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The Arcanum of Serov's Keloid	By : AkumaKawa Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 2116 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Nothing of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron, The Avengers, Thor belongs to me, no money made

Chapter List
- 1-The Arcanum of Serov's Keloid
- 2-chapter 2
- 1
- 2
A/N
First time out for a Marvel fic. No beta (offers will greatly accepted, let me know in comments). Crit is always welcome. As is love, comments, and gifts of fanart and fanfic. Feel free to play with what you wish. Flamers will be ignored. I don't feed the trolls.

The Arcanum of Serov's Keloid

Chapter 01

The moment that Tony Stark woke up he realized he was in trouble. It was a hazy realization as thoughts were hard to keep track of and kept flowing in out of his mind. He's been hyperactive, drunk, and high and has gone from one thought to the next to the next by a series of miniscule interconnected threads before, but this was even a new state for him to be in.

The very moment he had the thought that he was in trouble it flowed away like water through cupped hands as he became distracted by the color of the floor he was laying upon. It was hard to see in the dim ambiance around him but it looked like an ordinary concrete floor except there was these strange glowing symbols etched painted on it.

Tony was distracted by looking at the symbols. What were they? Where they etched into the ground? What caused that? But then why did it seem like they were painted? Why was it glowing? Oooh pretty colors.

These and other more numerous thoughts were cascading in his mind as he lifted his head trying to figure out where he was. But he kept getting distracted by something else and his line of thought of trying to get from a) in trouble b) where am I? c) who kidnapped me? d) I got kidnapped didn't I? e) it's not Fury is it? f) why is it so hard to focus? g) how am I going to get out of this? to h) ass kicking time to commence kept getting interfered with and blocked by other thoughts intruding in and it looked more like a massive tic tac toe game than anything like a straight line. Tony's mind was in complete disarray and behaving like that weird fish with the memory problem from that kid's fish movie, 'Nemo' Tony's lips formed the name.

It didn't help that there was some voice in his head yelling at him. He couldn't understand what they were saying as each time he tried to focus something else would pop up in mind and take him away from the voice. All he could understand was that they were yelling his name. He absurdly wanted to say simultaneously that his name was Tony not Stark and that's his name and not to wear it out but by the point he had the thought to speak and tried to form the words with his lips something else would drag him away from it.

At the moment Tony was trying to turn his head away from the ugly drab floor with the pretty glowing colors and towards something else. His eyes were stinging and he felt tears in them. Tony Stark doesn't cry. But why not? Why can't Tony Stark cry? What's wrong with crying? What is crying? What hurts? Why his eyes? Oh staring and not blinking? Why not blinking? I can't blink? Blinking is what?

It took some effort but Tony had turned his face to the ceiling. In all honestly it didn't look like much. It was a gray that looked like, “smog.” There was a sound off to the side. Did Tony speak? He spoke? Awesome. Why awesome? What's awesome. Ooh look smog. Smog. Smoooog. “Zog. Zod. Bod. Cod. Dodd. Fod. God. Hod. Jod. Kod. Lod. Mod. Nod. Odd. Pod. Quad. Rod. Sod. Todd. Vod. Wad. Xod. Yod. Zo...”

Tony's eyes were facing the wall now. What happened? Sound? A sharp sound? Smack? Pain? Side of face? Cheek? Cheek bone? What bone is that? What is that name? What is name?

Vibration by him? Vibration? Sound? Steps? Who is stepping? Stepping where? Why? What is why?

The voice yelling even louder in his head. Head? Mind? Ears? Which ear? Why ears? What are ears? How is voice in head? Noise? Hairs in ears? Sound? Sound like those vibrations? Steps? Sound like steps? Voice? What is voice? Sound through waves? Why in head? Why in ear? Which ear?

Around and around and around the carousal of his mind Tony went and where he stopped no body knows. “Knows. Nose. Pose. Quose. Rose. Soes. Toes. Voes. Woes. Xoes. Yoes. Zoes. Bows. Cose. Does. Foes. Hammer. Slammer. Jammer. Kammer. Lammer. Mammer. Nammer. Pammer. Quammer. Rammer. She said. He said. Sell Seashells. Bells...”

It was times like these that Fury regretted not having Stark sent for a psych eval. At least then he would know if Stark was just spouting off words to throw off his captors or if he was truly out of his mind. However, the thought of actually knowing the answer to that sent him more worries rather than less because he always thought that Stark was at a little unhinged and that was before the fucking idiot made himself into a Superhero.

Iron Man. Hmph. The name still grated on him. Fucking tabloid reporters and their need for naming things.

Now? No one knew and everyone was a little too frightened of what the answer might be – let alone Stark's reaction to the suggestion of a psych eval – to even try it.

The pulsing vein in his forehead was throbbing in time with his heartbreak. Goddamn fucking idiot.

Stark and his disappearing acts after 'saving the day' were driving him infuriatingly crazy. If it wasn't for that fucking com unit and JARVIS they never would've known that Stark was kidnapped. Again.

To top the fucking cherry on top of this FUBAR goddamn clusterfuck was JARVIS telling them that Stark was unsuited, alive, but unresponsive.

Goddamn Stark and his fucking Extremis self. He was going more unsuited than suited these days sending his fucking 'drone suits' out to fight. It was a fucking nightmare.

It didn't help that Fury was green as all fucking envy because he wanted those suits and Stark was a fucking cocktease stripper with showing but not allowing any touching.

The absolute worst part of this situation was that there was nothing, goddamn fucking nothing, that Fury could do. He was counting on Barton and Romanov to get there in time to save Stark but from what he was hearing over Stark's ramblings it sounded like they wouldn't make it in time.

JARVIS alerted them about thirty minutes ago that Stark had gone missing. He just disappeared, completely off the grid. Then somehow popped up halfway around the world. They knew a magic user was involved. Either that or a mutant. Beyond that there was nothing they knew. They couldn't hear everything over the com and Stark was rambling nonsense. What they could hear, however, wasn't good. Something about preparing Stark for something. What for, they didn't have a fucking clue.

Barton and Romanov were still about an hour away from Stark's gps signal that JARVIS gave them. So far he's stayed put. Which was good since they didn't have to worry about him bouncing the fuck all over the globe. But also very fucking bad as it showed that they arrived where they wanted and they were prepared for something to do with Stark and they were nearly ready to begin.

Goddamnit! Howard's son was going to die and he was unable to prevent it. Again.

New York and the dimensional worm hole and then clusterfuck of Malibu still sent shivers down his spine. As much as he fucking hated Stark – and he did at times because Stark was a goddamn teenager with unlimited amounts of money, disrespect for authority, and potential for catastrophic destructive abilities – he was fucking relieved that he still lived.

Fury would never admit it under any amount of torture but he was fond of the fuckhead.

“Barton, talk to me.” Fury demanded.

“Still at least 40 minutes out. How's it on your end?” Barton's voice carried over through Fury's com unit.

“Fuck,” was Fury's answer. They were fucked. Stark was fucked. The only thing they had left was to hope they were going to torture him for answers instead of just killing him straight off. They certainly wanted something from him as the 'preparations' spoke of it.

“That bad?” Barton questioned his voice level, calm, and professional.

“They're nearly done with preparing whatever it is they Stark for,” Fury growled out his frustration with the situation.

“Fuck.” There was a short pause. “Do we have have any idea on what they need Stark for? Are we expecting intense interrogation or something else?”

Fury sighs. “None.”

“Sir,” Romanov cuts in, “What's changed?”

Fury's response is quick and to the point of how fucked the situation is. “What we're hearing from Stark's mic suggests that they are finished with preparing whatever the fuck they needed Stark for.”

“You're saying...” Barton started to speak but then dropped off. Probably unable to speak the words they all know but dread to think about.

“Understood, sir,” Romanov cuts in. The mic goes silent. There is nothing more to be said.

Clint and Natasha are in one of the Quinjets hurrying to Stark's location. It's been silent in the aircraft since Fury's last update on Stark.

Natasha is in her work mode. As if Clint needed another sign of how dire the situation was. They were still at least 30 minutes out from Stark and there was nothing anyone could do. All they had was a hope that they wanted something from him. Something that they needed him alive and in one piece for.

It was a fucked up situation when you needed to hope that someone you knew was going to be tortured, because at least that meant they would still be alive long enough for you to save them.

Stark was a pro at getting out of fucked up situations but this time he wasn't even cognizant of his situation let alone in a position to help. He was helpless to what they were going to do to him.

Clint may not like Stark most of the time. He has that habit of pissing off everyone who knows him. Even those that Stark likes. Yet, this, this was something that he never thought would happen. It was terrifying in a way. Stark was the one they – The Avengers, SHIELD, whathaveyou – went to for help. It was bizarre to think that they had to rescue him.

Clint turned and looked back once more to the stash of medical gear in the Quinjet. At first when they were packing up he thought that Natasha was bringing too much and underestimating Stark. Now, now he wonders if it will be enough for what they are both envisioning that they are going to walk in on.

That was when the screaming started over the intercom. Clint jerked back in his seat and looked over to Natasha. It wasn't them. It wasn't Fury. It had to be Stark. It had begun.

For the first few minutes Clint thought the screaming might pass. But it continued unabated with increasing pitch and desperation. From what Clint could tell there was no long pause for breath or changing of tools. It was just one long continuous explosion of sound of Stark shrieking in absolute agony. It sent the hairs on the back of his neck to standing attention. Jesus fucking Christ. What they hell are doing to him?

It had been five minutes and the screaming didn't stop. It was getting to Clint. He wanted to shoot something or someone to just get rid of the aggression building in him having to listen to Stark screaming like that. Pass out. For god's sake, Stark, pass the fuck out. Just let go.

He didn't. Stark just kept screaming. Clint wanted to shut it off and his hand went to the switch when Natasha grabbed his hand. Her hand tightly squeezing his told him what he already knew. They need to listen. They have to listen. It's the only way they know what's going on. The dark look in her eyes told him that revenge will come when they get there.

Stark for all his pain in the assness had earn their respect and loyalty. He was one of theirs as much as they were one of his and nobody got away with hurting what belonged to them. No one.

It was at the fifteen minute mark that silence eclipsed the intercom. For a moment Clint had the thought that Stark might have died. Shock from the torture sending him into cardiac arrest or something. A chill went down his spine at that suggestion so he went for something more optimistic, that Stark had passed finally or his torturers were finally taking a break.

It was just a few short moments of silence with this strange echoing sound in the background and what Clint thought could be breaths and the screams started back up.

Clint's hands tightly clenched. When will it stop? When he's dead? I thought they wanted something from him?

Looking out of the windshield Clint tried to distance himself from what he was hearing. It was enormously difficult to tune it out but he had to. Unlike Natasha or Fury he couldn't fully distance himself from the knowledge of what he was listening to without tuning it out into white noise. Unlike them, he couldn't stand to attentively hear Stark's screams listening for any clue about what was happening.

He just couldn't.

So Clint tuned it out. He turned Stark's shrieks of endless pain into white noise like the static of radio signals and focused instead on what he was going to do when they arrived at the building. He instead looked at the building's schematics and blue prints that JARVIS gave them when he located Stark. He thought about what kits he would need to take to triage Stark quickly before they brought him to the Quinjet. What weapons he would need on him to make a successful infiltration. What steps he would take to secure the premises before they moved in to rescue Stark. What path would be the quickest to Stark, which ones he thought might be booby-trapped, whether or not he and Natasha should split off.

Clint focused his attention to the mission and turned everything else off. The mission was what mattered. A simple extraction of a kidnappee. Textbook. Just another day on the job.

Clint was so in the zone and focused that it took Natasha grabbing his wrist once more to take him out of it. It was a shock to his system because the first thing he became aware of was Stark screaming in the background.

It took Clint a moment to reorient himself. Stark was still screaming though it was sounding considerably more hoarse and garbled. God, Stark. What the hell are they doing to make you scream like that for so long?

Clint looked at Natasha and she released her grip on his wrist. He then looked at navigation readout and realized they were five minutes out from Stark's location. Clint gave a short nod and undid his seatbelt and went to the back of the Quinjet to get ready.

There were four SHIELD soldiers in full combat gear seated against either side of the aircraft. Clint went to where his gear was and started to suit up. Pulling out the medical gear bags they would need for Stark.

Clint was in the midst of finishing packing up the gear he needed when Stark's scream hit a particular high pitch that Clint had never heard before in a grown man. Clint turned towards Natasha but they were in the process of landing and he had to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

The landing was one of the smoothest that Natasha has done and then she was out of her of her seat and suiting up with a quickness and precision that impressed Clint.

It was in that moment that Stark's high pitched screech went to an even higher pitch with a garbled sound and then cut off. It was silent in the Quinjet as they waited for Stark to start screaming again.

He didn't.

Clint took a deep breath put in his com unit, grabbed his bow, notched an arrow and opened the door. It was time.

There was no one around. Not a single guard. Nothing felt right. They were moving slowly without saying a word hoping that Stark would start up again or even speak to them.

White noise static was the only thing they could hear on the com units. Clint figured that Fury was doing the same. It had only been a few minutes. Maybe Stark passed out. There was no need for the dark thoughts to enter and for them to think that Stark was dead. Stay positive.

They entered the building and there was still no guards. There was a feeling in the air like static after a storm. Clint shot a look to Natasha and she nodded. Clint took off running down the hall as silently as he could at the fastest pace he could manage towards where Stark's signal was coming from with Natasha a few paces behind him covering his six.

This was beginning to feel less like a trap and more like magic was involved. Loki? Someones else?

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps that came across the com. Heavy loud footsteps that reminded Clint of the Hulk.

There is the sound a woman shrieking out, “What is this?!” The sound of more heavy footsteps then a grunt. There is also the sound things breaking or exploding it is difficult to tell.

“Answer me!” the woman screams out and then a sharp slap is heard. She further screams out, “This cannot be! My spell is perfect! Everything was perfect! Yet, this is not the worst memory!” More sounds of slaps or hitting carry over the com. Is Stark being hit? The person with the Hulk-like footsteps who's with her? What's going on?

They all had the feeling that magic was involved in Stark's kidnapping but the woman screaming about a spell failing means that they kidnapped Stark to cast a spell upon him. His captors wanted something from him but they had to do a spell first and now it failed in someway. Memory? How? What failed? Is Stark dead?

“SKURGE!” the woman screamed in a loud sharp pitch. “Clean this mess up!”

Mess? Clint's stomach fell. Fuck. We're too late.

The sound of the heavy Hulk-like being walking and moving was heard through the com.

“Not like that you imbecile! I want it gone! My wards have been tripped and his people are on the way! Just take your ax to the body! Cut it into pieces!

Wards? It? Body? Pieces? Clint turns to look back at Natasha just steps behind him. They had their answer. Natasha nods and they change tactical maneuvers from keeping silent to getting there as fast as possible. If Stark was dead, well, then there was no point in keeping silent anymore and they needed to get there before the dead-to-be bastards escaped.

The SHIELD combat soldiers picked up on what they were doing and soon their foot falls were echoing in the hallway.

It was always strange to go from silent stealth steps to the pounding of running. The shock of the quiet being disturbed like that always made it seem like an army was coming. It was a form of intimidation and Clint wanted them to feel the fear that SHIELD was coming for them.

Because they were.

You don't take something that belongs to them and break it without feeling the full force of their vengeance. It was why they were called The Avengers.

Clint and Natasha were the most bloodthirsty, callous, and ruthless ones of the lot and they were the ones closest to Stark's body and his captors. The dead-to-be bastards had no idea what hell they've unleashed upon themselves.

Clint and Natasha are within sight of the door when the woman screeches once more, “SKURGE! Leave it! Let's go! They are coming!” There was a strange indescribable sound from the com and then nothing.

Clint glanced at Natasha and they sped up even faster. They charged towards the door and Natasha kicked it open.

Clint went through the first.

Natasha ran into his back as Clint was standing completely still in shock. “What...the...fuck?!” Clint exclaimed as the sight that met his eyes was not something that he was prepared to see.
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The Arcanum of Serov's Keloid