Sorry for the late update, but this is a long chapter.

Torture.

Mark is 16. Might want to read 'Imaginary' before you start this, it will make much more sense.

"Yes, dad I'll be fine. I'm ten minutes away." Mark explained through his phone. The dark haired teen was walking back to the tower in the middle of everything close to be called a blizzard. He could understand why his father was worried, but it doesn't mean he liked hearing about it.

"I can come and pick you up if you want me to."

"No, it's fine, I have gloves and stuff."

He heard a sigh at the other end. "Alright, just be careful."

"I know, I know." He quickly hung up before the scientist could say anything else. It wasn't that Mark didn't appreciate the help from his family, he just didn't need it as much anymore. He could walk way better than was expected, could jog a bit and was working on running with Phillip. He turned a corner into a large alleyway. The falling snow was thick and hard to see through, the ice on the ground caused him to focus on taking careful light steps.

To say he did not expect the strong arms to wrap around his head to cover his mouth was an understatement, another arm wrapped around his chest and easily threw him to the ground. A muffled cry escaped him as another man caught him by the hair, Mark felt a burning pain on the back of his neck before everything faded to gray, then black.

"Sir, he seems to be waking up."

"That's impossible, those sedatives could have killed a whale."

"Well if he's awake, he's awake, call the general down here and tell him the subject is ready."

Mark heard the unfamiliar voices float across the room. He felt a heavy weight on his chest that made it difficult to breath properly. He could faintly feel the tight leather straps restricting his wrists, ankles and shoulders to the cold surface he could feel on his skin.

Skin.

The last he remembered, Mark was covered in two layers of clothes. All he could feel now was the metal pressing against his shoulder blades and ankles, he took a small comfort in knowing he was wearing boxers around his middle. He heard the creaking of a door open and more voices, this one harsh, aged and commanding.

"This is it?" He barked the question.

"Yes sir, a team brought him in a few hours ago. He's ready for the tests."

"Good, find out what brings out the monster. Kill it after."

Tests.

Monster.

Kill it.

It.

Where they talking about him? The panic started to rise in Mark as his brain slowly processed the meaning of the words. A calloused hand forced eyelids open, they twitched against the sudden harsh light. An older man with white hair and a thick mustache stood over him.

"Yes, start immediately. It will work better if it's awake anyway."

"General Ross, we're not quite sure if the Hulk makes an appearance, that we'll be able to contain it. We're not even sure if the boy has it in him."

Ross? Mark's muddled brain struggled to recognize the name. The mention of Hulk set off a few bells in his clouded mind. Makes an appearance? Why would they think-

"This thing is no boy, doctor. It the spawn of Banner, same blood, same monster. Now find out what makes the monster come out and kill it before it can kill anyone else."

"Yes sir. We'll start immediately with the electric currents then."

No.

No no no no no.

They think he's the same.

They think that they have to kill him.

"I'm not-" Mark slurred out the protest, unable to complete the sentence. The simple words drained nearly all of his energy. He wasn't sure if anyone even heard him as he felt sticky suction cup things attach to his chest, thighs, feet and his forehead. His eyes flashed to a female doctor attaching wires to the outside if the plastic circles. She glanced at him with a look that might have said 'I'm sorry.'

She stepped away from him and looked at her feet. "He's ready to begin."

She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to ignore the involuntary screams from the boy as the current started up.

Bruce answered his phone after the first ring. "Did you find him?" He didn't even attempt to hide the desperation in his voice.

"No, but I have his phone." Tony sighed from the other end of the line. "Found it an alley, along with his wallet, so it wasn't a mugging. They left everything thing I could use to track him too. Bruce, these guys are good."

He exhaled in frustration. "Thanks, just call me if you find anything else." He hung up and leaned against the seat of the car.

It had been nearly seventeen hours since he hung up the phone with his son. After nearly half an hour of wondering why he was late. Bruce tried to call Mark and he wouldn't answer so he went out to the car and looked for him. And he still hasn't stopped.

He slammed a fist on the headboard and put his forehead on the wheel. He could almost hear the Other Guy in the back of his head. "Not yet." Bruce whispered to himself. He forced deep breathes in an attempt to calm himself.

Bruce knew almost nothing about anything. One second Mark was here and the next he wasn't. He didn't want Tony or anyone who was looking for him to sugarcoat anything.

Bruce only knew that he would gladly let the Other Guy do as he please when he found whoever was keeping his son from him.

Ow

Ow was the only thing that was floating through Mark's mind as he slowly came back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to find himself sitting up. He was still stripped to his boxers, his head was held up by an iron bar connected to the wall, his legs spread out and chained down by the ankle. His hands chained to the floor in between his legs. An IV hung from his arm, dripping sedatives and whatever else to keep him alive long enough to bring out the nonexistent Hulk within him.

Mark didn't really have an idea on how long he had been here. His body was still sore from the electrocution, other tortures occurred after the first. Apparently Ross was not happy when there was no results, he demanded more 'tests' to commend. Water boarding, suffocation, burning, freezing, acupuncture, nothing brought out what his captors were looking for. Mark was tired, terrified, and just wanted it to be over. He let out a relived sigh and let his eyes fall closed when he saw that no one else was in the room with him.

"Looks like you might need some company." The peace didn't last long, Mark snapped his eyes open to see a familiar, dark haired man. Loki sat next to him in the cell, he wore the same suit he had on about a year ago, when he first told Mark about his biological family. After a rather angsty conversation with Thor, everything the god told Mark turned out to be true.

"Haven't seen you," Mark struggled to speak, taking deep breathes every few words. "In a long time."

"My apologies for my absence, but I didn't see the need to be here."

"But you're here now." The teen asked questioningly.

"I saw you getting hurt. Well, I didn't see you, the gatekeeper saw you, told me. I didn't want you to be alone."

"That's rather considerate, coming from you."

"You are my son, like it or not I care about you." Loki tilted his head to look at the boy, sincerity lingered in his eyes. "It wasn't my choice for you to be sent here. I wanted to keep you on Asgard, even if you weren't the same you would have been safe there."

"What do you mean 'not the same?' I'm not exactly the same here. You said it yourself, I'm not human, I'm from Asgard."

"Yes, and no. You're half frost giant, that half, coming from me. Other than that your half Asgardian, from your mother, which is probably why you haven't died yet. On Asgard, everyone would know what you are, it's not that welcoming. And you're not the same here, but I assumed that no one would know, so it did not matter."

Mark closed his eyes again, the information sinking in. "Speaking of not dying, are you to do anything about, this." He gestured to his restraints with his eyes.

"Regretfully, I can't. I'm, merely an illusion in your mind. I wish to help you, but I can never return to Earth. I bet you have heard the story?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, though. Thor has that you were in pain when it happened implanted in our minds. So no one really blames you. My uncle, maybe, has a small grudge, but you did take over his mind."

"Ah, but I had you apologize for me years ago."

"I'm not quite sure that counts, considering he thought you were imaginary. And he didn't even know it was you." The teen huffed a laugh. It seemed weird, he's talking to god that's actually his father, in a cell where people are trying to kill him. And he's laughing. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, I didn't want you to be alone. What would you be doing right now if I wasn't here? Panicking? Wishing to die? Thinking of all the bad things that might happen? I wanted to distract you from that. From being scared."

Mark thought about that for a moment. This man was the guy who once wanted to enslave the human race, and now he was probably using up a lot of energy to cast an image of himself on Earth from Asgard, all just to make sure that his son, who he's never really spent time with, isn't scared. "Well thanks, I guess."

The two were silent for a few moments. The heavy steel door suddenly swung open, the young doctor from before entering the room. Mark's eyes glanced to Loki, who stayed sitting, the woman clearly not seeing him. He nodded assuringly before vanishing into the air.

The woman took a syringe out of the case she was carrying. She slowly stuck the needle into his arm, injecting a clear fluid into his bloodstream. The doctor looked up as she slid the needle out of his skin, a sorry look back on her face. Mark's senses started to slowly fade away, he closed his eyes, starting to fade back into the darkness.

"They're coming for you." He faintly heard the whisper before slipping away.

Bruce blinked the grogginess out of his eyes. An anonymous call came to his phone about three days ago, saying exactly where Mark was, and what was happening. The scientist managed to stay calm throughout the trip to the facility, along with the rest of the team, and Phillip (after immense arguing between him and Clint, the red head managed to snag a spot on the plane). As soon as Bruce laid his eyes on his son, bloodied and beaten and barely alive, in the corner of an abandoned room-word must have gotten out about how the location has been compromised-he lost it.

The team eventually dragged him back to the tower, where they all waited for the raven haired boy to wake up. The doctor sat by the bedside - he saw where they were keeping Mark, and made sure he would not be waking up to anywhere similar to it - not leaving for anything unless Darcy would force sum sort of food down his throat.

She was always there with the boys though, Darcy hid it well, but she was devastated. Terrified of what could be the outcome of everything. If her Mark would still be her Mark. She knew how bad PTSD could get, and for gods same the kid was sixteen years old, he had enough shit to deal with in his life. He lost nearly twenty pounds, despite being one of the scrawniness kids Darcy's ever seen, and the woman was barely listening when a rather gentle doctor was telling her about the damage done to him physically.

It will be almost painful to walk again.

All the work.

All the exercises.

To end up right back where he started.

It's gonna be a long journey.

But they'll make it work.

They have to.

Aaaaahhhh. I'm a terrible person. Why do I do things to Mark, he does nothing wrong! And then just angsty Bruce and Darcy feels at the end.

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