Winter's Twilight Story for Thor/Avengers Crossover. Set: After Avengers.
…3 Months after Avengers…
… Loki POV…
Crack!
Pain… All over…
Whack! Crack! Crack!
It burns…
Slap! Whack! Cra-Whack!
It never ends…
Silence…
Or, if it does, I never noticed…
The silence stretches on…
The pain still encases me… It never ends…
Drip… Drip… Dr-drip…
The sound of water… It's so close… My throat burns still from voicing out my pain, not that the sound of water is helping any…
Drip-drip.. driiiiip…. Crr-Shhhhhhhhhhhh!
It sounds as if they've turned on the basement's tap… My throat aches all the more when the scent of cool, fresh water takes up the majority of my focus…
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
So thirsty…
SSSHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Just a drop… That's all I'd need…
SPLASH!
I cough as the much-needed water is forced through my nose and into my lungs. Although it felt as if I were drowning, I can't help but feel grateful for the small mercy of nourishment from my long-time tormentors…
Laughter sounds from every corner of the room…
It all echoes around in my head… Round and round… It drives me mad…
!SLAM!
The laughter fades, but even after the familiar sound of rusted-metal against a wooden-frame-work is resonated, the craze-building noise still rolls in my head… It taunts me… Jeers me… It breaks my already-broken spirit to a less-than-snivelling, pathetic, blob of black-blue-purple-coloured slime. Not worth anyone's time. Not worth anyone's care. Just like when the All-Father gave out my punishment…
Clin-clink clack-clinky-clank…
I relax forward as best I could in these restricting cuffs. They chafed, making my wrists bleed every now-and-again, but they weren't as bad as the tools my captors used when they felt like turning me into a pin-cushion…
How did I get here?
All I remember before three months ago is just bits and pieces Thanos allowed me to remember. He'd let me go the minute I'd gone back to Asgard to face trial. I remember blood. So much blood… And a dark room… Similar to this one, actually. Only, instead of a group of humans holding me captive, it'd been the Chitauri army, with their inter-stellar methods and far more intimate torture methods…
I can't hold back the shudders that comes with the cold surrounding the room. Coupled with the disturbing thoughts running through my mind, and no matter how much a Frost-Giant I am, the cold affected me.
I remember the way Father looked at me… Not to mention Mother…
Mother…
I hurt her dearly… Why hadn't I been strong enough? Why couldn't I resist Thanos' mind-control? I can still hear the screams of all those humans during the invasion… The ones my current group of captors seemed to all know…
Annie…
Gregor…
Even Little Sophie…
I can picture how they looked as their lives were swept up from under them. Their screams as the monsters of everyone's nightmares rushed at them, impaling them. If not, disembodiment. Although, in my opinion, I'd met Gregor. He forced teenagers into taking drugs before tying them to a bedpost and having his way with them. I'd walked into the room while he finished tying three dazed school-children that couldn't be any older than 15 to the king-sized bed, flanked by three chitauri on each side of me. I remember breaking from Thanos' control for the few rage-filled moments it'd taken to dispose of the disgusting piece of scum, before being taken back under control. I was then treated like a marionette, blasting with my sceptre at a girl with a nametag that said 'Annie', giving her the blessing of a fast, painless death. The Chitauri'd taken of the other two teenagers, of course, that was the moment my mind had been clouded over with a kind of fog that felt like I were sleeping, only that I still felt as if my body was moving on its own accord…
My captors seemed to exploit every little form of torture known to their primitive culture, even verbally downgrading me as they used various tools to carve and pierce my pale, now dirty-brown chest, back, and any inch of exposed skin they could mar. When they'd first snatched me off the street, they'd drilled into my head bitter-sweet words of my evil doings as well as the 'mercy' they were showing me compared to what some other humans would have done to me. I care to disagree. While they'd done this, they'd bolted me to a wall, stripped of all clothes, and had their way with me. Every day, each member would come in, some carrying cloths to gag or blind me, others would bring in whips or further-constricting objects that both caused pain and seemed to cause pleasure to my captors. Each night, I remember being left breathless, exhausted, and in both mental and physical pain. Even now, I can still feel their filthy, rough hands on my body, groping at me in places I'd rather not think about, and their tongues shoved fit-fully down my throat as their spare hand tugged painfully at my hair.
I shudder, trying with all my might to push down those unwanted thoughts. All that had occurred in the first two months of my capture. Today had marked the third-month anniversary of my captivity, which might have been why my tormentors had left early. Normally, they'd keep cutting into my skin and tell me how much of a worthless piece of faeces I was, until I couldn't take the pain anymore and fell unconscious.
My depressing thoughts consume me. They repeat the words the humans beat into me. They recited the long strings of insults they cut into my skin with small thumb-daggers.
Nothing.
Worthless.
Murderer.
Bad-blood.
…
The words echo. They never end. Like the pain, the words only resonate all the more when I'm alone.
Is there ever going to be an end? Will they ever let me go? Am I forever doomed to be in constant pain?
The answers to these questions were incredibly simple. Or, should I say, obviously present.
I know these mortals will never let me go. Although Odin had enough mercy to allow my magic to be present in my exile from Asgard, it seemed to stop working when even a tendril of fear flittered into my heart (or what was left of it…). I still retain my Asgardian life-span, so chances of these pathetic humans giving me a peaceful end was indivertibly futile, not that they'd even think of it. I'm sure they still had some friends left to have their fun with me. Not to mention this species breed like the ants they are. With the constant population increasing even as I kneeled here, I doubt there will ever be an end to my pain. An end to it all. An end to everything.
But I deserve this. I deserve all the pain they hand me, and then some. Although what they've already accomplished on my shivering, unclothed body could be considered terrible and 'inhumane', these primitive savages constantly used the excuse of my being of un-humane origins, making these claims invalid, and I agreed with them fully. They could hurt me to the extent of breaking bones, severing nerves, crushing arteries. Yet they all never seemed to cross that line, as if it were a sacred rule never to break their 'toy' to a degree where playing with me would become any less 'fun' when they come back.
And they will come back.
They always come back.
That was certain.
In fact, before they'd come in earlier, I could've sworn I'd heard them talking about my first month here. About how I'd tasted. How they loved the feel of my skin against theirs. And, if my hearing hadn't failed in my time here, how they wished to clean me up enough to have some more… explicit times in my presence.
I shudder to think of what more they could do to me. But I know this was the only way I could ever hope to make right of all the wrongs I've done. It doesn't matter how much this destroys me, nor how badly I am broken after all this is over. If 'over' ever comes…
How long will I have to wait?
How long until I'm taken from this place?
How much will I have to go through before my crimes are paid back in kind?
Will I be saved? Do I want to be saved?
I guess only time will tell…