Training
Spaceship Sanctuary II
En Route To Xandar Prime
Loki watched in amusement as Thanos’s latest thug fell for his illusion. As he watched, the three armed, two legged, half cybernetic monstrosity to nature reared back and delivered a crippling blow to the wall ringing their little arena. He wasn’t stupid enough to admit it, but he was actually enjoying these trials; even this last.
The purple slaver had thrown him into the ring against his cast of twisted children almost immediately. In reality the various bouts had been all too easy, almost child’s play. Apparently, his court of cutthroats had no experience with figments of any caliber, let alone the masterful illusions he was capable of creating.
This fight had been bit more of a challenge. He may even have lost it had he not recognized that his opponent was seeing into the infrared range. If it hadn’t been for the fact that heat vision is not as precise as standard sight the thing would probably have gotten ahold of him while he was still dabbling in standard invisibility. He shuddered to think of what those three arms might have done to him.
Besides that, he’d seen what had happened to those he bested in the ring; well, the ones that survived anyway. Once was enough for that experience as far as he was concerned.
Once he’d realized what was going on Loki had adjusted his tactics subtly. He’d found it rather insulting that Thanos thought he couldn’t create illusions of heat as well as matter. True, he’d never spent the time to master such illusions; he could never have created a perfect replica of his body heat the way he could duplicate his image.
But he was able to fill the room with the illusion of heat, effectively rendering that sight advantage useless. Forced to utilize its normal sight, the hapless fool was in the same boat as all Loki’s previous victims.
Still, it wouldn’t do to allow his natural inclination to arrogance to blind him to the very real danger Thanos’s children represented. For instance, he’d noted that many of them had augmented hearing, some almost to the point of having echolocation. That was why he’d chosen to remain stationary as his next victim sparred with his light duplicate. Had it any brains it would probably have noted the lack of sounds the weightless apparition’s footfalls made, but blind obedience came at a price. One Loki had never been willing to pay.
Loki held his breath as the shadow boxing match worked its way back over to his side of the arena; he didn’t need the thing hearing his respiration, and the longer it was willing to play the fool the better, as far as he was concerned.
He was right to be so cautious. As his opponent stepped past him, he took one step. One little step, but it was enough to alert his cyborg adversary to his true location. It whirled away from his duplicate, searching in vain for the source of the steps.
Loki’ mirth evaporated in a flash as he realized that if the thing got any closer it would probably be able to see through his heat screen. It couldn’t completely hide him; a body gave off a varying array of infrared intensities that he couldn’t possibly duplicate at the moment. It was more like an incredibly brightly lit room. Nearly blinding, but if a sighted creature got within a few feet they could still make out that something was there. That would be not good.
The creature sniffed the air like a bloodhound. Loki wasn’t worried about that. All it could gain from scent was a general location. It already had that. He was far more concerned about the slight burning sensation in his lungs. All the thing had to do was continue standing there. Eventually he’d have to breathe.
A cold anger filled Loki at the thought of losing. But at the center of that rage was an even colder fear of what awaited him if he lost this engagement. Either emotion by itself was hard enough for him to deal with, but when fear and anger began feeding on each other there was no stopping them.
Loki forced his way through the emotional brew and considered his options. He needed the creature to back off so he could quell the rising volcano in his lungs. Then he’d try sneaking up on it again; perhaps if he could make a loud noise in one direction while approaching it from the other. It would take careful timing; he’d seen the things reflexes. But he only needed a moment’s advantage.
A moment’s advantage. That thought careened off the walls of his mind as another idea began to form. If he couldn’t get rid of the monster perhaps, he could use its strength against it. He very slowly moved his left hand around his body, trying desperately to keep his clothes from making any betraying rustling sounds the thing might hear. It wasn’t easy considering the contrary messages for speed coming from his abused lungs.
As his hand cleared his hip, he flicked his wrist, sending the knife it held on an arc further behind him. He’d considered trying to throw the blade over his adversary’s head in order to get it to turn away from him towards the noise, but rejected the notion for two reasons: first, he’d have had to put his arm in the already too narrow (in his opinion) gap between them, which might have been enough for it to sense him. And second, because knives flying through the air did make noise. It wasn’t much, but if it was going right over the thing’s overly acute hearing it could well be loud enough.
So, he tossed the knife behind him. As his opponent heard the sound it predictably stepped towards it. That’s when Loki struck, using the beast’s own momentum to help drive his second knife into the creature’s throat with a speed that a mongoose would envy, heaving air into his lungs at the same time.
Despite the viscous wound in its neck the creature still managed to make a counterstrike with its short sword. Loki barely managed to dodge the somewhat wild swipe before darting back in. As the need for stealth evaporated Loki’s rage drove in on him with a vengeance, causing him to stab the creature repeatedly while snarling insults in Asgardian.
Its frantic attempts to defend itself from his attacks became more and more uncoordinated as Loki stabbed it again and again. Grey blood spurted out of each wound as he ripped his jagged daggers out of its flesh. His front was covered in its blood. It was lying in a pool of the stuff.
Eventually it stopped moving altogether. Loki stood over his victim and gasped for breath.
“You show promise,” a deep voice said from above. Thanos’s throne was positioned high above his coliseum so he could look in on all of the half spherical depressions that served as arenas. It was shrouded in a darkness that did not seem to affect the user, but it was impossible to tell when Thanos was actually there. Loki whipped around, collecting himself. A thousand replies crossed his mind, all left unsaid. It’s hard to be belligerent to someone who inflicts indescribable pain as a form of amusement.
“Twenty-three contests,” the voice continued in an almost approving tone “and twenty three victories. Impressive. But then,” he added as his tone shaded more into the ranges of threat “there is the small matter of the twenty-one corpses I’ve paid for those victories. You will stop killing your siblings,” he added with surety.
“They aren’t my siblings,” Loki replied without thinking. Normally he was smart enough to just keep quiet around Thanos, but it just slipped out.
Thanos leapt from the observation throne to land in front of him in a traditional super hero landing. It was at least a hundred-foot drop, yet Thanos stood up as if he’d been simply kneeling. He loomed over the Asgardian Frost Giant.
“Oh?” Thanos asked as if Loki had said something humorous. That worthy was smart enough to keep silent this time. There was only one emotion worse than anger that can be provoked from a torturer, and Loki had just elicited it.
“Perhaps you don’t believe you belong with my children, Son of Odin?” he asked, his tone shifting from amusement to contempt. Loki swallowed the affirmation that tried to escape his lips.
“You feel you are nothing like them; that you are somehow better?” Thanos continued to prod. Again, Loki was silent. He was in full damage control mode. He knew he’d screwed up; all he could hope for was to minimize the damage he’d done. Yet, nothing came to mind. No form of placation or flattery seemed enough to sway the dreadnought in front of him.
“Ah, I see,” Thanos said suddenly in barely veiled mock sincerity. “This is my oversight. You haven’t had a chance to bond with any of them. Of course,” he added thoughtfully “in order to bond with them you will need some common ground. Come with me,” he ordered before pivoting on his heel and striding up the bowl.
Loki swallowed again in apprehension as he followed. He’d seen Thanos’s power; if the sadistic bastard wanted him somewhere there was very little Loki could do about it directly. Fortunately, indirect methods were his forte anyway.
Thanos led him out of the coliseum and through the maze of corridors in the ship. Upon his arrival Loki had initially thought about escape, but he still wasn’t sure where anything was. Sometimes he thought that he almost had the layout of the place figured out. Other times he was certain the interior corridors were rearranging themselves. It seemed ludicrous, but if he’d learned one thing it was not to underestimate Thanos’s capabilities.
Still, neither Thanos nor any of his goons seemed to have trouble going where they needed to, which meant there must be some system to the design he was missing.
All such ruminations cut short as the door Thanos had led him to opened. He might not have known how to get to this room (nor would he ever come here willingly) but that didn’t stop him from recognizing it. He’d done as much as he could to avoid ending up here again.
It was the first place they’d brought him to after they’d captured him. Thanos had personally escorted him here, to his torture chamber. Apparently, he liked to administer the orientation tortures for all his new children personally.
He’d fussed about picking the right machine for his newest ‘child’ like a wine connoisseur picking the right drink for a meal. Instruments of reassociation, he’d called them. Once chosen, Loki was strapped in. Then Thanos had activated it. And, after an eternity of what seemed to be unendurable pain, Thanos had informed him in that smug, all powerful voice, that what he’d experienced was the machine’s lowest setting.
He’d done everything he could to avoid ending up back here. And yet, somehow, he’d known it was all futile. Despite all of his placations and honey tongued answers, somehow, he’d known that Thanos wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear any one of his new recruits screaming in agony.
Was that why he’d taken such pleasure in killing as many of Thanos’s children as possible? Had a part of him had known that he would inevitably end up here? Or had it been pure blind contrariness that had pushed him? Had he simply ignored the consequences he had to know were coming, buried them in some nebulous distant possible future that was easy to ignore?
But now, as he gazed on that machinery of misery, those consequences were decidedly not distant, and even less nebulous; it was right there, gloating at him like the massive maw of some horrible creature, eliciting a dread from him he’d never known.
He no longer cared if he could find his way through the ship or not. He no longer cared about his plan to patiently wait for an opportunity to escape. He was not going back in there.
He cast an illusion of himself while turning invisible and backing away. It was the best illusion he’d ever cast, in his opinion. It even came with the sound of breathing. He couldn’t help but admire his craftsmanship as he stepped as lightly as possibly down the corridor.
“I can smell your terror” Thanos said calmly before he’d made a dozen steps. Loki had just enough time to wonder if that announcement had been addressed to him or his illusion before the deck plates he was stepping so softly on warped into metal fists, holding him fast.
Thanos turned around and grinned directly at Loki’s invisible form. “As I said,” he called out contemptuously without turning “your lies do not work on me.”
Realizing the futility of keeping up the distraction Loki dropped his illusions. “I had to try,” he said, attempting his boyish grin and coming up short.
“I’d have expected nothing less,” Thanos replied as he stomped over to the ensnared Asgardian. “Don’t worry,” he said placatingly as he wrapped one of those gigantic fists around Loki’s body. The deck plates immediately retracted into their normal form. “I won’t hold this pathetic escape attempt against you,” he assured the illusionist. “This time,” he added, bringing Loki’s face within inches of his own.
Then the monster carried him effortlessly into the room and dumped him into the chair like device. Of course, calling it a chair was a bit like calling Hitler neurotic; it belied the horrible nature of the subject.
There was a half second window in which Loki could have tried again to escape, but at what cost? Thanos had already seen through his last illusion, and Loki was far less centered now than he had been then. In the end he let the device close over him.
It was a different device than the last one. Apparently Thanos liked to mix it up when it came to his tortures. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but he was leaning heavily towards not.
“Let me see, let me see,” Thanos murmured as he consulted a console. “Nope not that one, nope, nope, nope,” he said as if he were a physician looking for the best treatment to an ailment. Of course, in his twisted mind that might actually have been how he saw it. “Ah, here we are,” Thanos said, ratcheting Loki’s panic up a few degrees past boiling. He’d have pleaded for leniency if he could have found the means of controlling his mouth. A small part of him was actually grateful that he seemed to have forgotten how.
But, watching Thanos eagerly flip through the settings in order to give Loki a custom-tailored torture experience was more than he could handle. “Please,” he heard himself saying “I did what you asked. I won the fights.”
“Did you?” Thanos asked, sounding suddenly amused.
“You could have said it wasn’t a fight to the death,” Loki continued. “How can I possibly follow the rules when I don’t know what they are?”
“There is only one rule; do not oppose my purpose,” Thanos explained. “Pain is the ultimate teacher,” he continued as he continued to fiddle with the settings. “It shows us our limits. It makes us aware of the level of control in our lives; of who is truly in control,” he added sinisterly.
“I know who’s in control,” he said fearfully, placatingly. He hated himself for it, but the honest truth was that he would do anything to be out of that room.
“No, you don’t,” Thanos replied with a grin. “Not yet.” Then he activated the device.
Loki screamed. He screamed and screamed until the pain response knocked him unconscious. He awoke to more screaming, quickly recognizing it as his own. He screamed until he was hoarse. He screamed until his throat bled. He screamed until the very act had cracked three of his ribs. He screamed in pain as Thanos watched on, luxuriating in it.
And when Thanos finally shut the device off, he thanked him.