Chapter 2.

Flashes of cold, white light. Multiple pairs of hasty footsteps and a strange high-pitched noise. It sounded like a piece of metal scraping against something, again and again. Genie suddenly realized she was moving. She was on her back. Whatever she was laying on was surrounded by people in white coats that talked a language completely unknown to her. Gibberish. Though she tried to turn her head to look at the person closest to her, her body didn't have the strength. Her eyelids fell, the flashes of light disappeared and the high-pitched squeaky noise faded.

When Genie awoke again, she'd stopped moving. Though it was dark, she heard a rhythmic beeping noise. And then she discovered another one. They were perfectly aligned, almost like two heartbeats. And then she realized.. they were. Her eyes slowly opened and she squinted against the sunlight of the new dawn shining onto her face. To her right a monitor with next to it a long stick. Attached to the stick was what seemed to be an IV bag, filled with a transparent fluid that Genie couldn't distinguish. The entire room was white. The ceiling, the sheets of her bed, the floor, the windows, even the chair near it was colored a pale, unnatural shade of nothing.

''Ah, miss Jones. How are you feeling?''.
The voice to her left startled her, and Genie immediately tried to sit upright, causing the IV in her hand to punish her immediately. Auch.
''Please don't move. Rest easy''.
Genie turned her head and saw a young, handsome doctor standing at her bedside. His blonde curls were colored gold by the sunlight coming in from between the blinds and his eyes were friendly. They expressed a certain kind of calmness. They put Genevieve at ease.
''What happened?'', she whispered, her voice breaking as soon as she said it. She was still so tired. Her body felt heavy. It felt like she'd gained a hundred pounds.
''My name's Andrew. I'm your doctor. You've had a serious blow, do you remember anything?''.

Genie frowned. Her eyes wandered from his nametag, A. Oakland, to the door, and then to the window. Suddenly, she spotted her wrist. It was splinted. It constricted her movement, and when she tried to turn it she felt a searing pain fly through her arm.
''It's severely fractured. Not broken, luckily, but it was close'', A. Oakland explained.
As he spoke the words, Genevieve started remembering.
The bar. Bailey's Bottom. Those boys. Bruce. Her heart skipped a beat. The monitor did too.
''Where's Bruce?'', she whispered, looking up at her doctor in pure shock.
Andrew's warm smile disappeared quite quickly, and a serious expression took over.
''Miss Jones, you really need to rest. You've got three broken ribs and your wrist-''.
Genie didn't want to hear any of it. ''I don't care. Where is he? Is he okay? Are those boys-?''.

Suddenly, she felt nauseous. The thought of those four boys being shredded to pieces by her fiancé's alter ego made her sick to her stomach. Maybe it was the transparent fluid running through her veins, but the images flashing through her mind sure didn't help. Regardless of what they'd said, regardless of what they'd done, those boys were young, and they had a whole life ahead of them.

''Oh God'', Genevieve exclaimed, covering her eyes. She felt a searing headache coming up. ''Oh God.. no''. Those boys. Thomas. Robert. Anthony.. and Charlie.. was it? Yes. Charlie. Such an innocent name. Such a playful, youthful name. Genevieve's head was spinning, faster and faster, and she suddenly felt dizzy.

''Miss Jones?''.
''Where's Bruce?'', she demanded as the floor span beneath her.
''Please just-''
''Where is he?!'', she called out, slamming her hands on the bed. Her wrist immediately protested. FUCK.
She heard the heart monitor speed up. The beeping became alarming, irregular. It became annoying. Stop it, she wanted to yell. For fucks sake, be quiet!

Genie heard the good doctor call out for someone, just as she was beginning to lose consciousness. Her eyelids felt heavier than before. Her bones seemed to sink into the matrass. Right as she was about to give in to the sleepiness, she heard a voice. A female, unfamiliar voice.
''Don't worry, miss Jones. Banner's been contained. He's safe''.

Bruce Banner was found three hours after the incident, 30 miles from Boston, half naked and dead silent. Nick Fury tracked him down after seeing live news footage. It was national news.
He went along with them without a fuzz. Nothing. His compliance had almost worried Fury, but he knew better. Banner was put in a holding cell inside the Avengers facility in Upstate New York. The cell was built to hold even the strongest of blows, but seeing the state Banner was in, Fury didn't worry that he'd try to put up a fight.

''A warrant's out for his arrest''.
Fury and Steve Rogers, known to the public as Captain America, walked towards the secured department of the facility were Banner was being held.
''The court wants him convicted for triple homicide. They think he's a danger to everyone'', Fury continued.
''He is'', Rogers agreed, letting a deep sigh escape from his lips.
''Yeah?'', Fury asked sarcastically. ''Not in my book, he's not. We need him.''

The pair stopped before a twenty feet tall steel door. The room behind it was only accessible to a handful of people and Nick Fury was one of them. He pressed his right thumb onto a scanner, typed in a ten digit code and turned to Steve as the door started pulling up into the ceiling.

''Talk to him, Rogers. Convince him. Help me figure out this mess''.
With those words, he turned around, leaving Captain America unarmed for one of the toughest conversations he might ever have to have.
Rogers sighed once more, then turned around and walked into the room. It was huge. There were no windows, no doors, no other possibility of escape but the door he'd just walked through. At the very end of the room was a cell. It seemed to be made of glass, but Steve knew the material was in fact much stronger and much thicker than that. It had to be able to contain a Hulk.

The cell, which was twenty feet high and ten feet across, seemed abnormally big for the man sitting inside it. Bruce Banner sat on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, his back turned to the entrance. He wore a thin white blouse that Steve suspected wasn't his. No shoes.

''Doctor Banner'', he spoke. Calmly. Certain.
There was no response.
Steve walked closer to the cell and inspected the crumpled up pile of man sitting on the other side. Bruce was rubbing his neck. Slowly, as if it were a mantra.

''Bruce-'', Steve tried.
''Did Fury send you?''.
He was kind of taken aback by this sudden question, but he also knew there was no use to lying to him.
''He did''.
For a second, Steve thought he heard Bruce chuckling. Strange, he thought, but then he realized it was more of an angry chuckle.
''I'm of no use to him. Tell him that for me''.
Steve clenched his jaws together softly, a serious frown appearing between his brows.
''Banner, you killed three young boys. There's a warrant out for your arrest. They want you convicted for triple homicide, destruction of government property and attempted murder''.
Silence.
''They were twenty years old''.
''They tried to hurt Genie'', was the immediate answer. It seemed cold and distant, but uncertain at the same time.
''So did you'', Steve fired back. ''But only you succeeded''.

Slowly, doctor Banner turned around. His eyes seemed to belong to a man ten years older than him, his skin looked pale. The ghost of what once was Bruce Banner rose up from the floor, walked towards Steve and put his hands on the glass on both sides of Steve's head.

''I didn't know'', he whispered, a pained expression in his dark eyes.
''You never do. You're not in control''.
''Where is she? Is she okay?''.
''Agent Hill is with her. She's suffered a few broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a concussion, but she's stabile''.
Bruce swallowed hard. The idea of Genie laying in a hospital, all alone, because of him, it disgusted him. It angered him, infuriated him, even. He was never, ever supposed to lose control again. It was never supposed to have happened. He was supposed to be in control!

He should have sent Genie away. That's what he should have done. But then again, she wouldn't have left. Not without him.

''The baby's fine, by the way'', Steve said, displaying a soft, compassionate smile. ''Congratulations''.

Bruce tried to force a smile, but being reminded of his unborn child in this very moment brought him nothing but pain. He'd not only hurt Genie. He'd hurt the life inside of her, too. He could have destroyed it. And the worst part? Genie would have forgiven him.

''When can I see her?''.
By the look in Steve's eyes, Bruce knew the answer wasn't going to be good.

''Not for a while'', Steve said, calmly. ''Fury wants to speak to you first''.