What If... HYDRA Got Hold of Loki?

made to watch

Warning: very dangerous surgical processes by a non-medical professional. (if this makes you uncomfortable, you won't really miss anything by skipping this chapter)

Loki doesn't sleep well.

He can't move in this cage. He can't make himself comfortable. Even the slight shifts from side to side can't help his aching knees, screaming at him to stretch his legs. His back hurts, his neck hurts, his head hurts, his legs hurt; everything hurts. And there's nothing he can do about it.

It only gets worse when the noises begin.

At first, it's just voices, talking in hushed whispers that he can't make any sense of. They're talking about him, of course. He knows that much. They're talking about what they're going to do with him today, he's sure. But they speak so vaguely that he can't make out what their plans are.

Then it's not just voices. Then it's banging, clanging, scraping. They're making quite the racket out there, and he doesn't know why. He can't tell if that's better or worse than having to watch.

He doesn't know how long it goes on for – hours, it feels like, though that may be his helplessness and his apprehension speaking. But finally, the blanket is pulled off of his cage.

The sudden assault of the lights is blinding, and Loki squeezes his eyes shut. He should have known this was coming, though he doubts the knowledge would have prepared him for it.

"Rise and shine, Loki." It's Pierce's voice that greets him, far too cheerful for the situation.

Loki forces himself to open his eyes just a little bit, just enough to see the feet in front of him as they're walking to the side. The door of the cage clicks and swings open, and he doesn't know whether to be relieved that he can finally stretch his legs or terrified for what's coming next.

He waits until Pierce tells him to before he crawls out of the cage. He sits down on the ground and slowly stretches his legs out in front of him, grimacing as he tries to straighten his joints for the first time in hours. Somehow, everything hurts more now that he's out of the cage than it did while he was in it, and he really hopes he doesn't have to do this every day.

"How'd you sleep?" Pierce asks him cheerfully.

"Awful," Loki deadpans. He's sure that surprises nobody – and likely pleases everyone.

As his eyes begin to adjust to the light, he's able to open them more and more, but it's still too hard to make out his surroundings.

"I see you had your dinner," Pierce remarks. "And you didn't even spill a drop. Well done."

Loki scowls. Yes, he did eat his dinner, and what a wonderfully flavorless, cold porridge it was. He could hardly even reach the bowl with his finger through the cage; he had to use his magic to get it in his mouth, and in the dark, it was much harder than it may sound.

"I guess I should've told you last night," Pierce says, his voice filled with mock sympathy, "you're not supposed to eat for twelve hours before an operation. You mix food and anesthesia and you get..." He sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Well, you get not great things."

Loki can feel the blood drain from his face. "Operation?"

"Mm," Pierce hums. "I guess we're gonna have to skip the anesthesia – but you're a god, as you've reminded everybody multiple times as you tried to take over the world. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Loki swallows hard, and it burns his throat. A part of him wants something to drink. A part of him is afraid he'd puke it back up.

"Alright, up and at 'em." Pierce reaches down and hoists him to his feet, and Loki bites his cheek to keep from crying out. His knees were not ready for this.