Asphyxia
Loki was choking.
Thanos was holding him by the throat and wouldn't let go, just watched gleefully as Loki got less and less air. He thought he could play the Mad Titan, but he had been caught and was paying dearly for his betrayal.
It was slow and painful, and all the while Loki flailed, moved around, tried to conjure up some spell, a dagger, something that would liberate him from this prison of not being able to breathe. The seconds passed and he was only getting weaker and weaker, his chances to free himself from that torment reducing drastically.
His neck hurt, badly. He was starting to feel light-headed, black spots blurring his vision. Was this really how he was going to go? After everything – he was letting some foe of the Avengers kill him? He should have been smarter, more careful... But he'd been hungry for glory, and for the acceptance not only of his brother's team, but also of the people of that planet he had once tried to conquer...
He'd found that admiration was much more satisfying that fear or hatred, and had planned to earn the love of this mortals by going after this terrible enemy himself and thus sparing the lives of their beloved Avengers. They would have to love him if he saved them all, wouldn't they?
But he'd been sloppy and he had been found out and beaten around. The proud god, made a bruised and abused wretch of a figure at the complete mercy of that who he had tried to defeat. A joke of a foe, never an Avenger, never really a true villain either. One little mistake, and everything had gone wrong. He had thought himself too good, too sly, and had been none of that.
He could hardly see anything by now, everything was dark and blurry. He couldn't feel his limbs properly, and could only hear Thanos laughing in the background. It angered him. It should be companions of his brother whose names he hadn't care to learn who were dying, not him. He was a survivor and he only appeared when it was convenient for him.
This was not convenient. This was painful.
Then his thoughts started becoming blurry, the words in his head made an unintelligible jumble. Thanos pushed harder, and Loki made a strangled sound. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe.
He was going under.
And there was a shock, and Thanos was frozen in place, paralyzed by some electric current.
Loki fell to the floor and tried to catch his breath, after coughing harshly and for long.
There was a hand that was being offered to him.
“Come on, we don't have a lot of time.”
His savior.
“Let's go.”
Loki looked up, took the hand and started moving.
“Agent... Hill.” He rasped, wanting to convey his gratitude. Sadly, his throat wasn't co-operating.
“Don't call me that. I had specifically told not to come here, not to do this.”
They quickly and efficiently got out of Thanos' hideout, and retrieved some inconspicuous clothing that Maria had left for this purpose. They even held hands, to pass as a regular couple, just strolling through the streets of New York, trying to forget the horrors of those fights they were seen in the TV.
Loki liked Miss Hill's style. Nobody thought of her, of the danger she could be while posing the obedient and effective Agent. Little more than a bureaucrat, some people would think. Surely Thanos didn't think that some SHIELD operative could affect his power, his mission. And Maria Hill had shut all of them up with her abilities, with her know-how, without any special power, and while keeping a low profile. Admirable, indeed.
Hill also appreciated Loki and his style. Nobody could play a double agent as well as he, who had in fact gotten much closer to Thanos than any of them ever could. He had a lot of understated strategical value, he was clearly a smart planner, and he had knowledge of the enemy that was invaluable. He was smart enough to make choices that would help him know more, and because he wasn't attached to any organization or team, he could do what he wanted. He would be a great asset to have, a god was always a good addition to their side.
A god who also had a badly bruised neck. And seemed to be running on survival instinct only. She knew how that felt, and she knew that the more they continued, the worse the crash would be. Maria “always business” Hill, decided they should take a moment. A breather.
There was an empty bench in one of the deserted parks, dressed like some tourist, Maria told Loki to next to her. He looked at her, confused.
“Just thought we could take a moment to... catch our breath.”
Ah, wordplay. Loki smiled at this near stranger who had saved his life, and sat. It wasn't long before exhaustion took over and he fell asleep, his head in Hill's shoulder.
Two of the universes most adept strategists, and there they were, in a bench, hearing the echo of battle, resting from everything for a moment.
Just.... breathing.