Day 1

Loki could honestly say this was a first. Sad to say he knew this would be the first of many. In all years he'd only been so lucky. To have never felt the cold shackles latch his dainty wrists until now. This confounded collar around his neck would take time to get used to. Even now as he lay there motionless he could feel it getting tighter. Squeezing his jugular although he knew better. He could hear a chain latch to it as well. The links made a blood curdling sound as they were laced through the table at the base of his neck.

His heart thudded off in his chest in pace with his rapid breaths. He would never get used to the feeling that arose in his chest as his hands were fixated at his sides. Not that he could tug against the restraints in his current state. The cables that tied him down were fixed to the floor to ensure there was no wiggle room. The cuff edges dug into his skin as they pulled against him.

Loki waited patiently, not that it was his choice. Still he remained, listening to the back and forth scurry feet of creatures around him as they procured miscellaneous tools. No matter what he heard. He refused to let it show on his face but it was nerve wracking laying there. He faked it well. Latching onto whatever remained of his strong demeanor. He could only guess what would be coming next. The sounds of steel scraping the floor elevated his anxiety.

He started to realize there was something eerily familiar about this situation; only in reverse. He'd been involved in this sort of work; torture was a big thing on Asgard. War crime was their favorite pastime. Keeping the peace they called it. But they were no saints. Neither was he. Loki was one gifted in those regards. Given his skills and magic he was great at obtaining information, among other things. They tended to lean more towards the side of enjoyment rather than actually obtaining information. Come to think about it, more often than not. He never imagined he'd become a test subject. This was karma.

He smiled thinking about it. His thoughts were at war. The screams echoed every so often with him but he eventually blocked them out. Yet now they returned with a vengeance, haunting his still form as he waited for the same treatment. Loki's heart was in his throat still he forced his breathing to calm. Always easier said than done.

His capture noticed this, leaning in close. Relishing in his stifled panic. He grinned, mouth full of rancid yellow teeth, a cover over his eyes like an executioner's hood. Still Loki could feel his eyes on him. Peering into his soul. He didn't say another word. Just taking in Loki's facade.

A pathetic imputiant creature he thought. He didn't understand why they could advance without him. Either way it was not his place to question his process, only carrying out his orders. He scoffed, wondering how many days it would take to break this one's spirit.

The Other backed away, disappearing through the open doorway, allowing it to swing behind him. The slam resonated in the open space which signified it was play time.

It was painstaking how long it took for the paralysis to wear off. Subconsciously counting down until he could move his fingers. By the time he could turn his head away from the light the preparations had been made. A halo seared into his vision, followed his wandering eye as he glanced into the dark. Useless for the only thing he could see were the shadows of grotesque creatures gathered around him. All with some kind of tool in hand.

Made aware one of them made the first move and something sharp ran the length of his chest. Blood beaded along the line in his flesh. He grit his teeth allowing the feeling to roll off, it would be their goal to procure a reaction out of him. He clenched his fist, eyeing his assailant and smiled.

"That tickles." Loki scoffed.

He held a habit of joking in situations of which he had no control. It was a defense mechanism after all that he'd honed well over the years. Alas he wasn't very threatening. Much like a barking dog now beaten. They elected to ignore him. Silence the only answer he received as he lay there desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation as another blade sliced his flesh, coiling around his side. Loki grit his teeth, rearing against his restraints as the feeling blossomed into something unbearable.

He tightened his jaw, arching his back against the table. Clawed hands held him down, digging into his let out a stifled yelp. Which gained an alien chirp of delight in response to his discomfort. He never realized he'd be so easy to break. Loki couldn't fool himself. Unwilling to accept the fact that he was spoiled. To have never been subjected to such anguish until now.

Loki tugged against the straps but it was useless. His muscles contracted as they sliced him again and again, carving his body while he wriggled against the surface, cutting deep into him. He tried to lift his head, pull himself free but it was as if this collar magnetized to the surface. Squeezing the life out of him. He held his breath until he couldn't take it anymore. Tears streaming down his cheeks from the affliction. He squeezed his eyes shut and soon the halls resonated with Loki's broken screams.

…

It felt like an eternity. Still he didn't remember much before he passed out. Just the lingering feeling. Something he was reminded of when he awoke again alone in this unfamiliar place, the smell of decay bringing him back from the brink. He gagged taking in a whiff as he came to. There'd be no getting used to it.

He forced his eyes open, gifted only with darkness. Back in this box. He should've figured, how typical of him to wake up face down in this confused substance. If they could see him now. He scoffed at the thought of it sending rigor across his abdomen.

Focus he told himself, pushing his pessimism down. He regulated steady breaths, mustering the strength to rise. Still he did not move. Loki remained hesitant, fearing his broken ribs had shifted out of place. He felt the base of his chest and although his skin was still coated in blood, it seems they'd been kind enough not to jostle them. He couldn't picture those ugly things portraying anything remotely gentle. Either way he would not thank them.

Loki's head throbbed vigorously as he regained the feeling. His body was stiff and numb. Pins and needles danced on his skin. He cursed under his breath as he rolled over. The imprint of the textured floor pattern was left on his skin. He laid out on the floor flat on his back taking in the pulsing heat of his chest. He didn't dare stand. He wondered how long he'd been out.

Not that it mattered. The real question being when will they come back for him. His anxiety never settled. As much as he didn't want to acknowledge it he needed to assess the damage.

Even in the darkness he could tell that the outline of his body was all that remained as he plucked himself up off the floor. Pushing himself onto his knees to get a good look at himself. His hands were shaking as he levied himself into a crude sitting position. There wasn't much he could make out in the darkness but it was evident he was slick with blood. Unable to tell whether or not he was still bleeding as each wound pulsed with the slightest movement.

He hoped it looked worse than what it actually was. Not that it made a difference. Considering he couldn't see much of anything but the gleam of the blood on the floor. He set a hand against his bloodied chest, wincing at the touch. He noticed something particularly strange. To his disbelief they'd actually taken the time to stitch each laceration back together. Loki felt the raised flesh actually impressed by the work. He was genuinely surprised considering how clumsy they were, driven by the same internal instincts and never free thinking. The lot of them were mindless subordinates.

That's right he remembered, he would be of no use to them dead. Pity that. Loki learned first hand these creatures were pathetically under skilled and not particularly good with a blade. Not that it mattered considering their main objective was to cause him as much discomfort as possible. Still it was hard to believe any of them would be capable of threading a needle let alone suture his fileted flesh back together.

He pondered it for a moment, deciding it was time to get off of the floor. With a hard shove he forced his legs to hold him up. It felt like he was balancing on a pair of brittle sticks, swaying under his weight as he braced the wall for support. Until he could place himself on the cot in the corner.

This treatment continued over the next couple days in a similar fashion. The Chitauri switched up their methods and tools but the deliverance of pain was consistent. It wouldn't take long for Loki to become a disheveled bloodied heap on the floor. His body felt rougher and more ragged with each session.

He healed quickly but not fast enough. They would not allow him that leisure. He chose not to move much. He stayed in his head. Retreating to the far recesses of his mind. The only safe space. Thinking of possibilities. He had to do something before he's unable to. Figuring there wasn't much left to lose at this point so he hatched a plan. He was smarter than they gave him credit for.

Day 3

It wasn't hard to catch onto the pattern. He'd always been one to trust his instincts, even wounded and without magic his senses were keen enough to alert him when something was amiss. On the third day Loki caught onto the pattern. Not that it was hard. It seemed to be around the same time when they came for him. Taking mental note of every subtle sound. Every footstep and shadow that lined the bottom of the door peaked his interest, he stayed.

The touch of the handle set off signals and when it came time for it, he held his breath and waited. He had one chance. Just like each time before, the vents would release the gas and he would be 'paralyzed' then dragged down the hall. It was obvious they'd become accustomed to a schedule and never expecting their victim would spring up and dart out as soon as the door was open.

Loki being half their size managed to slip past the two Chitauri that came for him. Evident they never expected someone to dip past them, nor did they believe someone could outsmart them. Rather dull creatures they were. Loki scoffed as he made a start down the hall. Even wounded he was able to outrun them. Running as fast as his legs would carry him. Amazed he managed to slip past his captures.

Even with no idea where he was going he didn't look back, just pushing his beaten body forward. He didn't slow even as his wounds burned and head pounded in protest, the adrenaline powering his resolve. The ping of his bare feet hitting the metal floor reverberated in the emptiness as he ran .He looked for a sign, a door out of here or a ship, anything. It was too quiet. He wondered if they were even chasing him. Not that it mattered as he pressed on.

He rounded the corner to be faced with their hideous leader waiting for him at the end of the hall. His heart dropped as he planted his feet to a halt. The Other reached out towards him. Loki slid to the ground in avoidance, narrowly missing him as he backed away. Quickly darting in the opposite direction. He recognized the change in the floor as it shifted from metallic to sedimentary. He could see the stars shining light into the entrance. He was starting to feel a sense of hope until he slammed into a large figure in the dark.

Loki hit the ground hard and before he could look up a heavy fist caught his temple knocking him facing down. Blood ran down the gash on his head pouring into his eye. It happened so fast he really didn't know what hit him. He breathed deeply, the adrenaline blocking out the pain if only for the moment. Pulling himself together.

"It'd be wise not to." He recognized that voice. Still he didn't care, rising to face their true leader.

Loki eyed the monster even though his vision was obscured by the substance. He knew what would happen if he got caught, still he faced the consequences without fear. He waited for his punishment, glaring up at Thanos with venomous eyes. Short lived as he delivered another heavy to the side taking the wind out of him as he rested on the hard ground. The sound of his bones breaking was the last thing he could make out before he lost consciousness.