HYDRA have always been bastards; that is a fact. However, people don't know just how badly they can treat someone.
Loki appears out of nowhere, obviously coming from one of his passageways through the nine realms.
"Midgard," Loki smiles. "The perfect place to get away from Asgard and make a new identity for myself without Father or Thor or the warriors three and Lady Sif getting in the way."
The surrounding area is cold, snow-filled, and icy, but Loki feels comfortable in the cold for some reason. He always has been; it was a common thing people of Asgard didn't like about him, just another thing that made him different from everyone else. He doesn't care, though.
"Thor's coronation is supposed to be in around ten Midgardian years from now," Loki thinks aloud as he walks, conjuring some warm winter clothes he has seen Midgardians wear to help him blend in. "I could go back before that, maybe in a few years. That way, I can play it off as a few years of adventuring followed by a few more after seeing them for a year at most."
— Five hours later—
The mage has found a small village; judging by the language they are speaking, Russian, he'd say he's in Russia. 'Of course, that was sarcasm! What more could you expect?'
The thing about Loki's siedr is that it never 'turns off,' as some would say. He is always aware of his surroundings, aware of everyone around him, and aware that someone is talking about him. Today was like any other day. So many people have spotted him. They eye him in a weird, disturbing way that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand high, makes his blood run cold, and makes his skin crawl. See, this wouldn't have been an issue any other day in any other realm. But today, in this realm, Loki has decided he won't use his seidr to get him out of situations. He swore he'd do everything by himself without the help of his magical abilities. Why? Because if he can get an apartment, a job, money, clothes, food, and hygiene products without using his siedr, then those idiots in Asgard have to admit that he can do things without his 'womanly tricks.' So, when a decently buff guy with shoulder-length brown hair wearing goggles and a muzzle stepped in front of him, he was ready for a fight.
The mystery man charges, and I've drawn my knife. Loki blocks with his pulls from his coat sleeve. They go at each other for a few minutes before Loki whips around, catching another man's wrist, holding a gun, and pointing straight at him. That minor distraction gives the masked man time to press a cloth to Loki's mouth and nose. 'Chloroform. Great...' was the last thought that ran through his head before passing out.
It didn't last as long as they expected. They were expecting a human with some ability, not a being from another realm that had been alive for a little over a thousand years and had trained since he was 300 or so. He tries to take stock of where he is, but all he sees is darkness. He's in the trunk of a car. The car, however, was pulling to a stop. In a panic, Loki closes his eyes and slows his breathing, pretending to be still affected by the deadly drug.
When the trunk opens, the mystery brunet picks him up, tossing Loki over his shoulders with a grunt. They begin walking into a building. On the outside, it looks just like all the rest nearby. On the inside, however, it's clear that these people don't care about living beings' lives in general. Blood stained the floors, and people took dead bodies to rooms, half of which wore civilian clothes while the other half wore the same outfit as the man not carrying him. Rooms held caged dogs, rats, and even dead or dying birds. Those poor things were experimented on and were dying because of such cruel behaviour.
The three reach a room with a giant metal chair in the center with some weird metal parts above. Loki doesn't know what that is, but he knows that this chair and room are different from where he wants to be.
"Put him in the chair. Let's see how long this one takes before we gain control." The man not holding him tells the brunet in Russian, though Loki hears it in English and places his body in the chair. Loki pretends to stir awake as his arms are bound to the armrests. "Ah, look who's awake!" The man, obviously higher than the one binding him down, says. "Just in time for the main event."
"Wh-who are you? Why am I here?" Loki gets out, voice still a little strained.
The man tilts his head, thinking about if he should answer before ultimately deciding it doesn't matter. "You won't remember this anyway. My name is Agent Montague, he is the Winter Solider, and this," he gestures around himself as he moves over to the control panel, "Is HYDRA. And soon, you'll be just like him. Following whatever orders we give him, like the good little pet you will be."