LOW

Robert Bruce Banner. Who am I really? A physicist? A monster?

The poor doctor was sitting in the grass, his head in his hands. His mind was nothing but a rushed mess, having thoughts swirl through freely and violently.

It had been almost a month since his last destructive transformation, but the guilt continued to eat up at him. Not just from his latest victims, but from those over the years. The hell bent monster inside him always finding a way out to destroy and kill—or was it really?

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, trying to free the stress and tension in the single breath but it was no good. The core of his stomach tightened as he gagged, the thoughts in his head running a little too far, or was it merely the truth he was too frightened to accept?

"Impossible, impossible, impossible," Banner repeated in a desperate whisper, attempting to calm his nerves on the thought, but there was far too much evidence for him to continuously deny it.

He knew that the Hulk was just a persona of himself. What if it was the persona of all that pain and anguish he had kept inside himself for so long? What if it was all the things he wanted to do, but was too afraid to because he was too timid; too afraid?

There was no denying it, but there was so much at risk to even suggest it. The Hulk was just Banner in a way where he could express all those feelings he had suppressed for so long in a violent way.

"Damnit," Banner groaned while running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner. "My hair, oh, my hair," he mumbled to himself. With a slight chuckle, he came to the realization of how insane he must sound right now. It made him glad no one else was around to hear him.

There were gray strands at his side burns and on the sides of his head, slowly creeping up until his entire hair was the colour of burnt ashes. He remembered when Betty used to touch and play with his hair. All the intimate times they shared and the fun times he had, but he surprised himself even more when his mind decided to go further back in time to the first person he loved.

Rebecca; his mother.

Half a smile twitched on his face, remembering his mother. She was his first friend and the first person to ever show him real love. And when she was taken away from him, his whole world slowly began to crumble, each year being worst than the last. His father—his father had been the one to start all the mess; the one who killed his own wife.

A sob escaped Bruce's mouth when he gritted his teeth. The thoughts had gone too far. He didn't want to remember his father. The man who never once showed love to Bruce. He only abused him and his mother- only showing hatred towards the two.

"You're evil, Bruce! You're the reason your mother died!"

"I wish I killed you when I had the chance!"

"Men are supposed to be proud when they feel pain, but all you ever do is cry, Bruce! Cry like the little wuss you are!"

"You're a monster! You don't deserve to live!"

Maybe you were right, Brian, he thought, remembering the insults his father would spit at him. He didn't feel he deserved to live anymore- not as what he was now: a monster. Even now he could feel his alternate persona pounding in the deepest of his conscious. Roaring, bellowing, feeding off of this awful nostalgia he was going through, but he could hold it back with years of practice.

Why? Why did he feel this way now, only remembering the bad things? Was that all his life was? Just one bad event after another? Was there really no good thing in his life that hadn't been taken away already? Had his fathers' delusional insults been true all along? Was he finally at his lowest point?

No. His mother and Betty would say it wasn't. They would tell him they loved him and how he was a much better man than his father and could become something better?

But he had followed the nearly exact same path as his father; troubled childhood, immeasurable intelligence, a career in science- and how coincidental they had chosen the same field; physics, and a passion for violence.

Bruce's memories crashed over him, wave after wave. The souls of those who had died in past rampages tortured him. He could see them circling him in the most menacing way. They wanted their revenge and they would get it soon.

Was he any better than his father? Could he even answer this question for himself? How many people has he hurt, how many lives had he destroyed? Much more than Brian ever had, that's for sure.

Finally, he released his head from his sweaty palms. They gripped the handle of the revolver in his hand tightly, his hand shivering, but from what? Fear? No, he knew this was what he wanted. This is what he had to do.

This was his lowest point. Or could it get lower? From being one of the world's best known brilliant scientists to a nomad who had to beg for money to get his next meal or new clothes. Everyone was after him; the army, the Navy, the National Guard, SHIELD- even mutants, like himself. He remembered encountering one, the Wolverine, was it?

Oh, what did it matter now? His life was about to end. With a swift bullet to the brain, it would all be over. He wouldn't hurt anyone anymore- he wouldn't hurt Betty anymore than she already was. The world would finally be free from the Hulk; from Bruce Banner.

He could feel the Hulk pounding in his head, seemingly aware of what he was trying to do. How he was trying to end both of their lives. Bruce was in a weak state, and found it nearly impossible to hold him back. Another sob came from him. He let himself cry freely for no one was around to watch.

He was far away from any cities or populated areas he knew in a place with grass barely growing on the ground. He felt he should at least die on a small patch of it, for at least the last part of his life be comfortable. And his mother would be on the other side waiting for him. He could already see her. The brown hair and beautiful soft eyes with her arms open in a joyful embrace.

It calmed his nerves just a bit.

He shifted, feeling the note he had left for Betty in his pocket. They say suicide is the cowardly way out, but Bruce felt it was just when you ran out of choices. Would Betty choose the latter or be convinced he was just a coward? How many times had he tried to cure himself? How many times had he tried to separate himself and the monster? All were failures. She was there, she has to understand.

The cold metal rested in between his teeth barely touching his tongue, but enough to let the goose bumps rise all over him. Only one bullet in the barrel that would end it all. The shivering then escalated to a more violent trembling which rattled the gun again his teeth. His body's natural response to panic was leading to something else he could feel.

The roaring and pounding of the Hulk grew more intense as muscles he couldn't consciously control began to twitch. His body sensed danger, arousing the adrenaline in his blood, his heartbeat quickening as he could feel the transformation about to take place.

No! Not when I'm so close!, he thought angrily, sticking the gun further up his mouth until it seemed to point to his brain. He knew if he waited any longer, it would be too late. His finger twitched strongly as he pulled the trigger followed with a loud bang, but it was already too late to kill him. The transformation had begun and the bullet was lodged in his throat, not piercing it, but just stuck.

Bruce groaned and dropped the gun as his muscles began to convulse and his skin slowly turned green. The pain was even more with the bullet stuck, like a needle that wouldn't go through your skin, just stays there.

He can feel his hope diminishing, the vision of his mother disappearing. He can already anticipate the pain he will cause others as long as he lives. He cursed himself, thinking he should've known better- thinking what a failure this attempt was and how others would suffer from his mistakes.

How Betty would suffer.

This time he couldn't control himself and was quickly lost in the emerald haze as his clothes were ripped off his body by the huge muscles and only his pants remained. The creature that now stood in the place where Doctor Banner was, spit out the bullet that was meant to kill him on the floor.

He bellowed out loud- a cry of victory, but a cry filled with anger. The bullet wasn't new to him, it had hit the Hulk before in attempts to kill him but they never worked. They only annoyed him. He growled loudly, coming to the conclusion that Puny Banner had tried to kill him.

Hulk is the strongest there is, Puny Banner. No one can hurt hulk!

And with that, the Hulk left in an anger filled rampage; no longer thinking about the innocents with his visions clouded in a green rage.