Experimented on
He was fascinating. The way his body worked, what he could endure... The science team had been convinced that subject 9Z27, alternatively called “the asset” could be the key to find the cure of numerous diseases, as well as provide the necessary information to create an armour that was the closest thing to invulnerable.
The team had known about the existence of Asgardians and some other aliens, but hadn't known a single thing about Jotuns, didn't know that such a thing existed. The fact that one of them was available to them was an unmissable opportunity. Loki was a fascinating mystery to them, an oddity, a conundrum inside a glass cage. Nothing else. An unexpected help in their research, an object with medical/military applications.
It was a pity that despite his blue skin the asset looked so human like, had such an expressive face and bright eyes, because when he thrashed and cried out in pain it was quite uncomfortable to watch. When his (no, not his, its, the asset is just a thing) its red eyes pleaded at the science team, they looked... queasy to say the least. But the voice of reason told them that this was just a monster, one that should be glad to be helpful. Their goal was too important to get distracted with useless sympathy, anyway.
Loki (he'd repeated his name a million times but nobody seemed to listen to him, they kept calling him a number, a case file) knew how the people torturing him thought, and made his despair increase exponentially. When somebody was doing something criminal, he could convince them to try to change their minds, redeem them, or at least try to join them. But if these people thought they were doing humanity a favour by torturing him...
They had already done their best to dehumanize him, forget that there was someone with a soul and a mind under those tissues they were running their tests on. They had reduced him from living being to asset, to decrease their guilt, and it was working. He was nothing else. The tests they were running on him would be considered torture if a human was subjected to them. But he was not a human. He was a thing, and what they were doing was technically legal.
The test were different every day, and they were monitored carefully. They had burnt him to see how fast and in which way he healed, broken his bones, shot at him, all the name of science and medical research. We have gathered valuable data today, the leader said cheerfully, and no one looked at Loki's battered face, covered in blood and saliva, begging to be let out from that glass cage of horrors.
The worst were the injections. They would infect him with all types of viruses and inject him poisons, to see its progress. He recovered from meningitis relatively quickly, but nearly died from typhoid fever some time later. The effect of the poisons varied, but the last of them had left him with yellow lines on his skin and shortness of breath.
Other time they threw him into a wall to see how his bones would break. Or they stabbed him, or tested his limits with extreme heat.
And every day when he woke up he had no idea what they would do to him that day. Freeze him? Burn him? Inject him with one of those terrible chemicals? It broke him not knowing, having to wait to see how they were going to make him suffer, to take pieces of him, to record his pain.
And he saw no end to it. Only more and more days of indescribable torture.
Maybe he should stop trying to hold on to himself (he had cried and cried “I am Loki! I am the brother of Thor! I am an Avenger!” Please!” to no use) and let himself go. Maybe he shouldn't continue trying to... recover. Maybe he should let them do as they pleased. Maybe he really was nothing more than an asset. 9Z27. Many applications.
Interesting test subject.
-
When they found him Loki had been in the middle of an experiment with aerosol acids and Loki had been convulsed in his glass cage. Seeing him like that, all broken and bruised while he seized and the people around him just watched and took notes... The Hulk tore that lab to pieces, and then carefully took out the mangled body of his abused friend as gently as possible. Tony had to get out to throw up. Natasha let out a couple of silent tears.
They took him to their medi-chopper, wondering what this prolonged abuse may have done to Loki's already fragile psyche. Nobody could get out unscathed after such an ordeal, and Loki had already a nice long list of traumatic experiences. And this one seemed particularly... harrowing. Tony had recovered some footage from the science team, and his blood boiled. Those people were the true monsters.
Loki spent five weeks sleeping and healing. His skin went back to its usual colour after three weeks, but there were many new marks and cars marring it. Then the night terrors started: Loki would scream in his sleep, thrash trying to free himself from invisible bonds, begging for mercy.
When he did wake up, he was awfully calm.
Tony was off-put, hastily asked how he was was feeling, if he needed anything.
“Anthony” he said, his voice merely a whisper “could you please say my name?”
Tony understood nothing, his mind still a bit fried from tension and anxiety, but complied.
“Loki.”
“You know what I am. Tell me what I am, Anthony.”
“What? I know who you are, Loki. You're the god of mischief and chaos. You're one of us, you're an ally, a friend, you're...”
“I'm someone?”
“Of course you are, Loki. You are someone. And never let anyone tell you different.”
And in that moment, it was enough.