to do more research. I’ll get you someday, Terra.” Shel muttered the last two comments to himself as he stepped out of the circle. “We have to clean this up,” he sighed at the mess, “You guys go fill up buckets with water and come back with wash cloths too.” All three coworkers did as they were told while the lone scientist began blowing out the candles. When they returned, the fluorescent lights were flickering like usual and the scientists began to clean the room of chalk by taking wet cloths to the walls and scrubbing. Shel firstly began to erase the symbol he made on the floor.

 

***

 

The excitement of being around the alien had worn off. He was genuinely excited before but now it was simply work. He always felt tired, a little bored, and constantly watched the clock. The alien did not amuse him as much as it did the other scientists. It entertained them because they tortured the specimen. They could easily torment the other aliens in the building or stick to their own, but they chose to visit and occupy themselves with his because they said his gave more of a reaction. “It responds well” was what they always told him, making an excuse for their actions. He already noted the alien had working sense organs. He didn’t need others to test for that too.

 

Jonathan was stationary in an office chair while he cleaned out his emails. He permanently deleted all emails marked as spam, then started to delete those in his inbox. He skimmed the subjects of the emails to determine which would be sent to the trash and which needed to be kept. This task could easily take ten minutes, but he got distracted by reading emails already marked as read, including ones dated months ago. There was nothing interesting in his inbox as it was mostly filled with work-related mail and subscription emails. His inbox was organized in an hour or so, but there was no feeling of accomplishment. Just continued boredom.

 

The man spun his chair to now face the alien behind the transparent barrier that separated them. It was made of a strong, unbreakable glass. At least it hadn’t been broken yet by the creature. The glass before, which was not so tough, had been. Six rectangular lights on the ceiling brightened the room. There were three on each side of the barrier and, with no windows, the lights had to be on. Jonathan, however, chose to have the ones of his side on and the other three off. The alien seemed calmer without the extra brightness. There were toys the alien had that the scientist watched it play with. All of the toys were baby toys, testing the problem-solving skills of the creature with shapes. Nothing too dangerous. He knew the alien was capable of more, but he was content with simply letting the alien play. Other scientists were not as happy to leave their subjects alone. Their idea of playing was to give them random, different objects, see how they react, and give them more of what they disliked. They were far more interested in what displeased the aliens than what made them content.

 

Jonathan couldn’t sit and do nothing for long. He had a to-do list to complete. This wasn’t one he made, but one sent to him and to all other scientists monthly by email on what they were study about the aliens by the end of the month. They were already a week into the month and he had nothing crossed off. Others were further ahead. He reviewed the copy he printed out earlier. This month he was to test its response to different sounds. He already had a notebook with a page for dislikes and another for likes.

 

There was a wide steel locker in the corner where objects would be put to help the scientists test the aliens. This also meant they didn’t have to buy their own supplies, which was a money saver to them. Jonathan entered the combination of the padlock and opened the locker door to see what he was given. A whistle, a megaphone, a pair of walkie-talkies, a big ben alarm clock, squeaky dog toys, a handheld bell, and a harmonica. He already began to make noise as he tried to gather all the items together in one go, dropping the toys and harmonica in the process. He retrieved them after placing the items in a row on the floor in front of the glass before the alien. There, he sat down for the creature to see him, with his notebook and a pen by his side, and began tapping on the glass lightly.

 

“Cane, Cane,” the man cooed as he opened a circular glass door located near the bottom of the barrier. It resembled a pet door with a flap but could be locked with a keypad, so the alien couldn’t stick an arm out when he pleased. While there were holes around the glass, so it wasn’t soundproof, the holes were small, not unsafe. Without waiting for the alien to come to him, Jonathan immediately tossed in one of the dog toys-a rubber bone-shaped squeaky toy-and the bell through the hole. He truly felt like he was treating the alien like a pet, but he was being monitored. He had to show that he was working. He could hear the megaphone being used in the room next to him to amplify the high pitched sound of the whistle. He held a whistle in his hands himself, ready to blow into it at any sudden moment.

[brinary]

JUST when he had gotten to the good part of his dream, his sleep was rudely interrupted with a wrenching pull at his gut. Like bubbling tar, Terra's consciousness turned itself over, reacting with slow swells before popping. The spirit felt his form manifesting as streaks of burnt earth mixed with dry chemicals spread out. The water on the floor, dark from the floor and colored with the chalk, slowly began to boil black. Like tendrils, they kept flowing, thinning out into wisps, as a figure steadily floated downward from the ceiling. A sweet smell and ethereal, translucent bubble accompanied it gentle descent as heavensong seemed to fill the ears of the room's occupants. Balled up in the center of this bubble was a bundled up form, legs drawn close and hovering in fetal positions.

 

The water and erased chalk, turned black, began to glide toward the bubble in the form of long and reaching spikes before twisting into floating hair. Slowly spinning, suspended prettily, the figure's form came to a slow and gradual stop.

 

The heavensong ended and the stench became dank like wet Earth.

 

Terra's eyes glowed through long locks and the bubble turned acrid in its color. Its putrid stank was filling the entire room and the essence of anger seemed to be coming from the floating figure in waves. Growling slowly, the words eased out in plodding, muddied tones.

 

"What.

 

Do.

 

You.

 

Want."

 

Nearly instantly, everything disappeared- the bubble, the smell, and all associated otherworldly imagery. But the question hung in the air. Neither did the presence vanish, hanging around with just as much agitation as the words he spoke communicated.

 

Messily drawn, scrawled symbols. Lackluster commitment. Terra had half a mind to raze the entire place. But it was his binding duty to suspend both form and presence to help those in need. Though this man could hardly be counted as 'in need' of anything more than a shower. He was already bored, which wasn't too likely to mix well with his hunger and agitation.

 

--

 

Click 43.2 converted into Day 401: the aliens still did not know the extent of his true power, but were steadily agitating him. He has a name they use now called 'Cane' because it is the one thing that sounds remotely familiar. The mountainous regions on his homeworld had a similar enunciation. He very much missed his homeworld. The aliens still did not know the extent of their powers. Steady communication was key to sanity, although many had begun to lose theirs. Hearing friends and fellows alike slowly succumb to the degradation was more harmful than actually having to endure it. Turning off their neural link was painful but the agony from suffering three-fold could not be bared when no mental comforts could be provided. Cane was sad that he could not suffer alone. But this, too, could be endured.

 

The alien assigned to him was growing complacent. Once interesting, Cane had swiftly dismissed the creature as nothing more than an underling in a line of buffoons. They would all pay under the siege. No matter how long Cane would have to wait, he would be the one to triumph over their pitiful experiments. Asinine smiles would be replaced with jagged flesh and teeth pummeled into the squishy facial plates, the cranium a broken ceiling like the ruins of any old empire.

 

It was that cold understanding that also helped.

 

They experimented on other aliens. The Genophysia Trials had been a well-documented era-long study by the SC.443. It was scandalous now; they had acts in the works to prevent tortures on such a massive scale. But that had been eons ago and the new agency had put a lot in to rebrand themselves even to this day. The trip had been one initiative in a new wave the agency had thought up.

 

What a joke.

 

The lights on the other side of the room turned on. His membranes did not have to flick down; the human learned quickly what vexed him. Cane sat with his legs crossed, situated near the middle of his cell. His eyes followed the alien as he went about his work. He could visualize the keys, the sequence locked into his head after so long being there. They'd changed the combination a few times-- it helped him hear the subtleties of their primitive technology. Every keystroke had a song and he had remembered each individual note. It would serve him well when the siege occurred.

 

Cane felt content today. He and several others had been having enlightening discussions about the activities. Sounds, apparently-- most of them were ambivalent as to why they were even testing such things. One had acted out violently to some sort of bell instrument for laughs and ended up with bruises for his trouble. But he seemed exuberant about having finally stretched his legs. They all had a symphony in congrats. His particular alien seemed late on the ball. But today was a different day and he was finally being presented with more nonsense to keep him busy. He sat up and ambled over on his knees, too lazy to stand, too proud to even consider using his hands in the process. Seating himself on the balls of long feet, Cane watched the creature toss in two items.

 

Something squeeze-y again. The scent the material gave off made his eyes itch but the properties were pretty interesting. If not, again, archaic and rudimentary.

 

To be captured by such primitives…

 

He picked that up first and squeezed. The squeak it produced made him frown before squeezing it again, harder. The long, shrill noise it produced seemed to have no affect- and it didn't. Cane was simply unamused. He threw it against the door and heard its faint squeak as it hit and bounced off. Ringing the bell was similarly uneventful. It was a bell. Did they think sounds were different solar sweeps away? These creatures were ridiculous. Playing with the bone was more fun, the man laying on his back and giving it simple squeezes. It was more for stress relief than anything. He watched the alien behind the glass as he did so, eyeing him, before tossing the toy upward and rolling back to sit cross-legged, waiting with his typical eerie stiffness.

[YellowMelon]

Hallucinations? Had he been up longer than he thought? No, that wasn’t possible. A day certainly hadn’t passed. As the water boiled and darkened in color, Shel began to scrub harder. The mixture of chalk and water must be causing the reaction he thought, although such a reaction was unknown in science to him. He didn’t have a degree in chemistry, however, so he viewed it as probable. Yet, the water seemed to move on its own. He could disrupt its movement by a wipe of his wash cloth, but then the water would fuse together and thin out. What an odd thing to do. He kept his interest on the moving liquid, oblivious to what occurred around him, hearing a noise but finding no importance to it. He passed it off as a temporary ringing in the ear.

 

His colleagues, however, were not as amused. They tripped over their own feet as they rushed over to Shel, each one falling to the ground at least once. Their voices were stuck in their throat. Their lips moved but no words passed them. Two hands were finally placed on the ignorant individual and forcefully pulled the body up then turned him around. The fear they had of the floating spirit was much greater than their usual fear of their boss. Still, the touching hands were removed with awareness of the displeasure Shel had to being touched by an inferior.

 

Shel would have turned to reprimand whoever touched him if not for the sight before him. How beautiful was the man he summoned! In all the books he read and the artwork he looked at, no author or painter could capture the real beauty of the spirit. Even if he were to try himself, with the creature in his view, it would do him no justice. Oh, how he wished he could reach out and touch the figure! If only he could float down. Lost in his thoughts he was grabbed once again. This time shaken to bring him out of his obvious daze.

 

“Want…” Shel repeated, only able to catch the last word of the demand. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” The scientist spoke more to himself than to the other in the room. There was no remorse in his words, however. He would surely make use of his want when he figured out what exactly he wanted to do with him. Perhaps, just admire him for now? No, he wanted to feel the physical body. “Come closer, come closer,” Shel ushered the spirit, motioning with his hands, a little-too-happy smile on his face while the three other scientists attempted to hide behind him in fear.

 

**

 

Jonathan tried to give his full attention to the alien over the simple actions he performed, but his facial expression showed a clear disinterest in what he was watching. The only movement he made was a slight turn of his head as the toy was thrown. He should have reprimanded the alien, told him not to throw the object, as any other scientist would do, but he kept his mouth shut. The glass was durable, and the toy was rubber. If were to have broken the toy, however, that would be an action he would respond to, as the damage would be deduced from his pay. He wasn’t getting paid regularly or as much to begin with. Why was he even working here? The man was broken from his thoughts with the ringing of the bell. He was just as unimpressed with the sound as the alien. Still, he marked down the reaction in his notebook.

 

The informality of “boring” would have caused him to repeat the testing, so he tapped the end of his pen against the ground as he thought of a more formal description, and one that would not cause a remark of “try harder.” He doubted the other aliens deviated in the dull reaction, but he knew some of the researchers would flub their observations, as better and faster results were more favorable than typical, unexciting results. Without being under constant supervision, because scientists here were supposed to be dependable, false information could easily be written and submitted. If it was written eloquently enough to be believable, then it was trusted as the truth. There may be cameras in the room, but that was for attendance purposes. No one ever, as least to his knowledge, sat down and watched the videos as a check for authenticity in reports. There was security in the building, but they weren’t fact checkers.

 

He finally touched pen to paper: Exhibited a familiarity of the bell. Seems to prefer the action of squeezing the dog toy.

The brown-haired scientist returned his gaze to the alien. He seemed to be staring at the creature, as if waiting for him to do some other action. In reality, if one were to follow the direction of his pupils, his eyes were on the toy again. The reason why he found interest in the toy more than his living subject was the same reason why he was slow in his research compared to his active coworkers. His work was not stimulating. He found joy in doing nothing over doing something he had no favorable emotions to. If he were pursue his own research on the alien, that would motivate him. However, that luxury was given to those higher in position and a detailed petition had to be typed, reviewed, and submitted. Coming up with a single idea to research about the alien would take a few months on his end. At least he knew what he didn’t want to pursue: using lackluster objects to test sensory responses.

 

“I’m going to get us through with this fast, okay?” Whether he was speaking to the alien who had no choice in the matter or to himself was unknown, as his habit of talking to empty spaces was evident on the first day he was paired and alone with the other species. Following through with his words, Jonathan tossed the rest of the objects through the door flap. What entered the cell was another squeaky bone-shaped dog toy, this one made of soft material and stuffed with poly-fil. The windup alarm clock was pushed in next with the alarm button popped out, but the alarm not set. This alarm, having used it before, was known to malfunction. A simple hit of the clock and the alarm would be going off in spurts. As the device hit the ground, it let out a short ring, vibrating as it did so. The vibrations moved the clock until it was hit with the harmonica and whistle combined. Cane was surely smart enough to know how to create these sounds himself. The last objects to enter the cell were the two walkie-talkies.

 

“I know I was supposed to keep one of those,” Jonathan spoke as if expecting Cane to be confused as to why he got the pair, “But you can play with those yourself. They’re not turned on, but, when, and if, you figure out how to turn the devices on, they’ll make a screeching noise you’ll likely find displeasing if you hold them too close.” He briefly smiled at the alien, unsure if he understood what he meant. The one object to stay behind was the megaphone because of its size. Jonathan had no intention of using it anyway and simply pushed it away from him as he grasped his pen again. He did not wait for something to happen, but, instead, occupied himself with using his writing utensil to take more personal notes about the alien in the back pages of his notebook. He would peak from behind his notebook to gaze at the alien, not wanting to get caught staring even though that was part of his job.

[brinary]

What happened? Floating and waiting, his other eyes and senses reached out to prod at the confounding place . Tendrils of smoke were twisting, barely visible, sliding up the walls and pooling into cracks. What a strange, strange turn of events. How long had it been? Terra recognized certain flavours but there were new, stronger notes tainting everything. He didn't know quite what to make of it but the surroundings filled him with further disdain. If he was right about everything, which he always certainly was, the mortals before him had a distinct hand in shaping what smelled so rotten and stale. Destroying the very thing that should be unshakable.

 

His slumbers, while comforting, were highly concerning. Without his presence, things seemed to get worse and worse with each iteration. Letting them to their own devices was a mistake that he was bound by word to let go unpunished.

 

Now look at them, shaking like worms-- vile creatures, finally scared of confronting what would be justice, nasty lot.

 

Crush the skull, pound the bones to dust. Use it in a ritual. He was blinded by his anger, body stiff as it remained floating in the air. Trepidatiously he stepped forward, movements slight and barely stirring his many layers, although the tendrils of wild hair kept twisting and twining in the air. The figure halted in front of the waif-like human, still above him so he could continue looking down. Although shadowed by that same aura and those vine-like hairs, the scowl on Terra's face wasn't accompanied by a fierce gaze until the skin pinched and split to reveal angry golden eyes.

 

"Make. Your. Request. Or I will run asunder your nothing essence, wisp."

 

His voice dragged in a throaty rasp, hissing by the end like a broken pipe. He could feel himself getting angrier and more frustrated as the pain of the magic binding him there began to lash out. His desire to leave was making his form flush and flicker. How he resented this form sometimes, this existence as a leashed animal. It was never in his nature to help or serve; whoever seemed good enough to receive his gifts or pardons would reap many rewards. But now here he was, being observed like an obscenity. It made him sick to be ogled.

 

Crush the skull, pound the bones to dust. Use it in a ritual. His teeth were grinding to dust, now.

 

---

 

Hungry. One of the captured aliens was beginning to have pangs-- some sort of silent protest in the face of their strange capturerers. It'd gotten him a cocktail of chemicals for his troubles but now the forcefeeding seemed to have displeased his brother. It was a dull echo in his body, that same neural link working its magic. Hungry. How much longer. When will it happen. Who will die. Will I die. It worried Cane to hear these things. Not because of the sadness. Such things were to be expected but the exact noise of these statements-- bland, quiet little echoes down a long, long tunnel. His sisters and brothers were losing their way. He could hear these private things and that meant the control was wearing down. Their minds were going.

 

How much longer, indeed. Everyday it was something new but in the same old way. Cane was frankly eager to be done-- such a travesty as it were to deal with these dismal and stupid ordeals.

 

The alien was speaking. Cane still couldn't understand much of what he said, so garish was the language these animals used that their squeaks and rumbles resembled the fauna back in homeworld. But there existed interesting repetitions that the researcher had been catching onto. In any other case, Cane would have gotten his hands on a pen and written them down. Then stabbed whatever angered him. But there was no pen. The alien had a pen. He saw him write with it. He wanted it. Eyes staring ahead, he watched mutely as more objects were thrown into the cell with somewhat haphazard care. There were different sounds coming from these things now and made of different materials. He rather took to the fetching antiquity that vibrated in a sweet but annoying fashion. Sir Alien was speaking again in his unpleasant mid-level tone, the mundane tone and simple smile an added irritant.

 

The siege. Endurance. He must bide his time, but it was building in him, tensing his muscles.

 

But Cane got on with it. Dark grey features scrunched as he bothered with the things. The toy was stuffed in a weird way. He could feel it shifting only slightly as he squeezed.

 

He picked up the harmonica and tried squeezing it. It was hard with little notches against its sides. He sniffed at it. It smelled weird. It also made little noises when air brushed it at certain angles. Cane described it in his head and the others answered their opinions, but mostly gave instruction on the noisemakers. Whistles he'd seen but the harmonica functioned like a tableau summoned back from their homeworld's turn of century. How archaic! But still charming. He blew into it as directed and was pleased enough with the shrill noise it made. What a cute device. He rather liked it.

 

Now was for the things the alien man had been making noise about. They were both identical in their boxy shape, gridded patterned and as Cane knocked them gently against the floor, were fitted with similar machinery. These were communication vessels. At least they resembled the old ones other worlds had built (world that were, again, leagues behind in terms of their technological investments.) These were harder and Cane lay on his back to steadily tinker with them. Their knobs didn't do much until he found the small switch on the undersides. The first walkie talkie gave a resulting crackle that somewhat pleased Cane. His smile was tepid but still there as he tinkered around, harmonica sitting next to him as he d did so.

 

Once one had been thoroughly investigated, the tall man turned his attention back to the other one. A similar round of tests were to be conducted. Were was a past tense because once the disgusting noise that erupted between the two machines occurred, it set Cane off on a tantrum he'd not had in quite a time. Both machines shattered against the glass as the alien shot them to the walls with a disgusted growl, before promptly tearing into the dog toy with a ferocity. Cane went to smash something else but liked the clock and the harmonica as well! Those things were too interesting to break, filled with serrated metal bits perfect for killing and other similar measures wait.

 

Cane smashed the clock to the ground and hit it with a swift kick, lacerating his skin on the clock face before coming down on the rest of the splintered clock with punches and snarls. The mess was great for throwing bits and pieces across the surface, sliding to rest under the poly-fil-- hard to tell apart when everything appeared to be flying, after all.