In spite of everything--or perhaps because of it--he had quite a fascination with science.
In spite of everything--or perhaps because of it--he had quite a fascination with science. Biology, in particular.
Of course, you'd never catch him reading texts or studying diagrams. No, he was the "hands-on" sort. Why read about someone else's study when you could conduct your own?
Of particular interest to him were the limitations of the human body. What was the maximum angle at which an arm or a leg could be bent? Precisely how much force did it require to pull a joint from its socket? How many degrees could a head be rotated before the vertebrae would snap?
He listened closely, as he twisted, for the first tell-tale /pop/, grateful that he'd had the forethought to ensure that his subject was unconscious. He would never have been able to hear if it had been awake and screaming.
It should be... right... Ah. There. Somewhere around 140 degrees, by the looks of it.
He sighed as he let go, and the body fell in a crumpled heap on the floor.
It was so hard to get a precise measurement. How on earth did those scientists do it?
A/N: I shall leave the identity of the character in this one entirely up to the readers' interpretation because, honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself (and I'd love to hear your opinions on the matter). Also, the aforementioned 140 degrees is a total guess. Sadly, my research on the matter has proven fruitless.