Tundra twisted his head to the side, looking down his arm at the bound and restrained wrist. The table held him down. The thick muscles of his forearm flexed and fought, straining against the padded plasteel cuffs. The malamute's lips curled in frustration as the cuffs pulled back into place, his wrist with it. How he ended up here, on another lab table, in another dark room (and ass naked), he didn't know.

The door at the opposite end of the lab hissed open. A cloud of cold vapor swirled around the feet of an obviously feminine figure as she strode into the room, backlit and haughty. She stood there, a hand on her hip, a smirk of triumph just barely visible through the backlighting. Memories bubbled to the surface of Tundra's foggy, tranquilized mind.