Unworthy

Chapter 4.3

"How's his progress?" A raspy voice sounded from behind a motherboard. The control room was filled with miscellaneous monitors and flashing lights. Buttons littered the surface of every table and part of the wall. More disturbing than the poor lighting which tricked your perception was the other side of the window. It's picture a crumbled up man making no more movement than shallow, barley visible breaths.

"Stagnant as usual, I'm afraid I might bust him up a little too much. The last thing I need is for my trump card to be beaten to the point he's unrecognized." Thanos said, stepping into the shadowed room. He let the door swing shut with a thud. The only light produced in the room came from the small portal to Loki's jail cell.

"What do you suppose we do my Lord?" A strange man stood from his place behind to controls and bowed to Thanos. With his arms out stretched you could notice the purple pigment in his skin as well as the addition of an extra set of thumbs. He waited for the tyrant, just barley rivaling him in size, to give him an answer.

"It's time, fetch me the stone." He spoke in a menacing tone and the hooded creature in front of him rose from his seat, grinned a placid smile and walked out of the room without another word.

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Hours passed as the beaten prince remained motionless on the floor, utterly drenched in blood and filth. The trousers he'd worn since his arrival were in tatters and soiled with dirt and his own blood.

He slowly rustled himself back to consciousness although it would probably be easier to drift off back into nothingness than to feel the overwhelming pain. He knew something had to be done whether if it was to move a couple feet to the corner or look for a way out if that was at all possible.

He was pretty sure his back was broken. Most of his ribs and his arm had met a similar fate, all bent out of shape and twisted. His skin was a near translucent pale and coated in flakey brown as the blood dried. Some of his wounds had clotted and stopped bleeding but the few that had been cut deeper continued to flow.

He felt like he was going to be sick. The smell itself was that of vomit and decay. There were bones on the far side from where his head was settled; easy to say it was Thanos' victim prior to himself. His vision was slowly returning and he could see the busted through skull as it lye turned over against the wall. He'd overlooked the room multiple times and he always wondered about the ones who came before him. The occasional question surfaced in his head. Will this be me one day and how long from now will that be?

For a moment he felt fear, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since his foster father he told him stories of war when he was a child. Monsters that had slain many of his people or at least what he once thought were his people. He shivered from the atmosphere of the room almost like it weighed on him and the amount of blood he now lay in.

After while he felt like he was able to lift his head a little, wondering if he could pick his broken body up off the floor. He figured it was worth a try. Working his one good arm up underneath himself he heaved with whatever strength he could manage. He probably elevated a few inches off the ground before giving up and embracing the hard surface once more in a huff.

He gasped for air through his barely functioning lungs as his busted ribs took the impact. Unwilling he let of a whimper in pain.

Every part of him ached and cracked with each subtle move. He figured he'd be spending the night on the floor.