The walk back didn't take long. Their path was obscured by the devastation left in their wake, even more apparent as they passed by. The city of New York was barely recognizable after the attack. Many of the buildings were maimed if not toppled. It would take quite some time to rebuild but for now their stomachs were growling. There were sirens in the distance echoing in every direction. Indicating rescue efforts have ensued.

They approached the shawarma shop which mirrored the rest of the city. Its smashed facade had caved in the front door which looked very inviting. The place was a bit more pitiful than they expected, still overall thrilled to see it was structurally sound and still standing, or leaning to be accurate. It seemed the inhabitants were unharmed and in good spirits. The lot entered the shop with eager intentions, surprising the staff who remained picking up the pieces. Surely the last thing they expected were customers to walk in.

The several on staff turned in shock to see what brave souls were eager enough to venture out in this. They'd been watching the news coverage of the invasion. The little television perched in the corner still played even with a thick crack down the middle and clinging to the wall. They all braced themselves as everything fell apart just outside their doors. They witnessed everything huddled up in here, praying for the calamity to cease. Left in disbelief when it finally did. The image of those ugly creatures burned into their minds. It didn't seem real. Even with those things dead and littering the streets it didn't seem possible.

The group shuffled deeper inside. One of the staff instantly recognized Tony which wasn't a surprise especially considering he wasn't particularly camera shy. He approached the counter which happened to be smashed in two along with their register.

"Hey, I assume your systems are down, I hope the kitchen was spared." The man in the back nodded, holding a thumbs up. He couldn't hide his excitement. "Awesome, we've been dying to try some shawarma." He placed the order, handing over several large bills for them to divy up. They were more than thrilled, thanking him. He nodded, turning back to his companions.

The others worked silently sliding together two tables that were the least bit damaged. Pulling up the dust and debris covered seats. Half brushing them off before falling one by one like dominoes taking their seats. Tony waved a thanks back to the staff before turning to their makeshift table where they'd saved him a seat. Barton and Natasha rested their feet on each other's chairs. Engaging in less than small talk. Bruce folded his arms on the table, nestling his head within them as he rested his eyes.

Steve sat stoic with his chin against his propped up palm. Looking out one of the shattered windows to the decimated streets. Eager to join the process. Sitting idle was exactly his forte but he figured they'd finish up here and return to deal with their captive. Tony comes back hoping to be the voice of positivity even though he was sure his hands were shaking. He didn't say anything as he took his seat. He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers on the table as he watched the staff work around the damage. From the read of the room it seemed they all had much on their mind.

Tony sat there, his eyes fixated on nothing in particular as his mind drifted back unwillingly. His memories turned dark, in the distance little twinklings of light littered his vision. For the longest time he gazed upon the stars wondering about life elsewhere. Much like a childish fantasy brushed aside by adulthood. He had no time for such inquisition. He'd become preoccupied with growing up. That he'd forgotten what it felt like to wonder, confined to his metal shell.

All he could do was put the armor on. Pray it would be enough to protect him. It could never change the fact he was just another fragile being in the grand scheme of things. He could only hide behind it for so long something was bound to change. If there's one thing he learned today, it's that he was utterly helpless. He drifted back, drenched in a cold sweat, remembering how powerless he was out there. The weightlessness of it all was amazingly terrifying. He shuddered at the thought of it, so far from home without any thought to how he might return. It happened so fast he wasn't mentally prepared. There was no time for debate, weighing the pros and cons would be irrelevant in the aftermath, just seconds away from total destruction.

His heart was beating fast thinking about it, probably still in shock over everything that transpired. He was having a hard time accepting the fact he was out in space. He watched the missile collide with the mothership, the explosion was the last thing he could remember as he drifted back. He woke up on the ground completely unaware.

He thought back to it, subconsciously wrapping his arms around himself. The thought of being out there in space brought chills to his spine. It happened so fast like a dream still undeniably real. He swallowed hard, his throat sticking.

Today was a cruel reminder how weak they were to such entities. Left in the dark, unaware what might happen. He was able to stifle that feeling for now. That experience made him feel so small. Encompassing the fact he was alive, really sets everything else in perspective. He would still catch himself zoning out, luckily the others were just as predisposed. He hung his head, shaking off his anxiety. He closed his eyes, running his sweaty palms through his dirty hair, taking in a deep breath. He could smell their food cooking. It made his mouth water, letting out a shaky exhale.

Even though he was sure his stomach hadn't recovered from the fall. He had to make an attempt. Settling his nerves, however, would prove to be troublesome. He sighed inwardly, craving a bit of normalcy after all of the crazy over the past few days. Who could blame him? He shifted his sights to Thor who seemed just as preoccupied, he couldn't imagine what it must be like. Whatever he's going through, he hid it well. Still there was something somber in his eyes.

Their minds drifted in and out, wondering what could've been and what will be. It didn't take long for their food to get here. It looked amazing, a drastic contrast to the ambiance. A few solid minutes passed by where they didn't speak, just tearing into their food, some more eager than others.

Thor was mulling over the days leading up to this moment, coming to a close. Even though this was the moment he'd been waiting for, he wasn't looking forward to it. Unable to stifle this feeling. There's no telling what might transpire, when he returns home.

It'd felt like it was yesterday when they lost him. He thought about that day often, the image was burned into his mind, forever remaining one of his biggest regrets. Thor never entertained the idea that he was gone. Even though his presence was shrouded. They never stopped searching for him, holding onto that foolish idea that he was out there somewhere, alive. He could feel it.

They had no idea where he'd been all this time. When he finally turned up, it wasn't a surprise he was determined to take Earth, after their history here. It would be a bittersweet victory. He hadn't expected so much trouble to follow. When he got here, Loki was hardly recognizable. He remembered that look in his eye, unable to place it. Like he was feral.

That didn't seem like Loki. He knew him well but that was a long time ago. It'd been over a year since he'd seen him last. There's no telling where he's been and what he's been up to since then. He hoped that when he came here he would be able to reason with him. Proving time and time again to be pointless. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with them.

Loki had ample opportunity to take him out. He didn't understand why he didn't take the chance. His side stung from where he stabbed him but he paid it no mind. Wouldn't be the first time. He noticed how small the blade was. He knew something like that wouldn't be able to really damage him, slow him down sure but what was the point. He was dumbfounded. Certain things he did made him wonder. His mind drifted in and out trying to comprehend what had happened.

Thor was confused and conflicted. He couldn't believe he allowed himself to think there could be a chance. He needed to convince himself Loki had become a man incapable of taking responsibility or having any sense of remorse. He gave him ample opportunity to make amends. Way more than he deserved, throwing away every single chance. Thor was just as disappointed in himself for allowing it to get this far. Wishing there was something he could do to alter this course. All he wanted was to bring him home, things to go back to normal. He clenched his jaw, knowing there would be no returning to the life they once knew.

He would have to come to terms with the fact that Loki was not the same person he once knew. It seemed Loki was okay with cutting ties and disclaiming their family. As much as it hurt his heart, this was his chosen path. He would have to deal with the backlash. These actions can cause a ripple effect and there's no telling what may come of this.

He said he was going to bring his brother back, he just hoped it wouldn't be in chains. He clenched his fist, cursing him for being so difficult. Why wouldn't he forfeit his foolish ideals and come to terms with reality. There's no fighting this. He was smarter than this so why is he so reluctant to admit. To do something so foolish and flashy, was unlike him.

Thor released the tension in his jaw, narrowing his brows thoughtfully. His hands were tied. Eyes red-rimmed and tired from a combination of frustration and something hard to distinguish. He stared straight ahead, unbothered by those around him, preoccupied with the dreaded task at hand. He noticed the rest had more or less finished their food. Signifying they would be leaving soon. He let out a heavy sigh, figuring it was time to bite the bullet.

The sun was sinking into the evening, enveloping the ruined city in a warm blanket of light. It'd been well over half an hour since they left Loki alone. He remained placid and still like a wax figure. The only distinction was a soft wheeze that resonated within the open space. Bright light shined in from slits at the top of the paneling which happened to be the only connection between the front and back. There wasn't much space between them, maybe a finger's length, just enough for the orange hue of the setting sun to encompass the hull.

Loki was currently slumped back in his seat unbothered, his fingers interlocked and eyes closed. Even as the warm rays hit his face he seemed perfectly content. He never had a problem sleeping in uncomfortable positions, even in bad condition, it was just something he got used to over time. His head lolled against the metal paneling, resting in the corner. The cold soothing the knots forming on the back of his skull.

Even though his eyes were sealed shut, underneath they darted back and forth as if unconsciously looking for something. The occasional facial twitch indicated his troubled thoughts. His face was scrunched, brows hardened and slick with sweat. His cheeks were flush in contrast to his pale skin. Hint of another underlying issue. Aside from his steady yet irregular breathing, the subtle wheeze showed no signs of ceasing. The sound of crackling fluid in his lungs was enough to set anyone on edge. More accustomed to the feeling than anything, normalizing this sort of misery as if it was meant to be. He shivered unconsciously as hellish images plagued him. Absent-mindedly drifting back to the most wretched times of his life.

…

Everything happened so fast. One moment he's badgering on like a stubborn child who has yet to get his way. Next he's isolated amongst the stars. Dark veins crept along the side of his neck rising as the lack of oxygen took its toll. He thrusted his head back, gasping for air. The inability to breathe made it easier to accept the fact that he was about to die out here. He never thought he'd go out like this, wondering where it all went wrong. He'd done so much there's no telling when he started to derail.

His mind wavered, feeling as though he was plummeting a great height, but without concern or worry. Just freefalling in the darkness of space no idea where he might end up. In a way it was peaceful. Allowing whatever amount of worry to just roll off. He had to admit there was a certain serenity in accepting fate. Although suffocating in the vacuum of space far from prying eyes wasn't the path he had in mind.

Suddenly time flashed forward and he was being dragged by his lanky arms down a dark and dingy corridor. His boots made an uneasy sound as they scuffed against the metal floor, resonating in the open space. He hadn't the vaguest idea of how he'd ended up here. Figuring he must've blacked out when a ship came along. He lifted his head, curious who plucked him from the cosmos. He caught a glimpse of two towering figures stringing him along.

They were vile, ugly beasts. He took a longer look, noticing what particular race they belonged to. He was surprised to see he'd fallen into the hands of the Chitauri. Although they were plenty in number they were not very organized beings. Without proper direction they remained forgotten scrounging from one rock to the next. It seems someone has found use for them. To tame such callused and mindless creatures was formidable. Whoever captured him was no amateur. He didn't pay these creatures much mind, their master however captivated his attention.

He noticed another tall figure walking alongside them. It was hard to tell in the lack of light but it was a creepy grey figure with a hood over his head. His eyes lingered, falling on the double thumb. He cocked a brow noting a strange being indeed. He could hear another heavier pair of footsteps trailing behind them, unable to sense their presence. He shrugged it off for now, knowing there were much more prudent things to worry about.

His body was too weak to manage any form of escape attempt. He allowed his head to fall only to realize something cold was latched around his neck. It was a collar. Something about that didn't settle well with him. His muscles tensed and he could feel an anger rising from his chest. He was no animal, but he would show them a wild beast. He balled his fists, making the first unsavory motion. Unaware the being behind him was watching his every move.

Something hard hit him in the back of his head, blood trickled down the side of his temple and he went limp again. Any eagerness to flee slipping away. He hardly shifted a muscle but it didn't matter. His body fought hard against him as he slipped unconscious.

He wakes to the chains stringing alongside him, fixated to various positions. Only to realize he was attached to the end of them. The sound of locks latching rused a skittish reaction. Although there was no escaping these bonds. His head pulsed viciously against the surface of a table. His heart thudded off in his chest in pace with his rapid breaths.

An uneasy feeling arose in his chest as his hands were fixated at his sides. The cuff edges dug into his skin as they pulled against him.

His capture leaned in close. Relishing in his stifled panic. He grinned, mouth full of rancid yellow teeth, a cover over his eyes like an executioner's hood. Still Loki could feel his eyes on him. Peering into his soul. One of them made the first move and something sharp ran the length of his chest. Blood beaded along the line in his flesh. He grit his teeth allowing the feeling to roll off, it would be their goal to procure a reaction out of him. He clenched his fist, eyeing his assailant and smiled.

"That tickles." Loki scoffed.

He held a habit of joking in situations of which he had no control. It was a defense mechanism after all that he'd honed well over the years. Alas he wasn't very threatening. Much like a barking dog now beaten. They elected to ignore him. Silence was the only answer he received as he lay there desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation as another blade sliced his flesh, coiling around his side. Loki grit his teeth, rearing against his restraints as the feeling blossomed into something unbearable.

He lay there desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation as another blade sliced his flesh, coiling around his side. Loki grit his teeth, rearing against his restraints as the feeling blossomed into something unbearable. He tightened his jaw, arching his back against the table. Clawed hands held him down, digging into his wounds. He let out a stifled yelp. Which gained an alien chirp of delight in response to his discomfort. He never realized he'd be so easy to break. Loki couldn't fool himself. Unwilling to accept the fact that he was spoiled. To have never been subjected to such anguish until now.

Loki tugged against the straps but it was useless. His muscles contracted as they sliced him again and again, carving his body while he wriggled against the surface, cutting deep into him. He tried to lift his head, pull himself free but it was as if this collar magnetized to the surface. Squeezing the life out of him. He held his breath until he couldn't take it anymore. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the affliction. He squeezed his eyes shut and soon the halls resonated with Loki's broken screams.

…

He mirrored the struggle in real time, feeling as though he was actually there, unaware of the fact he was trapped in a dream. His breathing was hastened and uneven. His eyes darted beneath their lids, his face held in a tight expression as feverish memories collided into a string of vaguely twisted details. Too outrageous to be legitimate still he remembered the damage being inflicted as if it'd just happened. The pain he felt was very real and it carried over as if he was reliving it. The only evidence being the haunting dreams while he sleeps. He gets no rest when he wakes confused and conflicted.

His breathing hitched as he curled his arm absentmindedly around himself, clutching his stomach. He seethed as fresh pain was procured, realizing these were not dreams but something else entirely. He touched the tender places on his body with no recollection of receiving the damage. The thought of it made his stomach churn. Carrying a bit of lingering disbelief. He panted heavily through his nose, taking a minute to place where he was. Reassured that this was the real world. The vague memory of being placed in this box surfaced, as did the lingering pain.

He arched his brows woefully, accepting the fact but unable to pull himself from the open abyss within his mind. There were holes in his memories, if he tried to think back. He would more often than not be redirected, It was very strange. He'd never had problems with his memory before. To be unable to recall a year's worth of events was troublesome.

He'd figured there was a reason why he couldn't entirely remember. Believing they manipulated him in far worse ways than he could've imagined. Vivid flashes of cruel treatment crossed his fractured mind, dull ache throbbed in sync radiating from correlating places on his body. All he could remember was laying back, strapped down to an observation table while he was poked and prodded. Gradually the treatment became worse and worse. Yet he didn't understand why. Almost like it'd become a contest to see how much he could withstand before succumbing to his wounds. Only to patch him up and do it all over again. He could feel the blood rush out of him at the thought.

He didn't understand what's wrong with him. He desperately needed help but was too terrified to ask. He didn't want to cause more trouble than he already had. He didn't even know where to start. Not that anyone would believe him. It's as though he was pushing gravel uphill and constantly sliding back the entire way. Yet there was no other way around till. In the end he'd have to voice his concerns. Just not yet. He couldn't handle an argument. Speaking used more energy than it should've. Draining him more than his demonizing thoughts. He just didn't have it in him. He hoped that with time he'd be able to convince someone of his ordeal but first he would have to remember what exactly happened to him.

Although the memory was vague and distant, his subconscious he was able to recall things that were blocked out for their protection. His heart thudded, feeling the anger rising. The look in his eyes was prominent and stern as if he'd just been shown the truth. The veil's been slipping for a while now but this is the first time he's able to recall such intricate memories. He could only make out so much in detail, partial to believing it was just a fabrication of a torn mind. Why would he make up such things, there's no fooling himself. He needed to figure out what happened to him. In its entirety. To fill in the gaps will be troublesome.

He didn't even remember acquiring the spear or stepping through the portal for that matter. A majority of his time spent was a blur. Thinking back, most of those vile emotions that'd consumed him upon arrival had fizzled away, leaving a bitter taste. He was sure it was the reason. Even now he could feel the effects of such strong magic. He seemed so far from himself it's terrifying. To be so out of touch made him feel helpless and small. The fact that he allowed himself to become a puppet and do something foolish like this was unbecoming. Even worse to not recall.

He was visibly frustrated. He wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. Settling with the actuality that he may never see the light of day again. He shifted his sights to the cabin, noting a couple of figures passing by, making brief breaks in the light. Moments later there was a creak at the door that perked his ears. He didn't budge, although he was keenly aware. The furthest thing from relaxed. He remained idle, as if taking it all in. A moment of clarity was just the thing he needed to move forward. Knowing that no matter what happened or what others may think or claim to know. His past was just as much a mystery to himself. The time for regrets and optimistic onset has long passed. Whatever may come he would take it in stride. Broken as he may be, he knew who he was.

There was a creak to his side when suddenly the doors swung open, tangerine rays of sunshine flooded the back of the van, temporarily blinding him. He turned away the light too bright for his eyes although his ears worked fine. The sound of rifles cocking in sync did little to ruse him. He lifted his head, allowing his dark green eyes to fall on the silhouettes of those who'd left him to his vices.

"Get up, It's time to go."