When Bruce woke up, he was chained to a wall. There were two metal chains on the walls that ended in cuffs, oppressing his hands. He was in some sort of cell - cold dark with no windows. There were some sort of grey metal floors and there were metal bars in front of him. Everything was grey (the walls, the ceiling, all grey impenetrable metal) except for some blood traces every now and then, staining the floor. Vivid red on grey. There was a small metal toilet next to him and some black blankets on the other side of the cell.

Bruce didn't know where he was so he screamed, trying to get some attention. No one answered. There was only the echo of his own voice in the great grey cell. He couldn't get rid of those cuffs and no one was coming to say anything. He was dumped there and chained like an animal, no explanations. This was making him angry. He tried calling to whoever his captor was, maybe there was a justification. Maybe they were just testing something. Maybe it was just Fury, wondering if they're new Hulk-cell could him or not. He waited but received no answer. Just cold grey walls, cold grey floors. The hours passed.

He didn't remember much of what had happened before this. He was saying goodbye to Tony after meeting him for drinks when suddenly everything was going black. His knees gave out and suddenly he was on the floor, trying to fight the dizziness. Something was really wrong. He wondered if someone had put something in his drink. Asked for help, but the few people on the street ignored him. And he was falling, in a pitch of infinite blackness. He didn't understand. Why take him now? Everyone was happy. They were in a beautiful impasse between psychopaths and hulk-incidents, a few days were the most terrible thing in the news was the economic crisis. This shouldn't be happening.

He screamed, but there was no answer. Again.

Bruce was getting angry. Very, very angry.

As the Hulk resurfaced and his clothes broke, the green creature saw with horror that the cuffs on his hands got bigger with him, still holding him prisoner. The Hulk fought against the cuffs and chains, with all its force -but couldn't break them. Which made him a lot angrier and he tried to smash the walls, the floors, the metals bars. Nothing happened. The metal seemed invulnerable. There was nothing that could break it, not even the raw angry force of the green monster. The hulk fought and fought until he finally gave up and Bruce Banner appeared again, barely clinging to the remains of his shattered clothes.

There was a voice on the other side of the bars, appearing from the shadows.

"Good show, freak. A perfect reminder of why I am keeping you here." The voice of the man said, with a playful tone. "You are nothing but a monster, and monsters should be kept away from people, don't you think?"

Bruce took a good look at the man. Tall, thin, dressed in black and wearing a full-face black leather mask where black eyes shined. He also wore matching black gloves and shoes. The voice gave him no indication of who this man was.

"What do you want? Why am I here?" Bruce asked, trying to get closer. Damned chains.

"Well, I want to help America, just like your Avenger companions do, Doctor, nothing else. I am a justice-maker, ridding the world of monsters. You have ruined the lives of many people, Doctor. You smashed my office in New York, where I had the brunt of my investigation, forever lost in broken circuit. And should we talk about Harlem? There's people there who are still homeless after your attack. I am doing the world a favor by keeping you here, Doctor, and as an intelligent man you should probably understand it."

The mask prevented Bruce from seeing the man's expression, but his voice tone made the mask look like it was smiling. Creepy. He spoke matter-of-factly and with a lightness that was most unnerving.

"You didn't guess it seeing your cell partner?"

What cell partner? The only thing in his cell was a mound of black blankets on the other side and a tray on half-eaten food near it.

"Jeez, he didn't wake up with your Hulk number? I must have hit him harder than I thought."

The man opened the cell and entered. Bruce desperately tried to move towards freedom (an open door!) or towards the man to stop him, or see if he had any keys on him, but couldn't get anywhere. His chains were too short.

The masked man took the blanket that was in top of the mound and revealed the outline of an unconscious young man, with dried blood on his face and black hair that fell below his ears and to the back of his neck. The jailer took something, a small device, from his pocket and shocked the man. Nothing. Again he did it and again nothing happened. The third time the man stirred and violently grabbed masked-man's hand with his own chained one, and the prisoner whispered:

"You touch me again and..."

But the masked man got free and shocked him again, placing the thing in a particularly painful spot, judging by the other man's expression.

"I didn't wake you to hear your disgusting voice, pretty toy. Only so you could meet your new cellmate."

The man looked at Bruce's direction, and the scientist saw green eyes. Loki. A defiant but tired look in his eyes. The conqueror wannabe who his alter ego had thrashed on a floor just as he said that he was not going to be bullied.

"I'll leave you two monsters to catch up, okay? But don't go anywhere, I have other surprises for you boys. Soon."

And he left.

Loki considered this change. Maybe it was the next phase of his jailer's torture, trapping him with the man that put him through agony, and humiliated him in the world he tried to conquer. He would never admit it, but Loki still had nightmares about the Hulk sometimes. And since the masked man had sedated him and put him in the cell it had been pure hell. Torture after torture. He broke his bones, cut him and burnt his cuts. Insulted him once again as he cried, trying to break free. He liked playing with his mind. Dressing up as Thor, telling he'd come to save him. All lies. All pain.

There had been times, at the beginning of his captivity, in which he almost escaped. Times in which he arrived to hurt his jailer, reached a metal door that probably led to a street. But he was caught and shocked with that electric thing and thrown back in the cell. And The Mask (as he called the man) made him pay for trying to escape. Dearly. Now he couldn't do even that. He felt broken. It was as if the Hulk thrashed him every day and every day he was pinned to the floor in agony. Sometimes he passed out and didn't wake up for days. Those were the good times. Sometimes he was awake and prayed to the Allfather for death. Those were the bad times.

But Banner's arrival changed things. Maybe the Avengers would come to save him and Thor would take pity on him and release him too. At least he would have someone to talk to, other than his tormentor. Yes, Banner also hated him but... beggars can't be choosers, right?

Bruce looked at him, uncomfortable. He didn't know what to with this guy. Insult him? Hate him in silence? Try to get on his good side? Study him to see a bit what was going on.

"Loki.. hum... You have any idea of who this guy is?"

He wasn't Loki's best friend, but he seemed pretty harmless now and he'd been there obviously longer. Getting

"None at all, dear doctor. I call him The Mask. I only know for certain that he likes to give monsters their "Just deserts". Apparently you fall into that category same as me." He said, and even his voice was tired. He tried to pull himself together. This could mean salvation. He had to believe that. He faced the other man - this is not the hulk - he kept telling himself, only the mild doctor.

"And have you been here... Jesus, what happened to your face?"

There was a red mean cut starting on the left side of Loki's forehead that crossed all his face diagonally and ended in the right side of his chin. There was dried blood surrounding it and it looked extremely painful.

"Word of advice, Doctor Banner, do not spit in the eyes of The Mask. He does not seem to like it."

Bruce considered the words. This man was more dangerous than he knew if he slashed faces over a grievance.

Loki was in pain only remembering the incident. He'd wished he was dead for days after. But he didn't want to die in such a rotten place. He refused to. Not when it would make The Mask so happy. He only wished misery to that man.

"And you can't do magic anymore?" Bruce asked, seeing a way out of the nightmare.

Loki shook his head.

"Apparently your SHIELD found a way to stop my magic. This man has taken that technology and applied it to my cuffs."

Bruce saw a blue glitter in Loki's chains, a part of them filled with blue liquid a surrounded by a translucent layer of the apparently indestructible metal. They were screwed. He also really didn't know how to feel about Loki being there. Should he be angry at the man? It had been a long while since the attack and Loki didn't appear to have been spending the best of times since then. And it wasn't him who sent a nuclear missile to wipe out a good part of New York. He was the monster that everybody blamed, yes, but Bruce couldn't shake off the feeling that it hadn't been all him. That there had been other people in the shadows, still unknown and that Loki had been the perfect scapegoat. Maybe he was supposed to hate the man but, right now, he was the only one in his side. A monster, like him - a monster chained and bound, at that man's mercy. Loki was the only person he could talk to. The only one with whom he could plot escape. And he wanted to escape - badly.

The hours went by and Bruce continued to try and force the cell, to no avail. They were fed horribly tasting food. Bruce wondered if his friends knew he missing. If Tony was searching for him. He learned that Loki had been there about two months - and no one had come looking for him. The Mask took pleasure on reminding him of that fact. Over and over again. Loki also told Bruce about his attempted escapes and the metal door. Sweet freedom.

Both men knew they had a better chance at freedom if they worked together. And if Bruce escaped, Loki was coming with him. He had a vague idea of what the man did with the god when he shocked him unconscious to play with him a while later, based on how he returned. No one deserved that. As expected, the Asgardian didn't want to talk afterwards and just fell into an uneasy sleep. One thing was to be broken and another thing was to have other warriors see and hear him broken. That was something else completely.

Bruce tried to sleep, too, feeling his head tired. He considered asking Loki to try to pass him one of his blankets, but the man was already sleep and Bruce didn't want to wake him. He'd just had to use his hands as pillow tonight.

Some hours passed (could be two, could twenty, who knew in that windowless cell?) and when Bruce woke up again there was someone else near him in the cell. Someone blindfolded, a man on his knees facing him. His hands were handcuffed too and there was something shiny on them - a sword.

Bruce took the blindfold and saw his face.

"Steve!"

The mask talked behind them, having appeared from the shadows,as usual.

"The perfect soldier himself. A good man. The best of them, maybe. Gentlemen, this is the story of two monsters and a hero. The story of how this good man slayed the alien terrorist and the irrational green mutant, freeing the world of two terrible dangers. A story of how good trumps evil. I want to see this story play itself out, I want to enjoy the sound of what's good finishing what's rotten. Give this story its happy ending, Captain, kill the monsters and you will be free."

A/N: If you know me, you know of my love for Bruce, Steve, and whumped Loki. Inspired a bit by the gorgeous fic "Ambivalence" by Ashley Rabbit, I decided to have my own attempt at cell-drama. If you want something less angsty, you can take a look at my other ongoing story, Paris, which has happier situations.

Hope you liked it! Do tell me what you thought!

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