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A/N: Yes, another update. It's been a while since the last time I felt this inspired. I guess it has something to do with my stupid boss taking a holiday, so everyone at work can breathe now. Plus, it's frosty and snowy, which always makes my mind work better. And, of course, the comments... Thank you so much for your great reviews, guys! You're great!

The next chapter will be posted in a couple of days.

3. Never Talk To...

~oOo~

Loki was a little surprised when after his lessons he was approached by one of Thor's club-mates. The auburn-haired fighter was of the same age with Loki. As far as Loki knew, his name was Stefán.

"Hi, Loki," the other boy greeted with a pleasant smile.

"Hi," Loki replied, slightly confused.

"Are you going to watch our training session again today?"

"Actually, no, I have other plans. What about it?"

"Oh, nothing; just thought we could go to the boxing club together today. We're starting earlier than usual. One guy who trains with us has offered to drive several of ours, so I thought you could join us. I think Thor needs some inspiration before our competition, you know," Stefán smiled again. He made a pause when he saw uncertainty on Loki's face, instead of the clear refusal he'd seen a few seconds earlier. "Come on, it'll be fun. You seemed to be enjoying yourself last time you visited us," the auburn-haired youth then added.

And so Loki found himself agreeing. They left the school and headed to the car park. Stefán was entertaining him with some easy talk, though Loki didn't pay much attention. He never felt comfortable around hyperactive people that tended to talk fast and a lot, as well as to move and gesticulate in the same wild manner. Stefán seemed to be that tiresome type; either that, or he was nervous for some reason. But he had no reason to be nervous, right? So Loki decided that it was his typical behaviour, and, for his own good, chose to ignore the other youth's empty monologue.

"Here we are. Get in," Stefán said when they approached one of the cars. Loki made himself comfortable in the back seat. There were two other boys inside. One of them was also one of Thor's club-mates; Loki recognised him quickly. The sandy blond-haired boy was fourteen or so.

"Hi," the boy greeted. "Hilmar," he introduced himself and they shook hands.

"Loki," the slightly older youth replied.

"Hi, I'm Karl," the one in the driver's seat introduced himself, almost sounding like he was reluctant to talk. He looked around eighteen. Loki wasn't sure he'd ever seen him before, but he thought he possibly had. Anyway, he didn't know any of them in person, they weren't even Thor's friends, but he'd seen them in the boxing club. Stefán took the front seat, and very soon the car was off.

Everyone was quiet, but after Stefán's chatter Loki was thankful for it. He decided to ring Thor and tell him that he was going to be in the club, too, and to ask his older brother if he was already there. Actually, he'd even had no idea that Thor had a training session today, but the schedule changed pretty often now that they were getting ready for a competition, so he was used to it. Before he knew it, however, his mobile phone was snatched out of his hand by Hilmar. Loki froze. Suddenly he also noticed that the car was going the wrong way, so it was obvious that they weren't going to the club. He knew he was in trouble.

"Give it back," Loki demanded calmly, refusing to lose any self-control.

"No," Hilmar shook his head.

"Where are you taking me?" Loki asked, still coldly.

"We just want to talk to you, Loki. You see, we're not really looking forward to losing the competition just because the pussy of a brother of one of our best fighters distracts him all the time and wrecks our training sessions," Stefán said seriously, no longer jabbering.

"I don't see how my relationship with my brother is any of your business; but from what I've seen he's not nearly in a bad shape. He's probably in a far better shape than any of you, actually," Loki almost growled, his voice quiet, but angry. "I don't know who you think you are, but I suggest you stop the car right now and let me out, so we can all mind our own business and forget about this talk," he demanded. None of them seemed to be affected, but the car wasn't going too fast, so Loki made a sudden and desperate attempt to open the door and jump out. But the doors were blocked, and Stefán chuckled at the futile attempt. There was almost nobody in the quiet street, and Loki doubted that anyone outside the car would hear him if he screamed, not to mention that he was angry, not panicked. What could they possibly do to him? Yes, each one of them, even the youngest one, was bigger and broader than Loki, but hurting him would get them all into trouble, so he really doubted that they would risk beating him up.

"You're wrong; it's our business if we lose just because you try to get some attention," Stefán insisted. "Maybe you just don't want to grow up? Want your brother to baby-sit you forever, don't you? They say you're not even his real brother."

"If you're trying to bully me, save your breath; it doesn't affect me the way you hope it does," Loki sighed in annoyance. It seemed Stefán didn't like not being taken seriously.

"So you're really afraid of the dark," Karl suddenly spoke. Curiosity was evident in his voice and on his face, as Loki could see in the rear view mirror. He didn't find it necessary to answer. Not that it had been a question. Replying wasn't required of him, though, as Karl went on: "You know, one of my friends was afraid of the water and couldn't learn to swim no matter what. His father once took him on a fishing trip, and when they were far enough from the shore, the old man threw my friend out of the boat. Of course, my friend was scared half to death, tried to grasp at the boat, yelled, but his dad ignored him and wasn't letting him hold onto anything. My friend thought he was drowning, and I think he really was; I guess he pissed and shit himself in fear that he was about to die. But then he started moving his arms and legs, and guess what? He was fucking swimming! It was lame, of course, but he managed to reach the shore. After that his father started forcing him to take swimming lessons, whether he wanted it or not. So he had nothing left to do but learn to swim. It's called an exposure therapy... or something like that. So... How about putting you through something similar?"

"Oh..." Stefán chuckled, looking like it was one of the greatest ideas he'd ever heard in his life. "Sounds like an excellent plan," he smirked. After a pause he added: "I happen to know one nice place. Turn to the left here..."

To Loki that didn't sound good at all. The feeling of being in danger settled down inside his stomach, like a cold, heavy, iron ball. He tried to be calm. If he tried to fight, any of them would easily hold him still. He decided that once the car stopped, he would wait for them to open the door; and he would be feigning obedience. It would fool them if they saw no resistance. He was good at fooling people, good at pretending. And then he'd run. He would run like hell and would probably scream for help, to hell with his pride.

Soon they were on the outskirts of the town. There was only one road to get there that wasn't blocked, and Stefán knew it. The area had mostly been abandoned after the plant located here had been closed several years ago, a decade, perhaps. The government had decided that the work of the plant had been bad for the environment, so it had been closed and people who had lived here (mostly those who had worked in the plant) had long moved. Consequently, the infrastructure here was abandoned and the empty streets of this very little part of the town looked dead.

No calling for help then. Just running; once he would have an opportunity. Loki had a very bad feeling, but he wasn't going to panic.

"Stop here," Stefán suddenly said. Karl stopped the car near the entrance of some building.

"Looks like you know this place," Hilmar remarked, addressing to Stefán.

"Yes, I've been here a few times. An interesting place to explore," the auburn-haired youth replied almost proudly.

"Creepy though," Hilmar added quietly, looking around.

"Come on, let's show Loki around," Stefán grinned.

They got out of the car. Loki wasn't fighting when Stefán opened the door, took him by his arm and pulled him out of the car without forcing.

"This, Loki, is a hospital. Or rather it was one," he said, leading the dark-haired youth to the entrance doors, shabby, like everything else here. But before he had a chance to say anything else, Loki tore himself away and broke into a run. Unfortunately, the rising panic hadn't let him calculate his escape more thoroughly, so he practically ran into Karl, whose strong hands of a fighter immediately grabbed Loki by his slender shoulders.

"No, no, Loki, I'm afraid you're going inside," Stefán murmured and together with Karl started pushing the panicked boy to the doors.

"No, please..." Loki whispered, now really starting to get scared. They were on each side of him, holding his arms, and he knew he was helpless, because they were physically too strong for him. The doors were easily opened and Loki was pulled inside, despite his protests.

The neglected building was shabby inside. It looked old, but not too dilapidated yet, despite the cracked, discoloured, faded walls that had once been baby blue, perhaps. It looked very empty, though there were some left pieces of furniture here and there, as well as the information and direction signs, everything dusty and shabby. The old, dirty windows didn't let much light in, but it wasn't too dark so far at this time of a day.

Loki's heart was filled with trepidation. He was fighting weakly as they were dragging him along the corridor of the ground floor. How on earth had he allowed himself to be lured and fooled like that? He had got snared ridiculously easy; easier than a naive child lured by a stranger who offered sweets.

"Where are we going?" Karl enquired.

"You'll see soon," Stefán smirked mysteriously. Karl frowned, but said nothing in return. Hilmar was following them with his hands in the pockets of his coat, looking uncomfortable. He obviously didn't like what was going on, but remained quiet. Loki turned his panicked face to him a few times, wordlessly begging the younger boy for help. Each time Hilmar cast his eyes down or aside, making himself ignore the scared youth.

By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Loki was openly pleading with them, knowing that something terrible was going to happen. Everything was even shabbier here; in a couple of places old wires were hanging from the ceiling. Stefán turned to the right, making the others follow, and opened the slightly dilapidated double door with the small round, dirty windows in each door. Behind those doors there were several steps down to the basement floor and a ramp, which had possibly been used for hospital trolleys.

And it was dark...

"Hilmar, leave the doors open, or we won't see anything down there," Stefán said. Loki's heart sank in terror as he looked down, where the short, windowless corridor was. There were three or four doors down there and Loki was almost certain that the rooms behind those doors had no windows, either; therefore they were as dark as tombs. The very thought immediately triggered the panic attack, Loki's chest tightened almost painfully and he felt cold sweat standing out on the back of his head, neck and back.

"No, no... No, please! No!" he begged, starting to fight with all the strength he possessed as they'd started to pull him downstairs; the fear set his mind aflame. In panic he managed to grasp the door jamb, and it took Stefán a few moments to detach his hand from it. Crying out, fighting and writhing Loki was dragged downstairs, looking very much like he was been led to his execution; and he was impossibly pale. They stopped in the small corridor.

"Are you sure it's a good idea? Even I don't feel okay here," Karl admitted, looking around. As he was holding Loki still, he felt that the smaller boy was shaking so violently that it didn't feel normal. The terror was seemingly choking Loki.

"We'll just leave him here for an hour or two," Stefán replied dismissively. And then he looked at Loki, who was hyperventilating by now and shaking his head 'no' fervently, because his voice felt trapped inside his throat, so he couldn't beg verbally. And when he tried, only a choked sob escaped him. "You know what it is, Loki?" Stefán asked him calmly, without expecting an answer. "It was a morgue, in case you didn't notice the sign outside." With that he opened one of the doors. The light from upstairs allowed them to almost distinctly see the large room with the floor and walls tiled with white (or not so white any longer) ceramic tiles; though in some places the tiles had fallen off, many others were just cracked. Several mortuary refrigerators along the walls were slightly corroded, as well as the sink in the remote corner. No other morgue equipment could be seen in the semi-darkness; quite possibly, nothing else had been left here. Even after all the years of being abandoned, there was a weak, odd smell in this room; a weak smell of death. Though it was very possible that Loki's disfigured from fear imagination was making it up, deceiving his senses. Phobias were not required to make anyone feel at least uneasy here. But for Loki it was so much worse. It couldn't be happening to him; just couldn't... They couldn't do this to him; they were just scaring him, bullying him. But they wouldn't throw him into the darkness of this more than just unpleasant place. Experiencing the feeling of unreality, he was feeling faint and weak. But, as soon as he found himself being almost softly pushed inside the room, he started resisting with the renewed vigour that seemed to have increased tenfold, as he was demonstrating the physical strength, very untypical of him or anyone with such a slender build. His muscles were contracting in spasms and he was shaking all over, ready to do just about anything in the world to avoid being pushed into the waiting, ominous den of darkness. Considering what kind of place the darkness had chosen to make it its residence, it was far worse than when it was invited by a power failure in your own home. To say that Loki was in panic was a strong understatement now.

"No, no, no! Anything but this! Anything! Oh, please, no!" he begged desperately, his voice breaking, humiliation forgotten. And then he screamed. Karl groaned in annoyance.

"Oh, look, our little princess is about to pee his panties!" Stefán chuckled. "Stop being a pussy. We're doing it for you. You're going to thank us later, you'll see," he mocked. Or did he seriously believe it? Hardly...

And then Loki was forced inside by one strong push, at the same time compelled to let go of Karl's sleeve, which he had been holding like a lifeline. And the door was closed behind his back... He threw himself on it, trying to break out, unable to see anything at all, because the darkness was absolute. His heart was skipping beats otherwise beating so fast and hard that he could feel pulsation in his temples. It was madness, a total immersion into his terror. And he was screaming...

"Hold the door," Stefán told Karl. While the older youth was holding the door, Stefán, slightly grunting, moved the empty, but heavy cupboard that was right here in this corridor, to prop the door firmly closed. Loki kept screaming and literally tearing at the door. The cupboard didn't move the slightest, no matter how hard the boy was trying to open the door, pushing at it with his entire body, and Stefán nodded satisfied with his work.

"Shut up! Zombies will hear you!" he cackled. His companions, however, didn't find the joke entertaining. "All right, guys, let's go."

"Are you serious? You want to leave him here alone?" Karl asked, surprised.

"Yes, I do," Stefán shrugged. "We'll come back for him in a couple of hours."

"Am I your personal driver or something?" the older youth frowned.

"Oh, come on, you'll want to see the pussy's face when we let him out," the younger one chuckled.

"I'm not sure about that."

"Then we'll get here without you and save the princess. Right, Hilmar? Come on, let's go," Stefán said impatiently and went upstairs. Karl followed uncertainly. Hilmar, who was standing upstairs, holding Loki's black school shoulder bag and his mobile phone, looked even more doubtful. But he definitely wanted to get out of this place. He turned the mobile phone off, put it into Loki's bag, quickly went downstairs and left the bag near the propped door, unsure of what else to do with it. Then he decided to quickly follow his companions, feeling very uncomfortable in this gloomy corridor. Loki's bloodcurdling screams of terror were following him, loud enough to be heard throughout this entire part of the first floor of the abandoned hospital. Loki was banging at the door, screaming blue murder, and Hilmar felt his skin crawling and his heart beating anxiously as he was hearing those terrified screams and cries. He quickly closed the double door that led to the mortuary behind himself and almost ran after his companions, still followed by the noises of terror and distress until he was halfway to the entrance doors of the hospital where the screams didn't reach.

Now only the very dim, pale conical beams of light penetrated the darkness of the small corridor below the ground floor through the two small, round, dirty windows of the now closed double door; it was a very weak light that would soon disappear completely, due to the very short days at this time of a year. But Loki didn't have even this, trapped in complete, pitch darkness behind the windowless propped door that wouldn't give in, no matter how hard he tried to break out. Not even a tiny strip of light was getting into the room from under the door.

Eventually, he screamed himself hoarse, and though tears kept streaming down his face, he could only emit loud, panicked breaths. He instinctively knew that those who had trapped him here were gone, leaving him alone, and the small part of his mind, the only part that could think at the moment, wasn't sure if they would come back for him, if anyone else would ever find him at all, if he would still be alive if they did. He couldn't take it, he just couldn't take it; it was too much...

For some time his mind seemed to have shut down completely, which was some kind of a coping mechanism; and, becoming aware again, he found himself sitting on the floor, curled up and with his side pressed against the door (he was pretty sure he hadn't moved a decimetre away from it the entire time he'd spent here). His arms were tightly embracing his own body that was shivering, sometimes jerking slightly; nervously and involuntarily. He was aching even physically and begged for his mind to shut down again, to go numb, so he could stop being aware of everything at once.