Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel or Marvel-related material or anything recognizable from the movie The Avengers. I simply own Sam Wells.

Warning: This story is rated M for intensely strong language-so far that's it. There will be F-bombs galore.


Chapter One

-How the fuck are ya?-


My world was a foggy haze. People and cars passed by me in colorful blurs and lights became fuzzy orbs. Sounds were muddled; my reaction time was laughable. I felt like I was walking in slow-motion. My nervous system wasn't working up to the speed I needed it to be at.

On any other day, the trip to Maggie's Diner would have only taken a ten minute walk. Tonight, I was going on fifteen. A worried thought slowly strung itself together, letter by letter:

What if, in my drugged-state, I accidentally took a wrong turn.

Coming to a standstill, I looked around but found that nothing was defined enough for me to get my bearings. All of the usual landmarks were looking like they had been smeared into their backgrounds. I groaned and decided to just keep going.

Soon enough my vision was assaulted by a mass of bright light. I squinted and looked up to see Maggie's Diner lit in red. Stumbling through the door, I almost fell in the first booth before I managed to recover.

"Sam!"

I looked up at the sound of my name but shapes were still entirely indiscernible. My face melted into a frown as I tried to focus.

"Here, let me help you."

A dark shape approached me quickly and I could suddenly see the distorted visage of my good friend, Doc. With one hand on the lower of my back and the other taking one of my own hands, he carefully guided me down the aisle. He came to a slow stop and gently pressed me to sit down. The table was used for support until I could finally collapse into the booth.

Doc quickly sat across from me.

"How've you been, Sam?"

In answer to his question, I doubled over and my head banged onto the table. I groaned in conclusion.

He chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

I felt him pat the back of my head and I sluggishly swung out my arms to get him to stop. They ended up dropping to the table as well. I was too tired to fight him off.

"So, I take it the pill works." I didn't like how smug he sounded. He might as well just go ahead and say, "I told you so, you doubting-trick."

Raising my head up just enough to look him in the eyes, I slurred, "No shit, Doc. But not only are you able to give me a moment of peace from this hell, a moment I haven't had in twenty-eight years, but you also manage to rip it away from me by asking to meet you here."

"I'm sorry," I was damn well pleased I couldn't see clearly, otherwise the puppy-dog face I was sure he was giving me would have satiated my anger. And in that moment, I didn't want my anger to be satiated. "It was just really important."

My forehead remade acquaintance with the tabletop. "Before you continue you on," I said, my voice slightly muffled. "I'm going to need something to wake me the fuck up."

"I have something for that actually." Ignoring my select choice in words, Doc began moving around and I could hear him rummaging through something. He inhaled deeply when he finally stilled. "This is a new compound I've come up with to battle the effects of the other one. With this, you'll be wide awake in a matter of seconds."

There was that smugness again. Science was the only thing Doc could get all uppity about. Probably because it was a terrain that he mastered.

I started feeling across the table with one hand, searching for the pill. After a couple of missed swipes I finally landed on his fist. Of course, the bastard just had to be difficult and refused to release his grip. After a frustrated groan I dropped my hand in defeat.

"Fuck you."

He chuckled at my muffled voice and said, "You sound so defeated, Sam."

"Just give me the little bitch-pill before I pass out on you."

"Say 'please'."

"Please give me the little-bitch pill."

He worked the small pill into my hand and I gripped it tightly in case he decided to pull it back at the last second. Doc was bastard enough to do it too. A fatigued groan and then I pushed myself up, leaning back against the booth. My vision swimming, I held the pill up close to my eyes to study it. Doc, the angel that he was, made it small specifically for me. I've always had an issue with swallowing pills.

A warm Styrofoam cup was pushed my way and I turned my narrowed eyes to it, then across the way to Doc.

"It's hot chocolate," he said, as if that explained everything.

Picking it up, I could tell it was already half-empty. I frowned at my friend. "You know you can't get this back, right?"

He shrugged and answered, "It's all yours."

I didn't need to be told twice. The pill went down easily enough and I took a few more sips to erase the feel of it going down my throat. Doc chuckled when I shuddered but right away my vision was beginning to clear, my senses returning to normal, and my muscles getting back up to speed.

"Shit," I commented when I felt as good as new. Well, for the most part. "That was fast. You're good, Doc."

And there he was in all of his smirking glory, my good friend Bruce Banner. He looked more worn out than usual; his clothes were rumpled and his hair needed to be introduced to a brush. None of that mattered though; I was just grateful to see him at all. It had been a week since our last meeting.

"Thanks," he replied with a wry smile. "But I think we should cut straight to the point." He leaned forward and stared at me seriously.

I raised my cup in a mock toast and teased, "Good man."

"I'm leaving tonight and I won't be back for a while," he blurted out rather bluntly.

Thanks be to God that I wasn't drinking at that moment otherwise Banner's face would have been drenched in hot chocolate. "What?"

"Sam, I'm going to be leaving the country for a few months," he reworded.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what is your fucking definition of 'a few months'?"

He fired back, "What's yours?"

"A three-day weekend."

Banner smiled. "It's definitely going to be longer than a three-day weekend."

"And why in all fuckery is that?"

"I need to skip town for a while. Let things cool down around here." He appeared uncomfortable simply talking about it. He was tense and looking around the small, and rather empty, diner as if someone was going to jump out and arrest him on the spot.

I followed his wandering gaze, wondering what had him so worried. He finally resettled back onto my own stare.

"Is this about the Harlem-incident?" It had been nearly a week since he almost destroyed the district and he still carried a mirror to always see what was over his shoulder. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Incident?" He frowned at my downplay. "Sam," he leaned in closer and instinctively I did the same. "I broke Harlem."

Mimicking his frown, I retorted, "Stop this self-blame-game nonsense you're playing, Bruce."

"It's not that easy, Sam," he argued.

"Of course it's not that easy. I'd be worried if it were. This guilt that you're feeling shows that you're a good guy, no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise."

"I'm a monster." Doc's entire body and disposition appeared to wilt at his confession.

"Stop with the dejected, self-deprecation. You are not a monster. Now, I would normally slap the absolute shit out of anyone who would even have the gall to call you that so don't think that just because it's you saying it about yourself that I won't slap the absolute shit out of you."

"You always know how to make me feel better, don't you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Expletives and threats, old chap." I winked at him playfully, again raising my cup in a mock toast. "They'll cheer up any ol' dismal soul."

A short silence settled between us two. Doc looked down at the tabletop in deep thought while I merely watched him, wondering what was going on in that tortured head of his. So often I've wished that he would end the self-abuse and misery he inflicted on himself. It was difficult to secretly look after someone who was supposed to be looking after you. There was nothing I could think of to ease his internal conflict.

"I'm still leaving," he muttered.

I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't really thinking I would have changed his mind, though that's exactly what I wanted.

"Bruce," I started softly. I concentrated on the tabletop, trying to think of the right words ahead of time so that I wouldn't stumble. "We've known each other for, what, ten years? And for those ten years you have been the one and only, single most constant thing in my life. It's cheesy, I know, but that doesn't make it any less true. And in all of that time even when you had to leave, it was only for how I would define 'a few months' and then you'd be right back."

"You're twenty-eight now, Sam. You're an adult, all grown up," he interjected gently. "And I need to leave tonight. I'll still be in contact to keep track of you and make sure you're all right. This is something I have to do."

"At least you can run."

Bruce looked pained. It must have been a difficult decision to leave but I knew it was for his best. He had brought too much attention to himself and would surely have several interested parties tracking him down. Interested parties that didn't necessarily have his best interests at heart. The mere thought of Bruce being followed by a shady corporation made me sick. Yes, this was the best choice for him. The lesser of two evils, if you will.

"I'll write you, Sam," he assured me. I smiled at his attempt to ease my despair.

"You damn well better." My mood brightened forcefully; I didn't want him to torment himself with this decision. He looked at me, clearly unsure how to take my changed demeanor. "You do know where I live so you have no fucking excuse. The same shit-hole I've been in since I myself was a little shit."

Returning my smile, he nodded. As twisted as it might sound, I knew he found a small bit of comfort in my "colorful language." Especially at times like this. I was reverting back to my normal self, or at least attempting to, which meant that I was becoming comfortable with the whole thing.

If possible, he leaned in even closer and again I followed suit. Our noses were so close to touching that I felt my stomach drop at the proximity.

Ten years was a long time to know a man. And I don't mean just knowing him as far as his likes and dislikes and trivial bios. I mean truly knowing someone. I knew all of his hopes and dreams, his disappointments and failures, his pros, his cons, his demons. And he knew all of mine. It was only natural that a bit of attraction develop from my end. And, with fingers crossed and hopeless wishing, his own end.

"So, what did you dream about?" An odd twinkle passed through his eyes.

Ah yes, my first experience with dreaming. It had been weird the first two nights, getting used to the whole process, and then pleasant for the few afterwards. But then, it had taken a dark turn and I experienced what must have been the nightmares people dreaded. Night terrors was a more suitable name, I found. Instead, I decided to focus on the first true enjoyable dream.

I grinned in turn. "Bruce, do you remember the day we met?"


At twenty-five, Bruce Banner had already had his fair share of work and experience in the science realm. After spending several years in a laboratory during and after his schooling, the young doctor was growing restless, wanting to expand his research and knowledge in the nuclear physics he desperately wanted to master. He needed to make a name for himself to make his mother proud and to prove his father wrong.

With the near-obsessive drive to accomplish more than his father ever did, Bruce accepted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity as warden of a young girl ailing from an altered physiology due to radiation. It was a unique position that he hoped would only further his studies. The girl's current doctor already explained to him that there was so much that could be learned and he had full rein on experiments. Well, as long as her well-being wasn't compromised. But even in his contract, the terms "well-being" and "compromised" had only been vaguely defined.

Bruce wondered what exactly the department had in mind with the kid and her future. At the very least he could be grateful that he was the one granted the position and not some maniacal scientist who would stoop to callous tests just to further personal gain. Bruce might have been driven but he wasn't inhumane.

As the elevator raced up to the top floor, his heartbeat accelerated knowing that this was going to be a major milestone in his life. Bruce only hoped he was prepared for it.


At eighteen, Sam Wells had already had her fair share of hardship and pain in the living realm. Years of suffering had only been eased in the past eleven months by her most recent doctor-Dr. Priya Panditi-and already she was being assigned to a new one. Sam could only hope that this one wasn't like her last one. But hope could only get her so far.

A sharp stream of beeps sounded from a small device attached to her wrist. Dr. P. frowned and moved towards her to inspect the problem. Sam ignored it and continued moving through the positions the yoga instructor on the video was demonstrating. She sat on the floor of the living room in front of the T.V., contorted into the demonstrated pose.

"Sam, you're supposed to be relaxing and easing your mind."

Twisting into a Full Pigeon, Sam grunted, "I am."

"Then why is your monitor going off?"

"Because this bitch is annoying me. How the hell am I supposed to do all of these poses? I'm not a fucking contortionist."

Dr. P. sighed knowing that Sam was attempting to brush off the real issue. Sam's expletives were a defense-mechanism and a sign that she was getting agitated. Or she was simply bored and using profanity to entertain herself. She always found a "colorful vocabulary" to be amusing. But it was often difficult to tell with Sam.

"Calm down, Sam, and focus on your breathing."

"How about I focus on not fucking breaking my neck." Sam struggled into a Shoulder Stand, breathing heavily to maintain her balance as she lifted her legs straight up in the air. "I am royally despising this old, withering quim."

"Hush," Dr. P. admonished softly. "And concentrate."

A ding from across the room and down the hallway caught her attention. Dr. P. smiled and began to follow the sound.

"That must be Dr. Banner. Aren't you excited to meet him, Sam?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," the girl sputtered out. Controlling her body was proving difficult when her doctor kept talking to her. It was like a dentist trying to strike up conversation while her hands were shoved in your mouth.

Dr. Panditi made it to the elevator at the end of the hall in time to see the doors slide open and Bruce Banner to step forward.

"Hello, Dr. Banner," she greeted with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I must say though, you are quite a bit younger than I had imagined. Most of the applicants had been at least forty-five."

Accepting her hand with a friendly smile, Bruce replied, "Thank you, Dr. Panditi. It's nice to meet you too. And yes, I was surprised when I found out that I had been the one chosen for this opportunity. It's quite an honor that I don't intend to waste."

Dr. P.'s smile wavered. "Yes, just please remember that you will be working with an actual living, breathing individual and not some test tubes and a Bunsen burner."

Noting the older doctor's sudden recoil, Bruce quickly smoothed over the misunderstanding. "Of course! I intend to keep Miss Wells' welfare a top priority."

"That's good to hear," Dr. P. replied, her smile brightening. "I believe you will do just fine then."

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard from the living area and a long string of profanity filled the small area.

"What the fucking-mother-fucking-fucker! You bloody twat! Fuck me sideways, that hurt!"

"You all right, Sam?" Dr. P. called from the hallway.

"This trick is trying do me in! How, in all that is fucking holy, am I supposed to do that? My legs were not built to do that! It is a physical impossibility! I have had enough with this fuckery!"

Turning to Dr. Banner with a steady smile, Dr. P. said, "Let's introduce you to Miss Sam, shall we?"

Bruce didn't know what he was expecting when he would finally meet the famous Sam Wells, but what he found wasn't it.

They walked in on a young woman sprawled facedown across the floor in front of a television set. Her dark frizzy mane of hair was slipping from its bun and her black camisole and tan linen wide-leg pants were rumpled and slightly stained with sweat spots from her workout. She was breathing heavily with a small groan every now and then.

"Sam," Dr. P. addressed.

"What?" Sam moaned.

"You have a visitor. Although, I suppose you won't be a visitor after today." She turned to Dr. Banner and jerked her head towards the exhausted body on the ground.

Stepping forward, he said, "Hi, I'm Bru- Dr. Bruce Banner."

With an incomprehensible grumble, Sam pushed herself up into a sitting position and stared at the man smiling awkwardly before her. "Sam Wells," she introduced in turn. "How the fuck are ya?"

Dr. Panditi touched his arm and assured, "Don't worry. You'll get used to the language."

Bruce glanced over to Sam as she shook her head and mouthed "No you won't."

"I believe I can handle it." He gave Sam a wry smile who merely raised her eyebrows.

She was unsure about this new guy. He was young, which meant that he felt he had a lot to prove and a lot of ambition to make his name known. Just like her last caretaker. He would more than likely feel compelled to achieve these goals by any means necessary. Just like her last caretaker. And even more than likely, it would all be at her expense.

A sudden burst of beeps streamed from the watch-like device on her wrist. Dr. P. frowned, Dr. Banner's eyes widened, and Sam merely snapped from her musings.

"Ah bitches I'm hungry." She jumped up to her feet and rose gracefully to her full height. "Doctor," she nodded to Dr. P. "Doctor," and then to Bruce.

Before she could bound off for the kitchen, Dr. P. quickly interjected, "Aren't you going to finish your exercises?"

Sam jerked to a halt and turned to look at the T.V. "How? It's not even working," she explained with eyes narrowed at the entertainment system.

The two doctors turned their attention to the set and sure enough, the screen was black and a line of smoke was trickling from the DVD player.

"Sam," Dr. P. said with a warning tone.

"Doc, you cannot blame me every time a piece of electronic equipment malfunctions. It is possible that things break all on their own accord without any help on my part."

And with that, Sam continued her trek to find some food.

"She can disrupt technology?" Dr. Banner asked.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Panditi sighed. "Supposedly it was the first skill she mastered."

"I wonder why that one."

With a shrug Dr. Panditi mused, "Maybe it was from trying to stop Dr. Palmer's experiments-disrupt his machines, and whatnot."

"Dr. Palmer?"

"Her previous guardian. I'm sure you noticed in your contract that the terms about her well-being being compromised were loosely defined, at best."

"I did, actually."

"Well, Dr. Palmer took full advantage of the ambiguous parameters. True, we learned a great deal about the effects of radiation exposure during the prenatal stages but I have to ask at what cost? We often forget that we're dealing with a fellow human being. She gets painted as an animal, a dehumanized subject that makes testing easier and seem more ethical. Sam's not a monster, Bruce. She may be in a cage her entire life but she's no monster. And if she does turn into one, it's only because we pushed it on her. It's all psychological and completely avoidable."

Dr. Banner didn't know how to respond. He didn't disagree, of course, but he wasn't prepared for the burst of emotional statements. This was clearly a stance Dr. Panditi felt passionate about. He wondered if he too would grow to be just as passionate about it.

Watching Sam rummaging through the fridge, he couldn't see her as a monster. The pleased look on her face when she found a lone juice box tucked away in the back-the last one she declared to herself-surely wasn't the look of a monster. And the way she deeply contemplated choosing a fruit bowl over a stick of string cheese-the fruit bowl ultimately won out-was endearing. And monsters weren't endearing.

Bruce realized in that moment why Dr. Panditi was ardent in the girl's rights. She was simply a child. Granted, a child with a very adult mouth, but innocent all the same. Dr. Panditi saw her as a lovable young lady whom in her mind she adopted as a daughter. And all in eleven months.

Bruce's own contract had been signed for five years. He worried how far along his attachment would be by the end of it. It had been stressed to him to remain as unemotionally involved as possible but he could already foresee that failing quickly. If anything it had failed the moment she asked him how he was, in her own choice words. Never before had anyone asked him on first meeting, if ever, and in a weird way he found it made her charming.

Settling at the long hardwood table, Sam reached over to pull a large book and notepad towards her. She flipped to a random page, tossed a grape into her mouth-catching it with ease-and began writing furiously all over the paper, switching her attention between the pad and the book. After a few seconds she would pause to toss another piece of fruit into the air, only to catch it with her mouth, a skill she was quite proud of.

Her attention was drawn away from the book only when Dr. Banner sat in a chair across from her. He gave her small smile and in response her head tilted slightly to the side, as if confused as to why he joined her.

"Dr. Panditi went to finalize the reports and make sure I was all setup in the system," he explained.

Sam nodded, satisfied with his answer, and returned to her problem. Dr. Banner noticed something else that was odd about her. She switched her pencil from hand to hand when she wrote on a different page. Her left hand was used for the left side of the notebook while her right hand was used for the right.

"You're ambidextrous," he observed.

Without looking up from her work she answered back, "I got bored one summer." And then with a playful smile she added, "Guess which one is my natural dominant hand."

He studied her for a moment. It was difficult to say; she seemed so natural with both. "Statistically speaking, you'd be more likely to be right-handed."

"But then again, statistically speaking, I wouldn't even be alive right now so statistics don't apply where I'm concerned," she fired back.

"Left."

Sam didn't answer; she simply smirked and then returned to her work. Bruce frowned at the lack of response, not happy with her shrug. Noticing his dissatisfaction, Sam pushed the fruit bowl towards him with her pencil.

"Grape?" she offered.

Again he studied her. Was this a sort of agreement or a peace offering? Either way, Bruce decided that it would be detrimental to their rapport if he declined. With that reasoning in mind, he thanked her and picked out a small bundle of white grapes. It seemed to be the right choice as she gave him a pleased smile.

"What are you working on?" he asked her curiously.

"False Logic puzzles."

"False Logic?"

Sam nodded, dropping her pencil on the book and stretching her arms above her head. "Yep. Each problem you are presented with at least one false statement that must be identified through process of trial-and-error in order to solve the puzzle."

She looked down at the one she was currently working on and then back up at Bruce. She flipped a few pages and put her pencil in to hold the place.

"Would you like to try a hand at solving one?"

Bruce was slightly taken aback by her question. Was this too a peace offering? More likely, Brue thought further, it was her simply being friendly. She must have received very little interaction outside of her caretakers and he knew she didn't get visitors. This was just a sheltered young girl reaching out for human-contact. He couldn't possibly turn her down.

"Slide that over here," he told her.

Sam pushed him the book with the pencil marking the page he was intended to work on. He began reading the back story to the problem:

In short, a knight had to work his way through a castle's maze in order to be free. Each room would have at least two doors and each door would have a sign to guide him. The catch was, some signs would be true and some signs would be false.

The first room was clearly meant to be easiest as it only had two options. Bruce smirked to himself, figuring this would be straightforward.

Door A read: "Only one of these signs is false."

Door B read: "This is the door you should go through."

He took a moment to go through a mental breakdown of the problem. Sam watched him, fascinated by the way his eyes lit up with the challenge. She wondered if that's what she looked like when she was trying to solve puzzles.

Bruce leaned back in his chair and smirked at Sam. "Easy. Door A is the one that should be opened."

Without looking at the book, Sam smiled and said, "Correct. Now, on to the second room."

The second room still only had two doors.

Door A read: "These signs are both false."

Door B read: "This is the way to go."

Bruce briefly narrowed his eyes when he encountered the contradiction he was trying to work through. This one was actually easier than the first.

"B."

"Correct."

Bruce could almost forget that he was currently sitting with his ward in a building that he wouldn't be able to leave without authorization. The puzzle was a nice distraction.

The difficulty was taken up a notch in the third room with one more door being added.

Door A read: "Exactly two of these signs are false."

Door B read: "This is the door to go through."

Door C read: "Enter the next room through this door."

Sam wordlessly slid the notepad over to him. He picked it up without looking away from the problem and began drawing out truth-tables for each door, sign, and possibility. He refused to let a word problem get the best of him; he was a physicist, damn it!

After a few quiet minutes, he put down the pencil and sighed.

"A."

"Correct. Fruit?"

This time he didn't even hesitate and picked out a plump strawberry.

"You know, for a scientist you don't disappoint."

Dr. Banner looked at her puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged and grabbed a blueberry with her left hand before placing it in her right and then in her mouth. Bruce didn't even hear her answer. He was so mesmerized by her little process. Each time she reached for the fruit bowl it was always with her left hand. Then, she would drop it in her right hand before should would eat it. It was odd.

"Right," he blurted out, still staring at her hands.

Sam froze with a grape in her right hand, poised at her lips. "What?"

"You're right handed."

"I'm ambidextrous," she reminded.

He shook his head. "No, you're natural dominant hand is your right."

The grape finally made its way past her lips. "Correct."

He smiled, pleased that he got right-no pun intended. He was the master puzzler that day, apparently.

"May I ask how you came to that conclusion?" she queried.

"Your odd quirk. You reach for a fruit with your left hand only to transfer it to your right and then eat it. If you were left handed then it would be opposite. You eat with the hand you feel most comfortable with. It's a natural reflex."

"As I said before, for a scientist you don't disappoint."

"But why?"

"Why do I not just eat with my right hand? Because I don't want to kill you, Doc. Now that you're enjoying the fruit bowl with me, I can't risk any saliva-even smallest amount-coming in contact with whatever you ingest. Thus, the transfer. Whether it be saliva or blood or anything else, any sort of bodily fluid could seriously harm you. And I would very much rather not injure my new doctor on his first day." Sam crossed her arms as she finished the explanation.

"Now," she continued. "Are going to get the moron knight free from the castle maze or are you going to have him fucked down there forever and rot?"

Smirking, Bruce turned back to continue the problem with Sam looking across the way, grabbing a piece of fruit with her left hand, dropping it in her right, and then eating it.


"That was your first dream?" Bruce asked me as we both finished our own internal reminiscing.

I shrugged. "For the most part."

He leaned back in his seat. "How . . . boring."

I frowned. "Rude. I found it to be quite fucking enjoyable, thank you very much."

Bruce shrugged. "I guess . . ." he trailed off.

"Fucking rude," I glared at him. "That was the day we met, trick."

"Don't remind me," he teased with playful smirk.

"Okay, now I want you to fucking leave."

"No you don't."

"Oh, like fuck I don't! I've had enough with your fucking attitude-your 'fuckitude' if you will."

Chuckling, Bruce looked me in the eyes and said with a genuinely warm smile, "I'm going to miss you, Sam. You and that mouth of yours."

And that's when I was sure I had passed out. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew he was only talking about my vulgarity but just him saying anything about my mouth and missing it was enough to make my heart implode with delight. Fucking sickening, this feeling I have for him.

And here he was, leaving.


A/N: In my word processor this is at a whopping 5,338 words and 12.25 pages. Not quite sure yet if all chapters will be at this length. I can't foresee quick updates if that happens to be the case but I promise to make a valiant effort!

Oh and I hope some of you found a bit of fun with the logic puzzles. I would like to credit Kurt Smith, Norman D. Willis, and Mark Zegarelli in their Legendary Logic Puzzles for the excerpts. They always remind me of that scene from The Labyrinth when Sarah encounters her own paradox riddle from the door guardsmen.

I hope to have at least caught a smidgen of interest or enough to warrant a return for the next update :]

OH. Before I forget, the background and timeline of events for our beloved Bruce Banner will be changed/altered from the comics to fit more with the story. It won't be anything major. Mostly, it's going to be the age his work goes awry and his relationship with Betty. Truth be told, I've never read the comics so when I looked him up on the Marvel wikia, I was a little overwhelmed. So, I'm going to do the best I can. If there is anyone who would like to give me more background information then by all means send it my way!

One more thing-last one I swear!-I'm thinking about doing several more "flashbacks" in order to portray more of the already well-established relationship between Sam and Bruce. I'm considering tying in a flashback for each chapter, maybe even having a couple be stand-alones. But these are mere thoughts.

All right. Now you are free!