Which was when they showed him they knew his tricks already. Apparently there were hair-thin wires woven into the glass walls of his cage that gave off electricity. Even without the collar, they could still hurt him. And hurt him they did. The shock that wracked his body drove him to his knees as he snarled, the group of dim-witted morons that had been pressed up to the glass recoiling as he did so, afraid of him, of his blood-red eyes that seemed to glow as he glared at them, and his white fangs that elongated from his jaws, and the curling black smoke of his wolf-like shadow demon body as he shifted. He paced his cage afterwards, while hating himself for doing what his captors wanting, he also relished the few sweet hours he had in his true form.
His senses were much better now, and even through the glass, he could hear her singing. The first name he thought was Reena..., and then he shook his head vehemently. Reena was dead, long ago he had lost her. The one singing wasn't Reena, but it was still an Angel...Ariella. So they're making her sing today. He tossed his head, and resumed his pacing, giving the occasional snarl, snap, or lunge at the onlooker who pressed up against the glass making faces or yelling at him. His temper was worse than he could remember it being in a while, and he ran a red tounge over milk-white fangs. His captors would bring him his food soon, and woe to the one sent to feed him. He would have fresh meat tonight, and he knew they overlooked the loss of staff every now and again. If only the cureator of the museum would come...Morgan would relish the chance to sink his fangs into his plump neck. Just the thought of him made him snarl. Suddenly he stopped.
His ears pricked in the direction of Ariella's cage. She was playing a different song, and she was no longer singing. It was a fast-tempo song, but it was sad, almost unbearably so. Flashes of memories he thought he'd long buried suddenly came up to the surface of his mind.
A young woman with firey-red hair, emerald-green eyes, and wings the color of rubies extended a hand towards him as he lay in the mud.
She was being dragged away, screaming, and reached for her. He was kicked in the ribs, and he lost conciousness.
The smell of smoke and the sound of her screams woke him. He looked up to see the red-haired girl being burned alive. Her green eyes held his own as he couldn't look away. Even after the embers had gone cold, he sat their still, staring at them with a dead look in his eyes.
He was walking now, with no goal in mind, and all he could think was one name. Reena.
Back in the present, Morgan sat down on his haunches and howled. It was a long, low, and erie, ear-splitting howl. It sounded heartbroken. the visitors around his cage covered their ears and backed away, some of them shreiking themselves. The howl even cracked the glass of his cage. But it cut off as it became a scream. They had put his cage to work, shocking him. This time, however, it was so bad that it knocked him out, forcing him to revert back to his human form. He lay there writhing, and screaming in agony, until he finally lost all conciousness. There were murmers in the crowd around his glass prison, most of them of disapproval and disappointment, until a large black curtain came down, covering his cage and blocking him from the public eye. The crowd dispersed, heading off in different directions to look at the other prisoners in their cages.