AN: Apologies for the delay. Those complications on my wrist I mentioned last chapter? Displaced bone fragment pressing on my median nerve. Sounds fun, yeah? No.

Had to have surgery and am now the proud owner of a few pieces of metal under my skin. Also, anesthesia kicks my ass. So, I had to take a couple of weeks off from writing.

And, since I've been getting more people asking about it, this is not a slash fic. It still says gen in the summary, so it's gonna stay gen, meaning there are no pairings at all right now or planned in the future. However, also keep in mind that this is a work in progress, meaning things change. I've kept the poll up for that reason.

PS: A few of you have mentioned this River character and how Harry reminds you of her. So, curiosity finally getting the better of me, I went and looked her up and found the 'Firefly/Serenity' show/movie. I then spent two days glued to my computer, watching every damn second over and over again. My god, who was the moron who canceled this unfortunately short lived bit of brilliance?

But, no, Harry wasn't inspired by River Tam. Actually, the idea for this Harry came to me while I was reading 'Through the Looking-Glass' with my nephews. More specifically, he was pretty much based off of the White Queen, before I refined him. ;)

PPS: Bruce and Harry's meal was based off of my own experience with MREs. Avoid those things at all cost. Seriously.

Chapter 8 - In Which The Half-Man Has Eyes And The Nothingness Has Maggots

Bruce stopped short as he stepped through the lab's door.

Harry had been very busy, it seemed, in the fifteen minutes that Bruce had left him alone to go get their food.

Honestly, he didn't know if he should be impressed or not. Probably not, because he was the one who was supposed to be keeping Harry from doing things exactly like this. But, on the other hand...that was a really tall tower Harry was sitting on top of. He's pretty sure not too many people could build an eight foot tower out of crates, stools, and a bench in fifteen minutes, let alone climb to the top of it without cracking their skull.

Especially one that was tilting so precariously to the side. Before Bruce could even think to move in and help, Harry was shifting his weight and stabilizing his perch, expertly balancing on the peak of his furniture mountain.

"I can see you," Harry was saying to the no longer hidden camera in the corner of the ceiling, scrunching one eye closed and putting the other right in front of the lens, as if trying to find the people at the other end of the video feed.

Bruce stifled a groan. He could only imagine what the director and agents were going to make of this.

"So many eyes for the Half-Man," Harry commented, before turning to Bruce, apparently having been well aware of his presence. "I think he's over compensating."

"Maybe you gave the poor man a complex," Bruce replied, finally stepping farther into the lab and setting down the trays of food on his lab table, which Harry thankfully hadn't used as one of his building blocks. He didn't dare go any closer to Harry's tower, lest he do anything to send it all tumbling down like a house of cards. "Harry, could you get off the Leaning Tower of the Lab so that we can eat, please?"

Harry complied, though with a put upon sigh, swinging down from the chair at the top and the tower gave a warning creak.

"Carefully," Bruce cautioned with a cringe, making Harry pause midway to spare him a look that clearly asked if he was serious. "I know, you got to keep some monkey genes during the evolutionary process, so I really should know better. But, I'm a nervous sort of guy, simian. Humor me, okay?"

With a roll of his eyes and an annoyed mutter about Bruce's continuing doubt in his species, Harry resumed his descent with a bit more care, hopping off the bench on the bottom while the tower swayed perilously behind him. "You really need to relax, Bruce."

"I would, if you'd stop giving me gray hairs," he said, warily eyeing the unstable structure that could mean their crushing demise at any moment. Well, maybe not Bruce's. He doubted a chair could accomplish what a bullet hadn't.

"The chair is steadier than you give it credit for. It knows why it's here and it does what needs doing. It may wobble, but it wont fall," Harry assured him in a serious tone.

It all sounded very profound and Bruce was fairly certain that Harry wasn't quite on the same topic as himself. But, honestly, he was starting to go cross-eyed from staring at computer screens for hours straight and he was just too tired to try decoding another of their multi-layered conversations. "I'll trust it not to kill us while we eat then," he said, motioning Harry to the food.

"Trust is like glue," Harry replied, walking over to the lab table and grinning widely. Grinning, at least, until Bruce pushed the tray over to him and he caught sight of their meal. Harry leaned in close and gave it a cautious sniff, before wrinkling his nose in distaste. When Harry looked back up at Bruce skeptically, Bruce tried to give him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Judging by the expression he received in return, he probably hadn't been very successful.

Though the canteen personnel had assured Bruce that it was some sort of chili, it could only be described as...oatmeal-ish. It was coupled with a square of cardboard that Bruce thought was meant to be bread, but he had his doubts. He hadn't dared to take the cheese paste they'd offered to go with it.

"Harry," he sighed as his friend poked the probably-not-chili. The mass tried to suck Harry's finger into its depths and Harry quickly tugged it back with a wet pop, while Bruce glowered. "Harry, it's just food."

"It's not," Harry denied firmly, eyes wide as he stared at the finger-eating substance. "It's not real."

Silently, Bruce agreed, eyeing the contents of his own bowl dubiously. But, that wasn't going to help any in convincing Harry to eat. "Well, it's real vitamins and nutrients."

"Nothing here is real," Harry lamented, looking down at the floor. "No connection, none of it is real."

Leaning around the table to follow his gaze, Bruce saw Harry curling the toes of his, once again bare, feet against the cold steel floor. It was a familiar motion to Bruce and one of Harry's most common coping mechanisms, to dig his feet into the nearest bit of dirt and grass, as if he was trying to set down roots. Obviously, he wasn't having much luck with the unyielding metal, but the action told Bruce just how badly the stress of the situation was coming to bother Harry. "Hey, buddy, the reflection panels just make us invisible. They don't make us stop existing. Remember, I told you before?" Bruce reminded him gently, attempting to calm Harry's agitation.

"I know the difference between not seen and not there," Harry snapped at Bruce uncharacteristically, with a slight air of superiority, as if invisibility was nothing new to him. Which, considering how often he liked to disappear and reappear on a whim, maybe Harry did consider it a skill of his. "And that's not what I'm talking about. The fake exists just as well as the real, but that doesn't mean it has a presence to it. It doesn't."

"Okay," Bruce tried to soothe. "Okay, it's all right Harry. Look, I'm sorry this place isn't real, but we're not going to be here long, I swear."

Harry settled a bit and the uneasiness in Bruce's chest loosened its tight grip. It had been a long while since Harry had suffered a mood swing like that. "I want the water," Harry said quietly. "Could we do it tonight?"

Bruce winced. They had stopped looking into Harry's memories after too many failures that left Harry more strained than anything, but laying in the water still worked well to calm his mind. If Harry was asking for a bath, then he was probably feeling worse than he was letting Bruce see. "I don't think they've got bathtubs around here, buddy," he said, the apology clear in his voice.

"There's too much, I'm going to overflow," Harry moaned, dropping his head onto the table with a thud and rattling his bowl of not-chili.

Painfully aware of the camera at his back now, Bruce forced himself not to flinch when he reached over to grip Harry's arm and felt a shock of energy jolt through his hand. Harry shifted himself to stare up at Bruce mournfully, his dazed green eyes looking just a bit more vibrant and brighter than normal, and the light overhead flickered ever so slightly. "You're not going to overflow, Harry. You're going to be fine," he stressed, because when Harry wasn't fine, that usually meant power outages and they were on a flying machine being run by electricity. "And once all this is done and we're gone, buddy, I promise you can lay in the water until you turn into a prune. Okay?"

Harry groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut tight, pressing his forehead into the table and mumbling something about wobbling.

"Hey," he gave Harry's arm a comforting squeeze, before reaching up to tug his radish earring and force his attention back on Bruce. Harry turned and one bleary eye peered back at Bruce, the side of his face smushed against the table's surface. Bruce hesitated, because if there was video surveillance, he'd bet there was audio as well. "We are going to be out of here soon...right?" He asked in a low voice.

A grin tugged at the corner of Harry's lips, knowing exactly what Bruce was asking. "Uh huh," he nodded against the table. "Not in the wind, though. Solid structure, on sure ground. Connected. Big presence to it," Harry whispered back, sounding almost nostalgic for a place they hadn't yet been to.

"Well, there you go then," Bruce smiled. "All we've got to do is wait until we get there."

Harry huffed a laugh that sounded more tired than amused. "You make it sound far more simple than it'll be."

Bruce picked up the spork from his tray and pointed it at Harry with a stern expression. "The way I figure it, buddy, we have to deal with enough complications as it is. There's no need to add more." With that, he scooped up some of the not-chili and shoved it in his mouth decisively.

The effect was promptly ruined when he gagged and had to quickly grab his napkin to spit it back out, before chugging back his water in a futile attempt to wash away the taste. When Harry laughed this time, it was with far too much triumph for Bruce's liking.

And, of course, this was the scene that Agent Coulson decided to walk in on.

To his credit, Coulson only stopped to stare for a moment, before walking over and setting a file down on the lab table. "The hard copies of the readouts you requested, Dr. Banner."

"Thanks," Bruce said, in a rather strangled voice. He's jumped out of a helicopter and taken a bullet to the head, but give him a bowl of chili and he nearly chokes to death.

The agent's expression was at least somewhat sympathetic, which was more than could be said for Harry's. "They tend to go a little overboard on the spices," Coulson explained. "For some reason, they think it makes it more palatable."

"You've got a hole in your chest," Harry stated calmly, amused eyes still fixed on Bruce, though the statement was clearly meant for Agent Coulson.

Bruce held back a shudder and was thankful, at least, that the agent couldn't see Harry's expression. That was not the sort of phrase a person utters so blithely, with laughter still in their voice, but Harry's mind had a habit of being out of sync with most everything else, including his own mouth.

Coulson blinked at the non sequitur, before looking down at himself and actually checking for any extra holes on his person. Because, apparently, SHIELD agents took the phrase 'better safe than sorry' very seriously. "Um, no, I don't think so," Coulson replied slowly, as he gave himself a small patdown. "Nope. No holes in me."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, slowly catching up with the conversation, and lifted his head to finally turn and look at the agent. "Oh. Good," he nodded firmly, after giving the man a once over and confirming that there really wasn't a hole. "Keep it that way. Constant vigilance, eyes at the back. Borrow the Half-Man's if you must. He has plenty, he just squirrels them away in the corners."

"Will do," Coulson said with a bemused smile and likely not having any idea what the hell Harry was talking about. "Do you need anymore chairs?" He asked, casually nodding towards the tower of furniture.

...

The message was sent out for all personnel to be on high alert.

Fury himself had called ahead to warn him that the group would be passing by the labs and to stay out of the way.

So, it wasn't exactly a surprise when he heard the stomping of a small troop making their way down the emptied corridor. That didn't stop him from staring, though.

He was...not what Bruce was expecting, honestly. A few inches taller than his armed escorts and wearing some very strange garb, but otherwise, he looked perfectly human. Bruce had read the reports on the Asgardians, of course, and knew that apart from the preternatural abilities and slightly larger stature, there wasn't really anything to differentiate them as an alien race. Even still, he'd been expecting a bit more from an otherworldly megalomaniac whose kill count was slowly climbing towards the triple digits. This guy just seemed, well, average.

Then, he turned.

Loki stared at Bruce through the lab windows with a predatory grin, all teeth, smugness coming off of him in waves and insanity glinting in his eyes, and he definitely didn't seem all that normal to Bruce anymore.

Bruce sucked in a surprised breath when he felt the corks on his necklace heating, a tingling warmth seeping into him through his shirt and soothing him, and in the corridor he saw Loki's grin slowly fall away. The Asgardian's eyes narrowed and flicked to the side, looking past Bruce. Next to him, Bruce heard Harry give a little whimper.

"Harry?" He turned a bit to look at his friend and shifted closer to him, careful to still keep Loki within sight. "You okay?"

He could feel the tension rolling off Harry from were he sat perched on top of the table next to Bruce, knees coming up to be hugged against his chest as he kept his eyes clenched tightly shut. "The aquavirius maggots are chameleons—they make you think it's yours, but it's not. Make you think you're you, but you're not. The Nothingness can devour you whole, make you It if you're in It long enough," Harry warned fearfully, and Loki reached the center of the hall, finally brought in full view of the labs.

Harry's eyes snapped open and locked with Loki's. Bruce's brow furrowed, confused, as Loki's eyes narrowed further and Harry gave a little gasp, before deftly rolling off the table and taking cover underneath. Not quite sure what to make of that exchange, Bruce watched with a cautious gaze as the scowling Asgardian was ushered down the corridor, while trying to angle his head back and keep the labs in his sight.

Once the Norse legend disappeared around the corner, Bruce felt some of the stiffness ease out of his stance, even as a sense of foreboding trickled down his spine. "Listen, buddy," he started, crouching down. "While this guy's around, I want you to stay...close by," he said to the empty space under the desk.

Damn it.

Bruce turned, staying crouched and running his gaze under all the tables and chairs. "Harry," he hissed. "Harry, come on. This is not the best time for your disappearing act." There was, of course, no answer.

When the option of climbing up something wasn't available, Harry's plan B always seemed to be to find the smallest, tightest space around to crawl into. With this in mind, Bruce dropped to his hands and knees and began scouring the lab, peeking behind the crates and machinery, trying to figure out where Harry would have tucked himself away. He hadn't heard the lab doors open, so the younger man had to be around here somewhere, didn't he?

"Dr. Banner?"

Bruce jumped, then yelped as he promptly banged his head on the table he'd been under. "Yeah, what?" He backed out from under the table, rubbing gingerly at his skull, before he looked up to see who his visitor was and cringed. "Oh. Agent Coulson. Uh, hi."

"Hello," Coulson replied, eyebrows slowly climbing upwards. "Do you need some assistance?"

"Um, no. No, I was just..." Bruce mentally juggled all the possible excuses for being found under a desk, before inconspicuously reaching into his pocket and then brandishing his prize triumphantly. "Pen! I was just looking for my pen."

Agent Coulson continued to stare.

"I found it," he mumbled lamely, standing and brushing away some imaginary dust from his pants in an attempt to avoid Coulson's gaze. At this rate, people were going to be doubting his sanity more than they did Harry's.

"Right." The agent clearly had some experience with eccentricity and wisely decided not to comment any further than that. "Director Fury is calling together a conference down on the bridge. I have to go supervise our other visiting genius, so I trust you can make your way down there on your own?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Bruce said with a reassuring grin.

Agent Coulson seemed a bit skeptical. "And, where is your friend?" He asked, pointedly looking about the otherwise empty lab.

That was a very good question. "Oh, um...bathroom?" So many years as a fugitive should have made him a better liar by now.

Coulson just gave him a look, before shaking his head and turning around to walk out the lab, muttering something about 'Supernanny' as he went.

...

"Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something," came Fury's dry voice over the monitors.

Bruce watched on the video feed as Loki's smirk widened. "No magazine, thank you. But a question, if you'll indulge my curiosity?"

Fury's brow raised. "Ask and we'll see how indulgent I'm feeling."

"Who was the boy?" The Asgardian asked simply. Probably the only straight forward sentence to have come out of the silver tongued mouth yet. "The one with the man turned beast?"

Romanoff shot him another look and the captain joined her in staring this time, while Bruce tensed, his shoulders squaring as if he were bracing for an impact. On screen, Fury observed Loki carefully, giving a thoughtful hum before responding with a smirk of his own. "Well, look at that. Seems I don't feel so indulgent."

Loki's answering chuckle gave Bruce a chill that settled in his bones, before Agent Hill thankfully cut the feed.

Thor turned from the monitors and looked around at them, his expression concerned. "What boy does my brother speak of? You have children on this vessel?"

"Dr. Banner's companion," Romanoff informed the god.

"He's not a child," Bruce muttered.

Rogers seemed to share Thor's concerns, though, and looked at Bruce worriedly. "How does Loki even know about Harry?"

"He saw Harry when they were escorting him to the cell and he passed by the labs." Bruce fought the urge to squirm as all eyes focused on him. He was not at all comfortable with the direction of this conversation.

"And why would he be interested in your friend?" Agent Hill asked, her expression cold and even, as it seemed most every agent's face here was.

"I honestly can't say." And that was the truth, at least. He could only imagine what sort of things Harry had been able to see in the demented Asgardian, but he had no idea what Loki could have seen to draw his attention to Harry. When they continued to stare at him expectantly, Bruce gave a frustrated huff. "Okay, am I the only one thinking that the God of Chaos who intends to rule us might be a bigger point of interest than my perfectly innocent friend?"

Thor, thankfully, nodded in agreement. "He is correct. We have much to prepare for. My brother has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

"An army...from outer space," Rogers glowered, looking more than a little put out. And with good reason, in Bruce's opinion.

The dots started connecting, and Bruce really didn't like what the picture was coming to be. "So, he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."

Thor's brow furrowed. "Selvig?"

"He's an astrophysicist."

"He's a friend," Thor replied, worry lacing his voice.

"Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of ours," Romanoff explained, with more genuine emotion than he's heard from her before.

"I want to know why Loki let us take him," the captain said, trying to get the conference back on track. "He's not leading an army from here."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you can smell crazy on him," Bruce commented, his mouth getting the better of him before he could stop himself. He almost winced once the words passed his lips. While the captain studiously avoided looking in his direction, Romanoff raised her brow and sent him a flat stare.

Thor scowled at him, righteous indignation written all over his expression. "Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard and he is my brother."

Bruce could almost sympathize. He didn't even know how many times he's tried to explain to people that Harry really wasn't crazy. Maybe a little off, maybe seeing the world in a different way than others, but not crazy. He wasn't insane, he wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't a child, yet that was all that people tended to see. But, Harry also wasn't a mass-murdering megalomaniac, so Bruce didn't really think that his and Thor's situations were comparable.

Romanoff, it seemed, was of the same opinion, because her gaze switched to the demi-god. "He killed eighty people in two days."

"...He's adopted," Thor shrugged, at least having the decency to look ashamed for his brother and his actions.

Desperately wanting to get away from this topic, Bruce tried to get the conversation back on point. "I think it's about the mechanics," he explained. "Iridium. What do they need the Iridium for?"

"It's a stabilizing agent."

All heads turned to the new voice and Bruce saw Tony Stark coming down the hall and onto the bridge, having a whispered conversation with Agent Coulson. The other visiting genius, Bruce's memory supplied. What the hell did they need Bruce for if they were going to be calling in this guy?

"Means the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD," Stark continued, confidently making his way to the center of the room and clearly at ease with all eyes on him. He slowed as he passed Thor to give the bemused demi-god a friendly slap on the arm. "No hard feelings, point break. You got a mean swing."

Bruce saw Agents Hill and Romanoff share an exasperated eye roll, as Thor stared after Stark.

"Also means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants," the billionaire said, coming to stand on the platform surrounded by monitors and playfully addressing the SHIELD staff below as if he were king. Or, maybe pirate captain. "Ah, raise the mizzen mast, ship the topsails." Everyone stopped what they were doing for a moment to stare, and Stark took the opportunity to point off to the side and say cavalierly, "That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

Rogers leaned forward in his seat with a small frown, apparently trying to see where the slacker was.

Stark covered one eye and twisted about, trying to look at the screens. "How does Fury even see these?"

"He turns," Hill deadpanned.

"Sounds exhausting," Stark complained as he started messing with the touch screens, his hands in constant motion. "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source of high energy density. Something to, uh, kick start the Cube."

Agent Hill stared at him. "When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?"

"Last night," he said simply, and Hill tilted her head curiously. "The packet? Selvig's notes? The Extraction Theory papers? Am I the only one who did the reading?"

"Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" The captain asked, quick to cut off the tirade.

Bruce hesitated, fiddling with his glasses nervously, before answering. "He'd have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin, just to break through the Coulomb barrier."

"Unless, Selvig figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect," Stark countered, his attention coming to rest solely on Bruce.

"Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet." And that would be very bad, Bruce thought with a mental cringe.

"Finally," Stark said, walking over to Bruce, "someone who speaks English."

"Is that what just happened?" Bruce heard Rogers mutter.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner," the other scientist said with sincerity, reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

Bruce paused, giving a quick glance over at the others, waiting for someone to tell him the man was joking. No one did. "...Thanks."

"I feed him lots of broccoli," Harry said, popping up from under the table next to Rogers. The captain let out an unfortunately high-pitched yelp and jumped out of his seat. This, Bruce was sure, is what inevitably endeared his friend to Stark so quickly.

"Woah! Pop goes the stowaway!" Stark exclaimed, as Harry disappeared back under the table and everyone stared wide-eyed.

Bruce sighed. "He's not a stowaway."

"Oh?" Stark raised a brow and glared over at Romanoff. "Since when has SHIELD been in the business of taking on kids?"

"And he's not a kid," Bruce groused for what felt like the hundredth time.

"He's not one of ours, either," Romanoff said, glaring back.

Rogers crouched down and looked under the table at Harry in concern. "Harry, are you alright?"

"Yes," was Harry's simple reply. "I have a cactus."

Bruce followed the captain's example and kneeled down next to the large conference table, moving the chairs out of the way, and saw the others doing the same. Harry did indeed have a cactus and was hugging the pot to his chest with one arm, while his other hand idly played with the dirt and his satchel sat in his lap.

"Oh," Rogers said, expression confused and clearly not understanding what the plant had to do with the matter at hand. "...Okay."

"Is that my cactus?" Agent Hill growled.

"Harry," Bruce sighed, mentally shuffling through all the questions this situation garnered, before settling on one. "Why do you have Agent Hill's cactus?"

Harry grinned and looked down at the potted plant fondly. "Because it's real."

"Right," drawled Stark, sounding more than a little lost. "Now, who is this kid?"

On the other side of the table, Bruce could see Thor staring at Harry curiously. "Is this the boy my brother wished to know of?"

In the center of the floor under the table, Harry fidgeted at the sudden influx of attention being fixed on him and sent Bruce a disconcerted look. Bruce sent back a comforting smile, but it didn't seem to help much, given the way his friend hugged the pot a little tighter.

"Dr. Banner, would you mind telling me why Loki—" The heavy tread Fury's boots stopped as the director reached the bridge and he was silent for a second as he took in the scene before him. "Why the hell are you all on the floor?"

Rogers and the agents quickly stood at attention, and Bruce looked over his shoulder to see Fury glaring at the lot of them, waiting for an explanation.

Which Romanoff quickly provided. "Dr. Banner's companion was hiding under the table during the briefing, sir."

"Under the table? The entire time? And nobody noticed?" Fury asked, tone cold and annoyed.

Romanoff and Hill shared a quick, subtle glance, each likely wondering the same thing.

Fury's glare rounded on Bruce. "Doctor, your friend is beginning to concern me."

"Trust me," Bruce said dryly, "you concern him, too."

Fury glowered, ignoring Stark's snort of laughter, and leaned over to look under the table. "Get out," he ordered.

Harry's response was to bare his teeth at the director like a dog.

Bruce fought the urge to cover his face. "Harry, please."

With an exasperated sigh that told them all exactly how tedious he thought they were being, Harry did as Bruce asked and slowly crawled out from under the table, dragging the cactus and his satchel out behind him. Bruce stood along side Harry, and his friend sent him a questioning look. "Have you told them about the maggots, yet?"

Everyone stared at the two of them, and Bruce raised a confused brow at Harry.

"The aquavirius maggots," Harry explained, "in the Nothingness' brain."

"Uh, right... We'll talk about that later." Because Bruce had yet to decode that one. "Now, could you give Agent Hill back her cactus?"

With yet another sigh, Harry dutifully handed Hill the potted plant, though he gave her a reproachful glare as he did. "It was very lonely. You should treat it better."

Hill took the plant, carefully not commenting on Harry's reprimand, and frowned at it suspiciously. "I don't remember it being this big before," she mumbled.

Fury cleared his throat, drawing Bruce and Harry's attention back to him and raised his eyebrow at them. "Care to explain, Dr. Banner?" He asked, clearly leaving the question open as to what, exactly, it was that needed explaining in this whole situation.

Bruce could only offer a somewhat sheepish shrug. "Not particularly, no."

"He's looking rather magenta," Harry commented.

"From what I remember, he gets irritated easily," Bruce informed him. "Don't worry about it, buddy."

Bruce heard a snort and looked over to see Stark's face turning red from the strain of holding in his laughter, while Fury's glare turned arctic.

"Shut up, Stark."

"Yes sir, Director Magenta," came the prompt reply.

Bruce had a feeling this introduction could mean the end of his sanity.