{Chapter One} Aren't We All?
- Dren Mercer -
It's raining in New York City when I arrive and a cloud of some unrecognizable emotion hangs above me. The air tastes like acid- smells like it too -and for a moment I think that the depression that hovers over the city is some sort-of foreshadowing. Like it's telling me to turn back, get on the next flight back to Amsterdam, and pretend I didn't waste nearly seven and a half hours on a plane ride over here. But then I think that's the Literature lover in me talking, and I continue down the walkway to the baggage claim, because deep down I know that I've waited too long for this to turn back. I've waited too long to meet him- him being my biological father.
Almost eighteen years ago, back in 1995, a man named Bruce Banner donated sperm. I suppose that's where I began. My mother, Clara Beckett, had met her husband- my "father" -Charlie Mercer at a science convention in Chicago, Illinois. My mother was a genetics scientist. My "father" was studying gamma radiation. After they married, they discovered my "father's" sperm was "dead", they turned to a sperm donor. They just so happened to pick Bruce Banner's sperm. My parents packed up and moved to the Netherlands and then, I was born. A cute little girl- I still am cute and still am considered to be "little"- with intelligence beyond belief. I was far more advanced than everyone else, which is why they picked on me. When the bullying got to a certain point, my parents pulled me out of school and made the executive decision to home school me. I was twelve when my "father" died, and shortly afterwards my mother decided to move us to London, where I put my second language, English, to use. When my mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was sixteen, we moved back to Amsterdam. We used the rest of my "father's" life insurance to survive- my mother hadn't wanted to touch it, always saying it was my college fund. But at that moment, I didn't care about college. I only cared about my mother's well being. In the end, those treatments didn't matter. She died only a few weeks ago. I only stuck around long enough to bury her next to my "father"- her husband -and then I got the crazy idea that I'd go on a mad goose chase for my father. It only took me a few days to find him- Doctor Bruce Banner. The Hulk. An Avenger. Next thing I know, I've bought myself a ticket on the next flight to New York City and packed up all belongings, as if I knew he'd accept me and take me in.
I hope he does, because if he doesn't, my only other option is either getting legally emancipated or being sent off to an orphanage until I turn eighteen, which would suck. I would be only for a few months, a little less than seven. I'd be in, then I'd be out.
I quickly reach out and pluck my bags from the belt, bright yellow bags that could be seen from a mile away, and quickly attach the smaller one to the handle, before I roll it down the hallway again. I had four bags with me- my laptop case, my carry-on, and my two allowed bags. They're all I need. It seems my entire life is packed up in them.
When I burst out the doors, it's still raining, though the smell of acid has let up. I waste no time hailing a cab and with the help of the driver, Hank, I place my bags in the trunk and slide into the backseat. Hank is a an older man; in his late fifties with graying hair and wise, old, eyes. But his smile is kind, and somehow I trust him. Looking back in the mirror at me, he asks, "Where to?"
Settling myself into the seat, I cross my legs. "Avengers Tower." I reply nonchalantly, my eyes flickering to the left to look out the window. He doesn't comment, just pulls out of the parking lane and joins the traffic. I'm not sure how long we're driving, though it seems like forever. Maybe it's because I'm nervous. After all, most children of sperm donors are treated with hostility. And suddenly, I'm afraid. Not of him- not of the Hulk. But of rejection. What if he doesn't want to look after me, even though it'll only be for a few months? What if he's disgusted with me and who I am? What it doesn't accept me? I can see it now, me standing in the lobby of Avengers Tower, facing him. And he just turns away with the shake of his head and leaves me, alone. But the thoughts leave me quickly, as the yellow cab pulls up on the curb outside the tower.
Hank looks back at me with those old, wise, eyes. "Kid," he asks me, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for someone." I respond truthfully, and he nods his head, chuckling softly.
"Aren't we all?"
And then I've paid, gotten my bags out of the trunk, and I'm standing under the overhang, an inner debate going on in my mind. Half of me is urging me to hail another cab, find a cheap hotel to stay in for the night and leave tomorrow. The other half is telling me that I'll never known unless I try; that I can't fly if I don't jump. I listen to the latter, and push open the doors leading into Avengers Tower.
/
- Bruce Banner -
When I was twenty-six, back before I had met Betty and before I was the Hulk, I did something I never thought I'd have to do. Much like every other male in my college class, I was in desperate need for money. My job at the local Pizza Hut just didn't pay enough one day. I literally couldn't afford to live in my shitty apartment, nor could I afford groceries to feed myself. So when news spread around the campus that donating sperm was good money, almost everyone, including myself, jumped at the opportunity. I never did it again, however, but you only need to do it once for it to come back and bite you in the ass. Of course, I never dreamed that my child- my offspring -would go and search me down. It just never seemed like a plausible thought. Perhaps I jinxed myself.
It's raining in New York City. The air tastes acid- I can taste it from inside -and some sort-of depression hovers over the city like one, giant, cloud. And somehow, I feel like it's sign. Like the rain is foreshadowing some other life defining moment. Then I think that it's just the Literature lover in me, and I settle back into the couch to reread science journals from over two decades ago. It's nice to indulge in how far we've come, and though I prefer to read in silence, this doesn't stop the drinking competition currently being held by Tony and Clint to cease. It actually seems to add fuel to the fire when I ask them to quiet down, so I've learned not to.
"Sir?" The secretary's voice from downstairs fills the room, and Tony's head instantly jerks in the direction of the intercom.
"What Janice?" Tony asks, bringing another shot to his mouth and gulping it down.
"There's a woman here for Doctor Banner. She says it's a family emergency." My head snaps up.
"Yeah Bruce doesn't have any family. At least, family he considers family." Tony retorts.
"Don't tell him that." Another voice pipes up. "Tell him I'm the product of him donating sperm."
Everyone's head snaps in my direction, but I don't take much notice. I'm too shocked to take notice.
This would happen to me.
/
SNEAK PEEK AT CHAPTER TWO!
"Does Mr. Stark turn into a green rage monster when his heart beats at intensified speeds?" The girl asks.
"...No." Clint says cautiously, throwing his hands up to shield his face when Natasha makes a move to punch him again.
"Then yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm not here for Tony."