CANADIAN SECRET SERVICE OFFICE - DAY
Logan, in a suit, is slumped in a cushy chair, smoking a cigar.
"Flashbacks are coming more often now. Full of needles and torture. They're even working their way into my dreams." Logan says, as he blows smoke rings across the office towards James Hudson. A scholarly-looking man, he fills out paperwork.
KA-CHUNK!
Logan imbeds his claws in the papers.
"Somehow I don't think you're giving me your undivided attention."
Hudson calmly looks up. Logan retracts his claws, sitting back in the chair. Hudson caps his pen.
"You're the best agent we've got, Logan. You've served the Prime Minister well..." He starts.
"Don't start whistling "Oh, Canada" at me again."
"Let me finish, ok? You've been on Hazard Duty a long time, left a lot of damage in your wake and no one's complaining about that. But, you've earned some nightmares."
"No... I think these visions are pieces of memories, rattling around in my head." He pauses. "I want to know who I am. I want to know who made me this way.
"No one knows."
"Well, I'm starting to find that harder and harder to stomach. "You're exactly the way you were when we found you... Adamantium claws and all. Out in the wilds of the Buffalo Woods, half-insane... living like an animal."
"As opposed to the way I'm living now?"
"What dredged this up again?"
"It's just too convenient. Secret Service stumbles upon me, cleans me up... has their shrinks give me back some of my sanity. All done out of the goodness of your heart, right, Hudson? Oh, but, lucky for you, I also happened to be the ultimate killing machine."
"Look. Department H has tried to research your background plenty of times and it's always a dead end. We can't even verify the name "Logan." What more do you want?"
"Nothing. I'm quits. That's all. I'll see ya in the funny papers."
"I can't let that happen."
"Yeah? What're you going to do about it? You going to push a button on me?" Logan waits. No answer. He exits, shuts the door behind him.