Author's Note: Lots and lots of attempts from me to have a Loki-building-friendship-with-Avengers. This is one of those.
Characters: Tony, Clint, Steve, Thor, Steve, Natasha, Loki.
Warnings: Injuries, jerk-y guy.
Written: 2017 some time. :)
Note: Not checked for spelling or grammar!
If someone had told Tony that morning, that life would take a swift tumble downwards in a few hours, he would have laughed, slapped them, then shipped them off for fear they'd gone mad. It really wasn't supposed to be any more than a simple mission. All they were doing was guarding weapons for S.H.I.E.L.D., nothing big, nothing to worry about. Why should they have? They'd done it dozens of times before each catching more and more yawns as time when on because it was such a mundane task that didn't matter until it did.
Realistically, no one had tried to attack the shipments before anyway, so yeah, they had their guard down. S.H.I.E.L.D. is just a continuous saga of paranoia and unnecessary precautions. They tagged along because they were told to and Fury would have their heads, arms and feet mounted on his office wall of they didn't. Tony had been so tired of doing the same stupid job again and again that he'd been driving with the other Avengers throwing around sarcastic comments in his exasperation. His desire to tug at his hair had been so ridiculously strong that if he didn't have a helmet on, he would have been bald by now.
Was it wrong that in that moment, Tony desperately wished for some other world crises to strike them? Something other than watching over trucks like they've been doing every other day for the last three weeks?
The whole point of it was for them to be extra ears and eyes, more protection, more observance but honestly, someone standing behind the snow the tires were kicking up unable to see a little more than white and dirt would have seen more. There wasn't exactly a focus point on any of them except maybe Steve but even then, it still wasn't really there.
They weren't ready.
Jarvis had caught it about three seconds before it actually hit. The pulse beam, designed to kill all tech, amped up to such high intensity that his suit and the car died with a pathetic whirring before he was rendered useless in less than a second. Tony had forced the suit to release before they hit, he had tumbled out a warning on his lips to his team but all there had been was a choked scream than gunfire.
It started in almost every direction and Steve's shield had caught the brunt of it for everyone before the engine was the next victim. The feeling of weightlessness sticks to someone like an annoying sticker trapped at the bottom of a shoe. It's not his first time flying unwantedly and Tony sincerely hopes it's the last. There had just been pain in every part of his body before distant screaming and shouting then suddenly there had been all these guns in his face and Tony only blinked stupidly at them.
Though the rising panic and anxiety was rising steadily as memories from Afghanistan pulsed through his head like a child playing with glitter; the one thought he can really remember before he blacked out is the distinct: "I guess I won't be attending the stupid board meeting after all." then the dry frustrated, "Pepper's going to kill me."
Whenever they get found. Yep, his fiance will be unhappy and probably slap him. To be honest, he isn't sure who to point the finger at. Beyond maybe at himself. If he'd been in the air, he would have seen the beam before it hit them head on. His team would be safe or at least the brunt of it would have missed them. They wouldn't have been in this situation.
The screaming keeps echoing in his ears.
He had to mentally stabilize himself with multiple mental kicks. It isn't the first time he's been kidnapped in his life. He's the son of a multi-billionaire, people literally saw the cash sign above his head. Afghanistan pokes out like a hot rod by the sole pain of it.
Tony Stark isn't an idiot. Yeah, he flaunts the label "genius" with pride and smirks but in all honesty, he isn't stupid. He knows when to stop pushing buttons (even if he ignores it sometimes) and when to stop throwing out his arrogance mask. He knows that most people who interact with him think he's a jerk, self absorbed and just plain annoying-admittedly, he's proud of the mask he pulls on. Now, though?
No, there isn't a mask.
Only fear.
Although Tony has had more than his fair share of headaches in his lifetime, this one takes all the cake. It's pulsing in the back of his head like a small happy drum that a child has gotten a hold of and isn't relenting or holding anything back. It's branding into his forehead with such intensity that Tony can't hold back a groan of pain that escapes his lips, faint as it is. His eye-lids ache and for the first time in all his twenty-seven years, Tony can honestly say that his eyelashes hurt.
Everywhere around him is cool, almost like he's leaning against ice and his head is hanging against his chest his chin pressed against the upper edge of his arc reactor. The blue glow has a slight warmth to it that is out of place with the coldness of the rest of the room.
Tony peels his eyes open slightly, then blinks sluggishly. The room is dark. This, stupidly, disappoints him. He knew without a shallow of a doubt that he and his team for sure were not in Stark Medical despite his desperate, childish hoping that they were.
His wrists hurt, badly, actually and his entire body is stiff, his back is leaning against something and his shoulders feel tight and tense. Tony forces his muscles to relax slightly to lessen the strain before slowly lifting his head, minding his explosive headache, and pulls his eyes open.
The area is about the size of the landing bay on Avengers Tower. There's a row of desks with various mechanical sprinklings spread everywhere, lights are glowing softly against the far wall lighting the gleaming metal to a dull gleam. The walls are an ancient grey and a sinking suspicion slowly starts to gnaw at the back of Tony's mind.
Despite the lights, everything looks suspiciously like the inside of a medieval prison. There aren't any torture devices, or really anything to loudly proclaim it, but Tony's seen enough of them from his mother's odd fascination with it and the various vacations they would take there when he was a child. Across from him is a shadowed corner where the lights don't reach but a low red light is blinking every other second or so. Tony notes it mentally, but does nothing else on it. Tony turns his head slowly, wincing, as his headache flares in protest and spots the rest of his team.
Natasha is closest to him and looks utterly terrible. Tony can't remember much of the battles but he does remember Nat's scream and Clint shouting her name. His suit was useless and Tony was trying to find a weapon but-he shakes himself from the memories and bites his lip staring at her for another moment.
Her hair is a tousled mess that will likely take at least a week to untangle properly she has several bruises on her face from what he can see in the poor lighting and a lazily wrapped mid-section that starting to stain. Tony's lips curl in disgust at the sight but her leg looks the worst. Her calf is deformed and looks painful. Her head is rolled to the left, unconscious as her arms, supported over her head by shackles rest lazily.
Thor is beside her and looks a little worse for wear as well, his blond hair is a mess (does any of their hair look nice?) and he's sporting several cuts and bruises along his neck and upper arms. The thing that stands out the most about him to Tony though, is a thick black collar strapped around his neck, curiosity placed under his wild locks. His arms are shackled above his head as well.
He can't see Steve, Clint, or Bruce very well from the awkward angle that he's sitting at but he can see there arms placed above their heads and that Clint and Steve are awake. Steve's head is tilted back against the wall where he's staring up at the ceiling, looking utterly fascinated and Clint's feet are tapping against each other like a bored child. Tony licks his dry lips and scans around the room again looking for an exit. He has little doubt that Natasha or Clint won't be able to slip out of their shackles when given enough drive but Steve or Thor should be able to break there's.
All they really need is an exit and someone to carry Natasha. Was she the only person injured? No, that doesn't seem right. Am I injured? Tony mentally scans himself. Arms: check, legs: check. Beyond a headache that could knock a man off his feet? He's good. Strange, he really feels like the blast should have done more, he didn't have any armor...or really anything. Tony shifts slightly and gives a low hiss through his teeth.
Yeah, alright, the back is not totally injury free. He was likely grazed with a few bullets. Tony presses his lips together firmly and presses his head back against the wall trying to push the headache out.
"Tony?" Steve's voice cuts through the air shattering the silence that's been playing for the last few minutes he's been awake. Tony doesn't open his eyes but leans his head subconsciously towards where he knows Steve is towards the end of their long line.
"Yeah, Cap?" Tony answers and presses his teeth together again. Cats, this headache is going to be the death of him. Maybe he can sleep it off, that would be nice-oh gosh, he just want's it to go away so he can think normally again. He would take motrin!
"Are you injured?" Steve asks and Tony shakes his head, though he's aware the team leader can't see it.
"No," Tony answers halfheartedly, daring his voice to be a little louder in hopes of waking his other teammates. Natasha's state is admittedly worrying him slightly and Thor's head wound isn't looking to hot either. "You?"
Steve is quiet for a moment, "I took a few hits," he admits. Ah, it must be bad then, Steve, like the rest of them believes firmly in the game of "how long can I keep it hidden before anyone notices or I pass out?". It's a great game that they're all champions at. So Tony has high doubts that "a few" is the right word.
Sure enough, Clint snorts, "A few?" He repeats, his voice sounds raspy, "You look like a mummy."
"I don't." Steve defends and Tony internally sighs and rolls his eyes regretting his decision immediately but ignores the following pain and leans forward slightly to see if he can get a glimpse of his teammates. From the nearly straight wall, it's hard, but he catches a glimpse of Clint's face through the dark tangles of Thor's hair.
His face is bruised, but he looks relatively okay. Some of the worry that building in his stomach lessens. Bruce lets out a soft groan and Tony turns his head towards the scientist ignoring, to the best of his ability, the ache at the back of his skull. Bruce mumbles a few sentences under his breath in a hushed whisper and Tony leans forward straining the shackles as far as they'll go to see him.
"Bruce?" Steve asks and the scientist gives a low moan in reply.
"Ow." He groans a moment later.
Bruce shakes his head several times and blinks, squinting at their surroundings. "I-uh, take it that we didn't win?"
"Yeah, no, not really." Tony supplies helpfully. They very much so didn't win the fight. Hulk had emerged from what Tony can pull from his hazy memories, but he doesn't remember what happened after that.
A loud bang rings from behind the door Tony spotted earlier next to the desks and all of them whip their heads towards it as Natasha gives a low groan and Thor twitches. The door is ripped open and light floods into the room. Tony winces and his hands move to cover his eyes but they don't make it very far as the chain pulls tight with a clank and the metal digs into his wrists.
A man strides forward into the room closely followed by at least six others. His expensive suit and evenly cropped hair auras a man of importance. His hands are clasped behind his back as he enters, the door slamming shut behind him, taking the painful light and casting shadows across the room again. Tony lifts his head a little higher and stares the man down clenching his jaw, slightly to the left.
The man gives a wide smile with perfectly white teeth and raises his hands, "Welcome Avengers," he greets, revealing a faint Scottish accent. Ah, so he is aware who he's captured then. Not that's it's hard to miss, Tony isn't aware of another team with their oddities on it.
"Ah, buddy, cut down on the tooth-shine, okay? You're blinding me." Tony says tiredly and leans his head back, closing his eyes and feels the icy glare sent his way. He allows himself a small satisfied smirk and wrenches his eyes open in surprise and pain as a hand smacks against his face and he tumbles to the right accidently smacking his ribs against Natasha's elbow. His head whips to the side and he blinks several times before turning to look at the rich-leader-man-boss-honco-dude. He didn't even hear him move across the ground.
Okay, then.
Natasha's eyes rip open as her elbow impales his ribs and her fiery grey eyes look up at the man and Tony can see her grasping a hold of the situation despite the tightness around her eyes from pain.
"Please hold your tongue or we'll have to remove it." The man says and gives Tony another picture-worthy smile before leaning down next to Natasha. She tosses her dirty hair from her face and the man raises an eyebrow. "You're a lot shorter in person."
The man rises and walks the length of his captives before coming at a halt in the middle again, tilting his head slightly. "You should thank me, you're about to become apart of something beautiful." He says the words with ease but adds a slight pressure at the last one. Tony narrows his eyes but bites his tongue.
"Like what?" Clint demands and the man's lip quirk upwards slightly.
"I'm glad you asked. I am Dayt Hoven, and if you value your lives or the lives of your comrades you'll do exactly as I say." Dayt says and Tony raises an eyebrow. On intimidation levels, he has seen better, but it's not bad.
"What do you plan on doing to us?" Steve asks. His tone is in his Captain America mode, where he's firm and not answering usually results in the eyebrows of disappointment.
"My dear Captain," Dayt says softly, "I intend to keep you. You'll make my company move faster, more efficiently, and, well, who will deny me when I hold the Avengers? The world will be at my mercy, and you, you will sit here and watch as I burn it."
"Yeah-no." Clint says and gives a small laugh, "You really think you can keep us here?"
"Of course. Any disobedience will be punished; I have a mission for each of you and if you poke a finger where it isn't wanted, I'll cut it off. But first, I can't have you bleeding out on my floor, Harold," Dayt says and a man lifts his head, "get the battery." He commands and Tony watches idly as Harold steps into the heavier shadowed part of the room and kicks something. A soft hiss echoes through the air and Thor twitches again.
"Get up," Harold says. His voice is heavy and deep. When whatever the battery is doesn't respond, Harold leans forward and grabs it.
"He will be your caretaker and teach you obedience. I'll be back tomorrow to take you to your purposes. It's just fate that brought us together, such perfect timing-I can't really be blamed, can I? The fates wanted us together." Dayt says and gives a soft sigh of contentment before Harold tosses the battery forward and Tony feels all color drains from his face as it-he lands in a crumpled heap near he and Natasha's feet. Dayt turns on his heel and walks from the room his men following behind them the door clicking shut with a slam and a lock grinding into place. The pounding ache decides, at this timely moment to over power everything and Tony's breath hitches painfully before he's dragged into the world of unconsciousness, unwilling.
000o000
The next time Tony awakens, he's headache is gone, there's a weird buzzing noise ringing through the air and something wet touching his face. He flinches as the...thing touches his face again and he rips his gaze away from the badly lighten room pulling it forward. His jaw drops slightly, pain exploding through his nerves as he shoves back as much as possible from the cloth and the person in front of him.
No flipping way.
He's supposed to on Asgard, receiving punishment.
Why is he here?
He hired the men to attack him, didn't he?
Loki's look of slight concern drops with his frustration and he grabs Tony's chin, "Remain still." He commands quietly. His voice sounds different than Tony remembers, far less confident, more...silent, broken. The long black hair is falling over his shoulders in loose curls the exhaustion, even in the dark lighting shows across Loki's face easily. The bags under his eyes look like real bruises and he looks ridiculously thin.
The only reason Tony doesn't struggle further or fight is because, A: everything hurts, B: Loki's hand is seriously cold.