Locked in a cage *OTA, nudge to family members*
The first sensation Daken realized when he groggily woke up was feeling cold. His shirt had been shredded in the fight with Logan and the girl with the white stripes in her hair, and he doubted if his enemies had been courteous enough to replace it. His last memory had been of claws at his throat and fingers on his forehead. Just what had that girl done to him with her ability? Whatever it was, it had left Daken feeling drained and sore as he had never felt before in his life. A quick sniff let him know he was still on the base, but in another area. This one smelled much more clean, most likely a lab or holding cell. He hoped it was the latter, for Daken was not in the mood to get cut up and experimented on.
Finally opening his eyes, he found his second guess to be correct. It was a bare cell, three walls, a door, and a light embedded into the ceiling. Daken tried to lift up an arm to run his hand over his face, but found he couldn't. Looking down, he saw his arms were in manacles that were bolted to directly into the wall. They were painfully tight around his wrists. He couldn't even move them one way or the other, rendering his claws useless. An experimental tug showed he wouldn't be able to break them either. He had to admire whoever had put him in here. They knew his limitations and knew the feral mutant would be going nowhere.
After about half an hour, Daken grew bored with the waiting. He wasn't used to be ignored for any length of time. He'd even welcome torture, for at least it would be a change of pace. As it was, he sat there, thinking up futile escape plans in his head and thinking about Logan. Round One hadn't gone as planned, but Daken was nothing if patient. He'd waited this long. He could wait some more.
Finally opening his eyes, he found his second guess to be correct. It was a bare cell, three walls, a door, and a light embedded into the ceiling. Daken tried to lift up an arm to run his hand over his face, but found he couldn't. Looking down, he saw his arms were in manacles that were bolted to directly into the wall. They were painfully tight around his wrists. He couldn't even move them one way or the other, rendering his claws useless. An experimental tug showed he wouldn't be able to break them either. He had to admire whoever had put him in here. They knew his limitations and knew the feral mutant would be going nowhere.
After about half an hour, Daken grew bored with the waiting. He wasn't used to be ignored for any length of time. He'd even welcome torture, for at least it would be a change of pace. As it was, he sat there, thinking up futile escape plans in his head and thinking about Logan. Round One hadn't gone as planned, but Daken was nothing if patient. He'd waited this long. He could wait some more.