Brazil was one of the greatest and the worse countries in the world. Crime rates were high, drugs and prostitution were rampant. Corruption reached from the highest levels of office down to the lonely street cop. To an outside observer, the rampant corruption was abhorrent, as an open sewer is to all those who walk past it. It stinks and fills the nostrils, controlling the brain until one can think of little else except of getting away as fast as possible.
Darren Fletcher, formerly a Captain in the United States Army, knew that he was going to enjoy and hate Brazil for the same reason: the rampant corruption and the chaos that was caused. Throw into that mix a scientist who was scared and on the run who could, without warning, turn into a green rage monster.
He heard shouting and cursing and glanced into the side mirror of one of the cars that was parked on the roadside. Shit. Ross was here, and he had brought his goons. They were too close to Banner, and the last thing downtown Santos needed was what had happened in Rio a few weeks back.
Darren dropped his Turkish cigarette onto the ground and rubbed it out before striding up behind Banner and then, without warning, and shoving him behind a cart that was selling carpets.
"Give me your shirt." He ordered, keeping his voice as calm as possible as he began tearing his jacket off.
"What?" Banner managed to ask, while struggling to keep the Hulk—the Other Guy at bay.
"Your shirt." Darren said again, before realizing what the matter was, "My name is Darren Fletcher. I am an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Espionage and Logistics Division. And right now, I'm the only guy who can help you."
"Why would you do that?" Bruce asked, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, before giving up and just ripping it off and handing it over, his eyes briefly flashing green before returning to normal.
Darren's eye widened slightly before he was back to his previous, brisk business manner, "My orders are to bring you in but you look like a nice guy, Dr. Banner, so I'm going to help you out. From here on out, your name is Brandon O'Hare. This is your passport. Here's 5000 dollars in small bills. I have you booked on a cruiser set for Madagascar that leaves in 23 minutes called the Apollo. Go there and disappear. Wear my jacket. Now go!"
"Wait, what about you?"
"I'm going to get some cardio in." He replied, smirking.
With a shove, Darren pushed Dr. O'Hare out into the open before pulling on the shirt, and then turned and ran into the opposite direction.
"Your orders were to bring him in."
"My orders were to protect him from General Ross, and if necessary, bring him in." Darren replied, glaring at each member of the Council, "I carried out my orders from Director Fury and Agent Coulson to the best of my capability. It is my judgment that Dr. Banner is perfectly safe if we leave him alone."
"That man is a threat." Councilman Malik snarled.
"He is very dangerous." Darren replied calmly, "But so are all of us. Romanoff, Barton, Morse, Ward, Trip… we all are dangerous, but that's what makes us effective… I am willing to take the responsibility for Dr. Banner on my own head if anything else happens."
"You said it yourself." Malik replied, "And when, not if the time comes, then there will be hell to pay."
"Well, I better get back to my job, then." Darren replied, smirking, "Better save up to pay off, right?"