He woke up on his mattress and realized a few things.
Tony would kill for a blanket.
He wasn't even kidding.
Maybe he was.
It would depend on who he was killing. He'd totally kill a criminal, or a terrorist, or an evil alien or something, but that was probably it.
Okay, maybe he wouldn't kill for a blanket.
Another wave of shivers hit him, and he reconsidered.
Everything hurt. Some of the pain was more localized, like his ankles, which were raw from the rubbing of the shackles, and his right elbow, which was still make its irritation at hitting the cement under the full weight of his body known. And his throat wasn't too happy with the most recent treatment it had received, being a large hand wrapped around it.
But the pain sort of seeped into the rest of him, and although it wasn't as sharp or defined, he couldn't escape it.
And the shivering certainly didn't help.
He was still exhausted. Bone weary exhausted, the kind that came from day long binges in his workshop, or fighting aliens with five arms.
And apparently, kidnapping. And being drugged. Multiple times.
He probably didn't want to know what drugs were in his system, though he couldn't help but be curious.
He shivered again, wished for a blanket and some painkillers, but settled for simply going back to sleep.
Tony reconsidered his loathing of the cold when he was confronted with fire.
It took him a minute to realize, just coming out of sleep, that the spot of light was a flame.
"What the fuck are you doing, get that away from me!" he said, perhaps a bit hysterically. But there was a man coming at him with a lighter, and honestly, he felt justified in being hysterical.
Tony yanked his arm back and scuttled across the ground to the corner, as far as the shackles would allow him. Probably not his best tactical move, because, oh yeah, he was cornered now, but shackles and everything, so whatever.
There was only the one guy and Tony could possibly take him if he tried, but he was the one with the flame, and like every cave person knew, the one with the fire was in charge.
(Plus, he was weakened and sore and disoriented and what he was trying to say was that he didn't have the upper hand.)
He lashed out with one foot, catching the man off centre, knocking him sideways, the lighter falling harmlessly to the floor beside him. Tony snatched it before the man could recover, which he did only a second too late.
But then there was the issue of what he could do with it. He could burn the other man, and risk hurting himself, he could destroy it, again risking himself, or he could use it in another way. Like as a diversion.
He tossed the lighter across the room in a lazy arc, giving the henchman plenty of time to scramble up from where he'd fallen to catch it.
Tony used his distraction to his advantage, sticking his foot in the man's path and tripping him. He intended to bash him on the head and knock him out, thereby getting himself a hostage, but it didn't work as well as he planned. He misjudged the length of the chain, and the only thing that happened was him slipping on the damp floor, landing on his ass as the man retrieved his lighter and turned his attention back on Tony.
"That was a mistake," he growled, grabbing Tony by the arm and flicking the lighter on underneath it.
The pain was unbearable.
"Carter!" a voice bellowed into the room, and wow, Tony should have considered that there were speakers, why hadn't he considered that?
The haze of shock cleared and the pain hit him, and he remembered why.
Fuck, that hurt.
He didn't have a lot of experience with burns before, but he knew that water was his best friend. Thankfully, he had some left over from last night, and he carefully doused the area, sighing at the immediate relief it provided. But there wasn't enough of it, and he knew they wouldn't give him more.
The man had gone, possibly to be yelled at, since Tiberius didn't seem to want Tony to be disfigured or permanently harmed. Yet, anyway.
Tony used up all the water cooling the burn on his arm, which looked to be second degree, maybe third, not like he knew, because he wasn't a doctor. It was red and angry and hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure that third degree burns weren't supposed to hurt? That would be nice.
He curled back up on his mattress, watching the door suspiciously. No one else came in.
Tony's arm ached, and with nothing else to focus on, it demanded most of his attention until he fell into a restless sleep.