Wolverine's arms were crossed as he stared across the table at the man Stryker, meeting the other's gaze without flinching. They were seated in some kind of meeting room, with a large sitting area and an expanse of wall covered with what looked like a flat-screen tv but was probably a touch-screen board, perhaps for presentations. After's Logan's demand to see Stryker, there had been hushed conversations over comm devices that he hadn't bothered to listen in on, and then he'd been led to this room where the man himself was waiting with a welcoming grin. Logan couldn't help feeling a little put off by the other's attitude, as if he had complete control and the upper hand and no worry that either could be taken away. Anybody acting like that really got on his nerves. He refrained from snarling on principle, too interested in finding out about his past to antagonize the possible source of information. Two soldiers stood behind their leader, both in an at-ease stance but still watching the mutant carefully.

"I'm sorry for the reception, Wolverine, but you must admit you made quite the entrance. Literally." That grin was still in place, as if Stryker was trying to get the scowling mutant to join in on the joke, entirely too comfortable being around a man who could kill as easily as breathing. "Still, it's repaired easily enough. What matters is that you're here now." His expression was very pleased, and Logan felt his skin crawl. Enough of the small talk, he wanted answers.

"Stryker, I'm not here to catch up or join up or whatever it is you think I'm here for. I just want to know who I am and where I came from. End of story," Wolverine growled. The other man looked surprised.

"You don't remember anything? That is strange… The procedure seemed to go perfectly." The other's spectacled gaze bored into him. "I'll admit we didn't socialize much, and you weren't one for revealing your life story or anything. But there could still be some files around here." Stryker gestured to a tray of coffee and mugs on the table. "Please, feel free to warm yourself with something to drink. I'll see what I can find." Logan spared a glance at the tray and then dismissed it, not sure he'd trust that the steaming liquid wasn't drugged in some way. Still, he gave a jerky nod and watched as the trio left, glaring at nothing in particular. This whole thing didn't feel right. Stryker was too assured, too confident. The Wolverine's hackles were up but he didn't have anything definitive that could lead to action. He was beginning to regret coming, but there was nothing to do now but wait. At best he could find out something. Anything. At worst… well, if nothing else he could blow off some steam after the days-long motorcycle ride with only a couple of stops for fuel and a bit of food. Keen hearing reached out, senses scanning for any indicator that someone was around. He caught the sound of hidden cameras again, surreptitiously locating one just to the side of the large touch screen as well as hearing another behind him somewhere. Great, still being ogled by unseen eyes. It was all he could do to not give the camera in front of him a one-claw salute. Did they think he was a rookie, that he wouldn't know? Logan huffed, head cocking to one side as he finally noticed another sound, one he wasn't initially sure of. It was soft, barely there, a kind of faint hissing in the background as if air were escaping from confinement. Was there a leak? His head turned slightly, gaze not seeing anything except the room itself until hazel eyes rested on a vent to his left. Wait a minute… that's where the sound was coming from! The sons of bitches were trying to gas him! Logan half stood but couldn't straighten all the way before he became lightheaded. What the hell was that stuff? It had to be strong. Very strong. That, combined with his relaxed, unready state, left him vulnerable to its effects. Claws slid out of his hands reflexively as he stumbled forward a step, dropping to his knees. He never felt the adamantium blades secrete themselves in his flesh again as blackness dropped over his vision and he knew nothing else.

x_X_x

Logan came back to awareness far too slowly for his liking, although he honestly needed the time to process what had happened. Shit, that's right. Walked straight into some kind of trap and got himself captured. Damn it… Logan's blurry vision began to clear, and he ignored the faint taste of bitterness at the back of his throat from whatever gas they'd used, focusing on his surroundings and his own body. There was a weird sense of discomfort, which was quickly explained by the position he was in. His arms were brought tightly behind his back by some kind of shackles that gripped both wrists close together, so tight that his shoulders actually hurt from the strain. His feet were bare, boots and socks probably discarded somewhere along with his overshirt. At least his jeans and undershirt were still there, memories of the last time he'd been in captivity making him grateful for the relative warmth and modesty. Logan shifted and sat up from his prone position, groaning as the shift made his shoulders ache even more. There was a soft metallic sound and a grip around his throat that made Wolverine snarl as he looked at the source of the noise. They'd put a damned leather collar on him as if he were a dog, and as if that weren't bad enough, he was chained to the wall! He forced back the aggression, trying to stay calm. Flying into a rage would only hurt him in the short run. The shackles weren't open bracelets like he'd first thought, but surrounded his fists with the gleaming metal. Maybe he could weaken them with his claws and… Hazel eyes widened. The reflexive call to his weapons of choice had been answered, but nothing had happened. Or rather, the claws had responded but they couldn't come out. The metal had stopped them, and with ease. Logan jerked a bit at the bonds. They must be adamantium too, damn the luck. Well, not luck, but Stryker's supposed knowledge of his past, and so his weakness. Fuck! Logan slumped a bit, having only made it to his knees. The first tingle of panic tried to take hold but he pushed it down. Not again… His subconscious was telling him this was very, very bad, as if he didn't already know that. Footsteps sounded then outside the door and Logan's head jerked up as it opened to admit Stryker and an armed guard. The room was really quite small, and more noticeably so with three people in it, making his captors far too close for his comfort. Wolverine barely suppressed his snarl, but the rage burning in his eyes was apparent, and amusing, it would seem. Stryker smirked, smirked damn him.

"Glad to see you awake, Wolverine. I was wondering if we'd used too much gas. Then again, I'm sure you needed the rest after your long trip." That aggravating voice washed over him, managing to be both solicitous and condescending at the same time. Logan rose to a crouch on the balls of his feet, doing his best to get into a more aggressive stance but thrown off balance by his bound arms.

"Cut to the chase Stryker," he growled, hating the feeling of being toyed with. The other man just looked more delighted than anything, eyeing his captive with undisguised pleasure.

"Don't worry Wolverine, it won't be long. You're home now, back where you belong. And I'm going to make sure it stays that way this time." Logan growled again to cover the despair that flooded his mind. The bastard had never wanted to help him, but he'd been too caught up in his own desires to listen to his instincts. Scott was gonna have a field day with this one…

"Stuff it! Ain't no way you'll hold onto me for long!" he threw out, the collar choking him a little over his Adam's apple as he pressed forward, wishing his claws could be in front of him so he could gut the smug son of a bitch. Stryker smiled, a look so calculating and cruel that Logan felt coldness settling into his belly.

"Oh no, Wolverine, that's where you're wrong. I'm going to break you, my boy. And this time, there'll be no escape. Finally, the perfect weapon is within my grasp again." At that moment, Logan felt the first stirrings of true fear as he looked into those dispassionate eyes.