Bruce Banner was just about to turn in for a winter's night sleep. He could see the snowflakes gently falling onto the outdoor balcony of his apartment in New York. It had been a rough week so far, and he was utterly exhausted. He managed to drag himself through the flotsam and jetsam that was his apartment to his bedroom. New York life simply wasn't for him, he decided. Yes, he would move back to India, where he could contribute to the betterment of humanity.

Just as he pulled the covers up to his chin, there was a knock at the door. He ignored it. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. The knock sounded again, this time louder. He took a deep breath, and got out of bed to answer it.

He opened the door to find...a red and yellow robot?

"Pizza delivery, sir," it said.

Then he remembered. A new company, Tony's Future Pizza, was fast becoming the most popular and successful pizza chain, due to the fact that its CEO got the bright idea of using robots to deliver pizzas. Its slogan, Enjoy tomorrow's pizza today, was all over the place, and on everyone's lips. It was plastered on subway walls, on every TV, every billboard—everywhere.

Bruce and the Avengers gang had on the previous weekend been discussing the trendy company at their favorite shawarma shop. Steve Rogers in particular denounced the practice, saying it was just another way for greedy corporations to take jobs away from honest, hard-working Americans. Tony Stark, on the other hand, insisted it was the way of the future. Americans would have to learn to swim, or else be eaten along with the rest of the chum.

For his own part, Bruce didn't care one way or the other. Tony was always trying to push people's buttons. "I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster," he had told him once.

The robot raised the pizza closer to him. He snapped back to reality. "I didn't order a pizza."

"Your total price for this evening is $34.07. For your convenience, a surcharge has already been added."

How was that convenient? It didn't even tell him the amount of the surcharge, or what it was for. Bruce chuckled dryly. None of that mattered. "There must be some mistake. I didn't order a pizza."

"Payment is due."

Then it dawned on him. What if the "other guy" had ordered the pizza?

Earlier that day, he stepped into the shower, only to find his bar of soap had been coated with clear nail polish. Try as he might, he couldn't produce a single sud. When he finally ran out of hot water, he snapped. The other guy took over.

When he later came to, his first thought was to wonder, who had done it? Was it Tony? Surely not Loki? And how? But he was too tired to speculate any further. It was a quandary he intended to put off until morning.

"Payment is due."

Bruce felt his blood pressure begin to rise—no! Calm down. Would this matter tomorrow? Ten minutes from now? No, he decided. "Look. I'm not going to pay for something I didn't order."

"System records indicate the order was placed from this residence. Payment is due."

He looked down and realized his hands were swelling. He really didn't want another incident, but his self-restraint was slipping. The events of that day had already exhausted him, and his last raw nerve was shot.

"Get off my doorstep!" he roared—or was that the voice of the other guy?

"Payment is due."

He was losing control. He felt the shirt ripping apart off his back. His alter ego was pushing his way to the surface.

Smash! Against his will, his fist came down, pulverizing the designer tile floor of the apartment vestibule. Fortunately for the robot, it had dashed out of the way in the nick of time.

"Police officers have been notified," it stated calmly. "Have a nice evening, sir." With that, it turned toward the elevator.

Bruce's vision faded into darkness, and his inner Hulk fully emerged.

Agent Phil Coulson stepped out of his unmarked black car, nearly slipping on the icy street. He could see the Hulk on the rooftop of his high rise apartment. He was furiously ripping out the cable and power lines to the building. Snow that had accumulated on the roof was flying off in all directions.

He sighed. "Looks like Stark is at it again."

"That's the third time this week—and it's only Tuesday!" exclaimed his new partner as he emerged from the other side of the car.

Phil smiled. Poor guy. It was his second day on the job. "Get used to this kind of thing, slick. By the time you've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. as long as I have, you will have seen it all."

Just then, he noticed a red and yellow robot hovering down the street away from the chaos. His smile faded as he pieced together what must have happened. "We're going to have a talk to Stark about this new company of his."

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