Hulksmashed
Being Hulk smashed is not something one could easily recover from, not even being a god.
Loki made the most pitiful noises as he lay there, on the crater shaped like him. He felt broken in a way that felt new to him, unable to explain, impossible. As if he had the organs in the wrong place as if all his blood was in his airways and all the air was where it shouldn't be, and all the acids and fluids were just flowing rampant and destroying everything on the outside.
Loki doubted he would ever able to movie again.
He'd been thrown around and used as a rag doll – he impacted against the floor in a way that broke it, he broke the solid floor with his own body, limbs and head. It was... painful, and he wished for the sweet relief of unconsciousness, but couldn't get it. He felt like he'd oned out for some minutes, but the pain kept bring him back. It was sharp sometimes, sometimes it traveled, sometimes it got worse. And trying to move... well, that was the ultimate nightmare.
And he knew nobody would come and help him, so he would have to suffer in that crater for a long time. His brother and his associates were out there finishing off the Chitauri, and possibly after that there would be some sort of victory celebration. It would be a long time before anyone found him, and he just wanted to cry. It just hurt so much.
He was so mangled in so many different places, in so many different ways, it was different to even remember anything of who he was or where he was beyond the pain. All the grandiloquence and and the arrogance from before were long forgotten, his whole plan a distant bitter memory. He wished he hadn't done any of this, but it had like a clever way of getting away from Thanos and getting something in return. But he had failed, he had failed spectacularly and now he was paying for it.
He thought himself so much better... if not better, at least smarter than the rest of them. Smarter than Thor, than Thanos, and than any Midgardian that would come his way. Of course, he hadn't been counting on a green beast or such advanced iron armours, but still... It was horrifying to see how incredibly they had bested. He wasn't better than Thor, than any of them. He wasn't better than simple Midgardians, he was just a bloody mess of a god that did nothing but hurt and hurt even more.
“Enough with the charades, Loki. Get up and face your punishment. The games are over.”
But Loki couldn't move, much less sit up or stand up. That was out of question and he said so, even if he knew Thor would think he was lying.
“I cannot.”
“Cease your pretense, Loki. We have had enough of your lies.”
And what could Loki say to make his brother believe him? Nothing. At his his own fault, too, he'd been so dishonest in the past that now he couldn't get anyone to believe him when he was being honest. He just looked at Thor whit his bloodshot eyes, trying to communicate how much he couldn't move. He weakly coughed up some blood, and it only angered Thor even more.
“I will not be fooled by you again, brother! You've gone too far and I will let you escape because of pity or compassion won me over. You will be chained and face fair trial.”
If I last that long, Loki thought.
“You will have to carry me.” Loki said in what was little more than whisper. “I have no strength to move.”
Thor complied, but angrily.
“I wish you would stop playing and and face up to what you have done, but if you insist then I will carry you. Just do not ask me to be gentle.”
Thor did pick him up from the floor and all that sudden movement threw Loki's severely danaged body for a loop. Thor saw that under his brother there was some skinn, hair and blood on the floor, marking the places where he'd hit it the hardest. Hum. That was...something. Generally to draw the blood of someone such as he or his brother, something extremely powerful was needed, something of Mjolnir-level of power. This begun to convince Thor that maybe Loki wasn't lying. (Thor wasn't all that hard to convince, because in the end of the day he always wanted Loki to be telling the truth).
His next clue was the uncoordinated odd way in which Loki's unfocused eyes opened and closed, as if he really was the rag doll if he'd felt while being plunged into the floor. He was short circuited, and he couldn't speak anymore – an odd, small noise he didn't realise he was making, like a little whine. There was blood coming from his mouth... and from many other places and Thor understood that this was serious.
And Thor got angry.
Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner appeared in the door of the room, wondering what was taking so long.
“YOU BROKE MY BROTHER!!”
Bruce cringed and took a couple steps back and put his hands up defensively.
“In my defense, it was the Hulk, not me. I can't control what he does.”
“Are we sure this is not a ruse?”
“LOOK AT HIM!”
One look at Loki's half-open eyes and all the blood that kept dripping were enough to convince, at the very least, Steve.
“All right.” He said “We will get your brother some medical help, but he'll have to have some armed guards and... all the measures we can think of so he doesn't escape. But we aren't letting him die, all right?”
“I would... I would have him transferred back to Asgard but I fear the trip might kill him, in the state he's in.” Thor said. Why had he wasted time not believing Loki? He was a good actor, but not this good.
Getting Loki some medical help was... complicated. First, there was the fact that he wasn't even human, and a lot his readings didn't make sense to any doctor from Earth, and they didn't know what was normal for him and they didn't know how to help, or what substances could be harmful or toxic.
Then there was the fact that he was a terrorist who had just an alien invasion New York... There was a lot of medical personnel who flat out refused to treat him, and some people who even protested against him getting any help at all. The few people who accepted also had to deal with the fact that if they screwed up the actual god of thunder would get very angry at them.
Complicated was putting in it mildly.
After about fifteen hours of work, Loki was more or less stable. Fifteen breaks had been set and plastered, he had undergone seven surgeries to try and fix the internal damage and was gone in an induced coma, to try and give him some time to heal all that had been wrong.
Bruce was heartbroken. No matter what Loki had done, this was not the way go about making things right. He'd asked the doctors to tell him, and the amount of damage that the Hulk had done...
“Thor, I'm just... I'm so sorry...”
“Stop, Banner. I... I understand it wasn't your doing. And it is Loki's fault first and foremost, for doing this dreadful things... He hurts himself with every choice he makes. And for such a long time, I was blind to all this self-hatred... to all this pain. If I had known, if I had validated him more, maybe it wouldn't have come to this. Or if he would just talk to somebody before doing horrible things and throwing himself into voids!”
Thor sighed.
“There's still good in him, and a lot of it, but he's just... very troubled. And I know that is no excuse for all he's done, but... he's done a lot of good too, with me and my friends, in Asgard. Caused trouble but then saved us from it. Been diplomatic when the allfather was too blunt, fixed my words when I slighted a foreigner. I wished you would get to see that side of him too.”
“I do too, Thor. And again, I am terribly sorry that things ended up like this.”
On the bed in front of them, Loki was in that artificial sleep, timeless, weightless, and fortunately, free of pain.
But the people watching him... they hurt. All of what Loki had done and all what he'd been through too had left an scar. On him, on Thor, on Bruce, on New York. Things would never be the same. Perhaps it was best if he slept forever.