Rated T: Violence and Hulking Out in this chapter.

Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm, my loyal readers. I am truly touched by how kind and encouraging your reviews have been! Here is your reward, and I hope you like the first chapter.

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Chapter One: Hiding

"Give the child two spoonfuls every morning for the next week," the doctor ordered. "If he does not recover by then, you know where to find me."

"Oh, god bless you," the young mother gasped through her tears. Her voice was thickly accented, but she spoke English fairly well. Taking the jar of medicine from her benefactor and scooping up her ill son, she left the hovel of the doctor and moved off through the dusty streets of the remote village to her own home.

The doctor sighed and ran his hands through hisblack hair. Years of energetic wandering had tanned his once-sallow skin, glossed his lank, greasy hair, given him a beard, and tempered his tongue. Without the stress and fear of his former life, he had found that it took too much energy to be constantly angry and snapping. He was brusque, rude most of the time, but he was no longer so cruel and cutting with his words. Being among the helpless and hurting, those who could not pity or despise him, had been good for his temper. South America gave him a grasp of Spanish, but here in Africa, there were so many dialects. He could communicate in crude Swahili now, but it had taken a year or two.

Staying away from magical areas was more difficult than Severus Snape had anticipated. More than once, he had accidentally strayed into a magical village. But so long as he gave them a pseudonym, nobody gave him a second glance and he was always gone by morning. Giving his aid to the small villages of poverty-stricken, disease-ridden muggles was strangely satisfying. He used to despise muggles. But seeing so much suffering and innocent appreciation for the smallest of things … he gladly gave his expertise, used what magic he could when he dared, and brewed medicine for the ill and hurting. These people were human beings, far more helpless than he or any in the magical community, and they were so grateful for the least thing he did for them. He had faced his share of suspicion, and even hostility, in his travels, but it was nothing new to him. If they didn't want his help, he moved on. It was a simple life. He survived from day to day, helping those he could, not asking where his next meal would come from or what the next day would bring, and he was content. For the first time in his life, Severus was content with his lot. He belonged to no master, but he served those who needed him. He protected a village once from the drug cartel, and though the horror of battle and death and screams exasperated his frequent nightmares, he had been left with a strange feeling of exhilaration. For the first time, he was openly opposing evil and defending the innocent, with no need to hide his true intentions or allegiance. His only allegiance was to those whom he could help and who could not possibly repay him. It was fitting penance, and he found that he was happy. Well, not cheerful happy. But peaceful happy.

Peace reigned in his troubled heart, and he had no desire to be mixed up personally with others. He made no friends. He did his work, saved those he could, made the lives of the poor better, and moved on before anyone could stop him.

Another white man had come to the village the night before. Severus was always suspicious of strangers, but this man seemed harmless enough. In fact, he had helped an old man pull his oxen out of a bog in the jungle. But Severus knew that he ought to leave soon. Another stranger meant that he was likely to be interrogated soon. Those he helped in the villages were content to let his secrets lie, if he refused to share. Another westerner might not be so understanding, especially if he was a missionary or something.

He looked up as a scuffle sounded outside his hut, and the tattered curtain he used as a door was shoved aside by a muscular ebony arm.

"What is it?" Severus demanded.

The man babbled at him in Swahili and turned to help someone inside. A young man, hardly more than a boy, staggered in, leaning on the white stranger. Despite his dark skin, the boy had a very unhealthy pallor, and his arms were curled around his stomach and chest. Blood was everywhere. Severus thought the injuries looked like gunshot wounds, and he gritted his teeth in anger. This wouldn't be the first village that tended to be attacked by cartels or para-military with guns.

"Put him here," Severus ordered, shaking out a reed mat he used for sleeping. The young man groaned as he was gently laid down and the white stranger suddenly began to talk.

"He says there's some sort of para-military group," he murmured, nodding at the worried man who had brought the boy. Severus thought they looked familiar and guessed that it was a local farmer and his son. "They say the guys came out of nowhere and took their goats. The boy here tried to fight them off and got shot."

"You understand Swahili?" Severus asked curiously. He still hadn't learned to speak more than a few phrases and could put together butchered sentences.

The man shrugged uncomfortably. His accent placed him as American, and his build suggested that he had not always been an active man.

Severus clenched his fists and shut his eyes briefly as he intoned a silent, wandless scourgify on his hands. The tingle that followed assured him that he was as clean as he was going to be in this steamy, muddy jungle. He crouched beside the young patient while the father and the American babbled at each other. Severus caught words here and there, but he was paying more attention to the boy. His body was riddled with gunshot wounds and he was bleeding out quickly. Severus grabbed a blanket and pressed it to the young man's chest, scowling for the umpteenth time as he wished he had his wand. It would make surgery easier. But he had raided an abandoned medical clinic once and he had plenty of tools. Leaving the boy groaning and bleeding on the mat, Severus bustled around, collecting his surgical supplies, as well as some jars of medicinal potions he had brewed in his free time. The African jungle had plenty of plants he was familiar with, and he had been taught the properties of others by local midwives and witch-doctors.

"Do you have any experience with medicine?" Severus snapped at the stranger, who was applying gentle pressure to the boy's wounds.

"A bit," the man replied uncomfortably. "What do you need me to do?"

"Give him some of this," Severus ordered, handing him a jar of liquid. "Two swallows should be enough to dull the pain and his senses."

Murmuring back and forth, ignoring the fretting father in the background, Severus and the stranger treated the boy's injuries. After removing three bullets from the young man's chest and gut, they cleaned and stitched the wounds, inside and out. Hours later, the boy was wrapped in clean bandages and sleeping. Severus stood, trembling slightly with fatigue and the release of adrenalin. The stranger seemed fine, just a bit queasy from so much blood and guts.

The father spoke again, and this time Severus could understand most of what he said. He replied in stunted Swahili that his son would probably live. What he didn't say was that in his experience, these groups rarely stopped at one or two victims. They wanted everything. The village was in danger.

The young man's father left to inform the rest of his family what had happened, since his son seemed to be out of immediate danger. Severus waited until the other stranger stepped outside for water, and knelt beside the unconscious patient. Holding his hands above the young man, he muttered the diagnostic charms, pushing his magic hard. It was always difficult to perform magic without a wand, but over the years, he had gotten better at it. Using both hands tended to help.

A conjured parchment popped into existence beside him, written on in spiky script reminiscent of his own handwriting. He quickly evaluated the results and shook his head grimly. The young man needed better he just might pull through. It would be a tricky few days.

The other man returned and set the water to boil without being told. He apparently wasn't new at this wandering-into-random-remote-villages-to-help-people thing. Teaching villagers to boil their water was a good way to keep a lot of the people, especially the children, from getting sick so often. Severus often made that one of the first things he convinced people to do.

"So … you been here long?" the man asked hesitantly, sitting back on his heels and turning his crinkled eyes toward the former Potions Master.

Severus turned to look at the man and silently appraised him. The fellow seemed rather timid. Everything he said was hesitant and shy. But he was a good doctor, and moved with skill and confidence when the task required it. "Long enough," Severus finally said.

"Boko-Haran's been moving into the area," the man said in a rush. "Do you think it's safe here?"

"Nowhere is safe," Severus coolly replied. It was of no consequence to him. If terrorists tried to hurt these people, he would direct them to escape. He would take up arms if he had to, and he would fight back. But he wasn't stupid enough to go after them first. These para-military groups had been here longer than he had. Protecting himself, and the helpless people he lived with, was the only logical thing to do.

"What are we going to do?" the man asked quietly.

"Be vigilant," Severus snapped. "That is all we can do. Who are you, anyway?"

"Um …" the man stiffened apprehensively. "I … uh … you can call me Bruce."

Severus gazed at Bruce for several more minutes before he nodded brusquely. "I am Severus," he replied.

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Weeks passed uneventfully. The young man recovered eventually, though he hovered close to death for some time. Bruce soon ingratiated himself with the villagers, and though it irked Severus to share his space, he offered the man a place to stay in his hovel, since it was obvious that the awkward man didn't know the first thing about hut construction. They didn't speak much, for which Severus was grateful. Bruce seemed about as reluctant to bring up his past as Severus was, and their arrangement suited them both fine. They helped the villagers in whatever needed to be done, offered medical help when it was needed, and hid when strangers came to the village. The terrorists didn't put in another appearance until the middle of winter than year, three months after Bruce had come, and seven months since Severus had arrived.

The shouts and screams came first. Severus woke at once, and he had to shout for Bruce to get up. Gunshots sounded in the night and the panicked bleats of goats and lowing of oxen answered them. Overlapping it all was the cacophony of human shouts and screams.

"Get the people to flee into the jungle!" Severus ordered Bruce, snatching up his cloak and reaching for the pistol he kept in the pocket.

"What about you?" Bruce asked, stumbling into his boots and grabbing his coat and satchel.

"Do not worry about me; go!" He shoved Bruce out the door and Severus made certain that his medical equipment was hidden in the little underground cellar he had made in case of such an emergency. He could return later and retrieve his things, most of which were tucked into a bag treated with undetectable extension charms and the like. Right now, he needed to be as mobile as a moon shadow.

Flitting through the crooked streets of the little village illuminated by fire and powerful beams of light, Severus managed to grab a few panicking people and tell them to run for the jungle, in his best Swahili. He knocked one terrorist over the head with his pistol and divested the man of his weapons, stuffing them in his cloak's magical pockets. Wearing a cloak was odd to muggle eyes, but it helped to break up his silhouette and it was black, which helped him to move unseen through the village. He shot two more terrorists who were in the act of grabbing young women, and he shouted for the girls to run for the jungle and to stick together. He spotted Bruce, briefly, shielding a young family as they hurried toward the trees.

One of the attackers spotted Severus and shouted. Suddenly, several men targeted him, sweeping their powerful light beams over him and opening fire with their deadly weapons. Though he ducked behind a flimsy hut to avoid the spattering of gunfire, Severus felt a blinding blow to his side and wondered if he had been shot as he stumbled. The fiery pain seemed to spread, and he gritted his teeth. It wouldn't be the first time he had been shot, but it hurt enough to make white spots dance in his vision. Gathering himself and forcing his pain behind occlumency shields of steel, he tackled a passing terrorist who was chasing a pair of screaming young boys, one of whom was favoring a bleeding leg. They tumbled on the ground and Severus managed to draw the knife he had taken from the first man he had downed. Stabbing the man in the abdomen and ribs, he left the shrieking terrorist to die. Severus staggered upright, looking for another target and wincing at the pain in his side.

Suddenly, he noticed Bruce almost right in front of him, grappling with another two men. The man howled suddenly, but Severus couldn't be sure if he was crying out in pain or what. Bruce's eyes opened, looking crazed and desperate and Severus froze as he watched.

Bruce screamed and arched his back. His skin seemed to flush a darker color and his body swelled as if he had been hit with an engorgio. Muscles strained and tore open his shirt, stretched his trousers until they ripped, and he grew impossibly taller. Within seconds, an enormous troll-like being stood where mild-mannered Bruce had been struggling before. With an animalistic roar, the beast threw the two terrified men who had been trying to subdue him, and they screamed as they went through the wall of a burning hut. Roaring, the beast chased down the terrorists. Bullets had no effect on his body, besides making him angrier. The villagers wisely fled for their lives, and Severus sank against the wall of a hovel that was thankfully not burning yet, watching the beast wreak havoc among their attackers.

When it became obvious that the terrorists were retreating, Severus got up, picked up Bruce's forgotten satchel, and limped back to his hut. It was scorched along one side, but not burned down, and he was able to slip inside pretty easily. He conjured a ball of bluebell flames in his palm for light, and dug up his surgical supplies. Severus lit a fire in the central pit for light and examined his injured side, where a bullet had merely torn through the muscle just above his hip. It was a clean wound, no chance of a bullet lodged inside, and he cleaned it before wrapping it and picking up his bag and Bruce's satchel. The village was quiet now, and Severus decided that the best thing to do was follow the monster. He didn't think the villagers would think too highly of the strangers anymore once they made their way back. To simple folk, superstition came easier than common sense. Severus knew it was safer for him and Bruce to disappear than to be mistaken for omens of bad luck and persecuted as scapegoats. He left some of his potions behind, trusting that some of the people around here would remember what they were for, and tramped off into the jungle, easily following the beast's path of destruction. He found three more dead terrorists and two who were unconscious, and he marveled at the creature's strength. More than once, he wondered who and what Bruce really was. He was apparently a shape-shifter of some kind, but Severus hadn't recognized the creature he had changed into. It would be fascinating to see if the man was magical or simply a mutant of some kind.

He had heard of such things, especially after years of wandering the muggle world. Especially in America, ordinary folk talked of humans with super-powers, and Severus had assumed that they meant wizards or the like. Americans were much more open-minded about that sort of thing, and he still didn't really know what America's policy on the Statute of Secrecy was. Ordinary muggles seemed just as likely to believe in magic and superheroes as they were to scoff at such things. Skepticism and childlike wonder alike seemed to find a home side by side in America, the land of the free.

It was a topic to consider later.

Right now, he had a giant shape-shifter to find.

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Dawn was approaching when Severus at last found his quarry. Asleep from sheer exhaustion, Bruce was sprawled in a bed of broken ferns, naked but unhurt, and certainly no longer a giant raging beast. Severus draped his cloak over the man for decency's sake, and settled down to watch. He dozed off for a few hours, but when he woke, Bruce was still asleep.

He wandered around, warily watched the monkeys that eyed them curiously, and gathered bananas from a nearby tree. They weren't exactly ripe yet, but Severus was too hungry to care. He left a pile next to Bruce and wandered off again, exploring the area and looking for a good tree to climb so he could figure out where they were.

He rolled up his sleeves and clambered up into the crooked arms of the giant tree, being careful with his injured side. Taking note of the position of the sun and the wind, Severus determined what direction he and Bruce needed to go to reach civilization once again. He stopped and marveled at himself, wondered when he had started to think of his travels as 'he and Bruce'. But he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. After all, Bruce was a freak of nature, and most would call a wizard a freak of nature too. Rolling his eyes at himself, Severus carefully climbed back down and made his way back to Bruce.

He was awake.

Wrapped in the cloak and eating bananas, Bruce looked up at him and his face darkened in a blush before he looked away. Severus sat down near the two bags and gazed at Bruce without blinking or speaking. He stared until the poor man flushed a brighter red and squirmed under the scrutiny.

"I'm sorry," Bruce murmured, not looking up. "Usually … usually I keep him under control."

"Considering our circumstances at the time, I am beyond relieved that you 'lost control' then," Severus replied evenly. "Were you born like that?"

"Good god, no," Bruce laughed. He looked up, still blushing with embarrassment. "I'm … I mean, I was … Well … It was sort of … an experiment gone wrong, if you know what I mean."

Severus nodded slowly. He knew all too well how experiments could go wrong. He was rather lucky that in all his years of Potion experimentation, he hadn't maimed himself in a cauldron explosion. "What were you experimenting with?" he asked carefully.

Bruce flushed again and tossed his banana peel. "Gamma radiation," he replied softly.

"You're a radiologist?" Severus arched a surprised eyebrow at that. He would have expected this man to be a biologist or a medical doctor, considering his obvious skills and his intimate understanding of the human body.

"No, I am a physicist," Bruce corrected. "A radiologist is a doctor who treats cancer or other ailments with radiation. I study Gamma Radiation, but I am not that type of doctor. Or at least, I used to study Gamma Rays. Not anymore."

"I trust that you still understand radiation," Severus retorted, rolling his eyes. "So you are still a scientist, whether you work in said field or not."

The other man shrugged and didn't reply for some time. Severus didn't press him. He was obviously ashamed and distraught. "Did … did I hurt anyone?" he suddenly asked, not looking up.

Severus snorted. "Only those that deserved it," he reassured the stricken man. "Is this why you wander? To hide your … other self?"

"Yeah," Bruce sighed. He reached up and ran his hand through his graying hair. "The Other Guy hasn't come out in awhile … I thought I had him under control."

"Does he come out when you are frightened?" Severus demanded. It was important he understand the nuances of this 'Other Guy', not only to protect himself, but to know how to trigger the beast within if necessary. It galled him to be thinking like a Slytherin again, but he knew it was a good idea to catalogue all assets. If there was a desperate need, he would not hesitate to do his best to bring the Green One out to do battle.

"Angry," Bruce corrected, a new flush of shame coloring his cheeks. How many shades of red could a human being turn? Bruce seemed to have turned blushing into an artform. "Ever since the accident, he comes out when I get angry enough," Bruce added softly.

"Fascinating," Severus murmured. He leaned forward, becoming more intrigued by his not-so-normal companion. "Are you conscious during your … episodes? Or is the … 'Other One' completely in control?"

"He's in control," Bruce replied softly. "I never remember anything after."

"Do you communicate at all? Is he in your head? Or does he lie dormant until you awaken him?"

Bruce frowned. "I … I feel him, sure … But talk to each other? No, not really. He's … he's kinda always awake whenever I am. He just comes Out and pushes me In when I lose control."

"I see," Severus mused.

Legilimency might give him a clearer picture of Bruce's actual state of mind, but he wasn't ready to reveal his magic just yet. Common courtesy called for him to assure Bruce of his acceptance and continued … well, not friendship or trust, certainly. But he wouldn't abandon the awkward city boy here in the jungle, even if he could just change into his raging monster to defend himself or get food.

"I get it if you wanna go," Bruce said quietly. "Thanks for following me and all … but I think I can find my way out of the jungle fine."

Severus scowled at the man. Bloody self-sacrificing martyr, he seethed. Besides, there was strength in numbers. Did Bruce really think it was safe for either of them to be alone in this jungle? "You wish for me to leave you?" he asked in a frigid voice.

"N-no," Bruce stuttered, putting up his calloused palms in a show of surrender. "I just … well, most people are nervous around me once they find out, so …"

"You do not worry me, nor does your alter ego," Severus retorted impatiently. He rummaged in Bruce's satchel and pulled out a spare set of clothes. "Get dressed, and then we go east." He tossed the clothing at Bruce, got up, and marched off into the ferns. He had spotted some cassava plants earlier, and the starch would be good for their energy.

He sighed as he shoved a large fern aside so he could pass. He had a feeling it would be a very long few days before they could return to civilization. It was rather tiring to babysit, but wasn't that what he'd been doing since the bloody first War? It seemed fate had a sick sense of humor, because there was no way he was leaving Bruce on his own. Capable as the man might be at the operating table or workbench, he was certainly hopeless when it came to survival. The Green Troll couldn't always be counted on to keep him alive anyway, if Bruce's ridiculous martyr attitude was any indication. Just as well he didn't have complete control over his changes or he'd likely be dead a dozen times over. Severus had always wondered why people spent so much time moaning over things that couldn't be helped. He never did. He just took out his frustration another way.

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Bruce was quiet as they tramped through the jungle, his feet wrapped in the remnants of an old shirt since he had lost his shoes. He followed Severus closely and obeyed his terse orders without question. Once the man's nerves calmed down, Severus could admit that he was a pleasant companion. He did not chatter needlessly, and when he needed to say something, he was calm and to the point, like when he spotted a leopard watching them from a tree. A Gryffindor might have panicked or attacked, and Severus did not need a trigger-happy comrade right now. Thankfully, Bruce was level-headed and smart. He was quiet, and he didn't bother Severus with anything, even when his foot-coverings began to unravel, he simply paused, fixed them, and hurried on. Of course, Severus knew that he had an intimidating personality, so maybe this wasn't how Bruce always was. Maybe Bruce was merely attempting to placate him by being quiet and respectful. Severus didn't care either way. At least he had peace and was able to concentrate on getting the two of them back to some semblance of civilization.

Bruce did not spot the dangling tree snake until it hissed in Severus' face, and Severus cried out in shock as he fell back, thrashing against the air as his panicked mind dragged him back to that horrible shack, back to Nagini's body floating in that magical bubble, the bared fangs; back to the feeling of blood and icy pain and delirium and the agony of feeling his protective potions and anti-venin kicking in to save his life. He couldn't even summon the presence of mind to occlude, so immersed he was in the terrible flashback.

When he came to, he was lying on his back in soft jungle plants, trembling and achy. Bruce was hovering over him, looking alarmed and worried. Severus had to gulp several times before he found the breath to speak.

"What happened?" he rasped.

"Um, there was this giant snake hanging right in the way; looked for all the world like a vine or something," Bruce quickly explained. He helped Severus to sit up, and sat back on his heels, looking concerned. "You started yelling and you fell back. I caught you and dragged you away. The snake's gone now."

"I … see," Severus coughed. He massaged his aching throat and took a deep breath, forcing his panic behind his occlumency walls. "I … my thanks, for catching me," he muttered, still not liking the fact that he had panicked in front of someone, but realizing that he should be grateful. If the snake had been poisonous, he could have been bitten were it not for Bruce's quick action. He hated snakes. In the villages, he had often gained a reputation as an obsessive snake killer. But he had not faced a snake the size of himself since Nagini. He felt weak and embarrassed by his flashback and panic attack, but he was logical enough to know that it was normal and he ought to be grateful that he hadn't encountered an anaconda in South America while he was alone. It was rather lucky that his first bad flashback took place while he had a companion to keep him from getting hurt.

"You okay?" Bruce asked quietly. "Wanna rest for a bit?"

"I'm fine now," Severus snapped. He stood up and took a deep breath, hoping to steady his wobbly limbs. "We should keep going. Which way were we facing before?"

Bruce pointed without hesitation, and Severus started walking, not bothering to see if Bruce would follow. The other man did tramp after him without hesitation, and he didn't say a word.

They marched in tense silence for some time, and gradually, the atmosphere relaxed. Neither of them spoke again until they stopped for the night, tucked up in the waving branches of a tree. They constructed a nest of branches and leaves, much like the local primates did.

"Chimpanzees spend their nights in trees," Severus informed his nervous companion. It seemed Bruce wasn't a fan of heights. "It is the safest place, considering the snakes and leopards that rule the jungle at night," he added.

"Doesn't make me feel better, Severus," Bruce mumbled. He was looking a little green around the mouth, and Severus hoped it wasn't because the 'Other Guy' was straining to come out.

"It isn't supposed to make you feel better," Severus snapped. "I am merely explaining my logic to you."

"I get it, okay; I'm not stupid," Bruce gritted out between his teeth.

It was cool at night these days, so the two men were forced to share a nest to conserve body heat. Severus draped his cloak and blanket over the two of them, and they settled down for the night, curled against one another and silent. Winter throughout most of Africa was mild, but temperatures did tend to drop lower at night. The wind was chilly and rocked their tree gently, and Bruce and Severus stayed huddled under their coverings to wait out the night.

Bruce started humming about an hour after they had settled down. Severus, who had been dozing lightly, opened his eyes in annoyance. Was the man a complete idiot? He reached out and poked Bruce in the back with a hard finger.

The man jerked and turned his head. Severus couldn't see his expression, but he was pretty sure it would look wounded. "What was that for?" he whispered.

"Stop that infernal noise before you bring a carnivorous cat down upon us," Severus hissed.

"Hey, I was being quiet," Bruce muttered petulantly. He turned around, grumbling under his breath about 'Brits' and 'stuck-up snobs'.

Severus rolled his eyes and settled back down. Five minutes later, Bruce was humming again, and Severus let out a long, calming breath to keep from losing his temper.

"Bruce," he hissed. "Stop it. You are waking me up."

"Oh," Bruce muttered, not bothering to turn around this time. "You coulda told me that before."

Severus sighed and tried to get comfortable again. This time, he fell asleep and Bruce stayed quiet.

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"So are you British? Or what?"

Severus turned to look at his companion over his shoulder. After hours of walking again, it was nearly midday and this was the first thing Bruce decided to say?

"What an asinine question," Severus grumbled. "So are you American? Or what?" he threw back, mocking Bruce's tone. They were both tired and hungry and thirsty, but Severus was still the more snappish of them both.

"I'm from New York, actually," Bruce replied mildly. "So where were you born?"

"England," Severus sighed, just wanting to go back to silence. "Now can you please stop asking me idiotic questions? We both ought to be conserving our strength here."

"Right, got it," Bruce mumbled.

A few minutes passed.

"So why are you in Africa?" Bruce demanded.

"Why are you in Africa?" Severus parroted.

"You know why," Bruce muttered. Severus glanced over his shoulder at the man, who was flushing like a tomato. "I'm hiding."

"You never did tell me why you are hiding," Severus replied. "I thought Americans appreciated their … what do you call them … Superheroes?"

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly a superhero," Bruce snapped. "I'm a giant green rage monster and I destroy things when I lose my temper. Nobody can stop me, ordinary weapons just bounce right off me, and the government would rather just lock me up so I don't hurt anybody, but as far as I've seen, there isn't any prison on earth that can keep me in, okay? So I'm hiding, so I don't hurt anyone. What are you hiding from?"

"It is none of your bloody business," Severus coolly replied. "Do get your temper under control. You're looking a bit green."

Bruce growled under his breath, but he stopped talking. Severus glanced over his shoulder several times and was relieved to see the pale green flush slowly receding from the man's face while he wrestled with his alter ego. Severus let out a silent sigh of relief and made a mental note not to annoy Bruce too much. Unlike the Dark Lord, he didn't think the Green One could be placated by words.

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Chapter 1 is up! Thank you for you kind reviews and encouragement as I embark on another fanfiction journey. I look forward to bringing Severus into the world of Marvel! And congrats to those who guessed 'the doctor's' identity. I did not want it to be obvious, but hey, Bruce was in Calcutta at the beginning of The Avengers, hiding from himself, his past, and SHIELD. So it was a perfect way to slip Sev in there too.

Yes, I know he will need a superhero code name, but I'm drawing a blank here. How about Half-Blood Prince? I can't think of anything at this moment, but he won't need a code name for awhile anyway.