Wolverine (as Patch, his Madripoor alias – eyepatch over left eye) lies slack-jawed against a wall in a Madripoor alleyway. He is clearly unconscious. His face torn up - the aftermath of a bullet through his right eye, shining socket revealed. Two Madripoor gangsters in suits lie clawed and dead in the background.
Wolverine (CAP): The waiting is the bit I could do without. Stumbling through the brain damage, between panic and euphoria and not knowing the difference. Clawing my way back to consciousness and pain.
Louisiana back road. What's left of Wolverine's body chained and dragged by a speeding truck. It tumbles along the rough road, most of the flesh gone.
Wolverine (CAP): No senses yet, not knowing what I'll wake up to.
The Sonoran Desert, Arizona. Coyotes fight over Wolverine’s limp remains, pulling lengths of flesh in opposite directions.
Wolverine (CAP): When it's this bad the factor steals muscle mass, bone density, whatever it has to, to get the essentials back online. Can't get something from nothing.
Wolverine’s body, lifeless in the centre of a boxing ring in an empty gym. Blood is dried brown into the canvas in a gory splatter. A chainsaw with chunks of flesh stuck between its teeth lies discarded in the corner of the ring.
Wolverine (CAP): Before the adamantium I'd come round to days like a china doll, and didn't always have the luxury of taking it easy on brittle bones.
Vultures pick at Wolverine's body as he hangs from a massive rail bridge over a beautiful canyon, thin blue meandering line of river glistening below.
Wolverine (CAP): As the nerves start to light up again it’s just the ghosts of feeling. Insect crawling discomfort - and that's before I can feel the maggots I'm probably going to have to root out later.
Wolverine (plain clothes) pinned to the seabed by a huge ship anchor buried in his gut.
Wolverine (CAP): Eventually I can think straight. At this stage I'm a hell of a guess at how long it'll be before I can move again. Where's a bookie when you need one?
Wolverine (brown costume) on a Japanese mountainside. He kneels, prone, with eight swords sticking out from between his ribs and one through the back of his neck and out his mouth. His abdomen has been sliced, intestines hang. His neck is cut in a failed attempt to decapitate him.
Wolverine (CAP): I always end up back here. Stuck with myself for company – and I'm not exactly my own greatest fan.
Close on Logan's right eye (left as we look at it, the rest of his face cropped panel right). There are cuts and scratches all over his face. His eye is open and alert, pupil contracted in the light. There is a sense of purpose in his stare.
Wolverine (CAP): But then I laugh to myself because I remember who did it and that they think I'm done.