DISCLAIMER:I do not own The Avengers. Or Thor... If I did then Loki wouldn't be evil! Anyway. This will contain. A LOT of whump. Loki whump to be exact. It features all of the Avengers and of course, Loki. First person point of view. Pay attention to the headings say whose point of view it is. Rated for violence, more violence, and innuendo of rape. If you think it needs a higher/lower rating then tell me. I'm bad at selecting ratings. If you read please review! Not for the squeamish! Time to continue! I was slightly worried but the lack of a review - thought people hated it. Then I checked my inbox! hahah. .. note... I have not yet watched the Avengers... but I cheated and read a bunch of fanfictions... and felt like writing my own! xD
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LOKI POV
I dreamed I had fallen into a barrel of glass. The shards tore into my chest and sides and back and stomach. My shoulders were shredded to pieces. It burned and I could do nothing but thrash around, making the glass dig deeper into my wounds. I wanted to stop, but could not. I kept thrashing until all the glass as either in my body or ground into dust and by then I was so weak that I couldn't even move. In front of me I saw the sky, and there were ugly storm clouds. For awhile I lay, staring blearily up at the sky until the clouds opened and water practically was dumped down on me. It filled my mouth and nose and raked through my sinuses and down my throat until I choked and heaved and my eyes shot open.
I was lying flat on my back on the floor, arms still tied above me, with a bucket of ice water pouring over my face. Immediately it went away when I began to choke and cough up water, my throat burning from the process. My vision was blurred badly but I still knew that the man was there, enjoying my pain.
I groaned as I tried to move. My shoulders were like steel with needles and knives poking into the nerves and making my arms numb. That was probably a good thing, as I looked up and saw rivulets of blood raining down my forearms from my wrists. I closed my eyes, struggling to get my breathing under control when the man slapped me hard enough to make my ears ring. I grunted and forced them open.
"Good morning. How are you feeling today?" the man sneered.
I glared up at him.
"Still got some spirit, I see. We'll take care of that today. Drink up." A glass was brought to my lips and I immediately shut them, refusing to let the glass gain entry. After a moment, he pinched my nose shut so I was forced to open my mouth to breathe and tipped the liquid in. It burned all the way down my throat and into my stomach where it settled, and suddenly I was so nauseous I thought I was going to vomit all over myself.
"What was that?" I finally said, my voice rasping with little more than a whisper.
"Need to keep yo conscious for this," the man responded with a smirk. That sent prickles of fear and foreboding down my spine.
The man looked down my body and seemed to pause for a moment around my hips. Understanding swept through me. No! The man seemed please at the horrified look in my eyes and shifted so he was straddling my waste before removing his jacket and beginning to - slowly - undo his pants. No, no, no! I wanted to beg and plead but my voice was gone. Instead, I could only watch and writhe faintly as he revealed my lower body. The humiliation and shame that swept through me suddenly released my voice.
"Please, no!" I gasped. "Don't..." I was effectively silenced by a rag being stuffed into my mouth. The churning in my stomach only increased and I was afraid I was going to be sick - and then asphyxiate thanks to the gag in my mouth.
I shut my eyes, wishing I could flee to the recesses of my mind.
Help me! I thought. There was no answer.
My eyes shot open and my body shook as the pain began.
It seemed to last forever. Hours, days, I didn't know. It was never ending.
He had the decency to at least redress my shame before leaving the room and shutting me in the dark once more. I lay there, breathing shallowly through the gag and shivering from cold, pain and disgust. I felt filthy. My body was sticky beneath my clothes, from blood, among other things. I wanted to close my eyes and let sleep take me, but could not even get that far from the pain gripping me inside and out. I was weak, pathetic... dirty.
I fought back the tears. I couldn't cry. I wouldn't let myself break that far. I was already lying in filth - my blood, mostly, and now other things that I never wanted to acknowledge -, my shoulder had popped out of joint again at some point, and my body burned with pain so great that I didn't even dare move my legs. Caught between shivering and staring weakly into the impenetrable darkness, my mind began to drift to the point that I was sure my sanity was lost. Or perhaps, I never had it to begin with. Yes, that was it. I had always been an insane monster. Maybe I was just losing it further than before.
Father? I thought. I wasn't sure which father I was talking to. Was it Odin or Laufey? I didn't know. Either way, I realized both had left me for dead.
Silence answered my thoughts.
Brother? I wondered if Thor would leave me too. Of course, I was mortal now. How could I communicate with either of them? They had probably forgotten about their poor, insane sibling or adopted son years ago. That was alright. I wasn't worth the worry.
CLINT POV
Strangely, I was starting to feel worried. It wasn't that first time that a passed out drunk Loki had to be dragged out of a bar in the past two months, but it was the first time the man dragging him wasn't an employee. In fact, as Clint watched, he thought he saw a gleam of malice in those dark eyes. At that time he hadn't felt the least bit concerned. He would probably go beat up the former god in an alley and then Clint would have to drag him out. His hatred for Loki was still there, but he was tasked with the job of making sure he didn't get killed. And after months of watching his former enemy destroy his self inside out from things I could not imagine or understand, my rage was beginning to ebb. Just a little.
I must be crazy. How could I feel worry for that thing? But I couldn't find him anywhere. I, with the sharp eyes that made it impossible for me to not notice something, couldn't find the ex-god. Nor could I stop the man who had half dragged, half carried my quarry out of the bar.
Damn. Thor is going to be pissed.
And that was true.
When I dropped the bomb at the latest Avenger's meeting - set a day and a half after Loki vanished - that I had lost him, I practically fell out of my seat when Thor shot up and nearly knocked over the table in the process.
"What?" He had asked with his eyes wide.
The look on everyone else's face varied from annoyance, to alarm, to concern, and in Natasha's case, satisfaction. Someone had finally gotten rid of their problem. As much I was inclined to agree, I had an angry god with a hammer staring daggers at me across the table.
"He went to a bar. Got drunk. Passed out. Got dragged out by someone. It happens all the time..." I responded as calmly as I could manage.
"But you do not know where my brother went?" Thor responded.
I hesitated. "No."
And that had set off the events to the point we were at now. And at this moment, I was definitely worried, and feeling a little bit guilty. The man was a brother to one of the victim's of the New York Invasion. He had fallen off the face of the Earth at the same time Loki had. We had tracked him to a rather large area in an abandoned box of homes. If we were lucky, they could find Loki in hours. If not, it would take a day to search through everything. And I realized that the former god could very well be dead already after going through who knows what. And even through my hatred over what Loki had done to, I didn't believe anyone deserved that kind of treatment.