Title : Gamma Flavor.
Author : JackB
Prompt : Cooking
Warning : Cannibalism (self), amputation.
Word : 4577
Resume : Thaddeus Ross hunt Banner with no respite. After too many transformation, Bruce get too hungry.
Tag : Bruce Banner, Self-cannibalisme, Amputation, Blood, Fingers trauma, Actual plot, I think, Thaddeus Ross,
Position in Timeline : Set-up somewhere before the Avengers, Bruce is in Brazil.
Bruce's legs shake under the table of the small coffee he stopped at, hand on the local journal, the other one on his bag.
Relax Bruce, relax, don't bring attention to you.
He has to leave, he had stayed too long in this town, already two days. That's too much, he just wants to leave already. Still he has to wait for his contact. He looks at his tea, focus on its color and smell, his stomach growl and he takes a calm breath to stop his legs from shaking. He just wants to get out of here, but he would go faster with a car than on foot. He needs to take some advance and catch some sleep for that matter.
He was barely keeping it up. The past few months had been pure hell, Thaddeus had constantly been on him. Apparently he got new funds for his hunt made friend with the local military but also used the dirty network in Brazilian cartels to track him at the core of any town he managed to reach.
Damn what is he doing ?
His contact is late, just two minutes, but that's not good, he should get off, but maybe if he just waited a little longer, few minutes nothing more.
A movement on his side catch his attention, someone looks at him like he's gonna crush him. If logic was not on his side, Bruce would still know by instinct that he has to leave immediately. They found him. Again.
He gets up in a sudden movement, hustle someone in the process, as the same time he feels something touch his hand who was on the paper. He turns his head and had just the time to lower enough to avoid the machete that, he realizes, just cut two of his fingers. The machete guy had obviously planned something else before being pushed and missed his target, lucky for him and the town.
Bruce heartbeat rush as a sudden pain flash over his hand, but he's still in control. He kicks away the closest opponent who ran to him, takes the journal and his fingers and run into the nearest street.
He quickly found a place to stop just for a few seconds to shove his fingers in his pocket and hold the journal tight enough in his hand to avoid losing too much blood. Not that he care losing blood, much because he doesn't want to leave a track.
They're soon back on his tail, forcing him to run. He does his best, but they have a clear advantage since they know the field far better than he does. But at least he is faster and more agile than them. After few minutes of run and jump, he understands they have been cocky. They wanted to catch him without help, probably to reclaim more money to Ross. They lead him into corners and dead end where he should be easier to catch, that's not a good strategy, Ross would know that. He is like a slippy snake, it's hard to actually catch him. Especially in tight places where he tends to be far more sneaky. It means they didn't warn Ross, because he would have settled a better tactic. Which means they don't have heavy military backup and that's good for him.
As he takes some distance by hiding and short cuts only him can use, he searches for the nearest fire and bury his two fingers deep into the embers with his bloody hand, cauterizing it in the process and let burn the journal. It will erase the trace. He bit hard his bicep to avoid screaming too loud. The pain his awful. He always hated burn, still it's a quick easy fix for his present problem. The other guy growl a little inside him, but not enough to come out, Bruce keep him at bay as he continues to run, his hand pounding from pain.
Escape, escape, escape !
It's only at the dawn that he is sure they lost him. He takes a small rest in the farm truck he hid in, chewing for as long as he can his already thin food reserve.
He is tired, hungry and overly stressed, there's not stop, no rest. Ross had found a path leading to him and now Bruce was fleeing as fast as he could, making false tracks when could, but it was not enough, Ross didn't let his prey escape. He was on his back and nothing lead him to stop or retreat.
Not even when the Hulk destroyed his fancy heavily armed squad, eight fucking times. He still had more to give, to always push him and push him and push him over and over. It's been weeks and Bruce had barely slept, he passed his time to run or hide, waiting for any opportunity to flee as far away as he could while still staying unnoticeable as it was possible. It was not easy. And on top of that, he was absolutely starving. The other guy consumed most of his body stock and he barely had time to refill them between two transformations. He actually struggled to find enough food to shut down the first deep primal hunger that always hit him after he turned back. The one who just put the focus on finding food. He could barely think about anything else and led extreme actions that made hard for him to keep cover.
People did not like it when they saw a man killing a goat straight on the street and ate it raw like his life was depending on it. They did not like either when he searched any trash like an animal in fury. But he just couldn't help himself.
Even when he calmed the first food need, it was still not enough, if he managed to stay more discreet, he was still too odd for the population.
No sleep, no food, in constant movement. Even with his enhanced capacity and endurance, he was exhausted. But he had to keep up. He knows what Thaddeus reserved for him if he actually had his hands on him again, even outside the torture, the humiliation and the experiment he had planned for him, it was still too risky, Ross would experiment on others with his blood and all kinds of shit would come from that.
There was no way Bruce would let Ross put a hand on him long enough to cause more damage than he already did.
The few days after were calm. Bruce might have distanced a little the General. Which was odd. The group who chased him would have warned Ross by now, except if they didn't want him to know they have failed. Whatever the reason, Bruce stayed hyperfocused on everything. Hypothesis were not fact and after many ambushes he did not expect at all, he was ready for everything.
He passed through small rural towns until he reached the Caatinga. It had been some time since the rainy season had finished and the land was getting dry, it was still kind of green but most of it had been taken by the drought.
He kept a good jog pace, fast but still allowing him to keep up for long. The Caatinga was hotter than he expected and he was thirsty despite having gorged himself with water at the last well he found.
He kept all day and stopped only at night, hiding in a small curve of a mountain, his legs were shaking hard, his stomach was screaming and his mouth was dry. In an urge he ate the rest of the food he had left and regretted it after, he hated to be like that, he couldn't hold his hunger when he was that starved. But it was not enough. He tried to hunt but only caught a mouse, he ate it like it was a cereal bar.
Far too tired to actually hunt he allowed himself a hour nap before he moved again. He couldn't take much rest, Ross could be closer than he expected.
Three more days passed in the silent. Sun was going low and he knew he couldn't keep up anymore, he had to rest for real, not just short nap, and he had to find food. He searched for the most dissimulated place he could find whiles still having opening if something happened so he could escape fast.
He found it on the crater of a mild mountain. Sand and dry thorny bush were covering the wholes place, a little cavity leads him to a tiny underground river. His arms were just thin and long enough to fill up the gourd he kept with him. The place was not very protected but few big rocks here and there seemed enough for him to cover.
He let himself fall on the ground, his whole body was sore and he was already annoyed by the idea he had to find food. He had seen some rabbits earlier, but they were fast and in his state he would never be fast enough. Rodents were still an option, scorpio and insects were of choice too. But first he had to settle a fire. It was risky, but the night was chill and he needed the comfort of a fire, just for this night.
With the wood and grass around, it didn't take long to put it up. Now hunting had not been that successful. He barely had anything to eat and he was starving so badly.
He had been malnourished for so long, too long. He had to eat, it was primordial.
The night fallen and he watched his hand for a long time, he remembered how few days ago two of his fingers had been cut off. Well, if he hasn't had a good memory he would have never been able to state that fact. He had lost two fingers, and they grew back. His burnt hand didn't last long in front of his regeneration ability, his fingers came mostly at the same time.
It should have been impossible. Still it had grown back. Maybe, just maybe, it was the same for the rest of his body. He had been hurt before, and always healed well, regrowing fingers had been new. Mostly because it was the first time it occurred. Still a finger, an arm, a leg, they were the same, it was flesh, bones and nerves. His fingers were functioning perfectly, so maybe, if he could regenerate to the point he could grow back lost body part, maybe he could eat on him and have no damage at the end.
The idea felt crazy, and it was, but he was too hungry to really care about the sanity of it. He held his left arm in front of his mouth, considered stopping but finally took a bit. His teeth entered his skin and he felt the common taste of his blood. He groaned hard. It was painful, of course it was, he just didn't expect it to be that much. He tried to chew, but didn't put enough effort into it to actually tear some flesh apart, he would have to rip the part with a fast movement back. Like an animal tear the meat off a corpse. He groaned, readjusted his jaw and pulled away hard and fast.
He barely took off a small piece of his arm. Barely enough for a mouthful. Still he chewed it whiles watching the damage he had just done. Of course Human skin was resistant and he did not have the teeth equipment to act like a Canidae or a Felidae.
He grabbed his knife and considered how he should cut off his arm. What was more efficient ? But after all, anything would be working enough. Without thinking twice he started to cut. A wince on his face as he gritted his teeth in pain. Soon enough he found himself with a slice of meat in his hand.
Good.
He bitted into it but then considered the fire. He placed his flesh close to it once he created an arrangement to hold the meat. Whiles it was roasting he cut off the rest of his arm and placed the bits above the fire too. He was dripping good amount of blood and he cut almost to the bones. The pain was intense, he felt dizzy more than once, but kept up thank to the smell of his flesh cooking.
He took the first piece and bitten into it. He got disgusted an instant, and almost throw up.
Damn I'm eating myself, that's so fucked up. You're such a freak Bruce.
But he felt the taste of the meat and soon enough he was fully focused back on his need to eat. He chewed the wholes piece like his life was depending on it, which was actually true, more or less.
Who care ? Nobody is seeing you, at least you have something in your stomach. He thought.
He barely waited for the next piece to finish cooking to devour it. He felt like a mad man, first to actually have done such a thing, but also because he found himself quite tasteful. He devoured until he hit the end of it, his stomach was still roaring but he didn't feel like continuing, his arm didn't have much left anyway. Lying down, he covered himself with the light blanket, he had and tried to catch some sleep despite his arm throbbing in pain.
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the fact he was not in pain anymore. He touched his arm, watched it carefully. It was all new and felt exactly the same at the same time. Was it a dream ? Impossible, the puddle of blood at the other side of the, now dead, fire was the proof it happened.
He regenerated muscles, veins, arteries, nerves and skin in less than six hours ? Regenerated so well he couldn't tell the difference ? He felt torn between being amazed and horrified to have such an ability. He knews he healed fast, he just never saw it happening on heavy wound like he had.
After the Gamma incident and the first few transformation, he considered theory of what could happen if he lost a member. Would the Hulk have the disability ? He wondered if their base body was linked and on how it would affect different variables if it was or not. Still he never actually made experiences, he just knew he was healing fast and couldn't get sick, now he knew he could regrow members and heal in no time from heavy damage with no apparent sequel. It was wonderful and crazy but sadly he had no time to wonder for longer than he already did. He had to keep moving. He erased his track and continued to walk.
Few days had passed when he arrived in a more green and woody area. He avoided the villages and kept as discreet as he could, only two women in a lac had seen him in the past days. He hoped they would keep their mouths shut.
Ross seemed to have lost his track, or kept low, waiting for better opportunity, but it was not really his style, so Bruce hoped he had lost him. It was a good new, a really good one. But on the other hand, he was still heavily starving. He ate whatever he could find, but it was never enough. All he wanted was going to a town and eat for hours at different food stands. But he did not want to take the risk, who knew if Ross had not already placed his little sentinel everywhere ahead. No. His objective where now to take a boat and completely change continent, it would buy him a lot of time if he stayed discreet enough for Ross to believe he was still in Brazil.
Despite his effort and endurance he found himself, once again, too exhausted, starving and sleep deprived to continue, his body forced him to stop. He did so, when he found a waterfall, protected by rock around. He made a fire, installed a place for him and took the first proper shower he had in weeks. Cleaned his clothes with the hand soap he always kept in his pocket and proceeded to hand catch some fish. He got two. They were of good size but Bruce knew it wouldn't be enough, and indeed, once he made them roast and ate them fully it only felt so little.
How much would he have to eat to finally end his lasting hunger ? Surely far more than what he had consumed the last few months. He was in constant movement, generally running all day and night, barely stopping to sleep. A grown man like him needed around 2300-2500 cal per day to function properly, with his activity he needed something around 4000 cal. The thing is if he found enough food to have 1000-1500 cal for a day, it was a good day. And it wasn't counting on his stock being mostly empty due to the other guy coming out too often.
He cried. How long he was going to be able to keep up ? He wasn't sure, but sure thing he was going straight to madness. Hunger. Maybe he would never know what people who really had no food in their life for huge amount of time felt like, even with the abuse he lived he always had something to eat every day, even if in some case it had been just a meal. Still nobody, ever could understand the extend of his hunger. It was crushing him. He HAD to eat.
He tried to get up, maybe he could find fruits or insects in the wood or maybe he could try to catch some fish again, but his legs couldn't hold him anymore and he pathetically fell on the rock. It just made him cry even more, shaking and whimpering.
He was useless. How the hell in his life he ended up being hunted ? How the hell he ended up being a freaking beast ? A monster. The kind who brings violence, destruction and death. Everything he hated, everything he ever worked not to be. And now he was starving with fucking useless legs.
He let out a groan. During his excess of rage he had grabbed the knife he had beside him and literally stabbed his leg. The wholes blade.
He breathed fast, he had not planned it, but after all since his legs were too tired to hold him maybe they just deserved to be cut off.
He would regrow them, wouldn't he ? Like his finger, like his arm.
He pulled out the knife. By chance, since his clothes were still drying he was naked on the rock, his outburst did not make a bloody hole on his pants. He grabbed his bag and pulled out the axe he had been carrying. He checked the fire and his stock of wood, there were enough for the night, enough to cook two legs.
He braced himself, it was not going to be easy. He repeated the step in his head. First he would have to cut most of the muscle, he needed to be close to the bone. Then he would have to break the bone with the axe. It was an awful idea, he was going to bleed out, but what, if he needed to stop the bleeding he had a roaring fire just in front of him. The worst that could happen was if he transformed. But he was far away from any town so he was going to take a shot.
He judged the emplacement where he should cut, a little above the middle of his tight. He didn't think when he started to cut. He screamed in pain, but mostly tried to keep it quiet by clenching his jaws. Tears fell fast on his face, his nose ran whiles his vision blurred a little. The pain, oh damn, the pain.
Think about food Bruce, food, just food, you're going to eat that. Come on !
Cut was a big word, his leg was butchered. It was messy and he was on a puddle of blood. Bathing into it. The artery had spurted on him, so mostly anything under his belly was covered by his blood. Shaking hard, he dropped the knife and took a rest. Strangely, the other guy barely showed up, he growled at the back of his mind but never tried to reach the materialization point.
Bruce considered giving up, it was too painful, he couldn't.. He couldn't.. No, he had to continue, first, the second leg, then the bones. He grabbed the knife again and continued his work. He was not that fast this time. The pain drained all his strength, he whimpered. Tears still falling down his face. If the Other Guy was pushing a little more this time, Bruce focused on his idea to get food to keep him away. He continued with difficulty until he cut off most of the muscles. He let off the knife. He was on the edge of fainting, but still grabbed the axe. He had to finish.
The first hit, hit at the wrong place. Bruce screamed.
« You fucking idiot ! » He yelled in anger.
The second try got it right. Still the femur was highly resistant and he only got it at the fifth hit. He pushed off his leg with no compassion at all. But his stomach clenched. He had just cut off one of his legs and seeing it detached from him returned his guts.
He did that.
I did that.
What if it doesn't regrow ? He thought in a flash of terror. No no no, focus Banner.
As his vision continued to blur, he finished his second leg in desperate screams and groans. Then he fell unconscious onto the rock.
He emerged groggy, night had fallen and his fire was low, but not quite dying yet. He judged his fainting had lasted around three hours. Dry blood crackled on his skin. His naked body was covered in it. Both his legs were still here, cooling, waiting to be cooked. He threw up. Mostly bile. What has he done ? He sat up unsteady, cold, tired, and still definitely hungry, he checked his legs. They hadn't grown back fully, but his tights had been remade, coming close to the knees. The edge was of a pale green and was tingling. He touched it and it felt weird, but not painful. He was not in pain anymore.
A cracking from the fire, caught his attention. He moved around the ember with a stick. There were still some flame but it was good enough to cook his leg. He cut them in the length, pulled out the bones and placed one on the ember, it sizzled. He would not be able to cook both of them at the same time.
The smell of graillon was reassuring as he lied down to rest again in his small blanket. The anxiety of being caught was gone and left him apathetic. If Ross emerged on him right now, he wouldn't be able to flee on his own, the Other Guy would have to come out and he would have to hope the legs got reconstructed in the transformation, so why bother to worry ? Whatever happened he could not do shit about it. At this instant all he wanted was to eat, sleep and wash away the blood drying on his body. The rest seemed so petty.
As the smell grown more and more appetizing it was difficult to wait. He held an hour before breaking, his leg was not fully cooked, but enough. He placed the other one in a hurry and took a first hungry bit of the cooked one.
He moaned in pleasure. That was orgasmic. He devoured as fast as he could. Tears falling down at the same rythme the warm blood slipped on his hands and arms. The bother of cannibalizing himself was long gone. His brain, like his stomach was only focused on eating.
He sobbed. So good, that's so good.
If someone walked on him right now, they would be terrified of the animal he had become, maybe because of the way he teared apart the meat instead of using his knife, maybe because of his obsessive eyes, maybe because of the moans and groans he made, or maybe because he was crying at the same time.
He was just feral.
He arrived too quickly to the end which left him stressed enough to lick whatever he could find covered by the blood juice. Then he grabbed the second leg who barely had time to roast and devoured it in no time. Most of it was still raw, but now that he had food in his hand he couldn't stop eating. He barely chewed anything.
Soon enough he reached the end of it and whined like an animal in distress. He licked again his hands and arms and finished to bite it and tear apart a piece of it. He screamed at the same time by how painful it was, but continued nonetheless.
More, more, more. But it was not enough.
He stopped, crawled on his four with what was left of his present legs and yelled as strongly as he could. Rage and sadness into it. Then he eased on himself, hand clenched on his hair with enough strength to almost tear off some of it. Tears were still falling big, he was inconsolable. He just ate two legs, his two legs and it had not been enough to calm his hunger fully. He was still hungry, he wanted more and more and more. He fell on the rock,curled up and continued to cry until his sleep deprivation came to reap him away from consciousness.
When he woke up the fire had been dead for a long time. His hand reached for his leg and palmed it, he reached his toes and moved them when he finally sat up. Both of them had regrown fully and were perfectly functioning, which was amazing. Though, his skin scratched him, the blood had dried fully and made every movement painful since the layer had to crack to allow them. This morning he felt a little less desperate and it was time for a wash.
The feeling of cold water comforted him, feeling of the stream passing around and between his legs felt really good. It took him an eternity to be skin new.
Clean skin, clean clothes, a little less hungry and less tired. He had never been better in weeks. But the long stop he took worried him. Ross, Ross, Ross and Ross again. His anxiety was back. Time to move again, and to move fast.
It took him few more days to reach a port. He sneaked at night into a merchant ship on the edge of leaving to Africa and hidden into the stock. Lucky for him it was full of export food and during the following days all he did was sleep into the huge boxes and eat what was inside until he reached Africa.
End.