A/N

WARNING: graphic and gory descriptions of torture and wounds. Also, Loki is acting insane. Skip if you don't want to read.

Chapter 8

The first thing I noticed when the darkness faded was I hurt.

The second was that I wasn't in Stark Tower anymore.

I shake my head a few times to clear the last of the darkness and try to get a bearing on my surroundings.

I was surrounded by dark, moldy wall, the only light coming from an inch-wide slit, high on the wall to my left.

I was kneeling on a rough concrete floor and my knees were already starting to hate me. My arms were bound at right angles behind my back; left wrist to right forearm and vice-versa. My mouth was sealed shut with what I think was duct tape. My legs were bound just below the knees and again at the ankles, and I think my ankles were chained to a wall. The apex of the pain was coming from my right shoulder. I crane my neck the best I could to view the damage, and immediately regret it.

My prosthetic arm, normally able to withstand about double the force of a human arm, is crushed from the joining point with my stump to about the elbow like it was made of tinfoil and not steel. The human part of my shoulder was white as a sheet – no doubt matching the rest of my body – allowing me to see the red steadily dripping from the underside of the joining point with the crushed prosthetic.

I shiver slightly as I watch the blood fall, drawing my attention to the fact that I was only wearing the thin white t-shirt I had donned this morning and a pair of short, black, gym shorts that were not mine.

I gag and shudder. God, I hope Loki didn't put those on.

The heavy click of the vault door in front of me being unlocked jerked my head up. I shift slightly, wincing as my knees burn.

The door opens slightly and a very familiar, green eyed psychopath slid in just before the door slams shut with a clang that bounces off the walls.

I keep my eyes fastened on his dress shoes as he walks up to me, stopping just in front of me.

"Well, well, well." His voice is almost a purr, "What do we have here? Are you enjoying your stay?"

I glare up at him the best I can in my position. "What do you want, Loki?"

"Oh, only you, my dear."

"Sorry," I drawl, "but I don't think my boyfriend would like that."

Loki's smirk turns into a look of pure fury as he backhands me across the face, snapping my head to the side so fast that I mentally add whiplash to my list of injuries.

I gag again as the coppery taste of blood coats my tongue, wishing I could spit out my blood instead of inevitably swallowing it – along with a tooth.

Loki reaches down to grab my hair, yanking it back so I'm forced to look him in the eye.

"You, my dear, are only a step in world domination. I will rule this dump you call a planet, and soon. Your trivial Avengers – heroes, ha! – are the only thing between me and a glorious golden age."

I look at Loki skeptically – glorious golden ages born from the minds of psychopaths are usually anything but.

Loki either doesn't notice my look or doesn't care, because his monologue carries on. "As long as I have you, Daughter of Iron, the rest are putty in my hands. I briefly considered controlling you – expanding your mind – but I figured you being so vulnerable," he waves a hand towards my hunched, bleeding figure, "would give them the extra push. I bet they are looking for you as we speak. Their grief is delightful! Anyhow, while we wait, shall we have some fun?"

Loki snaps his fingers and a cart of sharp, painful looking objects appears by his side, along with a camera in the upper right hand corner of the room.

He reaches down and violently rips the tape off my mouth, leaving my lower lip split and bleeding.

"Say hello to your team, dear!" He grabs my chin and forcefully turns my chin towards the camera.

"Now, which toy to play with first…" he walks over to the cart, deliberately taking his time. Picking one sharp thing up just to put it back and choose another.

He eventually selects a long wooden pole.

He stands by my side as he raises the pole and brings it down to my back, the impact making a sharp CRACK!

I grit my teeth against the stinging burn.

Focus on happy thoughts…

CRACK!

Dad…Clint…

CRACK!

The workshop…my bow…

CRACK!

My suit…

CRACK!

My team…

CRACK! CRACK!

Please hurry…

A howling, sobbing, shrieking scream finally bursts from my mouth as Loki gives my back one last particularly violent swing before walking out, careful to avoid the growing blood puddle.

Loki pauses just before the door, not even turning back as he speaks. "Oh, and one last thing."

He snaps his fingers again, causing a torrent of ice-cold water to pour only over me, never hitting the ground, leaving me shivering and cold in my ripped thin t-shirt.

The door closes with a thudding finality.

I take a quick scope of my injuries. My back is a torn, raw, freely-bleeding mess. My t-shirt is shredded in back. My chest hurts, partially because about half my ribs are shattered and partially because I think the water invaded my reactor, the light is staring to flicker and spark.

My knees are bruised beyond recognition from the unforgiving floor, and my mouth has more blood in it than saliva. I finally spit a glob of blood on the ground, thankful for the missing gag.

I'm panting like a dog – or my dad after a run.

Thoughts of my dad bring tears to my eyes. The last thing we did before I got kidnapped was argue.

I may be eighteen, but right now I need my dad to find me and help me and take me home.

I let exhaustion overcome me, and I fall awkwardly onto my side, not even caring that I'm lying in a pool of blood that was supposed to be inside me because I'm hurt, I'm shivering, my lifeline isn't exactly stable, and I'm just so tired.

The last thing my blurry vision catches is the red light on the camera blinking out.

A/N

Should I do another Clint or Tony or someone else POV about them watching the video of what just happened? I might be able to upload it today if you guys review with yes or no.

Keep reading and reviewing please!