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Jamal heard the chopper coming and he immediately threw his gaze skyward, elation again spreading on his features.

"SEE! THEY'RE COMIN!" he shouted to Angelina as he turned to dive into his duplex and collect his things as fast as he possibly could. He came out rather quickly laden down with various bags and boxes. He ran out towards a more open part of the village and waved frantically up at the chopper.

The movement in the helicopter didn't seem unusual until they heaved something OUT and let it drift down towards the earth. Jamal was puzzled but thought maybe it was part of the rescue plan. Maybe he had to stick his stuff in the tarp and they'd hook it up to the chopper and he could get all his stuff home too.

As soon as it touched ground, he more or less ran to it and went to tug the corners out so it was lying flat on the ground. It...had writing? At least, it looked like writing. It was so huge that it was hard to read until Jamal set his stuff down on a corner and took a few steps back.

....he couldn't believe it. They couldn't...they wouldn't...

They apparently DID.

Jamal gave a bellow of anguish and rage that was a terrifying mix between a roar and a scream, dropping to his hands and knees in front of the tarp, claws piercing into the tarp-material as he felt something snap in his brain. He started to shake, outrage clear in his body language.

Jamal's chest heaved as he fought back the urge to either vomit or cry...it wasn't certain which at the time. He didn't know which and he didn't care. He couldn't believe that the staff would be so cruel to do something like this to them. To HIM. Didn't they KNOW better?

"...If...if ya know what's best, you'll get away from me. Now," he choked in a hoarse whisper, the muscles of his arms and his neck tensing so badly that the sinew of each tendon was nearly visible through his skin. The tiger was infuriated and Jamal's anger was being fueled from disappointed anger to a blinding rage.

He wanted to maim something. This wasn't a joke. This was torture.

Jamal gave a keening scream and started to shred the banner with his claws, his fangs bared as he pulled pieces of torn banner to his mouth to render them to mere fragments.

There was only so much one could take before their mind was shot to hell.

Jamal pulled the tarp into his lap as shredded it, pieces of yellow fabric floating through the air like confetti. It would have been comical if Jamal hadn't repeatedly caught himself with his own claws in his frenzy, claw wounds opening up on his hands and forearms.

"How COULD they?! THOSE ********' BASTARDS," he yelled to the open air, ignoring Angelina completely as he panted heavily over the maimed banner, stopping because he'd run out of pieces to get a decent hold of. "I can't DO this no more!!! I -can't-. Just ********' KILL ME ALREADY. IS THIS WHAT YOU ********' WANT!?"

At least on the streets, you knew what could happen to you. You'd be shot or stabbed or ran over by a car. They didn't mess around there. Here, everything was unpredictable.

He shoved himself to his feet, sending little dribbles of blood down his foreams briefly from the change in position, eyes blind with pain and anguish.

"I don't NEED no help," he snarled bitterly, obvious conflicting emotions in his voice by how it cracked and didn't entirely match the look on his face. "There ain't no help in da world dat's gonna fix none of this!"

Jamal wasn't afraid of blood. The cuts didn't hurt at all thanks to all the hormones rushing around in his veins, but those same hormones were kicking in the tiger's fight or flight response...and the tiger wasn't about ready to 'run' in any way, shape, or form. He didn't want to hurt her, not after what he did to Em, but she didn't seem to be making it any easier on him to avoid it. At this point, he wanted to hurt -someone- and it quickly was becoming less of a priority WHO and more so on WHEN.

He put up a hand as though to stop her, eyes narrowing sharply at her approach.

"Don't. Jus' don't. I'm tellin' ya...you betta jus' go," he snapped. "Don't make me do somethin' else I don't wanna admit responsibility to..." It was definately a cryptic statement, but hopefully she'd get the point.

Minor tension was relieved when Angelina did finally leave, though he had to forcibly resist the urge to chase her down; the tiger felt as though Jamal was letting his prey get away and that wasn't acceptable.

Jamal had other plans.

They had won a long time ago. When they stuck him with this serum that shattered life as he knew it to pieces, that's when they won. He could fight them, maybe gain ground, but he couldn't do it himself and right now it seemed he was the only person who wanted nothing more than to slit each and every staff persons throat and pile their bodies in a heap in the center of the village. The primal urge to kill was too strong to be ignored.

The black man stalked into his duplex, his mind cloudy with his anger and disbelief, and started to shove things up on his bed. There was little rhyme or reason to what was being tossed there in the center, so it wasn't too obvious what he was doing at the time. He even lit a cigarette and let it dangle from his lips as he numbly did this task. Napkins, computer paper, clothing, cardboard...mostly junk littered his tossed bedsheets. It -almost- looked as though he was taking out the trash. Then he did the same in each corner of the room, shoving furniture, trash, and whatnot into piles. <******** the island. ******** the staff. ******** everything they had ever done to him. He was going to burn this place down to ashes and if he went with it, so be it. Jamal figured he'd be stopped before he got too far, but if anyone intervened, then he'd have his blood and flesh to render to pieces, just like that cruel April Fools banner. If he was going out, he was going out with a bang. Mentally, he'd snapped worse than ever. There was no such thing as common sense.

Jamal sat down on the edge of the bed, cig still in the corner of his mouth, and he pulled out his lighter. Taking a few pieces of scrap paper from the pile there behind him, he crumpled each into their own seperate ball, then quickly lit each on fire before tossing one into every corner pile and then one on the pile on his bed.

As grey smoke started to blossom from each stack, he started to laugh, turning his gaze ceiling-height and flipped off whatever cameras might be up there by turning a circle with his finger raised. "I'll see ya in HELL," he crowed manically as the room quickly filled with smoke.