Bruce Banner had a secret.

The secret to calming down, or as Tony called it, 'Brucing-In'. The opposite of Hulking-Out. No one else knew about it. Well, besides some people that noticed him, and let's face it, it's hard not to when he's Hulked-Out.

His secret involves a polo shirt, plaid pants, a small hat, and a set of clubs.

Yes, golf.

Whenever he needed to calm down, he got into the big green and purple plaid pants and the custom made polo shirt. Where the logo or company name usually was, was the word smash being cracked by two green fists. His hat was the same as his pants, pretty and plaid. His bag, however, was the size for a normal person. His clubs as well. That made it exceptionally hard to play. But if it worked, it worked.

As soon as he got dressed, he slung his bag over his shoulder and jumped. It took him about five huge leaps to get to his preferred course. Everyone there could see him coming, but couldn't leave fast enough. It wasn't pretty to see everyone scrambling for their cars, their bags either being dragged or left behind. But it was uglier to see what happened to the people on hole one. Let's just say they never got to the ninth hole.

As soon as he was at the first hole, alone, he took a deep breath and pulled out his driver, a ball, and a tee. Poor Hulk always stuck the first tee he tried to put in too far down, and had to do it again, but he broke that one half the time. But with his golf, he was patient. He would eventually get a tee in, but then he put the ball on so forcefully it broke or dug into the soft ground.

After a few tedious tries, he had it perfect. The ball on the tee, his driver in his hands. The hitting of the ball was the easy part. And the ground. The Hulk would swing like there was no tomorrow at the ball and send it, the tee, a big hunk of ground, and sometimes the top of his driver flying. If he got it way out of bounds, over the trees around the golf course, that was what he wanted. And he always got it over the trees.

Then he moved to the second hole and repeated the process. And then the third. And the fourth. All nine of the holes he always played.

By the end of the ninth, he was Bruced-In. And as he strolled out of the golf course, not even half of his clubs left with their heads on, he was happy with one hand holding the pants around his waist. He got strange looks, walking down the street like that again. And sometimes, the strange looks made him angry. And we all know what happens when he gets angry...