"As world falls, disintegrating into dust
hope will not perish, yet it must" - Unknown poet
Bruce Banner was, against all logic, an optimist at heart. A somewhat cynical and sardonic one, but an optimist nonetheless. Yes, he had suffered at the hands of his father, leading ultimately to tragedy. Bruce chose to remember not the pain, but the determination to be free of pain.
As his tumultuous childhood faded into memory and Bruce grew into a brilliant young man, the optimist in him knew that it was easy sailing from here on out. He was entering college, a wonderful part of his life filled with discovery, top grades and most importantly, people who he truly connected with. His rational mind knew of course that happiness was no guarantee. This did not hinder his enthusiasm. For years his life lived up to the promise of his dream. His professors adored him. His peers admired him. As an unexpected bonus, he found that women were drawn to his witty, sarcastic charm and quite confidence.
Somewhere beneath the surface, anger was quietly bubbling away. For a long time he didn't really notice it. It lay in the background, like the dull ache of an almost healed injury, showing itself only in the occasional biting remark or seething glare, always catching the recipients off guard. As the young genius made the unusually smooth transition from student to researcher, he felt the anger start to boil. Long sleepless nights fueled by caffeine and obsession left the now Dr Banner on edge. His focus narrowed until he could no longer see the world outside of a laboratory, outside of radiation. Through the frustration and the rage that was visible in the broken bits of furniture in the one room apartment he inhabited only once a week or so, optimism still prevailed. He was close to something. He could feel it.
Then he met her. Bruce was recruited to work on a top-secret government project, using his expertise to recreate an old experiment involving a young soldier named Steve Rodgers. He was sure that the answer lay in Gamma Radiation. More important than any of that was a beautiful, intelligent, kindhearted woman named Betty Ross. Betty was the daughter of a General 'Thunderbolt' Ross. He and Bruce had never much cared for each other. Bruce and Betty however were quickly falling in love. With Betty in the picture, that simmering rage began to fade into the background once more.
Between his quickly advancing research and his beloved Betty, Bruce had never been so content. The optimist in him knew that it would last forever. Optimism combined with an excess of joy can result in recklessness. Bruce ignored his rational mind. Bruce had no boundaries. There was nothing that he could not achieve. He was a genius after all. This is what led to him staring up at a looming machine ready to transform into a super soldier.
Everything changed. He had come so far from the scared, angry little child who hid as his father beat his mother. He had come so far, and the accident had taken it all away in a moment.
After the accident, Bruce became desperate. He became angry again. Angry at himself and angry at the world. He learned quickly and painfully that he had to let go of everything he loved. He went into hiding, doing what he could for work in whatever third world country he found himself in. Bruce was devastated and alone, but still, the optimist in him won out. After all he had lost he still found it within himself to hope for a better future. He learned how to control it. Yoga, breathing techniques. He suppressed the rage. All the while he searched for a cure. He knew there was a way. He knew it. There were times when it got to be too much for him. Living constantly on the run was not exactly a low stress life style. There were times when he lost control. He didn't like to think about those he had hurt. Those he had killed. It was these times that he redoubled his search for a cure and thanked the powers that be for his single minded focus and obsessive tendencies. He didn't have time to dwell on the guilt and building sense of self loathing. He didn't have time to get angry.
Then came Harlem.
He had found it. He knew he had. Well, he hadn't known for sure. He made a point of being cautious, trying to lean from past mistakes. But the optimist in him knew that he was saved. He had found a cure. All he had to do was go to New York. So he went. He went and he found his beloved Betty once more. Once more, he felt his anger melt away in her presence. Even when they were almost caught and almost killed, saved only by the appearance of the other guy, he still continued to believe in a better tomorrow.
He met up with the man who could save him. When he found out that the man wanted to use his blood for research his rational mind told him to turn and run. His hope quieted his concern. When it seemed that the procedure worked, Bruce felt his heart soar. He felt all the anger, all the pain dissipate into the atmosphere like warm breath in the dead of winter. Even when he was caught by General Ross, he knew that he was headed for a happy ending. He was cured. He had Betty by his side. Nothing else mattered.
Then came Harlem. Or more importantly, the giant monster that was tearing it apart. He knew that there was nothing else he could do. He knew that he was the only one who could help. As he jumped out of that helicopter, taking one last look, for whatever happened he knew he would not see her again, at his beloved Betty, a thousand thoughts swam through his head. The ones that stuck with him the longest though were the conflicting thoughts of his optimistic self. On the one hand, the optimist wished to live for hope that there would be a better tomorrow. On the other hand, the optimist wished to die, knowing that living meant the cure hadn't worked. When he woke up somewhere in British Columbia as Bruce Banner, the other guy dormant somewhere in the back of his mind, something in him was missing. Dead.
He had come so close and yet he had failed. Bruce had been used, manipulated and hurt. His poisoned blood had led to who knows how many deaths. He was alone, on the run, never to see Betty again. He had spent so long holding onto hope. The optimist in him had led to his accident. Had led to New York. Had led to this. They say that hope dies last. Sometimes it seems, it dies too late.