What If... HYDRA Got Hold of Loki?

it's all for nothing

The sun has long since set by the time Pierce and Dr. List come back. The former is dragging along with him the cage Loki slept in the night before; the latter, a bag that Loki's sure he doesn't want to look inside of.

Loki's given up the pacing, and instead, he leans against the wall, exhausted, as far from the door as he can get to buy himself at least another few seconds of peace.

"How you doin', Loki?" Pierce asks, not an ounce of sincerity in the question.

"Not well," is his honest reply. Does he have to be honest in response to these questions? Natasha only told him to listen; she never told him to be truthful. It feels as though it's implied that he not lie, that listening involves answering truthfully, but maybe it doesn't. Maybe he doesn't have to.

"Oh, I bet," Pierce says, and the amusement he wears would be infuriating if Loki had the energy to feel anything but pain and fatigue. "Well, don't worry; the doc's back to give you a once-over before we let you rest."

Dr. List beckons to him with one finger. "Come here."

Loki hardly feels as though he can walk, and yet he does, forced against his better judgment to approach the doctor. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pierce setting up his cage for the night, and the dash of hope he'd had that he'd only have to use it the one time is dashed.

"Let me see," Dr. List says, more to himself than to Loki. He presses two fingers against Loki's abdomen–

Loki cries out in pain, stumbling away from him though he knows it will only prolong this torture.

Dr. List sighs and gestures behind him. "Go over there, your back against the wall."

He doesn't want to do it. He knows what will come next. Dr. List will go back to poking and prodding and bringing about as much pain as he possibly can, and Loki will be helpless to defend himself against it. But Natasha told him to listen, and Dr. List gave him an order, so, reluctantly, he stands with his back pressed firmly against the wall and braces himself for the worst.

This time, instead of using only two fingers, Dr. List presses his full hand against his abdomen, and Loki once again cries out in agony. Dr. List is unphased. He presses his hand to the other side of the incision, and he earns the same response.

Nobody's told Loki to watch this time, so he lifts his gaze to the ceiling, staring helplessly at the lights. Even without looking, he can feel the blood dripping from the wound. It was always how this was going to go. He wonders if that was the plan; if they wanted to draw more blood, as though they haven't taken enough already.

"It looks good," Dr. List tells him, turning his attention to the bag he carries and rifling through it.

"It certainly does not feel it," Loki mutters. He's not convinced that this so-called "doctor" knows how to care for a wound. He doubts he knows how to assess it; how to mend it; he certainly didn't know how to properly stitch it.

"Give it time," Dr. List says, a bit condescending in his tone, though Loki's sure he has much more experience with wounds than this man. "Now, we want to make sure the wound doesn't get infected. That would definitely delay our progress."

Loki huffs. Progress. What progress do they think they're making? They're doing nothing but causing him pain. They're not going to gain anything from this. This is all for nothing; suffering without a reason. He knows that, and he has to believe that, even if they won't admit it, they know that it's useless, too. No, they're doing this because they enjoy it, nothing more. And it's miserable.

Dr. List pulls a little plastic bottle from his bag. His hand covers the label, though it doesn't stop Loki from trying to figure out what this is. Poison? Some kind of drug? A new form torture, he's sure.

Dr. List takes out a towel, then sets his bag down, turning his attention back to Loki. He bunches the towel up and rests it beneath the bottom of the incision, and Loki eyes it uncomfortably. This isn't going to be fun. He can already tell.

The doctor screws the lid off of the container and tosses it on the ground. "This may sting, just a bit." He rests the edge of the bottle against Loki's skin, just above where the cut begins, and then, slowly, carefully, he begins to pour.

Sting does not cover the pain it causes. Loki screams, writhing in pain, but that only makes it worse as the liquid slips into every little crease and crevice of the wound. The doctor barks an order at him, but he can't hear it over his agonized cries. He can't take this any longer. He feels as though he's on fire, as though he's going to burn from the inside out until there's nothing left of him for them to torture.

Until finally, finally, it stops. The doctor stops pouring, though the fire within him still burns hot. Loki grabs the towel, gripping it tight until his fingers begin to cramp, and slowly, his face scrunched in pain, he sinks to the ground – but, just as he was ordered, his back remains against the wall.

The stinging sensation in his face has grown all too familiar over these last few days, and Loki's given up trying to hide it. When the sobs come, he lets them. He doesn't care that it hurts. It already does. He doesn't care if he looks weak. He knows he is. Right now, he just wants to cry. And that's what he's going to do.

Dr. List just sighs, and there's a hint of frustration in it. Loki waits for the next order. Stand up. Stop crying. But it doesn't come. For once, even in their presence, he has no order to follow. That will change soon enough, he's sure, but right now, he has nothing to do but cry.

Pierce and Dr. List begin speaking to each other, but Loki can't make out what they're saying. He doesn't care what they're saying. He should care. He should pay attention. But he doesn't. He can't bring himself to. He doesn't want to know what else they're going to do to him. If today is any indication, it's going to be far beyond anything he could dream of.

He has a few minutes to himself while they talk. It's a miserable few minutes filled with nothing but tears, but it's something. It's better than their constant torment.

Dr. List nudges him with his foot. "Stand up."

Loki runs his hands down his face, wiping the tears from his eyes, and forces himself to stand up. He leans against the wall behind him, squeezing his eyes shut as the movement sends a wave of pain through his body.

"Away from the wall," the doctor says.

Loki opens his eyes and steps away from the wall.

Dr. List grabs the towel from his hands and tosses it aside. Loki watches warily as he reaches back into his bag, but, this time, he only pulls out a large roll of gauze. He tapes one end to Loki's back and begins to wrap it around him, over and over and over again. The pressure against the wound hurts, and it only grows worse with every pass the gauze makes, but Loki does his best not to flinch of grimace too much, not because he doesn't want to look weak but because he knows it will only hurt more.

When the wound is wrapped, Dr. List tapes the gauze to itself, then takes a step back, admiring his handiwork. Loki looks down at himself, and he frowns. This is awful. This isn't going to provide any form of protection. It might keep the blood in, but that's all it will do. It's certainly not worth the pain.

But Dr. List seems content with his work, and Loki doesn't dare raise a complaint. If this is what he's supposed to wear, he's going to wear it.

"Alright, Loki," Pierce says, patting the top of the cage. "I think it's time for bed, don't you?"

Bed.

As if this dog cage could be called that.

Still, he was asked a question, so he responds with a mumbled, "Yes, sir," and makes his way over to the cage.

The side door is already open, so Loki slowly lowers himself to all fours, though it kills him to do it. It uses too many abdominal muscles that are too sore to work properly. But Loki crawls inside anyway, doing his best to ignore the pain. Much like the night before, he has to sit on his calves to fit, and he leans his body forward, his wounded abdomen pressing into his thighs. He whimpers softly. If he thought last night was bad, tonight will surely be a lot worse.

"Goodnight, Loki," Pierce says. "We'll see you in the morning."

He covers the cage with a blanket.

And the world goes black.