To the ground down he's thrown collision to his arm and hip painful, head thoughts vision too disoriented for one so used to apparation. Voices muffled he hears multiple begins to panic. Someone turns him over face of a strange man comes into focus. "It's this, thing," he says,
and Tony feels pressure on the reactor.
"Take it out then!" a woman in the background says browns drastically widen. Mid-shouting 'no!' it's yanked out of his chest brutally tearing flesh he screams out in a pain so hot and profound he's never felt prior.
"Did Stane say they had a witch on the team?" a third voice says he registers the statement minute after tears from his eyes streaming. He can't think looks aside where tossed to concrete floor was the reactor broken, lightless. The man hovering over him rose the hostile group conversed and all he could think all he could feel: fear.
Fear – he's going to die. He can feel a searing, throbbing pain escalating shooting spikes up his brain churning his guts, taste of metal on his tongue.
He's going to die – Loki. Name whispered it won't work he won't hear him the port's gone he won't find him.
He can't save him – This is it.
"…He's gonna kill you," coarsely said too low to hear a woman asks:
"What?" Weak smirk such effort it takes to speak a little louder.
"My boyfriend. He's gonna kill you."
"That so?" from the man. "You know what we're gonna do to your fagot hunter pal?" He chuckles it hurts he winces, tells them:
"He's not – nhgh. He's. Not. A hunter," vision's rimmed in black such strain to keep his eyes open such pain he whimpers tears stream faster.
"Then what? A witch?" asks a woman of he's deduced thus far are four members.
"T-Tri. Brid."
"What did he say?" He chuckles again quickly gradually losing consciousness.
"He's gonna. Skin you. Chop you up."
"Shut up!" Out he yells the man in the side kicks him pain shoots he's for a second out.
"What is he talking about?"
"Hey, we need him alive." He's turned over again magic works he barely feels the wound his skin together stitching – it won't matter. The shrapnel's still inside – it's getting cold – ticking – it's too late – it's over.
"He said tribrid. Everyone heard that, right?"
"Yeah, I did," he forces out smirking.
"He's lying! Messing with you."
"I'm. Not." Flashes colors lights,
images memories faces points in life
and Loki.
"He. Can't be-"
"Call him. Now."
Green eyes a smile a touch, warmth. Up tug his lips
browns close…
"Hey?" Pressure on his cheek the man slaps him he can't feel it.
"What's wrong with him?"
Voices echo.
"Something's not right."