Huh . . . she really is strong, Jeb thought. She's kicked two guys in the groin already . . . and they're in serious pain.
He watched a three year old Max race with her fellow bird kids–sorry, Avian Americans–Fang and Iggy, and grin triumphantly as she won.
Six month old Nudge, who already couldn't stop blubbering, laughed delightedly as Max flew a victory lap around the arena.
Too bad. They're having so much fun. I wish I could protect my daughter, but I was the one who got her into this situation in the first place.
"Alright kids. Playtime's over." Jeb called. "Time to go back."
"Please Jeb? We just want a little more time!" Max begged.
"No. We have to run a couple more tests."
"Fine."
The day after Iggy had gone blind, Jeb watched five whitecoats try to grab from her cage. However, they weren't having much luck. Max was kicking and biting and beating them with her wings. After what the same scientists had done to Iggy, it wasn't a surprise that she wouldn't cooperate. To make matters worse, Fang and Iggy were also holding onto Max's hands from their own cages, making it impossible for anybody to get her out peaceably.
Eventually, a bipolar Jeb took pity on the men and decided to help get Max out.
"Max, come with us," he called.
"No," she sharply replied.
"Please?"
"No"
"I'll give you a lollipop," he bribed, thinking he could outsmart her. Surely he was smarter than a toddler.
"Do I look like an idiot?"
"It's only to get you cleaned up with some new clothes."
"You said the same thing to Iggy." Both Jeb and the aforementioned child winced at that one.
"I'll give all of you a real bedroom."
"Yeah. A torture chamber."
"What will it take?"
"What will it take for you to let us out of this hellhole?"
"I'll make sure they don't run tests for a month."
"Yeah, right."
"I'll give you extra food and free time."
"What part of no do you not understand?"
Later, while rubbing his temples, all Jeb could think was that no, he was not smarter than a three year old.