Lights blared down from the roof above me so brightly, that I can't help but squint my eyes shut against their harsh gleam. They were so bright that I couldn't see too far in front of me, though I didn't need to see to know that roughly several feet away from me was a glass wall, with three different scientists observing me through the thick glass. Ever since I had first started being placed in this room, they had always watched and would continue to do so. Not just for their own sick pleasure, but also because they wanted to see if their cruel experiments were working.

"Good morning Subject 2-0-7," Greets a voice, speaking in a thick, Swiss accent. It was the same voice as it always was, and I couldn't help but detect an almost robotic tone underlying the words. "How are you feeling today?"

It was always the same routine. They would lock me in the chair, blind me with the lights and then attempt to make small talk with me, as if this was just normal, morning routine for them. Then again, since I was one out of hundreds of other people they tortured in this place, this probably was a typical morning for them.

And every time that they said this, I would only send a harsh glare towards the glass in front of me. "My name," I hiss. "Is not Subject 2-0-7. It's Lydia Hathaway. You'd think that after all this time, you arse holes would finally start calling me by my name."

I can sense their amusement rather than see it, knowing that each of them probably wore smirks on their thin, sneered faces. Though it's only the man with the German accent whoever speaks to me. The other two only stand there quietly, only ever observing and listening to the sound of my screams bounce off the dull, grey walls of the room.

"Perhaps out there in the world, you were Lydia Hathaway," The man replies, the amusement in his tone causing me to wrench my hands up and away from the arms of the chair, hoping in vain that the movement would at least loosen the handcuffs wrapped firmly around my hands, though it's to no avail. "But in here, that girl no longer exists. In here, in this very room, you are only subject 2-0-7. Nothing more, and nothing less. Your only purpose is to fulfil our requirements of the experiments that we are conducting."

"Gee. Lucky me."

This time he chuckles. "Yes," He says. "You really are."

Even though my entire body ached from the experiments I had been forced to endure the previous day, I find the strength to tilt my head to the side, shooting the glass a look of total disbelief. "Seriously? Do you not grasp the concept of sarcasm?"

"It's best not to move, subject 2-0-7," Is my only reply, the familiar words chilling me to the core. I knew them well enough to realise that the small talk was now over: they were only seconds away from inflicting their daily round of torture. And though I had been forced to endure it for six months now, it still wasn't something that I could brace myself for.

Aching, stinging, blinding, prominent pain-

I shake my head, all cockiness and anger subsiding to be replaced only with pure terror, desperately trying to wrench myself free from the constraints, though like before this proves unsuccessful. "Please don't-"

"Proceed."

As if being struck by lightning, my eyes fling open and a gasp involuntarily escapes past my lips, the memories disappearing from my mind as quickly as they had come in the first place. For a moment I am blinded from something high above me, and for a fleeting, terrifying second, I immediately jump to the conclusion that I was back in that dreadful room, strapped to that awful chair. But upon feeling something soft beneath my fingers and realising that I wasn't sitting in a chair and was instead lying on what appears to be grass, my fear subsides slightly.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light pouring down from above, though when they do, I'm surprised to find that I was lying flat on my back in a clearing, trees and thistles surrounding me from every side. The light from above, I quickly figure out, is only the sun, and if I listened carefully, I could hear cars honking in the distance and water running somewhere close by.

Upon registering that there was something hot and sticky on my face, I raise my stiff hand up to wipe at the strange sensation, before drawing my hand away to find that my hand was drenched with blood, though the tips of my fingers were covered with some of the fresh, red substance. The sight causes me to both blanch and recoil in shock, though the movement causes me to gasp as an intense pain throbs in the space just below my left shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I slowly drag myself upright into a seating position and turn down to look at the space that was still throbbing with pain. And at the sight of the bullet sized hole in both my blood-stained shirt and skin, I can't help but cry out in shock.

Everything that had occurred earlier comes rushing back to me at the sight, flashing across the back of my eyes. Ross cornering us at the University. Betty seeing Bruce change into the Hulk for the first time. Blonsky. The revelation that Ross had lied to Bruce and Betty in order to get them to recreate the serum, bringing the Hulk into existence. The fact that Ross had created a modified serum and injecting Blonsky with it, resulting in him becoming some form of a super soldier. The sounds of the gunfire and the soldier's screaming, the bullet tearing into my skin-

I've been shot.

Feeling dizzy at this realisation, I place my head in my hands without even registering the fact that they were still covered in blood. Blood was still oozing from the wound in my skin, though it was nowhere near as much as it had been when I had first been shot, however long ago that had been. Frowning at the thought, I recall the way that I had fled from the university after Ross had seen the extent to my powers, flying without direction and just knowing that I had to get as far away from him and the university as possible. But after just minutes of flying, everything just seemed like a blur. I can dimly remember the way that black dots had begun to fill my vision as I slowly lowered myself to the ground in what I thought was a secluded area in a park. After that, all I could remember was crawling across the dirt and then giving into oblivion completely.

So that explained as to why I was sitting in the middle of the clearing. But it didn't answer how long I had been out for, or where exactly this park was. I had been practically delirious as I had flown away, due to a mixture of the amount of blood I had lost and as the adrenaline that I had relied on during the fiasco at the university slowly leaving my system.

Thinking quickly, I reach down with my good arm to pull my phone from the back of my pocket, dismayed to find that the screen was cracked in at least several places, do doubt consequently from my fight with Blonsky. Though pressing the home button informed me that though cracked, it wasn't entirely broken and the time on the top of the screen informed me that only an hour and a half had passed since Betty, Bruce and I had first made it to the University. Which meant that I had been out for at least fifteen minutes.

If I was still alive and somewhat functioning, then it meant that the bullet must have missed any vital organs, but it was still buried in my skin. With the amount of blood that I was losing and had already lost, I knew that I was going to have to dig the bullet out and stitch both it and possibly the cut above my brow soon, otherwise I was going to be in serious trouble- even if the bullet being in my skin was still preventing a lot more blood loss that I could have been experiencing. Going to a hospital was far too risky though, especially going to one here in Willowdale. Ross had seen me get shot in the shoulder, then a hospital was the first place that he would expect me to go. And if I was Ross' best chance at tracking down both Betty and Bruce, then I knew he was coming for me: regardless of the fact that he had seen what I was capable of.

There was always the option of going to a smaller doctor's clinic, though doing so was only going to draw unwanted attention towards me from not only the doctors but the other patients as well. It wasn't every day that someone in Willowdale just waltzed right into a room with a bullet wound, covered in an alarmingly large amount of blood. If Ross was checking the hospitals, then I didn't doubt for a second that he would be checking smaller clinics as well. And let's not forget the fact that if I did seek out professional medical help, then that was only going to get the police involved thanks to the fact that I had been shot.

Which meant that my only other option, was digging out the bullet myself.

I grimace at the thought, though I knew that it was the only safe option that I had now. The question was though, where was I supposed to do it? It needed to be a place with a first aid kit. Stan's could be a safe place. He had allowed both Bruce and I to hide in the top of his shop, so I didn't doubt that he would do so again. But the problem was that he and the rest of his staff were probably only halfway through their lunch rush, meaning that the restaurant would be streaming with customers and workers alike, who would easily see my bloodied state or hear the sounds of the screams that I knew I was going to create as I dug around in my flesh to pry the bullet out. Besides, I didn't want to get him involved if I could help it. Ross hadn't connected me with the friendly pizza shop owner, and I'd rather it remain that way.

There was still one other option though: Betty's house.

I knew that she wouldn't have gone back home with the Hulk taking off in the complete opposite direction at the University, probably taking off somewhere where Ross and his soldiers couldn't find them. Our bags were already packed there: we hadn't bothered bringing them along with us when we had left, as they had contained nothing but dirty clothes that Betty had promised she would send to us once it was safe to do so. Which meant that Betty's house was empty, and she probably only had a first aid kit in there somewhere.

Of course, there was the chance that Ross was there now, searching the premises to see if there was anything that he could find there that would lead him to either Bruce, Betty or me. Though there wasn't anything that he could find there that would do so: we had left behind nothing but clothes, and the phone that I was currently gripping in my hand had certain SHIELD technology in it, that made it untraceable, meaning he couldn't use it to find me. If he was at Betty's, then he was only going to be so for a short while.

With that thought in mind, I inhale sharply as I slowly pull myself to my feet, groaning in pain as I do so. With my knees buckling beneath me as the pain increased, I only grit my teeth in determination and silently reason with myself that I needed to move. If I didn't then I was only going to bleed out right here in the clearing and die.

This thought alone is enough to get me to slowly move forward, sweat glistening on my forehead and already mixing with the blood that still stained my skin. With my breath coming out short and shallow, I move forward in a dazed state, stumbling and groaning as I finally reach the path, almost walking straight into a girl and boy who had been walking from the opposite direction.

They take one look at me before the two of them break into screams, the girl jumping about a mile in the air. The boy, on the other hand, yells and raises a hand to point at me, his face stricken with terror. "Zombie!" He screams.

I shoot him a confused look, though thinking about it logically, I couldn't blame the guy for calling me a zombie. With blood covering half my face and clothes as I stumbled along the path, groaning as I do so, I gather that it was an easy mistake to make. But a stupid one all the same.

"I'm not a zombie," I growl, watching as relief washes over his face, clearly relieved that I wasn't a creature from the Walking Dead, though my words only cause the girl to shrink back even further. "I'm very...very much alive."

"Don't look it," He replies faintly.

Don't feel it either. "Where...where ex-exactly am I?"

"The park?"

It takes everything within me to not to roll my eyes at this. "I gathered th-that. I-I meant which park?"

"Doveton Street Park?"

It wasn't much, but at least it was a start. Nodding thankfully at them, I step to the side so that I would be able to walk past them, though the girl flinches the moment that I lift my leg. I freeze at this only just noticing just how terrified she looked as she stared back at me as if she expected me to attack her at any moment. The realisation that she believed I would hurt her hits me like a slap in the face, as I slowly raise the hand that wasn't pressed against the bullet wound in my shoulder, to show her that I meant her no harm. "I'm n-not going to hurt y-you," I quietly assure her.

Her lips tremble at this. "You're- you're that girl from Culver, are-aren't you?"

I freeze at her words, panic seeping within me at the fact that she could recognise me. If that was the case, then there was a chance that Ross had already put an alert out to track me, meaning that the walk back to Betty's was only going to be harder.

But after a moment I brief panicking, I silently tell myself to calm down: with only fifteen minutes had passed since I last saw Ross, there was the chance that he hadn't had the time to put out an APB on me just yet, if he was still dealing with the aftermath of the battle. There could be some other logical explanation for why this girl recognised me or at least knew enough about what had happened at Culver to piece together who it was. So, trying my best to keep level headed, I ask her, "Were you there?"

It's not her that answers, but her friend still beside her. "N-no. No, but our friend was. He sent us a video, and we saw a video of the green thing and... everything..."

And everything. Everything could potentially mean that they had seen my face in the video. And if their friend had sent it to them, then there was a high possibility that they had sent it to others as well, meaning that I could be more recognisable now, which could also make it easier for Ross to find me.

Then again, the fact that I looked like I just came out of a slaughterhouse could also grab people's attention.

I needed to cover up and I needed to do so quickly.

Noticing that the boy was wearing a hoodie, I jerk my chin towards it. "Have you...have you got something u-underneath that?"

His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden and random question, his hands automatically reaching out to grab the hem of the worn material. "Uh, yeah? Just a t-shirt... um, why-"

"G-give it to- to me," I demand firmly, having to suppress a wince at both how blunt my words were, and the way that they both flinched with fear as they realised what it was that I was asking for. The last thing that I wanted to do was to demand and then take the hoodie from them as rudely as I was, but I knew that if I wasn't firm, then the last thing that I was intimidating. They could clearly tell I was hurt, and if they decided to take off at any point, then there was a strong chance that I wouldn't be able to stop them.

I didn't want to take the hoodie. But it would be incredibly useful for both hiding my face and covering up my blood-stained clothes and skin.

Clearly simply demanding the piece of clothing wasn't going to work. So, trying for a new tactic, I slowly remove my hand from the bullet wound in my shoulder, watching as they blanch at the sight ragged wound adorning my skin. "L-look. I've been- I've been shot-"

"Call 911," The girl shakily orders the boy, though he appears to find the sight of the wound too sickening as he turns an ugly shade of green and makes no move to do as the girl asks.

Swallowing thickly, I continue, "I-I need t-to get out of h-here without being s-seen and...and without drawing t-too much attention to myself. So please...please can, can you j-just give me the hoodie."

Attempting to their sense of humanity didn't seem to work either, as the two of them continued to just stand there and stare, resembling two deer in the lights of an oncoming bus. With the boy making no move to remove his hoodie, I can't help but let out an annoyed huff. Time was of the essence here, and while these two happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I desperately needed what I was demanding. The longer I stayed here and try to convince the two of them to cooperate with me, the easier it would become for Ross to track me down and the more likely that I would bleed to death right there in front of them.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Raising both my hands and pressing one of them to my wound once more, I keep the other held up before I then click my fingers, allowing them to be engulfed with bright, orange flames, watching as they gape and watch as the flames dance against my hand.

"I'm- I'm going to a-ask one m-more time," I say through gritted teeth. "Give me. The hoodie. Please."

They quickly complied.

The walk back to Betty's was as about as comfortable as I expected it to be, with blood still pooling from my wound and my head spinning painfully:

Not bloody comfortable in the slightest.

By some miracle, I made it back to the quaint house without falling face first onto the pavement. There were a few times where I had stumbled and had been forced to come to a stop altogether to catch my breath, but I always seemed to find the will to keep moving forward. Which was the last thing that my tiring body wanted to do, though my brain had reasoned that the sooner I get to Betty's, the sooner that I could properly rest.

The hoodie was far too big on my body, though in a way it worked to my advantage. It's loose fitting not only suited my aching body, but the actual hood part of it had kept most of my face hidden by other people that walked past. If it hadn't, then they would have undoubtedly noticed the dry blood that was streaked across my face and called either the police or an ambulance. The latter was something that I oh so desperately wanted but knew that I couldn't have, not when there was a strong possibility that Ross was looking for me.

I almost let out a cry of relief as I finally made it to the block that Betty's house was on. But my relief was short-lived, as it was instantly washed away at the sight of three army vehicles parked out front of the house.

As soldiers streamed in and out of the house, I quickly turned on my heel and began shuffling back in the direction that I had originally come from. Sending a silent string of curses and insults to none other than General Asshole himself for putting a kink in my plans, I make a beeline for the running track that ran along the back of Betty's house. If I couldn't walk through the front door as I had originally planned, then I would wait out back until Ross and the rest of his goons left.

Knowing perfectly well that I didn't have the strength to vault over the top of Betty's back fence, I simply flicked the hand that wasn't pressed to my chest and floated gently over the top of it. The moment that my feet sunk into the soft green grass on the other side, I immediately moved to crouch down and hide in the group of bushes that grew along the side of her house. Upon dimly hearing two voices talking on what was the front porch, I bite through the pain and begin to crawl closer towards them. It was a big risk I knew, as doing so could reveal to whoever the voices belonged to that I was hiding in the bushes. Ross would be alerted of my presence in an instant and I didn't think that I had the strength to make a hasty escape once more.

But another part of me reasoned that by crawling closer to them, I could eavesdrop on whatever it was they were discussing. Doing so could provide me with vital information such as where they believed that Bruce had gone, whether they were still searching for me and what exactly it was that they were doing at the house in the first place. But as I crawled closer and peered through the tiniest gaps between the fernery, I am greeted with the sight of a solemn Samson sitting on a porch chair while Ross stood in front of him.

"You did the right thing, calling," Ross says to him.

I have to slap my hand over my mouth to prevent an angry growl tear past my lips, knowing perfectly well that any sound that I made would reveal to the two men exactly where I was. Not particularly wanting Ross to find me, I bite down lightly on my fingers as my blood boils with a new-found rage, that surprisingly wasn't directed at the angry general not even several feet away from me. Instead, my fury was due to the man sitting in front of him.

Samson had been the one to tell Ross where Bruce was. It had been Samson that had brought Ross to the university in the first place, which had consequently resulted in nothing but chaos. Samson was partly responsible for everything that had happened- including Bruce's transformation, Betty's near-death experience and the bullet that was still embedded in my skin.

"Do you have any idea where it is that they're going?" Ross asks. "Or where the blonde woman, Lydia went? Because if Betty's with them, she's going to be in incredible danger and will continue to be so until we find them."

"From who?" Samson snaps, and I'm surprised to detect anger in his words. I wasn't the only person that Ross had pissed off. "He protected her. It was you who almost killed her.," He adds, his words revealing to me that he had been there to witness some of the fighting at Culver and had seen the aftermath of the chaos.

"I give you my word, that her safety is my main concern at his point-"

That, and the fact that he also wanted my head on a plate and the faulty gamma radiation that was flowing through Bruce's veins now, responsible for turning him into the Hulk whenever he got mad. But Ross wasn't stupid: under no circumstances would he reveal his true intentions to Samson. Not when he was trying to manipulate him into telling him where it was that Betty and Bruce had gone. Though, I suppose it didn't matter much. Samson had no clue what it was that the three of us had been up to. He was just another dead end for Ross to smack right into.

"You know, it's a point of professional pride in me that I can always tell when someone's lying," Samson abruptly interrupts him. "And you are. I don't know where he's going. Or the girl, for that matter. But I know that Betty will help him if she can."

There's a brief pause on Ross' behalf, and I'm very tempted to straighten up and peek over the edge of the ledge to see the look on his face. But knowing that there was a strong chance that the two of them would see me, I remain silent and crouched down in the bush. Eventually, Ross replies in a low voice, "Then she's aiding a fugitive. And I can't help either one of them."

Knowing perfectly well that he was lying, I bite down harder on my hand as the temptation to straighten up and scream abuse at him only grows. But it appears that I didn't have to worry about doing so, as Samson cuts me to the chase and snaps bitterly, "You know, I used to wonder why it was that she never talked about you. And now? Now I can see why."

Ross finally understands that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Betty's angry boyfriend any time soon, as I hear him mumble something incoherently under his breath. Without saying another word to Samson, I hear him turn and walk down the steps of the house, marching towards the van with an angry stride to his steps. Betty and their strained relationship were obviously a touchy subject for him then, and my anger for Samson subsides slightly as I realise that he technically had the last word with Ross.

Slightly.

I don't dare move from my hiding place until well and truly after the vehicle that Ross and his loyal soldiers had piled in tears off down the street, waiting another two minutes just for good measure. During this time, Samson remains on the porch to watch him go before he then moves inside, the door closing with a soft 'click', though I don't hear him slide the lock in place. Once he's inside, I painfully pull myself upright, before then moving around the front porch and up the front steps, towards the door. Not bothering to knock or announce my presence, I reach down and wrench the knob to the side, flinging it open and stalking angrily into Betty's house.

Samson hadn't made it that far, as he stands halfway down the hall, his back to me. But as I slam the door closed behind me with my foot, he turns, his eyes practically bulging out of his head at the sight of me, bloody, and standing in front of him. "Lydia? What the hell? I-"

"You've got about two minutes to explain to me...why, why the hell y-you did what you did," I snarl weakly. "T-talk fast."

Confusion seeps into his face at this, though once he realises what it is that I'm talking about, the confusion is replaced with fear and guilt. "I called Ross-"

"No shit."

"I called him when I came by and saw the three of you leaving this morning," He admits mournfully.

"You're- you're the reason that h-he sh-showed up at the Uni," I snap shakily, hoping that I sounded as angry as I felt. "You're the r-reason they caught...they caught up to us. C-caused Bruce to change. You almost killed Betty!"

Tears glisten deep within his eyes at my words, and it's then that I realise that he saw the truth in what I was saying. "I know!" He shouts desperately. "And I realise my mistake- I saw the way he protected her. I never, never should have called Ross, but I was-"

"What? Jealous?" I hiss, ignoring the way that my head spun slightly as I spoke. "I-I don't care if you were jealous. You have no idea- no idea what that man, is capable of. You've just... you've just added m-more fuel to the fire-"

As the world started to spin, I cut off, flinging my hands out just in time to grab a hold of the railing of the stairs beside me, practically falling against them. Samson makes a noise mixed with both concern and worry, though I don't give him the chance to speak as I shakily say, "You...you in-interfered with something that you have-have no clue about. So next time you get jealous, take it up with your girlfriend and not her...father," I snap, black dots appearing across my vision. With the dizziness increasing, my legs give out beneath me and I slowly sink to the ground, bringing my knees to my chest. With my breathing coming out short and shallow, I'm dimly aware of Samson hurrying towards me, asking me something that I couldn't quite decipher due to the ringing in my ears.

Not good.

"Holy mother," I breathe as a wave of exhaustion crashes over me. Lashing out at Samson like I just had, had taken more out of me than I intended. The shouting, the arguing and the fact that I had been shot hadn't helped matters either. I needed to get stitched up, and I needed to do so quickly.

But it appears that my body had other things in mind, as my head only heavily fell against my knees once more, my arms slackening until they fell to the side beside me. "Just give me a minute," I tried to say to the worrying head shrink beside me, though I didn't think it came out as comprehensible as I thought it did. He only continued to talk hastily beside me, though I couldn't properly discern what it was that he was saying. All I could do was close my eyes gently as the wave of exhaustion increased, the world falling away altogether.

The first thing that I quickly discover when I wake up, is that I'm no longer slumped against Betty's staircase.

Shooting up at this, I immediately curse as my skull explodes with pain and the room spins. Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut and press the palms of my hands to my face, praying that the dizziness would subside. I don't know how long that I sat wherever the hell I was like that for, but I refused to pull my hands away until I returned to a somewhat normal state. Only then did I resurface, bringing my head up once more and discovering that I was sitting on top of Betty's table in the kitchen.

How the hell did I get up here?

Frowning, I glance down and find that I was no longer wearing the dirty, blood-stained hoodie that I had stolen from the boy in the park either. Instead, I found myself in a grey shirt, that was a little bit too big on my body. It came down to my mid-thigh, though it was slim enough for me to guess that it belonged to a female. And due to the faint scent of jasmine that I could pick up on it, I quickly realise that it was probably one of Betty's.

The second thing that I discover, is that the pain that I had felt from where I had been shot earlier had faded. It was no longer a harsh, burning hot pain that I was feeling, but a dull ache instead. Gingerly, I reach up towards the neckline of my shirt and pull it away, looking down and discovering that a fresh bandage had been taped over the skin that the bullet had pierced, the skin surrounding it no longer stained red.

"I got it out for you. I also patched up the cut on your head as well." Comes a masculine voice from the doorway. Jumping with fright, I look up and see that Samson had entered the kitchen, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. There were blotches of blood on the edges of them, and the startling realisation that this was my blood causes my blue eyes to widen.

If he notices my surprise then he doesn't comment on it, as he only pulls out something from his back pocket. Peering at it, I see that it's a small pill bottle, but I was too far away to see the writing on its side. "Iron supplement tablets," He says before he then tosses it in the air towards me. I reach up with my good arm and catch it easily, as he further elaborates, "Betty needed them a couple months back. Considering the amount of blood that you've lost, I figured that you would need a couple yourself."

"Thanks," I reply hoarsely, only then noticing the burning fire in the back of my throat: I desperately needed a drink. But it appears that Samson was thinking the same, as he starts to move towards the kitchen sink, grabbing a glass from Betty's cupboard as he goes. "I thought you were a head shrink. Not a doctor," I murmur.

"The correct term is psychiatrist," He replies, not unkindly as he starts to fill the glass with water. "But uh, I've picked up on some other talents over the years."

Of course, you have, I think silently to myself. I only remain silent though, waiting patiently until he brings the glass of water over to me. Thanking him again, I pry it from his hands and pop the correct number of pills in my mouth before then bringing the glass up to my lips. I drink all of it in three, greedy gulps, exhaling sharply as I lower the glass once more. Samson offers to take it, and I nod in thanks as he does so. "How long have I been out for?"

"Two hours. You were pretty out of it when you came here as well."

"Well, I still remember that you told Ross where to find us," I bite out.

He winces, not looking me in the eye as he places the glass in the sink. "I made a mistake," He admits. "But I only called him because I was worried about Betty. And now..." He trails off, reaching up to tug at his short, dark strands in frustration. It's then that I notice that there was a slight shake to them, though whether it was from the adrenaline he would have needed to fix me up in time or genuine stress about the situation I didn't know.

"Now she's gone," I finish for him.

"Do you know where they are?"

"If I did, then I would be heading there now. The last time I saw them, they were heading away from the campus. They're probably well and truly out of Willowdale by now."

"So, what are you going to do?"

If only I knew the answer to that question myself. This morning I had woken up with a clear mind and a set of goals that could have easily been accomplished three hours ago. Leave Willowdale with Bruce. Find Mr Blue. Get the cure. Simple. But now that everything had gone to hell, there were obvious kinks in the plan.

The first and most crucial thing that I had to do was track Bruce and Betty down. Bruce had everything on Mr Blue so there was little for me to use to find him myself. Not only that, but there was no point in going and finding a cure when there was no one to give it to.

But searching for Bruce and Betty was the last thing that I could do now. I couldn't just take off in the state that I was in: I needed to rest. Not to mention that I didn't even know where to begin looking for them. Bruce may have taken off in one direction, but that didn't mean that he wasn't heading in an entirely different direction now: he could essentially be anywhere. There was no telling how far he had gotten either, or whether he was still the Hulk. Or if Betty was even alive.

I shake my head at this, casting the negative thought to the furthest corner of my mind. Panicking and thinking of any worse case scenarios wasn't going to do me any good. I needed to think sensibly and rationally here. "I'm going to rest," I finally answer the Doctor, straightening up as I do so. "I'm in no condition to be hurrying off after them while avoiding Ross at the same time."

He glances up at that, tugging nervously at his bottom lip with his teeth. "And then?" He presses.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I'll see if I can find them. It's not going to be easy, but I'll see if I can work out where it is that they are. I know some of Bruce's tactics and hiding patterns. It's not much to go from, but it's better than nothing..."

"I'll come with you-"

"Nope," I immediately cut off, not even considering the possibility. When he opens his mouth to undoubtedly protest this, I continue, "You're only going to slow me down. If I go alone, the quicker that I'll be able to find them. Not only that but if Ross finds out that you've taken off, then he'll come looking for you because he'll think that you know where they are. And in doing so, you're going to lead him directly to me."

He sags in defeat at this, and I'm a little surprised that he had given up as easily as he had. A part of me had expected him to fight me tooth and nail against this until I caved in and agreed to him tagging along. But all I could hope was that he could see where I was coming from: he would only complicate things further, which could end badly for Bruce, Betty and me.

"He wants you almost as bad as he wants Banner," He pipes up, curiosity lacing his words. "Why is that?"

Because I was an idiot and did the opposite of what Fury told me to do. And now I was going to pay the price for it. I don't voice this out loud to him, however, and instead only offer him another shrug of my shoulders. "He probably thinks that I know where Bruce took her. Or he wants me in for questioning- I don't know. But you have to promise that you won't tell him where I am. Because if I do, that's it. Game over. I'm the best person to find the two of them, and Ross won't let me do so once he has me."

Most of the words I had spoken were all lies, but I hoped that they would manipulate Samson enough to make him think that Betty was lost without me. It was an ugly thing for me to do, but it needed to be done to ensure my freedom. If he truly loved and cared about Betty as much as he said he did, then he would hopefully keep me concealed from Ross.

I have to refrain from letting out a sigh of relief as he nods his head in agreement. "OK. OK, I won't tell him that I saw you. But where are you going to go?"

I reach up with my good arm to gesture towards the kitchen around us. "Here. Even if it's only for one night. Betty's not coming back any time soon to use it. Considering that Ross has already checked out the place, I don't think that he'll be coming back any time soon either. And I highly doubt that he thinks that I'd come back here anyway."

"So, what do I do?"

"Go home. Don't come back here, and don't do anything stupid like trying to find Betty on your own. Bruce has been hiding from the government for years now, so you've got a minuscule chance of finding him. Ross is probably going to be keeping an eye on you, watching to see if anything comes up, or if Betty tries to contact you for any reason. So, if you want to help Betty then go home. Go back to work. Stick to your usual routine- don't do anything out of the ordinary."

"You can't just expect me to not do anything," He exclaims.

"As I said, if you want to help Betty then doing nothing is her best chance," I argue. "You already screwed up things enough once- don't do it a second time."

He flinches at this, and I almost regret the words at the sight. I don't apologise though, nor do I allow my face to soften. He had made a mistake that had nearly cost Betty and I our lives. There was no telling what he would do if he became anymore involved in the situation.

But at the same time, a small part of me did sympathise with him. He clearly cared a lot more about Betty and her safety than her own father did: perhaps he really had called Ross out of his love for her. But it didn't change what happened. Which is why I only add, "If anything comes up, then you'll be the first to know. I'll call your office or something."

He only nods solemnly at this, before he then slowly pushes away from the sink and moves towards the door. I watch him as he goes, and he's almost out the front door when I gently ease off the dining room table and hobble after him, my movements somewhat jerky as I went. I come to a stop in the doorway that he had appeared in ten minutes earlier, calling out, "Hey, Samson. I appreciate what you did."

He freezes where he stands with his arm stretched out towards the knob of the front door, though he doesn't turn around to face me. The only indication that I receive that he had heard me in the first place was a quick, jerk of his head. "I may have patched you up, but I'm not some miracle doctor," he says. "You'll need to get that wound checked out soon. Until you do, make sure you keep changing the dressings and replacing them with new ones. The last thing that you want is for it to get infected."

"Alright. I'll take care of it."

"Please just make sure she's safe," he adds. And then, with a simple turn of his wrist his vanishes past the open front door and into the night, letting the door close shut behind him.

'Rumours continue to swirl about a violent clash between forces of the US military and an unknown adversary on the campus of Culver University today...'

The words spilling from the lips of the reporter on the television in front of me has me glancing up from the map in my hands towards the device instead. For the past hour and a half, I had sat on Betty's living room couch after washing the blood from my skin and changing into sweats and a button up shirt. I much would have preferred throwing on a warm and comfortable hoodie instead, but it would have required too much movement of my wounded arm in doing so.

After having something to eat and rummaging through Betty's drawers to find a map, I had settled in the lounge room and turned the television on simply so that there was some background noise while I peered at the map in front of me. I had been trying to see if I could figure out where the hell it was that Bruce may have moved off to when the words of the reporter had immediately caught my attention. And sure enough, when I look at the screen in front of me, I am greeted with the all too familiar sights of the wreckage and fight at the university today. I watch as injured soldiers as well as countless citizens being carted off into ambulances, a large crowd watching. Several fire trucks appear too with dozens of fire-fighters walking around and talking to police. The remains of the burnt helicopter lay scattered across the lawn while officers tried to prevent anyone other than them from getting too close to it.

"Sophomores Jack McGee and Jim Wilson witnessed some of the battle," the reporter adds before two men appear on the screen, both with looks of bewilderment and excitement at what they must have seen earlier today.

"It was so big!" The first one with the brown hair exclaims. "Yeah, it was like this huge...this huge...Hulk!"

If I could've, I would have laughed at this.

"McGee who happens to be a reporter for campus paper captured this on his cell phone," the reporter says and suddenly the apparent video that this student filmed today was playing on the screen. He had managed to capture some of the action, such as explosions of the vehicles as the Hulk wrecked them. You could see glimpses of the Hulk here and there throughout the footage, but it showed little to nothing as to what really happened. I was surprised however when I saw myself on film. I wasn't looking at the camera though- you could only see my back from where I was standing and absorbing the fire from the explosion of the helicopter.

"While this elusive Hulk is such a big mystery, the other mystery of the day is to who the girl is that was able to put out the flames of the fire, with her own two hands," the reporter adds before the screen is then flipped back to the two men that had shot the film.

"I didn't see her face, but she couldn't just control fire!" The black haired one exclaimed. "I mean, she made it rain and she like threw these guys in the air with just a twist of her hand! And she took down the soldiers like they were just a sack of vegetables!"

Oh, dear Lord. Fury was going to kill me when he saw this.

The sudden and unexpected sound of my phone ringing from where I had placed it on the coffee table in front of me, causes me to jump with fright. But the sound also causes my stomach to drop with dread as I already knew who it was that was calling me. And the idea of speaking to either Fury or Clint at the moment instilled enough fear within me that had me contemplating whether I should just let it ring out and straight to voicemail. But I knew that there was only so much time that I could avoid them for and that I would have to face them eventually. So, without bothering to look and see which of the two it was that was calling me, I promptly pick up the phone and bring it up to my ear. Answering the call, I swallow thickly before calling out tentatively, "Hello?"

"You've been busy, Hathaway," Is the surprisingly calm response from Nick Fury on the other end of the line.

It takes everything within me not to wince at that this. "You saw the footage then?"

"Oh, everyone's seen the footage by now. I wouldn't be surprised if the agents that we currently have deployed over in England have seen 'the girl who was able to put out the flames of the fire with her own two hands.'"

This time I do wince, dread continuing to pile up in the bottom of my stomach. "Director, I can explain everything-"

"No need Agent," He says. "You don't have to explain yourself at all."

"…I don't?"

"Not one bit."

I freeze with uncertainty at this, blinking once, twice and then a third time in disbelief. This was not how I expected the conversation to go at all. Perhaps he was just toying with me and was waiting for me to let my guard down before he went off at me for not following direct orders? Then again, he never really did give me direct orders about using my powers in front of Ross. He had only advised that I try not to use them in front of the angry general so that he couldn't attempt to use them for his own agenda.

So maybe, just maybe, he wasn't angry at all?

"So, uh, why are you calling then?" I ask in a small voice, still not one hundred per cent sure as to what the hell was going on.

"Oh, I was just calling to make sure you were alive," He answers nonchalantly. "After all, there's no point in me sharing what I'm about to tell you with you if you're dead. And you've proved to me today that you're more than capable."

"Capable? Of what?"

"Joining the Avengers Initiative."

"The what now?"

He lets out a huff of frustration at my confusion, but he never the less repeats slowly, "The Avengers. Initiative."

If he thought that the words were supposed to resonate with me then he was highly mistaken, as they only made the confusion within me to grow. But I only remain silent as he elaborates, "What I'm about to tell you is something highly classified. Only I, Agents Hill, Coulson, Romanoff and Barton know what it is. Whether or not you're interested in joining. I need full guarantee that what we discuss right now won't be shared with anyone else."

"I promise that I won't tell," I reply, bewildered. Fury calling me to talk about something highly classified was not what I expected when I had first heard his voice over the phone minutes ago. But whatever it was that he wanted to discuss, it must be something important seeing as how he wanted to talk to me about it over the phone rather than waiting until we could meet in person.

"There's this idea," he says. "Called the Avenger's Initiative. It's an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they can become something more. To see if they can work together when we need them too, to fight the battles that we never can. 'We', being the...'ordinary', people of the world."

"What makes the people that you choose remarkable?" I ask.

"Certain abilities or skills that they have that no one else does," he explains. "For example, your elemental abilities are what makes you remarkable. It what makes you capable enough to fight the said battles. Coulson and I had been talking of possibly recruiting you if we decide to go through with this idea, but nothing was one hundred percent certain until we watched the news today and saw the extent of what you and Banner can do."

"Bruce?" I say, my ears perking at his name. "You-you want to recruit Bruce too?"

"Well, this is where I tell you why I called you," he replies. "You see, we've been keeping a close eye on Banner for a while now. But what we saw today was something that we had never seen before. We're thinking off possibly recruiting him- but we don't know whether or not he's suitable or stable enough to join."

"So, what? You want me to tell you whether or not he should join this Initiative or not?" I'm met with silence from the other end of the line so I continue with, "Well, I hate to break it to you, but Bruce may not be the Hulk for much longer-"

"The what?"

"Oh. The green thing you saw on the news. Bruce and I call it the Hulk- though I guess so did the news reporter," I say quickly. "Guess it's a keeper."

There's a brief confused silence on the other end of the phone as Fury takes in my words and then says to me, "So what do you say, Hathaway? Are you willing to join? You think Banner is stable enough for us to recruit him?"

I shift slightly on the couch and remain silent as I try to think of an answer to both of his questions. I didn't know how I felt about possibly joining his team. I mean, it certainly sounded interesting. With its purpose of keeping the world safe from threats, it sounded as if it had a good cause as well. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel as if I needed more information about it before I decided on whether to join.

"Who else have you asked to recruit?"

"Romanoff and Barton," he says, causing me to raise my eyebrows in surprise. He had asked Nat and Clint? And they had managed to keep it a secret from me for however long now? But it would make sense. The two of them were two of S.H.I.E.L.D's best agents, with Clint and his deadly aim when it came to his bow and arrows and Nat with her killer combat skills.

"Who else?'

"Tony Stark."

My brows quirk up in disbelief at this. "You asked Tony Stark?" I exclaim. " The 'Iron Man'?"

"We asked, but he hasn't exactly given us a direct yes or no yet as to whether or not he'll join," Fury mutters with a hint of annoyance lacing his words. Clearly Stark was a touchy subject for him then. "After seeing how his suit could handle a force such as Obadiah, we thought it would be worth a shot. And then I've asked you, but I'm still waiting on an answer," he continues pointedly.

A barely audible sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it. Reaching up to run a hand down my tired face, I reply, "Look, I appreciate you asking me. But I've got a lot to deal with here in Willowdale first. Bruce has taken off with Ross' daughter and I've got no clue as to where the hell they went. Ross is trying to track the three of us down and I've taken a good punch to the face and a shot to the shoulder. I need to sort this shit out first before I decide to join any secret boy bands."

"But you'll consider it at least? We could use someone with your skillset."

"There's no need for the flattery Nick. I already said that I would consider it. And as for recruiting Bruce, that's not my call. You can make a judgement yourself if you meet him and if he wants to join. But I wouldn't count on it. He actively tries to run away from the fight rather than towards it. Hence why he fled from the university today."

"Our satellites got a glimpse of him heading north about five hours ago," Fury informs me. Hope swells within me at his words and only continues to grow as he adds, "He was last seen in some area of the Pennsylvanian woods. It's not much of a lead but-"

"Trust me when I say it's better than anything that I have. Which is nothing," reply, glancing down at the map in my hands, specifically looking at the area that Fury had just mentioned. "Thanks. You've just helped me narrow down my search for him, even if only slightly. Now I don't have to start from scratch."

"Where is it that you think that he's heading?"

I can't go on like this! I can't endanger anyone else!

The familiar words rung through my mind like a bell and my heart clenches involuntarily. Though I didn't know an exact destination, I knew that there was only one place that Bruce would head too once he was himself again. Maybe he would bring Betty along with him, but I knew that he would go and finish what the two of us had taken off to do in the first place.

"He'll go wherever there's a cure," I admit quietly, the Hulk roaring loudly on the television one final time before the footage ends altogether. "And I won't be far behind."