Logan lay on the deck of a police boat with absolutely no idea how he'd gotten there. He had awoken to the sensation of being pulled out of the Potomac and discovering that he was in an insanely large amount of pain. It had been with an almost detached disinterest that he had noted that the source of his pain which could be better described as intense agony of the sort that made him wish he could actually die was the several pieces of insanely twisted iron rebar that had been run through his body rendering him completely immobile.
As a medic hovered over him uncertainly, having absolutely no idea where to start with this particular patient who was suffering from a condition that would under virtually all other circumstances only be seen to by a coroner, the man who had not yet taken the name Wolverine frantically searched his memory for the last memory prior to his having been pulled out of the river.
Oh, he says to himself when he finally finds it and remembers what the complete stranger he'd woken up in the company of god only knew how many hours, days or even weeks earlier had told him when he woke up somewhere that most definitely had not been the boss' daughter's bed.
"That was some seriously bad acid." he groans, startling the Medic.