A/N:Multiple warnings. Until tomorrow afternoon this chapter is unedited, since it's late and I've already put off uploading long enough. Hopefully it's moderately logical and in-character.
Furthermore- lots of violence in this chapter, and lots of graphic descriptions for said violence. If you're not comfortable with that sort of thing, be prepared to skim at parts.
Back in school and done with performing Merchant of Venice, so updates should pick up again. Unendingly sorry about the delay!D:
"He's a god, he'll be ready for this. He's got to have a plan or something, right?" Barton demanded. "If Schmidt does find some way to make a god do what he wants-"
"Not now, Clint," Natasha warned with a rough shake of her head. "Laufeyson must have planned this for some reason. Stark, what could he possibly have in mind?"
He wants Schmidt to go after you guys, so he and I can go after him. Because he thinks we're both dead-or he will. "No idea. Coulson, what happened? How the hell did you two get caught?" Tony turned toward the agent, eyes narrowed but invisibly so because of the helmet.
"Laufeyson's defenses. Schmidt was tracking his spellwork somehow, and those things may stop bullets but they're a dead giveaway when you're around to the god of mischief," Coulson replied with a little more pleasantness than was even vaguely appropriate. "If Schmidt's army isn't here then neither is the tesseract. The site nearby's not the one he'll be using- I'll get another recon team out looking for the actual location. You three come with me so we can take out Skull before he slips off again, and feel free to spread the love to his goon squad. It's bad for henchmen's self-esteem for them to be ignored."
"No. If Loki's in there, then he's got a plan- remember the last time you interrupted him? Schmidt got off, and you landed in the hospital," Tony could feel his voice tighten as he spoke. He wanted to just go on in and start blowing the hell out of everyone and everything related to Hydra, but Loki would never forgive him for it. He must have had some reason for not just killing Schmidt right there, right?
Nothing Tony could think of, except perhaps the tesseract. He had a feeling that Loki wasn't too happy with that being left in mortal hands, and no doubt he wanted it for himself. Why? To ensure Thor couldn't come on down? World domination? Because he was bored? It wasn't fair, really, wasn't Tony supposed to be the spontaneous one in the relationship?
"Well, Schmidt, now we're all alone… shall we travel the gossip vines? Maybe play truth or dare? I'll start with truth-what is the real purpose of this place? You wouldn't waste time on a decoy, you want SHIELD knowing where you are," It was as if Loki could read their minds- he must have known they would debate what Coulson had suggested, and was doing his best to create a reason not to before anyone had the chance. "At least tell me that. I can't stand not knowing things, and who would I tell?"
"I would be a fool to tell you, liesmith. Do you really think so highly of your words?"
There weren't any footsteps, they must have stopped- by a door, an elevator? One or the other. "You're playing the game wrong, you know. Now what, hoping to throw them off, or knowing you'll divide their forces? Or are you protecting the tesseract?"
"SHIELD will know my reasons soon enough. Regretfully, I do not think you will be here to learn them yourself."
Tony couldn't remember hating somebody so strongly in a long, long time. Forget the lecture he'd given Loki about personal vendettas- he was going to get a few good punches in for this, but he'd happily give up any moment of revenge if Loki would just get the hell out so there was no need for it. Unfortunately, as Loki often was, the god was far more focused on his own voice than the actual problem at hand. It would have been so much less annoying if Tony hadn't known he was exactly the same way.
"Not the tesseract then. Something else? Hm… tell me, where has Justin Hammer been lately?" Loki hummed.
Judging by Loki's barking laugh Schmidt had reacted as strongly (well, strongly for Schmidt anyway) as they had in the clearing. Coulson was on his phone in about five seconds, and Tony figured Natasha was dragging Barton off for discussion but didn't bother to check, too busy demanding JARVIS call up a search for their missing "engineer". They'd known he was gone, off hiding like a rat, but there hadn't been a sign of him in even the base. And Schmidt's silence meant he didn't know where he'd gone, either. No doubt he wasn't the main reason for whatever Schmidt was up to with the phony hideout, but it was enough to distract SHIELD while Loki played.
"Patch me to Rhodey, let's get the War Machine on this," Tony instructed, wishing his words could drown out the other end of the earpiece. But even JARVIS' tiny voice couldn't quiet the sharp gasp of pain that was both achingly familiar and, unfortunately, undeniably genuine. Whatever Schmidt had done in response to Loki's laughter had caused the god real pain, not just acting- Tony was going to put red faces on all of his target dummies as soon as he got home. "Fucking- Rhodey, you there?"
"Not if that 'fucking' was aimed towards me. What do you need?" Good old Rhodey, right to the point.
"Hammer's on the run from Schmidt, not us. Get out there in War Machine, find out why."
Loki's breathing was heavy, which explained the pain. Somehow Schmidt had known to go for his stomach, or was that just a lucky guess? Rhodey started speaking at the same time, but Loki's voice was closer and more important. "Is there a no laughing rule in effect? No wonder you always look so upset, what a sorry sort of life."
"I hardly think you would speak of sorry lives, Laufeyson."
"Tony?" Ah, right, focus- two things at once, but Tony was still straining for any indication that Schmidt had hit Loki again.
"Listening, go on."
"Something is up, what's wrong? Don't lie to me, Tony."
Where to start? "No time right now. Just do it, okay?"
"I don't like this." Not a "no", which meant Tony could leave Hammer to Rhodey. And SHIELD.
Meanwhile he could focus on…. Doing absolutely nothing, except listening to the Hell Schmidt put Loki through.
VVV
They could hear him, he was sure of it, though Loki had no way of listening to his so-called teammates' reactions. It was unfortunate that he needed SHIELD to hear him, or he'd have simply allowed Schmidt to find the other communication piece. And yet there were benefits, all the same, to Tony listening in, so he did nothing to prevent him from hearing.
So he didn't bother to cut the communication until he might need it, instead letting each word and breath flow through. He, of course, knew nothing about the conversation with Rhodes, merely assuming that Tony was hanging on every word (fortunately, or perhaps not, he was correct). "You want them to find him for you. They'll be looking for your original base, and he's their best lead- you're hoping they'll put effort into searching for your runaway without knowing that you've lost him too. Clever."
Schmidt was probably glaring at him- it really was hard to tell, seeing as his head had been shoved under the cover of a thick black cloth. Then again, the man wore a perpetual scowl, so it was certainly the most likely possibility. "Why so curious, godling? Your attention could be best spent elsewhere."
Really, what a fool. He believed his plan to be working, so as far as he knew all Loki had to think about was how painfully he was going to die- or be brought near death. He should have thought the change in conversation to be practically normal, why would he choose to dwell on a thing like that? "Oh, I'm curious about everything. It's in my nature you see, or did your books not tell you that?" Wretched stories. How was it these mortals knew more of his life than he had?
"The stories also indicated you were intelligent, and yet you have so far given no evidence that I should believe as much," Schmidt "cleverly" responded, no doubt proud of himself for coming up with such an insult. Loki rolled his eyes for nobody's sake but his own, head still covered as it was, and promptly tripped on the ledge of a stair. With his hands untied, vision free, and body not under the restraint of two guards at the shoulders he would have managed easily. Instead he stumbled, crashing painfully to his knees against the end of a step and not quite balancing himself enough to prevent his body from following.
His shoulder caught the brunt of it, and he kept his head from taking even a glancing blow, but still his pride hurt worse than anything else the landing had damaged. The guards had him by the shoulders again in moments (and took no mind of his bruises, either) and he was lifted unkindly to his feet. Loki let himself be as close to dead weight as he thought them capable of lifting, and despite the pain in his knees took up step again without pause. "Where were we? Ah, yes. If I were not intelligent, "Herr" Schmidt, you would not have wasted your time on hiring me."
"I hired Justin Hammer, did I not?"
"For the attention you knew he would draw, nothing more. And let's not forget that you, the self-claimed genius worthy of the gods, couldn't even keep track of a fool like him."
"You are very certain of your assumptions." Gods, when was this walk going to be over? Schmidt really ought to set up his dungeons or labs or what-have-you somewhere more easily accessible, Loki was beginning to grow bored. Maybe the long walk was intended to build up tension, leave the "victim" quaking in fear. Oh, please.
"I tend to be." His legs weren't supporting him so well as they ought to have been. As if he hadn't anticipated enough trouble, now he was going to have to deal with swollen knees of all things. They should have warned him about those stairs. What if he had hit his head? He would be too dizzy to torture, no fun whatsoever.
Schmidt didn't bother replying to him. Perhaps he was busy, but Loki had the distinct feeling that he was simply being ignored. Well, all the same. He hoped Tony hadn't heard too much of that fall, but knew there was no chance of him being left completely oblivious. At least he wouldn't suspect that it had actually done any harm, Loki kept the conversation, his voice, well under control enough to avoid letting that through.
Ah, there, an abrupt halt and curt order in German for him to halt. Without the all-tongue he wouldn't have understood a word, but Loki supposed the guards weren't intelligent enough to realize that there was no use in throwing intimidating words against a language barrier. Besides, the message was clear enough. He wondered if they were going to force him to his knees, or drag him inside and tie him down to some contraption. If Schmidt wanted just pain it would probaly be the former- but he was a scientific man, couldn't pass up a chance to study a god's body. So he'd likely be strapped to a table of some sort, new cuffs to replace the ones they really ought to have removed by now.
Loki expected brutality of some sort, but he was still surprised when his body was shoved roughly forward, staggering a second before he collided around the middle with something hard, and almost sharp enough that he was sure skin would have torn if not for the protection of his shirt. The blow was enough to steal his breath away, but his gasps as he hit the floor would be audible all the same. Unfortunate, but no doubt far from the worst Tony would have to hear.
He meant to shake off any pain he received initially, but he had either been misfortunate or the gaurds very meticulous. Internal bleeding rarely meant much other than an ache, but Loki could almost feel the splitting vessels in his stomach, new bruises preparing to form over those he had just made for himself. His groan was almost involuntarily, and he curled on the floor with a bit of shaking that he managed to quiet after just a moment. Not the best start he could have hoped for, really.
The mask was pulled off (At last, did they really think there was any point in that thing?), but Loki kept his eyes shut tight in a slightly exaggerated show of pain. Schmidt needn't think him weak, but he didn't know how bad the injuries to his stomach were- Loki could play that as much as he wanted, make it seem like Schmidt's job was already half done for him. It would make this easier, anyway.
He sensed somebody moving nearer, and let his eyes flutter open a second before he was hauled to a standing position. Standing being a relative term, really, since his legs and torso were mostly limp, letting the guards do the work as they dragged him further forward. There was a table, as Loki had expected, and judging by the brutal make of the thing he assumed it was that which he'd slammed into. Schmidt had his back turned, overdramatically busy with something at the counter (no doubt Loki was meant to shudder in fear at the ominous display), so there was no chance for more failed conversation as the guards forced him to lie atop the cold metal. This thing was going to do horrors for his back.
They freed his hands, blood rushing back to stiff and cold hands, but didn't let his arms relax. He was forced halfway to a sitting position, one guard keeping him still with a gun and heavy hand while the other removed his shirt in a very uncaring sort of way. He'd have taunted them, asked how they liked the view, if he hadn't known he was meant to be caught in throws of agony and fear. Luckily Loki could choose to feign dizziness rather than terror, shutting his eyes halfway as if the pain in his stomach was still unbearable (bad, certainly, agonizing even- but not crippling) as he was shoved unkindly onto his back, and the restraints 'round his wrists were replaced by a pair attached to the table, forcing his hands to wait by his sides. His ankles too were bound, and he was vaguely surprised when they stopped there and stomped off imperiously to wait by the door. No chest restraints, none for the torso? He could have broken out almost easily.
No gag, either. If Schmidt wasn't careful his victims would bite their tongues off- or, more likely, the scientist knew he could avoid such precautions with Loki. He wasn't interrogating him, so unless he had some questions he was seemingly just hoping to hear Loki's pain. How uncouth. The man started to turn around, and the god schooled his features into the perfect image of a struggle against showing pain he could easily have hidden. Schmidt seemed to expect as much, because he only dismissed the guards and stepped forward without a hint of suspicion.
The door shut with volume to rival cannon-fire, but there was no echo. Sound proof walls, not a good sign. Loki made a show of forcing his eyes open, but on a mask of indifference with the perfect amount of imperfections for Schmidt to keep interest, and waited.
VVV
The helmet had long since been discarded. Tony didn't really want to lose that bit of protection, and he definitely didn't want SHIELD's men (and lady) being given a free audience to his expressions, but he found it easier to listen to Loki when the sound wasn't echoing through the shallow gaps between his skin and metal. It was clear enough to them all that Loki was up to something, and Barton had said more than once that Schmidt had to have the world's thickest head not to notice, so Coulson had of course dictated that they had to wait for more details before taking personal action.
All of them. Waiting here, for Loki to finish with Schmidt. Which meant Tony would have their company throughout the entire god-damned thing.
"If that helicarrier doesn't take off soon Schmidt's men'll sweep the forests before you can notch an arrow," Tony insisted, not for the first time, in the face of their stubbornness. "He thinks I'm dead, remember? He'll want some guarantee that Coulson's gone at least."
Come on, wasn't he supposed to be good at reading people? The agent was unfairly good at his job, he should have at least realized how badly Tony wanted him gone. The others too, but he didn't really know or care what they thought. He knew Coulson. He maybe even liked the arrogant bastard. So he didn't want him hearing a damned word of all this, and he definitely didn't want him watching Tony react. Natasha he could deal with, Barton would be easy to ignore, but Coulson was just too far past the line of familiar.
"Assuming he has a lock on the helicarrier location. He would have expected more than two people if that were the case, Stark, and he has no idea that anybody other than I and Loki were here." It was easy to forget that Coulson hated Schmidt almost as much as they did. If you cared to look closely enough you could still see evidence of the failed attempts to protect the tesseract: swollen bits of clothing where he was bandaged underneath, a slight favoring of his right wrist, a general aura of "fuck you world". "I don't trust Laufeyson. But I do trust that he's got a plan waiting, and I want to know what that is."
"Unless you can tell us?" Barton wondered a touch too loudly- his wince was nonexistent otherwise, but Tony's slightly more pronounced at the clanging echo of metal and flesh they were hearing on Loki's end. Nobody was speaking yet, though Loki's breathing evened out quickly enough, so he couldn't be sure what was going on. "Come on, you guys slow dance and hold conversations by looking into each other's eyes, don't you at least tell each other about the stuff that actually matters?"
"I'm assuming this was a spur of the moment thing," Tony retorted, thoroughly convinced otherwise. Loki, the complete bastard, had decided on his actions a long time before they even left the base.
"Whatever it is, he should have informed us. Stark's right, Hydra could come running through here at any moment. Schmidt doesn't know where Coulson was sent, he could be looking all over- for all we know, he really was able to track Laufeyson's magic, in which case he can track Coulson. Wait here too long and he'll become suspicious," Natasha reasoned, addressing Tony for about five seconds before turning her attention to her colleagues. Most specifically the one who used a reasonable weapon as opposed to some sharpened and sometimes-explosive sticks. "His men might already be on the way."
It seemed this, at least, was a good reason. On the other side of the microphone, Loki took a brath for speech, but something Schmidt did cut him off without a hitch. Hopefully that meant he hadn't been hurt any more. "Then Barton, you'll follow me. Romanov, keep an eye on Stark. And Stark… if you come up with a plan or get the sudden urge to do something? Don't."
Coulson's word was law far as Barton was concerned. If he had any trouble with his boyfriend using last names he didn't show it- the agent flicked his bow to a ready position and strode forward to stand by Coulson, leaving Natasha and Tony to do the same. Neither did, so they were on either side of the clearing with the duo in the middle, tension taut for a dozen different reasons that none wanted to speak of.
"If I get a what? "Sudden urge?" Wow, the SHIELD handbook really does cover everything, doesn't it?" Barton grinned, but Natasha didn't move and Coulson's smile was as easily misread as ever. Loki would probably have laughed.
None of them was the type for parting words. With instructions complete and communication ensured they set to work- Coulson and Barton off to lead Hydra on a wild chase, Natasha and Tony to… wait. Wait and move, because even if Tony found it hard to concentrate on anything more than the sound of ominously clinking metal and Loki's hitched breathing he knew that if Coulson was being tracked they would be swarmed within ten minutes. Standing in one spot for that long would be suspicious, even if they assumed him to be hurt.
So he suited back up, reluctantly clamping the helmet back on until the rapid breaths from Loki were almost indistinguishable from his own. Ignore it. "Unless you've got wings hidden in that catsuit I'm guessing you can't fly."
"Guess I'll have to hitch a ride," Natasha replied, something about her expression making discomfort shiver down Tony's back. Why couldn't she have gone off, too?
"Only if you buckle up, don't want a ticket."
"Do I look like the lawbreaking type, Stark?"
They shared a mutual grin-that-wasn't before turning back to the task at hand. Natasha was slim and light, so Tony had no trouble whatsoever holding her 'round the waist so he could carry them both off, but he wasn't worried about weight. He'd have to fly more carefully than he normally did- it wouldn't do very well for her to crash into a tree while he was swerving around.
On the other side of the microphone, Loki gasped in a shuddering lungful of air. Again, Tony recognized real, if exaggerated, pain in the sound and cringed behind the mask, but didn't even hesitate despite the look Natasha shot him. He could do this. "Always wanted you hanging onto me," He taunted, far from heartfelt.
Natasha must have noticed, because she said nothing. Their position was somewhat awkward, but Tony took off and had them through the trees with only a few second's fumbling, wishing he could fly fast enough for the air to drown out everything else. Since that first gasp, Loki's pain was almost always audible, and growing more so by the moment.
Tony picked up speed, and Natasha still said nothing, not yet. He didn't even know where they were going, so long as they kept the base close. "Careful." She warned, and he wasn't really sure what she meant, so he slowed both his flight and his breathing. A particularly rough choke of breath seemed to break some barrier for Loki- he spoke again, his voice as Tony had never heard it. It was unnerving, at the least, disturbing at the most. "There's no point, you know."
Tony almost hoped Schmidt wouldn't answer. He'd come to a halt- abrupt enough that he knew Natasha was going to be pissed soon, and was probably lucky not to be shot on the spot- without realizing it, listening for some genuine normality in Loki's tone. There, but just barely. "Stark, land."
Natasha's voice was harsh, and easy to listen to. Tony reluctantly did so, freeing her from his grip once they'd hit solid ground. Back at the base, that damned Nazi was replying. "Pray tell, Mr. Laufeyson." He sounded bored, anticipatory- like he knew what Loki was going to say, the arrogant asshole.
Loki must have been having more trouble breathing than they could tell, because there was ragged gasping but for awhile no speech. Natasha drew his attention away from waiting, demanding he follow her on foot now. If they found anyone from Hydra, they killed them. No exceptions, and wasn't Tony happy to obey that rule. He had JARVIS on the lookout for any signs of life other than the pair of them, something to let them know of any potential threats. He tried to look manually, too, but Natasha was already scouting like a ninja, and he was nowhere near as good at it.
"Because-" Loki must have caught his breath, though there was still something wrong about his speech, "they are all so brave. Torture them- they won't break, no matter what you do. Kill them, they won't say a word."
The gods, whoever Schmidt was really after. Natasha frowned uncertainly, but Tony could tell she was hoping that Loki was right. Schmidt with an Asgardian under his control would be a lot worse than Schmidt now. The nutjob didn't even seem worried though- he didn't respond, again, for a long while. JARVIS alerted Tony, probably to keep him from shooting everything nearby, of three large heat signatures to the left. They turned out to be bears, which was terrifying and vaguely entertaining for a few minutes, but not enough to deafen him.
"Then I will have to find the ways to make a god break, hm? Lucky for me that I have you hear."
It was like Tony had tuned into a nineteen-sixties radio show full of bad dialogue and painfully cheesy villains. Except that bad dialogue and those cheesy villains were not his reality, but Loki's, and that was enough to get his heart pounding. Not good for his health, all things considered. He waited for Loki to tease and reply, heard him call in the breath to do so, but instead of words Natasha froze and Tony had to bite back bile. Loki's scream was by all means genuine, and it didn't stop.
VVV
Loki had to admit, Schmidt knew torture far better than did most. He had wasted no time on threats or foolishness, but immediately taken liberty to test the durability of a god's bones by breaking three of them. One was genuinely damaged, the other two he'd faked with magic- but still his wrist was turning quickly to a swollen purple, and his throat had been tight with pain every moment since.
But he'd managed to speak eventually, since keeping quiet was a failed attempt. Schmidt was brutal, uncaring- he didn't even glance at Loki to see the effects of his work, which was certainly what he would have done. But Loki did not torture for experiment, he tortured for effect and fun at times- if he'd been shearing the skin of a man's stomach, he would not have paid such close attention to what it revealed.
An effective method, and Loki could barely recall what he had finally said when he did speak, only that it sounded far more desperate than he had intended. Their "conversation" was halted and probably useless, with Schmidt too busy knifing away at Loki's midsection to care, and Loki too busy biting down his pain while he watched the first layer of skin methodically peeled from his abdomen. It was hard to protect himself from such a thing using magic- too many illusions of such a dramatic sort as this would require would be difficult to uphold all at once, and yet he couldn't very well allow Schmidt to do as he liked.
Each pull of the knife cleared his mind and dulled his throat- his words were stumbling, agonized, but his thoughts clearer from the sharpness of the pain. His stomach was coated in blood before long, and sweat was layered on his forehead, but a morbidly curious glance at his own body told him that it would be awhile yet before this step of torture was finished with. He was being carved open in ridiculously thin sheets, Schmidt could conceivably take as long as he liked.
The knife returned, and Loki's first scream came almost without his consent. Having an open wound torn deeper was far from pleasant, and the knife far from quick- Schmidt was being specific with his work, and slow enough that Loki could feel each stretch of flesh before the blade separated it from his body. He shut his eyes, but that only made the pain stronger somehow- still, he refused to look up at his "captor's" indifferent face.
But the screaming would not stop now that he had given in, and somehow that was all he needed. "Go ahead, take your time why don't you?" Half a curse, half a plea, but Loki's shuddering voice reflected nothing of his thoughts. Shapeshifting could work in two ways: illusion, or literally morphing his body. The latter was risky, but useful. He couldn't fool Schmidt through illusion without wasting all of his strength, but he could alter his form, in a way, feel the pain but retain no permanent damage so long as he remained conscious to keep the spell working. Pain he could deal with.
It wasn't a pleasant solution, but macabre or not he would deal with it. The magic was a distraction, at least- it was impossible to ignore the agony completely (his body was trembling, hot and soaked in feverish sweat, teeth practically cracking from grinding together so roughly), but he could put it to the back of his mind at least. It was still his body being torn into, still his pain- and oh, gods, there was so much pain- but the tears in it, the displacement, would not be retained.
Displacement. Loki could almost have laughed if he'd been able to gain control of his voice long enough to do it. His skin was being shifted so Schmidt could get a closer look at his inner injuries. How disgusting. He was being split open, bit by bit- he had to focus on something else, work on his spell. But even as he did it he felt the urge to beg welling in the back of his throat, the revelation that this mortal had barely begun and oh, yes, he'd have spilled many secrets to be rid of this ordeal. The other Asgardians were not so uncaring about their foolish honor, however, and Schmidt would hear nothing from them- not like Loki planned to get the chance. This mortal was going to die before he summoned so much as a squirrel from that wretched place, he was going to pay for all of this.
"You're- you're testing my body's limits, not mine," He hadn't meant to say it, but Loki's words fell out as a whine and he forced his eyes open, surprised to see Schmidt glancing at him with boredom in his gaze. And a bloody knife raised in his hand, dripping over his otherwise immaculate leather glove. For some reason Loki had to pause before realizing that it was his blood, and another tremor ran through him. He had not expected such a brutal beginning to all this. "What I can survive. Why not sedate me then?" Those mortal drugs had never worked well, but any relief would be welcome. "Or get on with it, at least. Wasting both our time."
Loki's silver tongue was cracked and hitched, but the shaking tenor that carried those last few words was due more to dramatized fear than pain- Schmidt had moved back with the knife already, and as soon as Loki was done speaking he dug it in once more. Loki gasped and swore, didn't scream until the blade moved again, but was grateful to find the knife had gone deeper this time. Anything to speed the process along.
"I cannot study your body's responses if the pain is not there, Lisemisth," Schmidt pointed out with false apology, noting the way Loki tugged involuntarily at the restraints with scientific intrigue. Calculating bastard. "I need to know when your mind breaks as well."
You're far too late for that. Loki didn't bother to respond, and reluctantly admitted that he probably would not have been able. This was not the worst pain he'd ever suffered- far from it, in fact- but that didn't mean the solution was any sort of pleasant. He screamed until he had no breath to do it with, until he was left gasping, choking, for more. If there was any way to tell Tony not to fear for him based on what he was hearing, Loki did not know it.
VVV
Tony was not, despite the tabloid's loving descriptions, a bully, but he very much wanted to become one at that moment. They had come by three Hydra soldiers, not one of which Tony pummeled as much as he would like to, and all of which declared that "two more would take their place" or some such bullshit. Unfortunately, no two did, and Tony was left with nothing that actually deserved it to vent his frustrations on, and so resorted to blasting apart rocks at infrequent intervals. It wasn't helping.
"That's not going to do any good, Stark," Natasha pointed out unhelpfully.
Crack. Tony glanced at the rubble of a semi-large boulder, wondering if anybody had heard it break, but JARVIS informed him that there was nothing alive nearby to hear it. "Yeah? Well if you've got any suggestions, I would love to hear them."
"You think I don't know how you feel right now?" It sounded like a sob had hitched in Loki's throat, but Tony doubted Schmidt would recognize the inflection. Crack. "I've worked with SHIELD for years, I've had to play the double agent countless times. Sometimes my friends are captured, and I can't do anything but watch them be torn apart." Crack. "At least you know he's going to survive."
He was still fully suited up, but Tony hoped his glare was obvious even if she had no way of seeing it. "You know, I would love to listen to your self-righteous sob stories, but at the moment I really don't give a damn. I've had a friend die for me because he wanted to. And I've been the one on the table, or did you think this thing was show and tell?" Natasha didn't so much as blink, but her eyes hardened as he tapped the reactor. "Maybe you have to, but I can tell you now that you have no idea what this is like. I care about his life more than my own, and now he's run off and let Schmidt take him and do whatever the fuck he wants-" Fuck. Tony turned away, and only with a great display of effort restrained himself from stomping off like some child.
Loki was hurting, that was all that mattered. And he had put himself in that situation willingly, to prove a point? To fool Schmidt? It didn't matter, except that it could have been avoided and hadn't, and Tony swore and punched the nearest tree. The suit protected his hand, but he wished it hadn't.
"I know more than you think," Natasha protested, and he groaned inwardly. God, dammit, he just wanted to be alone. "But for once violence isn't going to help, as much fun as it is. You need to calm down and think about something else."
"Easier said than done."
"Think about Loki then. Just not-" There had been a brief pause, but Loki's screaming picked up again and Natasha sighed slightly, "not that. I don't want to deal with you if you have a mental breakdown."
"I-" Oh, hell, like he had any better ideas. He closed his eyes, not like Natasha could see it, and took a deep breath. Didn't do much good. Fuck. Loki whimpered, and Tony grit his teeth until his jaw ached. Think of something else, something about Loki. That wasn't hard, really, Tony thought about Loki almost all the time now (it was almost pathetic and very school-girlish, but he didn't particularly give a damn), he just had to pick a favorite memory. Loki purring like a kitten in sleep, too tired to listen to them talk- or curled up on his porch, petting Fenrir when he was barely bigger than a fist- reading Tale of Two Cities on the couch until the late hours, falling asleep together by complete accident…
There was a lot, back to the very first time Tony had ever met Loki and wondered how something so seemingly fragile could be so damn durable. But eventually he managed to focus on one thought, one night. A very embarrassing night to his pride, admittedly, after Tony had been unusually open and talkative and saying ridiculous things like "I love you" just because of something like sex, and Loki had ripped his clothes off in an elevator. It was after the fact that he remembered, though- exhausted, sweaty and breathing hard, wrapped together under an unusually cool blanket until their bodies got tired of them cuddling and forced them to sleep. Cheesy, romantic, all together not Tony's usual, and he focused on remembering every detail of it.
VVV
Three hours, ten minutes, and fifteen seconds after the knife first tore his stomach, Loki was given a reprieve.
Not for his sake, but for Schmidt's. His skin was flayed open- cut down the middle, spread apart to reveal a mess of blood and guts underneath, and the scientist was apparently more interested in that than continuing Loki's torture. Loki wasn't in any hurry to turn him away, though he had long shut his eyes, refusing to look at his torso. It was his body for now, and even if it would return to normal when he stopped "shape-shifting", he would be down a large amount of blood, and that first inch or so of skin that had been peeled away before he'd come up with the plan. He was just lucky Schmidt had only split him open- if he'd literally sheared the flesh away from his body, Loki would be unable to retain it when he went back to the form that was entirely his own.
Three hours. His throat felt torn to shreds, and his lungs were raw. At some point he had grown too tired to scream any longer, but even the groans and whimpers had taken their toll in time. The dizziness was the worst part. Worse than the tremors that he couldn't control, or the fire that wouldn't go out around his belly, even worse than the nausea that had him choking on his own bile, each contraction of his stomach as he suppressed the urge to vomit only doubling the pain there.
Worse because he couldn't think properly. The pain had ceased to be sharpening, and now only muddled his physical and mental senses. He was shivering, panting, whining like a child and he couldn't gather up the will to stop himself. Schmidt must have found it hilarious. Loki wanted to burn him, tear him open, melt his skin off where he stood- but none of that was possible without magic, and he had expected pain. Counted on it.
"You look tired, Laufeyson." It was mockery if ever he'd heard it, but Loki's mocking grin in response fell weakly on his own lips. Not the best condition for banter. "We may be done sooner than I expected."
Good. If he thought Loki was dying, then he could sooner feign his own passing. It took a few moments to call in enough breath for speech, but Schmidt's senses were heightened enough that Loki was confident his weak mutterings could be heard all the same. "Well, I'd hate to disappoint. Water?"
Connecting the two sentences was too much effort, but Schmidt understood the point. Loki (if he was as ill as he was leading the man to believe) would not survive long without water. If he wanted to keep his victims alive in the future, it would do Schmidt good to know what could keep them going. So within five minutes (Loki focused on the time, rather than the disturbing feeling of exposure as Schmidt studied and shifted his stomach, inspecting the damage that had earlier been done to it so he could take that into account) an agent entered their private little room with a large glass of water. Loki's hands were restrained, and his head felt too heavy to lift, so he had to let the mortal-who was completely undaunted by the sight of Loki's inner organs- hold the glass to his lips. No matter, really. Less work for him.
Water made him feel sick, and it burned his throat on the way down, but it brought back something like strength that he was going to need very soon. A half hour felt like far less before Schmidt had finished with his observations, and Loki shut his eyes tight once more, knowing somehow what would come next. His ribs had long since healed, but protecting his side as he had his stomach turned out to be the best bet- Schmidt's knife, now wiped clean of Loki's blood so it could retain more, sliced up the length of one rib in one clean, drawn out movement. It was nothing compared to the pain in his abdomen, but he shuddered all the same at the soft scrape of metal on bone.
And so it went. Loki had his ribs broken in two and turned outward while they were still in his body. His nails were torn away and a strand of muscle pulled from his bicep, ailments that would recover but only after a long stretch of time had been devoted to healing. He was injected with serums that Schmidt claimed were used to kill mere humans, force-fed poison and made to go over ten minutes without blinking. He was allowed no more water, and his wounds were left open- his stomach exposed throughout all of this, unprotected as his body thrashed in pain. He didn't even want to look to imagine what sort of a mess he must have looked like.
And Tony was listening to all of it, growing (no doubt) to hate Schmidt as strongly as Loki did. He could almost have grinned to imagine it. Now he would know, at least, and feel as compelled as Loki to hunt the fool down and see him suffer in far worse ways than Loki was. He wasn't quite sure how long had passed anymore- roughly twelve hours, too long for Tony to be waiting in the forest- before he saw his opportunity, but he knew he couldn't keep himself whole through this much longer.
Fire, heat. Of course Schmidt would resort to it eventually- Loki tried to appear fearful as the man pulled out what appeared to be some form of heated metal tongs, but there may have been a touch of relief behind it. Had he been in his Jotun form he would truly be in danger, but in this body… oh, yes, he could deal with the heat, though Schmidt didn't need to know that.
He had even turned up the temperature in the room, which Loki's feverish body didn't much appreciate. "I thought- you wanted…" Silver tongue, where had that gone? "They won't care about… that. Not testing just- it's useless."
The words were slurred more than necessary, and less coherent than he could have made them. Schmidt's expression never changed drastically, but his smirk was somewhat self-satisfactory now. "Consider this a test of your will then, Liesmith. Everybody has a weakness, I will find theirs. The effect will be the same."
"Please." Ugh, pathetic, but he had tried begging already, pleaded for death to hurry things along. It couldn't have been nice for Tony to hear. "Please just- don't do this. You…you know enough. Kill me, then get one of them."
"I plan to. In time." More than Loki would suffer through, no doubt. Schmidt looked amused by all this, like he would try his best to keep his victim on the verge of life for hours yet. He could, easily, but there was no reason to be so truthful. "Now, hold still or I will make this far less pleasant."
The blood-soaked leather of Schmidt's gloved hand clamped down on his chin, forcing his jaw open. Loki felt a brief moment of panic, realizing there was some form of hot metal or coal between those tongs and what it was meant for, but forced himself to relax. This he could deal with, easily.
But he fought all the same, as much as he wanted to appear that he could- which was very little indeed. If not for the infrequent water and other aid Schmidt provided, he probably would have been well past unconscious by now, even if the damage was being exaggerated or lessened by magic. Unsurprisingly, his efforts were effortlessly staunched, and after letting him agonize in fear a moment longer the burning rock-if it was a rock indeed- was dropped down his mouth, and both Schmidt's hands forced his mouth closed and held it there.
The burn lasted barely a second. Magic could crush the thing to powder easily, which was no better to ingest but bearable, anyway. And when, after screaming behind closed lips and thrashing in vain, he swallowed that down Schmidt seemed to believe he had succeeded. His hands were removed, with something like a look of distaste, and Loki was left to scream out loud. For once the sound was almost entirely fabricated, and his struggles against the binds, desperate attempts to claw at his throat and be rid of the burning ember inside it, were chosen reactions. It felt good, like he was back in control of his body, but he had no time to appear relieved.
The ash was painful in its own right, and faking tears of agony wasn't as hard as it ought to have been, but even he had trouble with the inflections to his screaming. They had both heard men die before, they knew the subtleties of it. He had to be exact.
He didn't want Tony to hear this.
Loki's screams began to choke, as if he was gagging on blood and saliva, and his body jerked irregularly. He made his breath rattle as it went, and rolled his eyes back in his head, efforts to break free growing steadily weaker. Schmidt did not seem happy- Loki was playing it right, then, and he knew the gasping he took up was rarely heard from a man with much time left to him.
He wanted to at least say assure him that it was all still an act.
There was a hand-glove removed- checking his pulse and other vital signs. Loki dutifully ignored it, and let magic do what his acting could not. He moaned in pain, screamed again with a touch more strength than he had before, and muttered half-formed words as they came to mind, most of them pleas for something that he figured would sound appropriate. Tony's name came up more than once, for shownmanship's sake.
He would have hated to know what Tony sounded like while he was dying. Hated to be in his lover's position right now.
Schmidt had given up- Loki assumed he looked disappointed, but for obvious reasons didn't bother to see for himself. His "final" scream wore away to gasping and shuddering, body twitching and fighting until he could fall still with one last, exhausted exhale.
Keeping his eyes open was the worst part. Magic could hide a heartbeat and he didn't need to breathe right now, not really, so there was nothing left for Schmidt to see when he came to confirm the "loss" of his experiment.
A long, long beat of silence. Loki didn't dare look to see what Schmidt was doing, but he heard footsteps both near and far, back and forth, for a few minutes. To his surprise, Schmidt's final approach brought an unexpected relief- whatever respect this psychotic mortal had held for the gods compelled him, at least, to close Loki's eyes. He'd have thought it annoying, useless sentiment from anyone else. Schmidt had probably never felt anything like sentiment in his life, despite the gods' preaching about respect for the dead. Even Loki had been very specific about that.
A pair of bloody leather gloves landed on his chest, but Loki didn't move. "Be grateful, Laufeyson. You are returning to Stark sooner than expected." His tone could have been mocking, or disinterested, or perhaps merely bored, but Loki cared not. All that mattered was that the door had slammed shut moments later, and men would be there soon to collect his "corpse".
He swallowed a great gulp of breath, and let his body truly relax. The illusions fell away, leaving him far from whole but closer to it, and with energy he could not spare Loki snapped the restraints holding him down and forced himself to action. He wanted to curl up on the table and sleep the pain away, but rest would have to be delayed a moment longer.
VVV
Tony had never thought he would have to listen to Loki dying, and he wished he never had. It was fake. Had to be, but god, dammit, it sounded so real. For hours he had been screaming and begging and Tony was forced to listen to all of it. He had, at least, gotten out of his suit back at the helicarrier. SHIELD was ready to move off and find Hammer, and he'd taken advantage o the equipment on board to remove his armor before they (minus their team for some reason) flew off. Currently it was Tony, Natasha, Barton and Coulson waiting at the outskirts of the woods, for Loki's return and the dropoff Tony had ordered of his portable armor.
They all heard him dying, too, but worse they heard Tony's reaction to it. He could listen to the torture. He could listen to the crying, the begging, the cursing- but he couldn't listen to that weakening of breath or Loki's final gasp. By the time Schmidt was talking, Tony was screaming at the receiver for Loki to answer him, to say something to prove it wasn't real.
None of the agents had much to say to him after that.
Everybody was eerily silent, in fact, for a long while. Tony was cursing and pulling his hair and finding it impossible to concentrate on good memories when the communicator clicked back to life, and Loki's weary voice came through at last.
"Pardon, darling. I couldn't interrupt that performance," He apologized, and Tony was always suspicious of Loki's apologies. Right now, however, he couldn't care what he lied about, so long as he got back to them ASAP.
"Fucking-" Right, couldn't hear him. Tony went back to pacing (numbers running through his head, equations and observations and percentages that told him more than he wanted to know), and Barton looked at him like he was a mental patient or about to become one. Coulson was just waiting, and Natasha making calls in Russian. All three of them shared meaningful looks at random intervals.
Tony flinched at the sound of more grunting on the other end- but that wasn't Loki's voice. Two inelegant thumps were barely audible, but a familiar laugh much more so, even if it was too exhausted to be genuine. And then, by some divine gift, Loki was back in the clearing.
He was barely on his feet, drenched in blood and as dull-eyed as he had been during the worst of his recovery all those months ago. Tony recognized the signs of it, and before Loki's legs gave out he was there to catch him, holding him more than supporting him and bringing them both to the ground. The SHIELD agents rushed forward, though none, thank god, was dumb enough to speak.
"You fucking asshole. You couldn't have warned me beforehand? Do you know what I had to fucking sit through?" Tony demanded all in a rush, startled by the anger of his own words. He'd expected relief, or concern, but he was pissed. He was motherfucking Tony Stark and he did not do well with worry."I thought you were going to die. You could have said it in any other language, or whispered or something, but you didn't even let me know-"
"Tony." Loki's respiration was no better than it had sounded over machine, and if anything there was a genuine note of pleading that Tony had not yet heard. "Not- not now."
Tony froze, looked him over. Loki's stomach was grazed, like the first layer had been peeled away then ripped unkindly off, and the amount of blood was outstanding. He was favoring his wrist, his fingernails were long gone, and his left arm was feebly unresponsive. Mostly it was his eyes- dull, tired, almost older. Tony felt one part sick and two parts desperate, so he nodded wearily. "Fine. Later. You look tired, Babe, take a load off."
Or two, or three. Loki seemed to register what this meant, and nodded with relief, eyes fluttering shut as if against his will. Like he'd been waiting for permission. He'd collapsed on his side, and now lay with his head buried in Tony's lap, and within seconds of a warm, familiar hand carding through his hair he was unconscious, buried in a shallow sleep.
A/N:More about what SHIELD's doing back/what they accomplished during Loki's... "session" will be described in the last chapter. I didn't want to get too far off the actual concern of the chapter- and I'm very sorry if not much happened. As you all know by now, I love writing Loki abuse.
Sorry for all the delays, this part of the story is hard to write for some reason. It's just not coming out the way I would like it to.