Loki ran.
He ran, ignoring the painful creak of his shattered knee with every step, the throbbing, stabbing sensation on his chest or anything else really. All he could think of was getting out- out- out of here!
But the bluish grey organic, sometimes quivering walls didn't seem to end, trapping him in this endless labyrinth as again and again chitauri soldiers appeared in his way, brandishing their weapons and trying to stop him, catch him.
Loki's breath came in short gasps and his legs seemed to quiver with every step he took and could barely keep himself running, yet alone fighting, but he couldn't stop, he mustn't stop, not now, he wouldn't go back and he wouldn't let thanos' puppets torture him again.
They've spent the past three years doing that, ever since they stole him out of his cell in Asgard.
As he ran, there was something, something suddenly changed, and it took him a long moment to realise that the air was filled with the scent of charred flesh, and it was only a few steps later around a corner that he suddenly stood in front of half a dozen charred chitauri corpses, smoke lingering in the air, heat not yet dissipated.
Most certainly not his work, he'd frozen and frost burned them with the hated, blessed, undeniably useful, blue nature of his.
There was someone else inside here rebelling against the chitauri, someone quite able.
A possible ally to escape from this hell?
Or someone, something that would char him as well the moment they might meet?
Either way, it might know the way.
Quickly the god followed the trail of ash, charred entrails, blood and chitauri corpses, sometimes even the footsteps burnt into the ground, making him wonder what it was, because it was the same kind of footprint as most races of the nine left, even if smaller than his own feet, but he knew nothing that would burn like this short of Eldjotuns, but they were long extinct. And although he did not particularly enjoy the heat that lingered in the air, it did not bite on his own icy nature as the torture had at his Aesir skin.
He followed as quickly as he could, the path of destruction impossible to oversee, uninterrupted by any soldiers and only stopped when he heard shots fired from not far in front of him, and the familiar (hated) sound of the chitauries harsh language screeching through the air.
A wall of fire suddenly shot forth from around the hallway's corer to Loki's left, close enough to be very uncomfortable but not endangering him yet. The fire stopped and so did the noise of his (not quite yet former) captors, instead the smell of charred flesh and heat filled his senses.
Carefully, very carefully the god glimpsed around the corner and spotted, what he supposed was, a man. Standing slightly bowed, covered from head to toe in black grime, ash and what looked like molten something clinging to the skin and hair, and Loki watched with rapt fascination as the thing stood utterly still, not even breathing from what he could tell.
Loki exhaled, the creature whirled around, and -
Nothing for a moment.
They stared at each other, the god still mostly hidden behind the wall, the thing in the open.
"Who are you?" it- he asked, sounding weary, and Loki couldn't help but notice the way it-he had breathed in to talk, but did not repeat the action afterwards.
In a slow obvious manner, as not to trigger this creature that could burn him to a pulp, the god stepped forward from behind the wall's corner he'd used as shield, careful not to view his body's pains. "Enemy of your enemy."
The...person, Loki supposed, grinned suddenly, it looked sharp and fierce, but not without humour, interesting.
"A friend, then." it said, sounding too entertained for this situation, "Do you have a plan?"
The god hesitated as he shook his head, because he really didn't. All he could think when he'd finally broken through Odin's spell that'd forced his body to shape shift, was to get out, so he answered truthfully, "I gained a small advantage and hoped to find an exit, and leave this planet as quick as physically possible."
"Not a planet, a um... well, broodmother as the Chitauri call it. About five minutes from here is a room with equipment that'll help us to free the broodmother and whatever corrupts her eggs." the man waved for Loki to follow and walked off, not looking back, but the god had no doubt that both of them were hyperaware of the other.
Though the man just continued talking, about things Loki couldn't even fathom with his brain numb with pain and exhaustion as it was.
The man's back was cleaner than his front.
"The Chitauri are supposed to be a hivemind with the broodmother, but the Other somehow changed it to the Kareshnem, if we destroy it, we kill the Chitauri. The purple bastard is at the far end of the Centaur galaxy so he can't really do anything, and our sweet girl here will have us far away by the time he notices anything. Where is your home?"
For a moment, long enough to open his mouth, Loki almost answered 'Asgard'. But he didn't belong to Asgard, they'd just let him rot in the dungeons.
Besides, he's irreparably broken the Allfather's spell, what meant that he was stuck in this monstrous, in his true shape until he'd regained his magic, something that would take weeks if not months as he'd burned out his core entirely.
None of the other realms would accept a monster as him, not even Alfheim.
Except maybe for Midgard?
It would probably be rather easy to hide in one of Midgard's unpopulated areas, possibly poles as they've got no magic to track him.
He didn't even know how Jotunheim fared these days. Perhaps he should just go and crawl into the icy cavities of his birth planet and wait until the people forgot about the god called Loki.
"No where." is what he finally answered, "Anywhere but here is fine."
"Well," the man snorts, "isn't that wonderful."
Loki ignored the verbal jab at his person, instead focusing on how confident the man chose their path and never stopped to consider his way, and the seemingly throughout information he had on those vile creatures.
He knew this place well. Too well, it was disconcerting.
Perhaps this was some new, sick game of Thanos or the Other. Letting him believe he'd escaped and found an ally, only to catch him again and erase that glimpse of hope with their utter brutal efficiency.
He almost regretted fighting against the sceptre's control.
Almost.
Except that he really didn't.
Back to the topic of the stranger's familiarity with this place and race, as the man now suddenly started petting the wall.
"What by the nine-"
Though before Loki could even complete his question the wall shivered, turned thinner until it peeled itself away like petals to reveal a path to a room.
This was all madness, utter madness.
He'd originally thought (by the way his cell looked) they'd taken him back to the same place he'd been before the whole mind control ...thing.
But now he couldn't help but accept that he was indeed in an entirely different... place.
Broodmother the stranger had said.
A creature?
Was he inside a living being?!
Loki followed the man into the room trying to stay upward, not really able to listen over the din his blood made in his ears as he kept feeling fainter, pain roaring through all his senses, barely able to register the gentle blue light that radiated from the walls, illuminating some constructions of gleaming metal.
The man turned around to him, pulling a face all of a sudden while the god's field of vision shrunk down to a pinprick, his heart hammering in his ears, gravity tore at him and then - darkness.
The first think Loki registered was humming.
Someone was sitting not far away from him clattering around with something, quietly humming a song the god did not know, and it took him even longer to realise that something else was humming as well, though it was a little bit off tact and seemed to come from all around.
The walls.
The walls were humming along to the stranger's song!
Soft blue light still surrounded them, shining brighter where the man sat, and Loki took a moment to really look at him, now that he was clean.
Well, cleaner, still just wearing a pair of trousers though that had seen much better days, but they too were as clean as anything could probably get without using magic.
Pale, nimble fingers were working on some machine in his lap, and dark brown or black hair falling into his face, but what truly caught the god's attention was the machine lodged in the stranger's chest, glowing a strong, steady white blue light.
"What by the nine is that?!" he croaked while sitting up, doing his best not to wince at the pain in his chest where they'd broken more ribs than the god cared to count. Aside from soreness, pretty much all over, he felt much better than before, and it only took him a moment to see that the stranger'd stabilised his leg with a makeshift splint and washed the blood from his skin.
He really needed a name, he couldn't keep calling him 'stranger' in his mind.
However strange he was.
"And a good morning to you, sleeping beauty." the man said, looking up from his work grinning, "Feeling fine? No more fainting? Great, because I don't even know what your pulse rate is supposed to be."
Loki stared at him.
And he stared and stared because no.
Fuck no, this is just not possible.
Stark?!