The flashback gripped Victor’s psyche, ripping him back to a moment years ago, and a conversation just as fruitless then as it would be now. For a moment he was sure that these last years had been just another mind game of the men in labcoats. The men who sent them to kill, wiped them clean, and sent them again.
He grabbed his partner’s shoulder like a rock. Like a lifeline. Logan.
“We can do it, partner! We can get out of this place! To blazes with their project–!”
“Let go–” Logan wrenched away from Creed’s grasping hand, his gravely voice shot through with confusion.
“I know a way to block the thorazine! If we can think straight they can’t–“
“I said let go!” Logan growled.
Victor staggered back as his partner’s elbow slammed his nose with a sickening noise; blood flowed into the back of his throat with a coppery tang.
“Partner?” Logan demanded, as Victor reeled and then righted himself. “What happened to sonny boy?”
The damned project!! Forcing that shit into Victor’s mind. Making him think he’d done to Logan the vile shit that Victor’s own daddy had done to him.
“Programming!” Victor tried to explain, an edge of desperation leaking into the low growl of his voice. Logan didn’t know. He had to break the hold on him. “Those project goons–“
Wolverine (1988) #46