Author's Note: Fair warning, this contains spoilers for CA:TWS and Agents of SHIELD.

At the Edge of a Precipice

Part 5, Ch. 2

The Alps

"Desperate yet?"

I flinched at the words and looked over at Alexander Pierce. No, I wasn't desperate. I was pissed. Hugging my legs tighter and breathing deeply into my dingy white pants-the only thing they've given me to wear since caging me here-I refused to give into these sick mind games. Yes, I was cold and starving, but I refused to the point where I wouldn't even talk to the man leaning against the wall in my "room".

Being the only child and due to my panic and anxiety attacks since I was a kid, I'd managed for most of my life to avoid most physical altercations. And since I was a self-declared pacifist, I never ever dreamed or had aspirations to join the military. To say I was unprepared for the type of physical endurance and mental abuse Pierce was subjecting me to was torturous. The closest I ever had to come to "toughing up" was when I was a child. My father, Brian, had been one hell of a drunken bastard. I learned that crying only made everything so much worse.

So, I'd stopped. I pushed all the hurt and pain down. I would close my eyes, take a breath, and take it in; one punch and one berating at a time. Thinking about it now, that was probably when all this really started. That was when I first heard that voice in my head. That was when the rage started to simmer under the surface.

No matter how hard he hit, or how much he yelled, my father couldn't get me to break down. I refused to break down. I'd be damned if Pierce would succeed in what my father never could.

"I've got to admit, you've put up a good fight. A weaker man would've given in after I shot their best friend in the head. Then I remind myself that you're no longer only a man. You're an animal. You know what happens to animals when they bite the hand that feeds them, don't you? They get put down."

I huffed out a shaky laugh. I was a dead man already. No one was coming to save me. The only people who cared enough to try were either dead, no longer my friends, or had no idea I was even missing. Hell, I didn't even know where I was or what day or time or month or year or...

Fuck!

My jaw clenched as my stomach twisted and bit at the insides trying to find something to survive on. The inside of my head pounded a little harder and stung at the fore-front like it was trying to prove that it was, in fact, a migraine pushing just there behind my eyes. Eventually it would work itself out, but not after intense pain of muffled screams and biting my tongue. That was what happened the last time, probably yesterday. All I knew was that I could still taste the blood in my mouth.

"I'm giving you a chance here. A chance to have purpose again and not just wither away in a cage. I told you before that I've got all the time in the world. It's your choice how long you want to suffer. Don't you think you've suffered enough?" He used his foot to slid the food tray closer to my cot. "If you don't start eating soon, I'll have to force you too. And believe me when I say you don't want me to do that."

Swallowing hard around the knot in my throat, I thought that I probably didn't want that to happen. If my knowledge was right, Pierce was using some very old fashioned techniques of making me comply to do things. Barbaric things like the "dark cell" which I was already being subjected too, as well as electro-shock therapy. There were also ways of making people eat when they refused which involved tubes being stuck down your throat.

So far, Pierce had proven he was willing to do anything to make me comply.

"You're starting to understand, aren't you? This can be a lot less painful for you if you just do as you're told. Tell you what," he said as he checked his watch. "I'll be back in an hour. It's up to you if my return will be followed by pain or not."

With that the door closed and I was left with an intense burn in my throat and chest.

When Pierce returned an hour later, or at least what I assumed to be an hour later, the food on the tray was gone. Given the choice of torture or eating willingly, I'd eat willingly.

"It's good to see that you're still capable of being reasonable."

I was no longer huddled in on myself, instead I made sure I was sitting straight up on the small cot and back up against the cold wall. My feet were planted flat on the floor. It was all for leverage. They were still drugging me with a surpressant serum so I had to take advantage of any leverage I could get, including my powers of observation. When Pierce was in the room the door to my cell was unlocked.

Also, I have never once heard anyone else outside the door whenever Pierce was there. I hadn't seen General Ross, or Betty, in a very long time. So much time in fact that I was certain they were no longer in the same state. If I was right then that meant no one was around and I could attempt an escape. Even though I was weak from lack of food and water and sleep, I knew I was strong enough that if I knocked Pirece down, maybe even knocking him unconscious then that pure adrenaline would keep me going after that, hopefully.

Then once I was out of here, and the serum wore off, I could really get away. If I'd learned anything so far with having the other guy inside me was that he didn't like it when I was weak. He didn't like it when I was in danger. And he didn't like it when I couldn't run fast enough for the both of us.

After days of not speaking, I broke my last vow of resistance. "You're one crazy son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

The tense frown Pierce was sporting quickly changed as he smirked at my smartass remark. "The only one crazy here is you. How many voices do you hear in that messed up head of yours anyway?"

"Only the one that wants to tear you apart," I said dryly as I kept staring at him as I felt my heart start beating faster. I knew I shouldn't be enabling him, but I was pissed off and ready to get the hell out of here.

Pierce pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. I felt my lips twist up in a smirk as he dropped his arms to his sides, saying, "I don't intimidate easily. I'm the one who knows all your dirty little secrets, Banner. Thanks to Dr. Samson's help after we officially declared you insane after you "snapped", I got him to tell me everything. You can try to play me all you want but in the end, I'm the one in control here."

I didn't think twice before bolting up and slamming into the government agent, sending us both backward and into the opposite wall. The sound of Pierce's head hitting the concrete echoed in my ears before I pounded a fist into the man's stomach, chest, and finally his face, causing him to stumble to the floor. Before Pierce could manage to get to his feet, I was already out the door.

The lights from the hallway caused a rippling effect of pain through my head as my bare feet pounded the concrete floor. I didn't know which direction to go or where the exit was, but I figured as long as I kept moving forward then I'd be okay. My vision was off, blurry from days of being kept in the dark, and it caused me to almost run into a wall. I saw it just in time to avoid it.

My heart hammered in my chest and my breaths got heavier as I slowed at a 'T' at the end of a hall. It was darker in this area of the building and I could see the hallways better. Concrete lined the floors and ceilings, brick lined the walls. "Rooms" could be seen that once housed the criminally insane. I was in the psych ward. Iron bars were in place of the windows that lined both halls. I swore that the stench of crazy and death were in the air as I picked a direction and took off running.

At the end of the hallway, I saw my salvation. It was a door with light shining in from under it. As I started for the door I heard something behind me click. I didn't turn around as my bare feet made footprints through the dusty floor as I gained on the door.

The moment the door banged open, my first thought before darkness exploded in my head was the dry heat, bright sun, and desert sand.

My body shivered as my eyes snapped open as I sucked in a deep, frozen, breath. I coughed out the ice cold air as I was hit with the sudden change in temperature. I shuddered into the snow that stung my body as I pushed myself up as my eyes frantically searched around. I was in the woods, fir trees were everywhere. Sucking in another stinging breath, I felt my lungs freeze as I got to my knees and then my feet. I tried to walk but stumbled right into a tree where I stayed as I tried to steady my desperate need to breathe.

Opening my clenched eyes, I was able to look around more clearly once the panic subsided from waking in the freezing snow. That was when I spotted the reason Hulk stopped and decided to let me back out. Through the green needles of the fir trees I spotted the shack. It appeared to be a hunter's shack situated deep within the moutainside. I knew it was the mountains from the thickness of air from the higher altitude along with the amount of snow.

Taking one painfully numb step after another, I started for the shack. Between me and it was a flowing stream that had yet to freeze over. It was heading down the mountain in a rush over rocks and fallen trees. As my body painfully trembled, I tried to not slip on the wet rocks as I attempted to cross the stream. My barefoot slipped as I felt the rush of water push my leg out from under my body, sending me into the rushing ice water.

"Wake it up!"

I moaned at the voice that evaded my head. It mixed with the other swirls of painful pounding. Light cut through the lids of my eyes causing me to flinch back at the sudden sting. I tried to open them again when a jolt of electricity rippled through my body.

I tired to sit up, but was immediately thrown back into something liquid. Gasped at the sudden burning I swallowed a mouthful of the hot water down my throat. I was pulled up, coughing up the water as I felt my chest tight with pain. My eyes sprung open only to blink back at the bright white light blinding me. Before I could catch my breath I was thrown back again, this time the water was freezing; it was a shock to my system and I forgot to breathe. Forgot to move.

With a strong jerk, my head wiped back, banging against the steel tub and I was brought back out of the water. I tried to suck in a deep breath but it was an ice cold burn all the way down to my lungs.

My bare feet slipped on the tile concrete floors as I was thrown back again. My body burned now and against all logic I screamed into the burning hot water. My throat took in gulps of the water as I choked. Instead of being frozen to numbness, I thrashed around and tried to grab a hold of the side of the steel tub to pull my burning body out of the water. Another jerk and I was coughing up water again, but this time it was mixed with bile as my body tried to balance itself out. I didn't know how long I could continue putting up with the constant back-and-forth between burning hot water to freezing cold water before something happened.

It was getting harder to breathe as I started to hyperventilate. Just when I thought it was over, I felt a jerk and hit the ice water in midst of a deep breath and my throat froze from the sudden ice hitting it. My reflexes clicked in as I tried to cough the water out and close my mouth, but I could already feel myself not being able to breathe as my throat closed. My head was lighter, almost not there as I opened my eyes only to see it darkening around the edges. Through the rippling clear water I could make out the light that'd been blinding me; it was the sun's rays shining through a sun roof.

A figure blocked out the light and I could make out a distorted version of Alexander Pierce before I was jerked up again. This time instead of coughing up the water I felt my body go limp in the restraints as I tumbled forward onto the concrete floor.

That was when I stopped feeling as I drifted into unconsciousness where nothing existed. Until...

A jolt of electricity shot through my body, causing me to scream out in pain into the floor while coughing up the water I'd choked on. I was being lifted up, but the touch was one I couldn't feel. There was nothing distinct about my movements or the movements around me. Light would come and go as I involuntary opened and closed my eyes that took nothing in. Nothing was noticed, no details of the room, the people, or the tubs.

Not until I was thrown back into them.

The water encircled my body, burning one moment then freezing the next. I could no longer think, couldn't scream. Whenever I fell completely unconscious a shock would wake me up, but only to be thrown back before being jerked up, over and over again.

After what felt like days, I was left to shake and air dry on the concrete floor with only a single statement being spoken into my ear before no other sound was made.

"Don't forget, Banner, Sebastian is to blame for this. Sebastian's the reason you're here."

I broke through the ice water, gasping for air, and latched my hand onto a fallen tree. Pulling myself up, I found a rock with my other hand to grab onto. It took all the strength I had left to drag myself out of the freezing cold water and over the snow covered ground to the shack. By the time I made it there my body stopped trembling from the cold. The door wasn't locked as I was able to get inside and shut the door. Upon shutting the door, I hit the wooden floor and fell forward, banging my head on it while my muslces tensed tight within my skin. I could feel my heart start to beat slower as my gasps of air grew shallow.

I clenched my eyes shut as I remembered the same feeling and sense of death I had in my memories.

That day in the desert after my first attempt at an escape had been when Alexander Pierce learned I couldn't die that easily. He'd got me back inside the building while I convulsed from the gunshot wound to my head. Blood smeared the hallways back to the medical wing where I'd been put in a glass cage while my body literally tried to die. I said tried because I couldn't. Hulk, even though he wasn't able to fully make an appearance due to the serum, fought and fought until he finally was able to break free.

I had been shown the footage days later after I'd regained conscious. I had stayed there in the cage, blood seeping out of my head, body twitching and convulsing but never dying. It lasted for nearly three hours before the serum wore off enough for me to transform. The Hulk tried to break through the glass but couldn't. I'd been told it had been designed to withstand someone as powerful as the Hulk. That had been when I spotted, near the base of the cage and printed on the metal, the words Stark Industries.

After that day, my Hell got a whole lot worse as Pierce was tempted to see how indestructable I actual was. He'd thought he could kill me after he no longer had any use for me. He thought wrong. The "torture baths" had only been the beginning.

Now, I was dying again. This time from hypothermia. I was freezing to death. Even though I knew I couldn't actually die, that once my heart pumped that one last time before it stopped, that I would change and the other guy would take us off to some other land, I still struggled to with the fear. I hadn't feared it when I tried to end it myself. At that time, I wanted it. I had hoped if I'd done it myself, willed myself to accept death, that the monster raging in me would accept it as well. That I could die.

Hulk didn't want to die then.

I didn't want to die now.

It was too painful.

Physically it always, and would always, hurt. Nothing about death was painless. What was too painful now was the emotional, even mental, anguish. The wooden and tin ceiling above me blurred in my vision as my eyes burned from unshed tears as I took in a short gasping breath into my burning lungs as my chest jerked. It had been from a jolt of adrenaline that the body sent out when it thought it was dying. My heart's thump was fainter in as my last thought before my vision faded to green was of leaving the only person I'd considered a friend in years.

Clint had let me go. He had sacrificed himself so I could escape. I knew in my dying heart that he had been captured by S.H.I.E.L.D.. There had been too many of them and only one of him. In my state of being, and who I was, I had only two responses as I gave myself over to the other guy: fight or flight. Mostly, I took flight. I was so used to running, of getting away from everyone whom I could hurt or potentionally kill, that I never stayed to fight. I couldn't risk the deaths of innocent bystanders.

Without remembering the details, I knew that Hulk hadn't stayed behind. He had left. He had gotten as far away from civilization as he possibly could and that was why I was dying on the floor of a hunter's shack on a mountainside from hypothermia.

Except I wasn't.

I felt a heat grow in my chest as my green vision searched over the ceiling then over the walls. It was the effects of the radiation that surged through my veins that brought me out of my cardiac arrest. My lungs no longer hurt as I took in a deep breath and let it out as my heart pounded a little faster and stronger in my chest. I heard a deep rumble vibrate up my chest and out my mouth as I rolled over to push up off the floor.

My body felt tight as my muscles flexed and pulsed inside my skin as I paced over the hard wooden floor. The rage that had soared inside had my hands clenching and pulsing as I gritted my teeth. Inside my body it felt like...nirvana. The rage, despite all logic, had always felt like a drug. And for me it was an addiction. Every time I changed or went into this state of half man, half monster, it was like getting my next fix. I didn't want to resist it; I wanted to give into it over and over again. It was a troubling thought to know that I didn't just want the rage, but that I craved for it. My body ached and twitched and longed for that feel of pure fiery rage.

Encaged in my anger, I felt almost blissful. It was enough to make me smile through my clenched teeth as racing thoughts of Pierce, of Clint being in SHIELD's custody, and of Sebastian clashed inside my skull. My hands balled into fists and then unfurled as Pierce's words echoed in my head over and over like a broken record.

Sebastian's the reason you're here. He did this to you. He's to blame.

My hand came up to slap the side of my head as it was getting harder to repress those words, those thoughts, and that feeling of guilt that swirled into the mixture of rage and hate.

He's dead...you killed him. Dr. Samson's words followed, punctuated in that white room with no windows and no air to breathe. Do you accept this?

All rational thought seemed to fade away as I gave over to the monster's seething anger as a painful scream escaped my throat as I clenched the hand that'd been pummeling my own head as I threw it into a wall. The impact splittering the wood. Another fist collided with the wall, splittering another hole into it as my raging green eyes only saw the walls of a prison cell.

It wasn't a literal cell, but a metaphorical one. I'd heard the idiom "cage of anger" before many years ago. It'd been spoken by Dr. Samson to me once when I had refused yet again to go to anger management classes. The "cage of anger" referred to prison. And that was where I was trapped consistantly within my own body, mind, and emotions. I was nothing but a five foot eight, a hundred and forty pound prison.

"That anger is going to be your downfall one day, Bruce, unless you do something about it."

I looked up from the shattered porcelain cup on the floor at that steady and very reasonable voice. Turning my eyes to Sebastian, I blinked back as I let out a deep breath to steady my sudden outburst. It'd been ridiculous. Grabbing a towel off the table, I went to clean up the hot coffee that had burned my hand and lap. There was a stain forming on my white dress shirt, causing me to curse as I stood, throwing the towel on the table, and headed toward the laundry room as I nearly tore the buttons off my shirt as I tugged it off.

Sebastian followed as he told me to my back, "You should come workout with me. I could teach you to box or something. It'll be a whole lot healthier taking all that pent-up anger out on a bag than a coffee cup. Less messier too."

I yanked the dryer door open and pulled out a wrinkled yet clean dress shirt and tugged it up over my shaking shoulders. Logically, I knew I should no longer feel upset but I was hard to shake the feeling of anger once it started. I couldn't just get mad, hit something, then relax and continue like nothing happened. Once I got mad and hit something, I wanted to keep hitting it under I hurt so bad I could no longer do it or until I grew too tired to function.

God, that was messed up. Maybe I should take Leonard up on those anger management classes...Or, turning to Sebastian, I looked him over as my fingers hesitated with buttoning up my shirt. He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was dressed for the gym with a muscle shirt over his tightly toned chest and a pair sweats that hung loosely off his left hip. His feet were bare, not having yet to put on his socks and sneakers.

Looking back up into his eyes, I didn't try to hide how turned on I was right then. "If you want me to get a workout in today, then get in here and shut the door."

Sebastian at first frowned as he stared over at me. He knew once I got this way how rough I could be if I turned to him for sex to relieve the anger. I never hit him, but I wasn't tender about anything either. Sebastian had described it once as going into a wrestling match where only one of us knew how to wrestle. It was hard, fast, and everything was borderline painful. I'd left a few brusies on his skin from gripping or pushing or shoving too hard.

I asked him after one particular rough bout of sex where I'd nearly dislocated his shoulder as to why he did it, why he let me do it if he knew how rough I could get. His only explanation was that I needed it, and he knew I needed it. So, he would let me.

There was a brief moment as I stared over at him in the doorway where I thought he was going to turn away, and for good reason, before he softly smiled and gave a nod as he stepped into the laundry room.

As he turned to shut the door, he asked, "Why do I have to shut-" his voice broke off into a "umpf" as I shoved him into it once it was shut at the same time I kicked at his feet for him to spread his legs wider, ignoring the yelp of pain as I hit his ankle with my shoe.

That memory had me slamming my hand harder into the wood as I tried to relieve some of the rage threatening to convert and painfully transform my body back into the monster. It was hard to get back to being Banner once I gave into the rage. It felt like I was drowning in my own soul as the man slipped further away while the monster rose closer to the surface. My voice could no longer be heard, my thoughts could no longer be of reasonable use, and my body was completely out of my control. And I went willingly for the most part. I wanted to feel that sweet freedom of release as I finally stopped controlling, finally stopped resisting, and took another hit.

My hand collided one last time into the wall, sending my arm straight through the wood. I pulled back and saw the blood dripping my my torn flesh and grinned again. If someone else was in the shack with me, they would've gotten sick at my twisted lips and green eyes. Good thing I was always alone.

It was for the best. No one should be around me, ever. I was too dangerous.

Finding something to soak up the blood, I tore apart of a cloth that had been covering the table and wiped the blood off my trembling hand. It wasn't trembling from pain but the adrenaline. Once the cloth was covered in the fresh blood, I took it outside and found a good spot to put to so it wouldn't blow away from the wind then went back inside.

I searched over the walls for anything useful. There wasn't much in the shack but I did kind a kerosine lantern, a wood burning stove in the corner, and plenty of shit to burn. The fire wasn't for me, I could hold this state between man and monster for days if I had to. No, the fire was for my dinner.

Once I got the fire rolling, I stared down into it until I was satisfied that it would last a while before heading back outside. The cuts on my hand and arm were already healing as I found a good spot upwind to hole up and wait. Crouching down, and hidden in the mass of trees and bush, I steadied my breathing, focused my eyes, and waited. There was no need for glasses with my vision green; the Hulk's eyes were as sharp as knives.

The air around me was freezing as the sun started to set lower over the ranges. The hazy green sky grew darker as the area around me almost turned into a weird kind of night vision. I never understood why Hulk never saw in color until I saw what he saw in the dark. This was what animals saw when the sun went down.

And I spotted the animal I was hunting as it huffed and heaved through the trees toward the stench of blood. The wild bear got closer to the spot where I'd put the cloth and I felt the tension in my body radiate as my hands and feet twitched in anticipation to attack and kill. A deep growl rumbled up through my chest as my tight muscles set much like a runner setting before the shot of the gun to bolt up and run.

The actual bang of a real gun snapped me out of my focus as the bear let out a growl of pain before making a useless attempt at escape. Another burst of the gunshot had my anger soaring as the bear went down to the cold ground; dead.

It appeared that I wasn't alone in the forest after all. Moments later, I saw the man who'd been hunting the bear walk out of the forest, rifle in hand and backpack on his shoulders. At seeing the man who'd taken my dinner from me, I felt my teeth grind as I stepped back and encircled him from the other side. That primal instinct within my body that wanted to kill the bear now wanted to take down the hunter.

I didn't want to kill him; I just wanted him hurt and broken. And that was a bad thing for me to be thinking. I tried to fight it, tired to crawl my way back to the surface out of the depths, but it was too late. I was raging as I stared at the back of my prey and after making sure he was alone, attacked.

The hunter didn't have a chance as I grabbed him around the neck and arms, knocking the rifle out of his hands and twisted him around as I raised him up then threw him to the ground. Picking up the dropped rifle, I gripped it by the barrel, ignoring the heat from the hot metal in my hands, and at seeing his wide shocked eyes, swung. It cracked against the side of his head, knocking him unconscious into the snow.

The Triskelion

They had flown him in by helicopter, bag over his head, and hands cuffed in metal restraints that couldn't be picked. He didn't know what all the secrecy was about; it wasn't like he had anyone to squeel his secrets to anyway. He had yet to go over his "options" with Agent Coulson due to some situation that had him quickly in restraints and out of the other location just moments after Agent Romanoff left him alone in the interrogation room.

He still wasn't sure why SHIELD wanted him other than having him killed or locked up. The restraints had him thinking more of the latter. If he'd wanted someone dead and had them in a helicopter, he would've done it then.

Moments after he was pulled away from the whipping blades and gust of wind, the bag was lifted from his head and he blinked back sunlight right before he entered through an open door and into a darkened hallway. The door behind him shut and he swallowed hard at the thick narrow hall that lead to what appeared to be only one location, which was a door at the other end about fifty yards away.

Two pair of arms urged him forward as he started walking. He glanced at the two agents and thought how easy it would be to take them both down, but then again it would be pointless. He had nowhere to go. There were security cameras every few feet that he walked under and smiled into every single one of them as he passed; just to get the goat of whoever was watching. At the last one just outside the door, he gave a wave as he tilted his head to the side.

The door opened and he was escorted inside. It wasn't much but he wasn't expecting the Ritz either. It was a small nine-by-nine room, pure white walls, and that was it. One of the agents released the restraints while the other waited by the door. Then they both were gone and the door was shut.

"Well, this sucks," he mumbled to himself as he looked around. "Not even a pot to piss in."

"We don't use pots anymore."

He jumped at the voice and turned to see Agent Coulson standing behind him. The wall that'd been behind him was gone and he could see in the entire of the mysterious building. It looked rather dull, actually. Offices, cubicles, and stiffs in suits.

"Follow me," Agent Coulson told him as he turned around and started walking. "Sorry about putting you through all of that, but I figured if you didn't try to escape or injure any of our agents given plenty of ample opportunity, well then, maybe we could talk."

"Is that all this is: a talk?"

"And having a coffee. Do you like coffee? We have cappuccinos, and lattes, and those ice coffees-"

"Regular coffee's fine," he told the Agent as they turned a corner and walked into the atrium.

He couldn't help but notice that mostly everyone he passed gave him a quick once over. Their eyes on him had him flexing his back straighter and twisting his lips up into a smirk. They all knew he didn't belong there, he knew it too, but he was and that made him want to flip every single one of them off. He refrained, but only because he didn't want to get kicked out just yet.

There was a cafe located on the other side enclosed in glass. A glass door slid open for them to enter and he was hit by the sudden burst of activicty and noise. A group of co-workers were laughing and talking in a corner table, enjoying their lunch, or was it breakfast? He had no idea what time it was but there was sunlight coming through the glass ceiling so it couldn't have been dinner already.

They grabbed two plain coffees and he was expecting to pay but saw no where or how to pay. Deciding not to ask, he followed the agent to a far two-seater table by the wall and took a seat. His eyes flickered around the room as he felt the eyes of the agent on him. It was unnerving but he wasn't about to let it show. He took a sip of the coffee and hummed in pleasure. This could be his last cup of coffee, so he was going to drink it as slowly as possible as he turned his attention back to Agent Coulson.

He had that goofy looking smirk on his face again as he said, "Don't mind me, I'm just waiting for the sedative to kick in."

The coffee got stuck in his throat as he tried not to cough or spew the hot liquid all over the table. He coughed and choked as he stared over at the agent who was now smilng wide as he took a hefty drink of his own coffee. It took a couple of long seconds before he could get a word out of his hoarse throat, "That wasn't funny."

"From over here it was," Coulson shot back before his smile turned into a serious scrowl as he said, "But you're right, I didn't bring you here just to slip you a roofie."

"Hope not." He got his breathing under control and took another drink of the coffee, trying to steady himself, as he asked, "Why did you bring me here? Last I checked, I'm still an assassin you arrested."

"We didn't arrest you, we...borrowed."

"Physically restraining a man and putting a bag over his head isn't borrowing."

"It is when I have no intention of keeping you unless you wanted to be kept," Coulson said before pulling an envelope out of his inside suit pocket. He laid it on the table infront of him but didn't make a move to either open it or give it to him. Instead, he said, "We weren't after you, Mr. Barton. Not initially. Despite your job, what you've done, you never did it to any innocent civilian. You've made sure that all your targets up until now were guilty in some form or another. Vigilante justice really seemed to be your M.O.. Dr. Banner changed that, for the both of you."

He took another sip of the coffee as he took all that in. Even though not much was said, a lot was said. Clearing his throat, he said, "Initally you were after Banner."

Coulson gave a nod but didn't say anything else. He wasn't certain why, but it seemed like the Agent wanted to know what he thought about everything. Well, if the agent wanted his honest to goodness opinion he was going to give it to him.

"I don't know who you are or why you decided to borrow me since you don't care one way or the other what I'm doing. All I know is that I don't trust you and if you want me to help you get Banner then too bad. Show me the door and let me get back to my work." He really wanted to tell Agent Coulson that he could go fuck himself, but he was going for tactful.

Coulson only smiled more as he gave a shrug. "Suit yourself. Although, I don't need your help to get Banner and that's not why you're here. And the door was the glass one we walked into together."

Working his jaw, he glanced toward the door they'd enter into the cafe as he frowned in confusion. He wasn't expecting that at all. Taking another sip of the coffee, he weighed his options. It was either back to his vigilante justice as Coulson put it, or he could stay and hear the agent out.

He smirked as he realized that Agent Coulson wasn't giving him options to consider, he was.

He felt a clenching pain in his chest as he thought about leaving; of going back out into the big world with no one to trust and no one who cared. His purpose in life was the one he had created for himself and so far it had been going okay. It was his life, and it was all he knew. He should have been emptying that cup and leaving. Instead, he was sitting in the chair, eying the door, and wondering what if he stayed.

He'd always wanted to work for the secret spook agencies. The only thing keeping him from it was his own history as a criminal. He knew he had the skills, the mindset, and the physicality for the job. Yet, something was holding him back.

He remembererd what Banner had told him on the boat about SHIELD. "Not all good guys do good things." Or something like that. Banner had been in their custody before and he was running from them now.

At that thought, he realized what he had to do. SHIELD was still after Banner and he didn't know if they still wanted to use him as a weapon or not, but he knew that whatever they wanted with him couldn't be good. There were so many reasons for him to stay, but only one he cared about, and that was to ensure the doc didn't end up in a deep hole somewhere.

He nearly huffed out a laugh at that thought. How things had changed since he'd first accepted the job from General Ross to now.

Finishing the cup of coffee, he eyed the table, the envelope, and then Agent Coulson as he asked, "Are you going to kill him?"

It didn't take long for Coulson to know who he was referring. "No. We want nothing but the best for Dr. Banner."

"Then why go after him?" he asked.

Coulson sighed a little, but then his smirk was back as he told him, "That's Level 7 clearance and you're at...a half of one. You haven't even gotten the whole one yet." And with that, he pushed the envelope over to him. "Here's how you get that one."

His hand reached out and covered the envelope as he pulled it the rest of the way across the table. Taking a breath, he thumbed the flap over and saw the single slip of paper inside.

"Oh, wait, Director Fury would want to give you his "one man" speech first. It's about, you know, how one man can accomplish anything once he realizes he's a part of something bigger. He makes it sound poetic."

"And where's he at?"

"Just walked in, you can't miss him."

He looked over toward the door and immediately spotted the man in question. Directory Fury was tall, dressed in black head to toe. One eye was focused squarely on him. "What's with the eye-patch?"

"Don't ask him that," came the quick quip from Coulson. As Fury approached, he stood to shake his hand. "Sir."

"Agent Couslon. So, this is him?" Fury asked as he looked down at him because he was still seated in the chair.

"Clint Barton," Coulson motioned from him to Fury as he introducted them, "Director Fury."

Standing, he searched his head for something to say and all he could manage was a weak, "Sir," as he shook his hand.

Fury gave him a once over then said, "Word is you're pretty good with a bow?"

He gave a quick nod as he answered, "That's right." Better than good, he thought.

"Coulson, get the archery ready."

"I'll get right on it," Coulson said as he stepped away and proceeded to leave.

Fury took over Coulson's vacated seat as he motioned for him to sit back down as well.

"You have an archery?"

"Not yet," Fury said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Barton. Agent Romanoff was supposed to kill you in Croatia."

He sat up straighter at the mention of the Black Widow, and that she was supposed to kill him. He remembered what she'd told him in that interrogation room and swallowed hard. If that were true, he wondered what would happen to her since she violated the rules and didn't kill him.

"She saw it differently. I'm glad she waited to see what you would do. Your actions in Budapest are why you're here. And I'm not talking about the fact that you put six of my good men in the infirmary. Though, that was impressive. I bet you could've taken them all down if Agent Romanoff hadn't gotten in your way."

HIs throat was dry and he was out of coffee. Giving a nod, he didn't know if he should answer. Was Fury expecting a thank you for not killing him?

The Director sat silently still as he looked him over again, weighing something in his head. "Who are you, Clint Barton?"

God, was this an interview? He took a breath as he turned his eyes to the table in front of him. And why was that such a hard question to answer? Who was he? Other than a nobody. His head started to hurt as his chest pounded. Fury was waiting on an answer and he didn't have one to give. Finally, after clearing his throat, he told him, "I am what I do, sir. Right now, I'm an assassin."

He couldn't read the look on Fury's face but he did look somewhat understanding. Then, with a slight smirk of his lips asked, "Do you want to change that?"

With no money to be exchanged, no promise of a life being snuffed out by his own hands, and nothing to lose except for everything, he simply said, "Yes." Then he asked, "Do I have to wear a tie?"

With that question, Fury actually laughed. They sat there for a good ten more minutes, Fury doing most of the talking. By the end of it, Clint had to smile. Fury did make the "one man" speech sound amazingly poetic.

Zurich, Switzerland

Two Weeks Later

I stepped off the train at the Hauptbahnhof, or the HB, which was the main railway station in Zurich. There was a brief moment of claustrophobia as people filed in and out around me; a few shoves and desperate long strides got me away from the crowd and into the station as quickly as possible. Lowering the ballcap on my head, I kept my head down as I gripped the backpack a little tighter in my hand as I searched out the signs for the restrooms.

Following the signs, I opened the door and checked to make sure it was relatively empty before going over to the sinks. It had been a long couple of weeks. From waking up on the mountain to getting off it and back into civilization had been draining both physically and mentally. I had let the hunter I'd encountered go after I had stripped him of his backpack, a few supplies and articles of clothing and the extra pair of boots he had at his campsite that wasn't more than three miles from the shack.

The moment I left him, he had gathered everything he had and took off. I didn't blame the guy, I would've been scared of me too if I hadn't gotten used to my darkside as the monster. That had been the hardest part in all this. I never wanted to hurt anyone but sometimes I felt like hurting everyone. In hurting everyone I was in turn hurting myself. It was disturbing to know that not only did I have that kind-of darkness but that it could come to the surface in the form of a giant monster when agitated.

I believed that everyone had a darkness in them; a darkside that resided deep within their souls that most would never show to anyone, not even to the ones they loved the most. My darkness could no longer stay hidden and buried. When it was exposed, it was like exposing a nerve. It ripped my skin open, tore me apart from the inside, and was bared for the whole world to see. It was a nightmare.

Sticking my shaking hands under the faucet, I cupped my them under the water that sprayed out and splashed my face a few times. I heard the door open as someone walked into the restroom. I kept my head bent forward while I rubbed one of my wet hands over the back of my neck, trying to massage the tension out of it.

"Need help with that?"

That voice froze my chest as my hands stilled. Lifting my eyes to the mirror, I stared at the man as I couldn't help but remember back to the first time I had heard those words.

"Need help with that?"

I turned to stare at the man who'd appeared in the dooreway of my room. I'd never seen him before. He was no taller than me with a tan face, bald head, and his brown eyes eyed me through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a black suit that was crisp and tailored, white dress shirt and Navy checked tie. His shoes polished to the point you could see your reflection. I instantly hated the man.

Straightening, I put the plastic cup into the sink as I turned so not to have my back to him. I shook my head in reply to his question but didn't say anything. It wasn't that I didn't want to speak to him, I kind-of did, but that it'd been so long since I spoke to anyone other than Pierce that I felt, well, afraid. Like if I spoke to him then I was breaking a rule or something. Plus, I had nothing to say. I didn't need his help.

He didn't take my shake of my head "no" as an answer as he stepped inside my room. Coming up beside me, he picked up the toothbrush I'd knocked over onto the floor along with the cup and handed it back to me.

Without so much as a thanks, I grabbed it as I continued to eye him. He didn't even flinch or bat an eye as he stayed so close to me that I could smell his aftershave. Most people around here were terrified of me, so much so that they not once offered me a simple "hello" yet alone help with picking up my fallen toothbrush.

I'd been transferred to this new room three months ago. It actually looked more hospitable than the other. The month and year were finally something I had access to thanks to the electronic calendar that was built into the back of my door. It was August of 2007. I'd been taken into Alexander Pierce's custody in January of last year. Nineteen months...It seemed a hell of a lot longer.

He cleared his throat and held out his hand, "Jasper."

I blinked back and looked down at his hand before realizing I was supposed to be shaking it. As I went to shake his hand, I noticed the toothbrush still gripped in my palm. Putting it back down, I rubbed my hand on my pants first before gripping the man's hand in mine. Then, I had to remember my name. My head was still buzzing from the days events. It felt foggy and thick, like I was hungover. "Bruce."

He smiled. "I know who you are Dr. Banner. I've been studying your work."

That had me confused before asking, "Which work would you be referring to?"

"What you're doing here. I've recently been assigned to you. Honestly, I asked for it. I wanted to work with you, and getting assigned to the Sandbox was a bonus."

The Sandbox. So, that's what this place was called. Giving a nod, and letting that spark of hope that maybe Jasper meant something other than what I was doing here, I politely smiled as I gestured to the sink. "I was 'bout to go to bed."

"Sorry, I don't want to keep you up. I know that Secretary Pierce has you on a strict schedule. It's just that my flight landed and I wanted to come straight here to introduce myself."

"Oh, okay...thanks," I said as I wrapped my arms around my chest and tried not to take offense to any of this. Even though I've been cooperating for nearly a year now, it was reluctantly. Last time I showed any outward sign of disobedience I'd paid the consequences. My bones still ached at the memory.

He beamed as he patted me on the shoulder and then finally started to leave. He stopped at the door and turned to me as he spoke four words that twisted my stomach in knots.

"Out of the shadows..."

Staring right into his eyes through the mirror I felt my head start to buzz. Everything I thought I was vanished within the split second it took me to utter automatically, and almost mechanically, "Into the light."

My vision clouded with a raging green, my mind sunk into darkness, and the last thing I heard was the screaming.

TBC...

So...there's that.