Once again, Logan woke up with his wrists bound together, though his time he wasn't in a moving vehicle. Instead, he was chained to a chair in a rather blank room. The room held nothing but its own rotting, peeling walls and the single, flickering lightbulb that swung a few feet over his head.

'Fun. A dark place in a kind of small room. Not exactly what I signed up for...' He thought as he groaned, his eyes flickering around to see if he could spot a door.

He couldn't.

It was either there wasn't one and Logan was somehow poofed into the room (Which he doubted immensely) or he was completely blind and stupid enough not to see it.

Logan decided, for his own sanity, to choose the second option.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, which he hated. Silence left you with your own thoughts to cloud your brain and then you go over every worse case scenario that you make yourself start cringing when you think about it.

Thinking about thinking made his head hurt in general, so he leaned his head back, trying to relax as best as he could in a situation like this and clear his mind, which resulted in him thinking about clearing his mind, which didn't help the situation at all.

"Damn it..." He grumbled in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he did so.

Quite a lot of time passed before he could hear a door opening from...Well, somewhere, considering he still hadn't been able to figure out where a door was. He turned his head a little to the right to see a man walk inside. The man had a tall figure and- well, to skip the details, he just looked like a douchebag with that sour expression on his face.

"I get a playmate?" Logan asked with a soft snort. "Lucky me!" The man glared at him coldy and walked across the room in a few swift strides, not pausing as he punched him in the face.

Logan winced as his head snapped to the side, though he said, "You like it rough? Could have just said-" Another punch to the face. 'Well...I probably deserved that one...' He thought, shaking his head.

The man, who Logan has now decided to call Bill, asked quietly, "Do you know why you're here?"

All he got was a shake of a head in reply to his words.

Bill sighed. "You killed our boss several days ago. I think you know who I'm talking about, don't you?" Logan opened his mouth to protest the statement before it clicked. His eyes flashed in realization, but he only nodded, not trusting himself to speak, probably because he would say something sarcastic which wouldn't exactly help his situation and would most likely make matters worse than they are.

Well, that is if they can even get worse than this.

Logan didn't think that was likely, but a few moments later he realized how wrong he was.

Bill pulled out a small dagger from his back pocket and spoke bluntly, "Why did you kill him? Answer the question incorrectly and the knife gets used. Answer correctly and I might not let you die from blood loss."

Logan just raised an eyebrow, the movement actually hurting his face from being punched previously. "Is that a threat?" He asked, the eyebrow still raised in genuine curiosity.

"It's more than a threat," The older man said, his voice cold. "It's a promise."

A second later, Logan felt an object pierce his thigh. For a moment, he felt nothing before his leg flared up in pain. He cried out a little before clenching his mouth shut, making himself be quiet. The only noise you could hear was his own shallow breathing as he tried to control himself and fight the pain.

"Why did you kill him?" Bill asked again, slowly dragging the blade down the side of his face, drawing blood.

Logan felt the blood slowly run down the side of his face, making him cringe. "Because karma is a bitch and he asked for it? Because he should have known what was coming before he stepped into the cage that night?" He fired back before he could stop himself.

Crack!

A heavy fist swung into his cheek, right into where the fresh cut had been made. He could feel something break or fracture, but he couldn't tell as he was trying to block out the screaming.

Or maybe that was his own.

Bill spat, "Stop screaming, boy!" Ok, yeah, that had definently been him screaming but he hadn't realized it.

"Fuck off..." He mumbled, head slumping down a little. His voice sound thick and his head felt foggy. Whenever he said a word, pain spiked through his face like a dagger.

'Plan...'

'Plan...'

'I need a plan...'

'I need to escape..!'

Those thoughts kept racing through his head a million miles an hour. Bill placed down the blade on a table close by and suddenly exited the room after hearing some sort of static on his radio. Logan glanced at the table before glaring at his bindings on his hands and feet. He braced himself before shuffling his feet a little, inching his way towards the table.

It took a decent amount of time, but at least he got there.

Logan then leaned the chair forward ever so slightly, knocking it down. It landed with a thump!, which made him rather anxious as to whether or not others had heard the racket he was making. He waited a few minutes to see if anyone came down but nothing happened so he continued on with his objective. The blade had slipped by his feet, so he decided to take a risk.

He leaned forward in the chair so he went toppling over, praying he didn't fall on the knife.

Well, he came pretty dang close to.

He landed a couple of inches away, making him sigh softly in relief. He grabbed the blade at a rather awkward angle, trying to shove it between the rope. It took several tries, though he finally succeeded and then got his wrists free. Once this occured, it was extremely easy to get his legs undone, it only taking a few slashes of the knife before he was no longer restrained.

Logan pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky for a moment for not standing for several hours. He let his legs become adjusted to standing before started towards the door.

Time to escape!