This was going to be my fic for the Marvel Bang, but it didn't come together in time. As it is, it's only about 80% complete.

My beta, irite, is the best.

I need to stop writing AUs. But at least it's an opportunity to address a few of the science mistakes in the movie...or at least, to try to.

Bruce wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

Okay, he knew exactly how it happened. What he couldn't figure out was 'why.' Why him. Sure, he had that special brand of Bruce Banner Bad Luck, but really. This seemed a little extreme, even for that. As of late, his bad luck tended to be something like needing to go across town in the rain or misplacing his only pair of glasses for two weeks. But this? This was a whole new category of crazy.

He'd been in India, minding his own business, trying to clear up an outbreak of what he really hoped was food poisoning (and not something worse), when they'd come for him.

Not Ross. Not the US government. Not any government at all. No, someone else. Someone—incredibly—worse.

He called himself 'Loki.' Hell, maybe he really was Loki. Bruce didn't think he got a whole lot of room to question the believability of that sort of thing. After all, his 'condition' defied the laws of nature, so the existence of gods wasn't that far out of the realm of possibility, right? He could roll with that.

It was the whole 'world domination' thing that he took issue with.

Bruce had just finished checking on a patient and was washing his hands, scrubbing them with soap (because he had no desire to acquire food poisoning, thanks), when the wall next to him had exploded. Just, exploded. In a shower of dirt and stone, leaving a nice, new window looking out onto the dirty street below, which Bruce was sure was just what the doctor ordered for the occupants of these rooms.

That had been a surprise, and Bruce didn't like surprises. Didn't handle them particularly well. Especially loud, violent surprises. That sort of thing could get ugly quickly.

It didn't, though. Because in the last couple of years, Bruce had put a lot of work into control. His time in Canada had been productive, enough so that he had felt comfortable returning to major population centers. Because not only had he learned to stay calm and focused...he thought he'd learned how to manage the Other Guy. If he had to.

His first thought, then, hadn't been 'I need to calm down,' because he had that handled. Instead, it had been 'Is it Ross?' His second was, 'I'm cornered.' His third was, 'Turn around, stupid.'

He did. It wasn't Ross. But he was cornered.

Not by Ross and a platoon of his soldiers. No, it was, improbably, Erik Selvig. And a couple of other people. Most of them looked vaguely military, but Bruce got the impression that they weren't. They looked too scruffy, too ill-kempt. Ex-military, then. Mercenaries, maybe, or something like that?

The guy who was clearly in charge and pushing his way through to the front, though, did not look military at all.

The people Bruce had been helping wisely stayed in the background, huddled down in fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them inching towards a back bedroom. Bruce didn't blame them—he wanted to fade into the background about now, too.

The leader of the gang of goons stepped forward. Bruce wondered, briefly, what on earth this guy was wearing, before he spoke, "Dr. Banner, I presume."

The accent was strange, and not something Bruce could immediately identify. But the clothes were what was really throwing him. He just...couldn't...place them. The guy's outfit looked like a costume, except it also looked functional. Like it had seen actual battles. And that was...worrisome.

Almost as worrisome as the glowing spear clutched tightly in one hand.

Bruce really didn't like the look of that. Especially if that had been the cause of the exploding wall.

But he didn't panic. That wasn't going to be helpful, even if the spear did cause walls to explode. And this really wasn't the place to panic anyway. Instead, Bruce said around the lump in his throat, "Maybe. Uh, who's asking?"

"I am Loki, of Asgard. And I have come to enlist your aid. Dear Dr. Selvig," he nodded in Selvig's direction, "Seemed to think that you, amongst all his colleagues, may have some insight into the work, ah, we need to do."

Bruce took a moment to consider this. Loki. As in the Norse god? What were the odds of finding a Norse god in India? But there was definitely something up with this guy. God or not, he had a brilliant blue spear and battle armor. That made him an unknown entity, and thus someone to be treated with caution.

As if Bruce was ever anything but cautious.

What could they possibly need him for? Selvig and Bruce hadn't worked together in about six years. And even then, their collaborations had been brief. So obviously whatever 'work' they were doing had something to do with gamma radiation or nuclear physics in general, things that Selvig would know Bruce was well versed in. But that didn't narrow it down much.

Quickly, Bruce tried to get a good look at Selvig. He looked...weird. There was no other way to put it. There was something up with his eyes, something strange. They were bright, unnatural, acid blue. And he wasn't...all there. Selvig was a brilliant man. The calm, vacant expression on his face was entirely uncharacteristic. What was going on? What had this 'Loki' done to him?

Loki was looking at him impatiently, Bruce realized. Given that he didn't want to annoy the guy with the spear, Bruce nodded once, slowly. "Is that what he said? Did he tell you anything else about me?" He didn't know how much Selvig knew about his 'condition,' or how much of what he knew he'd divulged to Loki.

Loki smirked. "He was most forthcoming, I assure you. Although I must say, Agent Barton had the truly interesting information. Now, will you accompany me or not?"

Bruce didn't know who 'Agent Barton' was, but he assumed that it was one of Loki's companions. It was possible that some of them were American, maybe even government. Which meant that one of them might have access to the records Ross had on him. So. If that was true, it meant 'Loki' knew a lot.

"How did you find me?" Bruce asked, edging around the room, moving slowly. Maybe if he could jump out a window or something...that seemed like a good way to get out of this...

No, that was just stupid. He was going to have to face this.

Loki waved a lazy hand at one of his companions. "Barton. He had some insight into, how shall I say, locating that which prefers to remain hidden. You are not as well disguised as you think, Banner. Or perhaps he is just effective. Either way, here you are."

'Barton' had the same blue-eyed vacant stare that Selvig did, which was not reassuring.

"We should get moving, boss," Barton said. "I doubt we're the only people looking for Banner right now."

"Very well," Loki agreed amicably. "Banner. Come along."

"Um. No?" he tried. He hadn't said he was going to go with them. He had no idea what they were doing, but there was enough weird stuff going on here for him to want to stay as far away as possible. He did not get involved with weird stuff.

"I do not believe that was a request." Loki stepped forward, raising his spear.

Bruce cringed back, expecting to be blasted across the room, or stabbed, or something equally horrible that would trigger a transformation and then what would happen? There were a lot of people around, and if he lost it here, they'd all be in danger. And—

Loki tapped the tip of his spear gently but firmly against Bruce's chest.

For a moment, Bruce's vision was iced over in blue. But a wave of green rushed in to counter it.

Bruce braced himself, closing his eyes and waiting for the change, knowing that was inevitably what followed his vision greening over.

It didn't come. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing, looking up at the man who claimed to be a god, but still very much himself.

Loki, though, looked angry. Furious, even. He tapped his spear against Bruce's chest again, harder this time.

That hurt. But the sharp pain was followed by the same flash of blue-green, and he was again left entirely as he had been. Except with a bruise blossoming in the middle of his chest.

Rather than wait for Loki to jab him again, Bruce asked, "Was that supposed to do something?"

Loki did not answer, opting instead to turn to Barton. He snarled, "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm not sure," Barton answered honestly, entirely unfazed by Loki's ire. "It may be related to his, er, altered biology, sir."

You think? Bruce mused to himself. He was starting to get an idea what Loki had been attempting. The blue light that had traveled across his eyes wasn't so dissimilar from the strange blue glow emanating from the eyes of some (but not all) of Loki's companions. Whatever he'd done to them, he'd been trying to do to Bruce. And apparently, it, whatever it was, hadn't worked.

The question was...what had he done to the others?

"Hmm..." Loki mused. "This is a setback." He looked at Bruce. "I don't suppose you plan to make this easy? Since I cannot, for whatever reason, compel you to accompany me." He sounded bored and maybe a touch annoyed.

"That really depends," Bruce answered, eying the spear carefully. He really didn't like the sound of that. 'Compel.' Seemed kinda...bad. "Are you...can you make people do what you want them to?"

Loki shrugged. "So far? Yes. You are being very rude by resisting. And I am rather in a hurry."

Bruce was being rude? He wasn't the one who'd come in here, spear blazing, blowing up walls and mind controlling people. "What're you doing, exactly? What do you need me for?"

"I intend to conquer this realm," Loki stated, as if this were a normal goal. "To do so, I need a stable portal so that my army may traverse the cosmos and arrive safely in your realm. Dr. Selvig assures me it can be done with some work. And your assistance."

"Ah." Bruce frowned. He considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake and not having some bizarre curry-fueled dream, but the bruise he could feel forming on his chest seemed to negate that possibility. "Then, no, I don't intend to make this easy. Sorry." He was, at this point, about 96% sure this guy was nuts, and he didn't get involved with crazy people any more than he got involved with weird stuff.

It had kind of become his life's goal in the last year or so.

"I see," Loki said. "Well, I suppose it cannot be helped, then. You humans are so...difficult. Always making things harder than they need be, when you could spare yourselves such pain by simply submitting." He shrugged gracefully. "You will aid me. Dr. Selvig has need of you. And I must confess, I am rather intrigued by you at this point as well. I may yet find a more suitable use for you." He raised his spear again.

"You should know," Bruce threw out hurriedly, unsure what Loki was planning, "That, uh, that might not go so well. For anyone. You don't want to make me angry." He'd been keeping a pretty solid lid on things for the last five minutes or so, but he couldn't really guarantee what would happen if Loki started blowing things up or something.

"You're right, of course," Loki acknowledged. "Partially, at least. I do not want you angry now." He paused. "Now, I want you to sleep."

He waved his spear in a wide, graceful arc.

And then...Bruce slept.

He was unconscious before his knees hit the ground.

When Bruce woke up, he was lying on a cot jammed up against the wall in a dark, depressing, dank room.

And other 'd' adjectives you'd like to throw in there?

Damp?

Okay, stop. It's not that bad.

He didn't know where he was—aside from apparently underground if the light was anything to go by—but he was fairly annoyed. Not angry. He wouldn't let himself get angry, not until he knew where he was and what the hell was going on. But he was definitely annoyed. Damn it, he'd been fine in India. He'd been doing his thing, helping people, he'd been 'incident free' for months. He'd had something approaching a normal life, if living in a slum outside Calcutta could count as 'normal.' It did for a fairly largish portion of India's population. So yeah. Normal.

And now? Now he'd been kidnapped by a god, apparently, and taken who knows where for who knows what purpose.

Except he did know the purpose. He was apparently being recruited to build an interdimensional portal or something. A few years ago, he would have laughed at the idea. But from what he'd read in the journals, and what he'd managed to scrounge up online (he'd made his way to the library in Calcutta more than once since he'd settled in), that wasn't so far fetched. Jane Foster had been working on this very issue, had made some really extraordinary progress towards that goal. But for it to actually happen?

Is that actually possible? The amount of energy that would take is...incalculable.

"Good, you're awake," came a voice on Bruce's left. He sat up quickly, trying to ignore the pain from the stiff muscles in his back.

I am too old to be kidnapped.

The speaker was the guy Loki had identified as 'Agent Barton.' He still had the glowing blue eyes, which was disheartening (because, Bruce suspected, that meant he was currently press-ganged into Loki's service), but he seemed cheerful enough despite it.

"You've been out for hours," Barton continued, bustling around the room. "The boss thought it'd be best if you didn't wake up 'til we were back in the States. Didn't think you'd do too good on an airplane."

Bruce cleared his throat, noting that he was probably thirstier than he'd ever been in his life. "Where are—"

Barton thrust a bottle of water at him. "Drink up. You hungry?"

Taking the water, Bruce answered, "Yeah." Starving, actually.

Barton tossed a granola bar at him. Well, beggars can't be choosers, right? Bruce opened it and took a bite. He chewed for a moment before trying again, "Where are we?"

"Can't tell you that," Barton answered, standing at attention, watching Bruce eat.

Nothing weird about that at all. Bruce set the granola bar aside. "Can't, or won't?"

"Can't," Barton said, almost cheerfully.

"Anything you can tell me?" Bruce asked. It'd probably be easier that way, than asking random questions.

Barton considered this. "Not really. The boss wants a word with you, though."

That was unfortunate. Bruce had no interest in conversing with someone who apparently frequently used mind control, blew things up, and could put him to sleep just by saying the word. In fact, that seemed like someone it would be best to avoid.

But here, in this dark, damp, depressing, damp hole in the ground, did he really have a choice? They could be under Los Angeles, for all he knew. Or New York. There could be millions of people above them, and he didn't want to risk anything until he knew for sure. Sure, he'd been practicing, learning control. Sure, he thought he might be able to handle it. But that was only if he transformed on his own. If it was forced, who knew what would happen? No, he had to play it carefully until he knew more.

And that unfortunately meant he was going to have to talk to Loki.

Bruce unwrapped the rest of his granola bar and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed quickly, then washed it down with the rest of the water. Best to get this over with quickly. "All right, let's go."

As Barton led him through the twisting and turning corridors, Bruce tried to get a feel for where he was. There were no overt signs, though. It was dark, and more or less quiet, except for the sound of boots on the hard-packed ground. The few people they passed on their journey were well-armed. Mercenaries, or paramilitary.

Bruce didn't like the military, on principle. And when they were being mind-controlled by a guy claiming to be a god? That was worse.

What did you get yourself into this time, Banner?

Okay, maybe it wasn't fair to get annoyed with himself. He'd been kidnapped. It wasn't like he'd agreed to come along. He wanted nothing to do with this situation. For once, this wasn't his own fault. Loki—whether he was a god or not—was clearly crazy. Anyone aiming for world domination was insane, that was a historical fact. The fact that he'd clearly managed to get some sort of a following (not everyone here had the blue-eyes-of-servitude thing going on) didn't make Loki any less crazy. It just made him powerful.

Crazy and powerful was a bad, bad combination.

After a few more turns, Barton led Bruce into a larger room. Selvig was there, in an area cordoned off by glass, working on some sort of device. He was directing a couple of other scientists—at least, they wore lab coats—but seemed to be doing most of the heavy lifting himself. Barton ignored him, though, and led Bruce off to one side of the room. "Hey boss, Dr. Banner's up."

Loki had been leaning casually against a concrete pillar, watching Selvig work. Now he turned to Barton. "I see that. You may go."

Obediently, Barton turned and walked away, presumably to take care of some other task. Or to power down until Loki needed him again; Bruce wasn't sure how this mind control thing worked.

"Dr. Banner," Loki said, "It is good you are back with us. I do believe Dr. Selvig is ready for you."

"Uh, yeah. But. I have a couple of questions."

"As do I." He considered Bruce carefully. "Perhaps you could tell me why you are not susceptible to external influence."

"You mean, why can't you mind control me?" Loki was going to get right to the point, apparently.

Loki nodded. "Yes. If you must be so vulgar about it."

Bruce gave a stiff shrug. "I think it's kind of obvious. The Other Guy...he's not so easy to control."

"The monster, you mean," Loki clarified. "That lives inside of you."

And he accused Bruce of being 'vulgar.' "Yeah."

Loki made a thoughtful noise. "And yet you seem to do a passable job of it."

This conversation, Bruce decided, needed to stop. He didn't want Loki within ten miles of the Other Guy, literally or figuratively. "I've had practice. So. Um, Loki, right? Like the god?"

With a nod, Loki answered, "I suppose it may seem that way to...inferior beings."

"And you're here...why?"

"I believe I have explained that already."

He had. Bruce had just been hoping that the whole 'world domination' thing had been a joke or a delusion or something. "Right. Sure." He paused. "Why should I help you?" The unspoken question: why don't I just bust out of here?

"Well," Loki began, almost idly, "Some of these people—Barton and Selvig, to begin with—are 'innocent,' as you might say. They have not willingly aided my cause. It would be a shame if they were to come to harm, yes? You wouldn't want to risk that, I'm sure."

Unfortunately, Loki was right. Bruce didn't want to risk that. Loki might be threatening them, might be saying 'if you don't help me, I'll hurt them.' Or he could just mean that this place didn't seem all that structurally sound. Just letting the Other Guy out might be enough to bring the roof down. If Loki started shooting things with his spear, that could do it easily. And would the Other Guy know the difference between 'friend' and 'foe?' Bruce liked to think so, but he couldn't know.

So he couldn't just bust out of here. If he was going to let the Other Guy out, it'd have to be either above ground, or once this underground hideout had been evacuated.

Bruce nodded. "You're right."

"I know. Now. Do as you're told, and perhaps everyone can come out of this alive." He shrugged. "It is of little matter to me, but you humans are so sentimental."

With that, he was gone, striding off down the corridor that Bruce had just come from.

Bruce sighed. It wasn't a lot of incentive. But it was enough. Right now, Loki held the upper hand. Until he didn't, Bruce knew he had to keep his head down, keep a firm grip on himself, and learn as much as he could about this project so that, if it came down to it, he had the information to stop it.

Right now, that looked like about all he could do.

Comments and reviews are always appreciated.