The Avengers Whump & Bromance Anthology
The Auction
Whumptober 2020
PenPatronus
Like a raw slab of meat hanging in a slaughterhouse. That's what Tony felt like – no, that's what he was. The chains he was shackled to hung from the ceiling of a vast circular room. He stood on tiptoes on a platform, hanging from his wrists. Around the platform, behind tinted windows, were dozens of what the ringmaster called "the bidders." Tony didn't know the ringmaster's name, so that's what he nicknamed him. Because the operation was a fucking circus, and Tony was the main attraction.
The ringmaster had long, bleached-blond hair, and fish breath. He wore a tux like they were at the opera. Tony wore only dark jeans. When he was taken he was stripped, which was the most pleasant part of the kidnapping. That was 24 hours ago. He'd traveled by private plane and didn't eat, didn't sleep, and didn't get any water as the kidnappers celebrated their victory with champagne.
The ringmaster strolled over to the dangling Tony Stark and whispered to him, "Let's put on a good show, eh, Stark?"
Tony spat in his face. "I'm not your dancing monkey." He received a punch to the mouth for that, and Tony's bottom lip split open. Blood trailed down his chin.
"No, you're not," the ringmaster said, "you're the punching bag."
Suddenly the lighting in the room brightened. "Ladies and gentlemen," the ringmaster greeted, "thank you for coming to this very, very special auction. Special thanks to our hosts—"
"Ahem, excuse me, pardon me," Tony yelled to get the attention of the ringmaster and whatever assholes were hiding behind the tinted windows. "Yes, hi, I'm Tony Stark, and I just want to say that it is an absolute displeasure to be here. I just want to encourage you, all of you, to leave now because the Avengers – my team – is undoubtedly coming for me. So, unless you want to go to prison, or die, or get your arm bitten off by a giant green monster, I suggest you surrender immediately and let me go."
The ringmaster laughed and clapped his hands. "I think, folks, that we should auction off Mr. Stark's tongue separate from his head. Do you agree?"
A green light under each tinted window glowed.
What "auction" meant suddenly dawned on Tony. "Oh," he gulped, "oh, shit."
"But before we get to that part of the program," the ringmaster continued, "what do you say we have a little fun first?"
The green lights shone again.
"What should we use first?" the ringmaster asked. More screens lit up under the windows. They showed different weapons: a whip, knife, baseball bat, barbed wire, rope, crowbar, taser, arrows, a gun and a tire iron.
The ringmaster counted up the votes. "Looks like we're starting with barbed wire!"
A "clapping hands" image came up on the screens. The recorded sound of a crowd of thousands clapping (a baseball game? Tony wondered) came through the speakers. Tony rolled his eyes. "Seriously."
The ringmaster walked behind Tony, then reappeared with a spool of barbed wire and a footstool. More clapping. Three men in black climbed up on the platform and held Tony's legs, torso, and arms still while the ringmaster, deliberately slowly, wrapped the barbed wire around Tony's hands and shackled wrists. The barbs were pinpricks at first. The wire was wrapped loosely and the barbs just grazed Tony's skin, leaving behind little lines of red that didn't actually bleed. But then – then the ringmaster, after a feral grin, yanked on the wire, digging it into Tony's precious fingers. Blood instantly flowed down Tony's arms. He yelped and growled and his body trembled like he was naked in a blizzard. "You son of a bitch," Tony growled to the ringmaster, "Steve Rogers is going to make you pay for that…"
More clapping. The assholes behind the windows were enjoying the show. "That was your freebie!" the ringmaster told them. "Now, let's see some bids!" Numbers popped up on the screens beside pictures of weapons. $5000 on the crowbar, $12,000 on the knife, $21,000 on the gun. It ended at $135,000 for a baseball bat. Four aluminum bats were passed around – one for the ringmaster and one for each of his assistants. They each got three swings.
Tony heard as well as felt his kneecap break. His ribs were bruised, at minimum, not to mention the tissue of his chest, stomach, and back. Tony's body twisted with each hit. He couldn't contain shouts of pain. When it was over he hung there gasping, the wind completely knocked out of him.
The process started again. Chosen weapon: whip. Money invested: $5 million. Winner: asshats behind window number 12. Tony glared at the window, hoping his hatred and fury made the bidders at least uncomfortable. He spat blood on the ground.
The ringmaster took a whip and lined himself up behind Tony. "I'm going to enjoy this one," he whispered in Tony's ear.
Tony readied himself – told himself what was coming and told himself how he was going to react to it – but all rational thought fled when the first bite of the whip clamped down on his shoulder. The sting was so shocking, so surprising, so overwhelming, that Tony was so busy comprehending it that he didn't even feel the next three hits.
Tony tried desperately to cling to happy memories with each crack of the whip. The ringmaster announced them as he went.
"FIVE!"
Tony thought of Pepper – of the scent of her shampoo, her smooth lips, the way stray hairs of her strawberry blonde hair got stuck to his lips, the way she smiled patiently at him whenever he did yet another stupid thing…
"SIX!"
Tony thought of the last conversation he'd had with Steve where they talked about all the 'Star Trek' episodes that featured anything from World War Two. They agreed that the 'Voyager' ones were the best. "Did you actually punch Hitler in the mouth?"
"No, Tony, I never punched Hitler in the mouth."
"SEVEN!"
He thought about designing the Iron Legion with Bruce – about how they argued and read each other's minds and came up with ideas at the same time and drank too much coffee and laughed about the time Barton got stuck in the air vents…
"EIGHT!"
He thought about training with Natasha. She taught him judo and pretended to let him teach her something about boxing.
"NINE!"
Playing pool with Clint. Tony let him set up his shot, but then he had to actually shoot it with his eyes closed. Tony still lost.
"Ten…" The ringmaster dropped the whip.
Tony breathed a sigh of relief.
Then.
…
"ELEVEN!"
"Steve," Tony gasped at a whisper, "guys… hurry."
30 minutes, 3 more weapons, and a total of $10 million raised later and a bleeding, bruised, busted, broken Tony Stark hung, semi-conscious, watching his own blood pool on the floor. He barely heard the clapping or the ringmaster's jeers. But he did hear this:
"Now for the grand prize, before we start auctioning off body parts, who wants to choose how Tony Stark dies?"
Just as the bids started pouring in (Wow – starting at 60 mil? Tony thought), it started raining Avengers.
Steve fell from the ceiling rafters and landed directly on the ringmaster, no doubt caving in the man's skull. Clint and Natasha dropped by rope and landed between the three assistants. They were taken down in seconds. Bruce descended slowly by knotted rope. He took one look at Tony and Hulk erupted out of him. While the assassins held off guards and whoever else dared get anywhere near Tony, Steve got busy freeing their friends.
"Oh my god," Cap whispered when he got a good look at Tony. His fingers fluttered across Stark's skin looking for a safe place to land. The blood, the cuts, the contusions, the broken bones… What wasn't destroyed? Eventually, his right hand cupped Stark's left cheek, and Tony stirred under his touch. "Oh, Tony…"
"Steve?" Tony started coughing. Blood splattered across Cap's uniform. What… What was…" he coughed some more.
"What was what, Tony?"
"The… bids… How much is my life worth?" Tony released a light chuckle.
"Not the time to worry about that, Tony." Steve stood on the step stool so that he could get a good look at the chains, the shackles, and the barbed wire. "Oh god, Tony, look what they did to you…"
"Hurts," Tony admitted. "Steve, I… I don't know if…"
"Shhh. Tony…" Steve looked at his friend, and then avoided looking at him. "They intertwined the wire with the shackles. I… I'm going to rip the barbed wire out, but really quick, ok? Like a Band-aid."
"Right," Tony grunted.
"I'm going to try to pull the barbs out the same direction they come in but… Tony, it's all tangled up."
"Pull it. Just do it."
"I'm sorry."
"Just do it, Cap."
Steve summoned all his strength, precision, and speed, and yanked the barbed wire off of Tony's fingers, hands, and wrists. Tony howled in pain. Somewhere else in the building, Hulk roared back like they were wolves in a pack.
"Ok, ok, it's over, it's over." Steve tossed the next of wire on top of the unconscious ringmaster. He cupped his friend's cheek again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Stark was gasping in pain. Water overflowed from his eyes. "Steve, get me out of here…"
Rogers pulled apart the shackles holding Tony's left arm. Then, holding Tony aloft by his bleeding wrists, he broke the right one, and caught Tony's limp body when he fell. Three whimpering sobs burst from Tony. Steve held him, bridal style, and Tony curled up into a fetal position in his arms, trembling. His shoulders shook. Steve took a careful step and just the impact of his foot on the floor made Tony groan.
Steve turned and saw the pile of unconscious bodies the assassins had collected. He stepped over them and carried Tony off the platform. "I have him," Steve said over the coms. "Back to the Quinjet."
The team regrouped. Hulk retreated into Bruce and Barton flew the jet towards the nearest hospital. Steve tried to lay Tony down on the medical table, but Stark refused to let go, his wincing face pressed against Steve's safe chest. So, Steve sat down and held Tony in his lap while Bruce got the first air kit.
Banner knelt in front of Steve and, using just touches of his fingers, urged Tony to open his left side to him for bandaging. Tears floated in Bruce's eyes. "This is unbearable."
"They tortured him." Steve briefly pressed his nose against Tony's sweaty hair. "Tony, I'm so sorry we didn't get to you sooner."
Tony made a grunting sound that meant "It's ok – I understand." He made another grunting sound – one that meant the pain was excruciating. Bruce closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to keep himself calm. He focused on bandaging Tony's worst bleeders.
"So?" Stark whispered as Bruce started cleaning up the blood.
"Hmm?" Steve hummed. "What, Tony?"
"The bids. How much am I worth?"
Steve looked at his bruised and bleeding friend and marveled at how anyone could hold onto their sense of humor in such a state. "You're priceless, Tony," Steve told him. "You're priceless."
The End
