The Silver Shadow

Why'd You Heal Me?

It was as if time had decided to blur. Your next two weeks in the tower were agonizing. Every single day was the same. The Avengers would bring you into an interrogation room and question you about yourself, the places you'd been, and the people you killed. You told them exactly what they wanted to hear. There was one question they seemed to never ask you, however.

Not a single member of the team ever brought up your age. It was extremely obvious to everyone that you were old. The only way that it would have been possible for you to have killed Rasputin was if you were over 100 years old. In your opinion, that should be the most burning question about you. But it was one of the only things you didn't know about yourself.

Fury, however, was extremely interested in your age. When the Avengers had brought you back to your cell, he would call in the soldiers and bring you to another room. This one was dimly lit, damp, musty, and had rats running around. Time after time again, he would ask you that one question you couldn't answer. Every time, you told him that you didn't know, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Y/N, Remember what I told you. We get what we want," he told you for the hundredth time after slapping you across the face. There was now a big black hand-shaped bruise on your face that would get worse every time Fury talked to you.

"I told you, Fury. I don't know." you felt the heat of anger traveling through your body, from the tips of your toes to your fingers that curled into fists. The only thing preventing you from giving Fury a black eye in return was the thick shackles around your wrists and ankles and the heavy shock collar around your neck.

"How don't you know? You're the one living in your body. Surely you must have tried to get answers."

"I don't know Fury. It hasn't exactly been my priority. Most of the time, I've been trying to stay away from you fuckers." After that comment, he hit you with a jolt of electricity around the neck and you passed out.

Truth be told you honestly didn't care. You could deal with the pain. Hell, it was nothing compared to the torture of Loki bombarding you with questions in the precious time you were in your cell.

First impressions are often wrong, but you thought your impression of Loki was pretty accurate. He was annoying, for one thing. He was entitled, and arrogant, and had an unnerving fascination with you.

"When you killed, did you like it?" he asked you out of the blue. Loki had given you a rare hour of silence and you had been using it to plot out your escape. So far, you had gotten as far as how the hell you were going to get the collar off of your neck.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean Loki? Why would I enjoy killing people?"

"I don't know!" he replied, "I just figured that since you are so feared, you must have added some dark sadistic flair to your work."

"The only sadist in this room is you Loki. I killed because I had to."

"We all have to. But what emotions came out? Amusement? Relief? Every human spirit enjoys the blood and gore that comes from the death of another."

"I-I don't. I didn't"

"But you did. If you truly disliked murdering so much you would have stayed at the other end of a fifty-foot pole. It is only logical." Loki laughed as he stood and walked over to the glass wall separating your cells, "All your life, you have killed and lied for others. Governments across the world that you have never expressed a drop of empathy for. Why? With a million other possibilities in the future of a young beautiful woman, why choose such a life. One not for the faint of heart, nor pure of soul. That is why I do not believe you when you ask me why you enjoy killing. You are human. Basic. Simple. It would be impossible for you to have kept your humanity."