Jump. Duck. Swing over shrubs. Stop tripping over roots.
Run. Keep running. Don't stop. Go. Faster.
Peter blew through the forest. He never gave himself a moment to pause or a chance to take a breath. His feet moved as fast as his heart pumped. Every now and then his foot stumbled or got caught on a root, but he persisted onward.
There was no need to check over his shoulder. He knew an army chased him, determined to recapture him. Peter wasn't going to let them get the chance. All he had to do was keep moving. Keep running.
Duck. Tumble. Leap. Run faster.
His cheeks burned, his lungs expanding to the maximum. Breaths came out in small spurts, hot and edgy. Hands curled into sweaty fists as he pushed onward, throwing himself full throttle into the wood and foliage. Dirt scuffed the bottoms of his shoes and his hands were dirtied and bloody from the scrapes of thorns, twigs and pebbled rocks from when he fell.
Sweat dribbled down to his eyes. He wiped it away and looked around him, trying to find anything to pinpoint his location or where to go. He only found woodlands that went deeper and deeper into the unknown.
He wished he stole a map or a GPS. It would make his life a bit easier at the moment.
He ran nonstop until the land went dark and the moon was high above him, permitting limited light to guide his path.
All the running and the fried nerves exhausted him. He's never been this tired for a long time. He didn't want to stop, but his body was going to collapse any moment. Worse, his dislocated thumb thrived in his exhaustion. Pain pulsed through to his very guts. It was deep and warm, and not in the nice way. Every movement or breath, the pain returned and no matter how slow or how deep he breathed, it would not subside.
He needed to take a break. Find a place to hide while he rest and tried to fix his dislocated thumb. Using his good hand, he felt around the forest as he hunted for a hideaway. The bark's ridges guided him through the tangled woods, the moon's light scattering into piece on the ground floor by the tree tops above him.
It was going to be a long night.
The night air chilled and Peter was thankful to war his thicker sweater. He stumbled his way through, looking for a possible trench or a good tree with plenty of branches to use as a hideaway when he spotted a yellow light amongst the white.
Peter dropped low. He crawled on his belly, coming up to the bush, squeezing his thin body through to peer out through the thicket.
His eyes widened. There was a cabin! In the middle of this hellish forest, there was a cabin!
Peter's heart elevated in excitement. A cabin! Another person!
Then elevated hope came crashing back down into his gut. A cabin in the middle of the woods, not far from the Compound. Another person. A possible agent luring Peter into thinking he was safe.
Peter shrunk back into the bush, contemplating what he should do. Someone was home. The warm glow of a light emitted from the windows, signaling life inside. Enemy or ally, he wasn't sure. Peter drilled his good hand against his knee. He could go on, forget the cabin and its owner. Or, he could sneak inside, find a phone and call the police.
No! He couldn't trust the police wouldn't help him. After all, Stark had the government's blessing to capture people and imprison them for life. It wouldn't be far-fetched for the police to be working with him.
The only person he could trust was his aunt. She was the only person who mattered. Peter sucked in a chilly breath, letting it ice his lungs. He made his decision. To get back to Aunt May, Peter would stay brave and do what was needed. Even if his whole body screamed in fear and agony.
He hobbled to the edge of the property. There wasn't much to notice. It was a simple cabin. Square and plain, with a black Jeep parked in front. There were no flowers and very little landscaping done around the cabin. Almost like the house wasn't even a home.
Peter snuck across the lawn, sliding his back up against the cabin. He moved right underneath a window, tuning in to hear what was happening inside the cabin. No voices were heard, but the scuffling of shoes across the floor and the clanks of glass on a table was loud and clear. Someone was moving, shuffling things.
Slowly, Peter inched up to get a peek. His eyes drew along the windowsill and Peter saw someone. Just one person. Their back was to him, not at all noticing they were being spied upon. Peter ducked, sucking in a sharp breath.
Distraction time.
Peter lowered himself from the window, close to the ground that his hand was around a random object. A rock. Simple, but effective. Once thrown, making the curious noise that always drew people's attention, Peter would make a mad dash inside to find a phone. Or keys. He could use the Jeep to high-tail it back to New York.
Rock pressed against his palm, Peter raised his arm to chuck it when the front door smacked open. Peter got startled, letting out a yelp and dropping the rock in progress.
"Whoa!" cried the owner, startled too as he shuffled too fast backwards and rammed into the threshold. "What the—where did you come from?"
Peter's mind raced with several lies. "Um… I-I came from… I mean," he rambled, but as time slipped past, the stranger's face became clearer and resembled to someone he knew.
It took Peter almost a second later to recognize the face. His mouth dropped wide open.
"… Dr. Banner!"
Pushed against the threshold in shock was indeed Dr. Bruce Banner. AKA the Incredible Hulk.
Peter couldn't believe it. One of the greatest scientist ever alive was standing a few feet away from him, baffled by the arrival of a complete stranger. Peter goggled at the man, amazed at the random encounter of an Avenger in the middle of nowhere. This was the most amazing thing to happen in his life!
Dr. Banner looked the opposite of Peter. He was petrified at the sight of Peter crouched right underneath his window. His hair aged with more silver streaks than black. His skin ragged from blistering elements and his glasses hung right to the tip of his nose. Dr. Banner looked nothing like he did in the photographs. The man had seen things. Done things.
"Who are you?" Dr. Banner asked, confused. "H-How did you get here?"
Peter scrambled to get up, but in his excitement at seeing one of his idols, he forgot about his injured hand. He pressed his hand down on the ground to push up and a ripping spike of pain brought him to kneel. He cried out, curling over his hand as he tried to numb the pain away.
"Hey! Hey!" came Dr. Banner's voice. "Are you okay?"
Peter craned his neck up. Dr. Banner had squatted down to be leveled with Peter. He peeked underneath Peter's sheltered and spotted the injury right away.
"Ouch," he winced sympathetically. "That doesn't look good." He glanced over to the tree line and then back to his cabin. "Here—let's get you inside. I'll take a look at it."
Peter almost told him it wasn't necessary, but when the Hulk lifted him up, Peter complied with the good doctor's orders. Dr. Banner ushered him through the door. Once inside, Dr. Banner closed the door and locked it.
Too late to do anything now. Peter was trapped in a one room cabin. With the Hulk.
His night kept getting better and better.
From experience, Natasha Romanoff knew things don't always go accordingly to plan. The results were the same and expected, but not the path to it. She—like all her fellow former Avengers and SHIELD agents—learned to adapt and be flexible. Stick with the main objective and be ready for anything.
Her successful missions had her climb the ranks fast to the point she joined Clint Barton as Director Fury's ace-in-the-hole team. He trusted her to get the job done and she always got the job done.
Which was why Stark trusted her to lead the investigation into Peter Parker's escape.
The chaos grew in the command center. Everyone darted to and from, typing rapidly on the computers as reports filtered through the system. Random agents brought her reports on the situation. She quickly reviewed them. Each medical record and power analysis concluded that it was impossible for Parker to make the jump.
The doors to the control-center opened. Reynolds entered. He was red and flustered. Almost like someone bewildered him out of his money.
Nat smirked at the man. "And how's your afternoon going?" she said. "Straight to hell?"
Reynolds burned at the insult. "It's all being handled," he snipped. "We sent men to retrieve him."
She was quite aware. "Units?"
"Two with twenty," Maria Hill answered from her right. Agent Hill, Director Fury's former right-hand agent sat at central computer, using her full access to keep her updated on the entire situation. "They got their orders to bring the kid in at all cost."
"Stark doesn't want the kid dead, Maria," Nat reminded her. Sometimes, it felt like Nat was the only one who cared about the people's well-being. "Change the orders to bring the kid in alive and unharmed."
"Will do," Agent Hill said, pressing something against her ear and speaking, "ALPHA? This is Watchtower. Change protocol to submissive. We do not want the asset damaged."
Nat restrained herself, letting only a mild breath of heated irritation to slip out. When did a kid become an asset?
Nat walked closer to the main hub, screens covered with every tidbit of information on Peter Parker. She stared at the image of the boy. In the quiet moments, an old, familiar ache filtered through her chest. She studied the boy's face, thinking about other children she used to know and loved with all her heart. She wondered if they would remember her fondly. Or if they will remember her as the famous Black Widow who betrayed their father.
Her mouth parted slightly in dismay as her feelings became more conflicted the longer her gaze remained on the boy's image.
"Let's send in the enforcers."
Nat whipped her head from the screens. "What?"
"The enforcers," Reynolds repeated. "They caught him last time. They can do it again."
Nat shook her head. "Unavailable and not necessary," she maintained, severely. "The units will find him."
She detested that unit. Not exactly a trusted group of individuals. They tended to bend the rules, but they got results. Results that may be more detrimental than good.
"We need all hands on deck for this," Reynolds barked and he proceeded to snap at Agent Hill. "Send them in."
"Don't, Maria," countered Nat as she confronted Reynolds. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she moved her body to favor her left side. "Why don't we wait a moment before we send in the crazies? Or better yet, why don't we wait for Stark?"
Reynolds didn't bat an eyelash, but Nat observed the flash of shock on his face. "Stark is coming here?" he asked.
Before Nat could answer him, the elevator door pinged.
Every head in the command center craned back to look. All the words and voices hushed into fading whispers.
The elevator doors parted.
Silence.
Tony Stark arrived.
Dressed to impress with his signature glasses, he sauntered out of the elevator. He kept a patient expression, walking further into the arena as he merely glanced at the screens he passed. Each agent and technician in the entire room were overwrought, some taking different actions upon the boss's arrival. Some began worked furiously, rummaging around their desk to appear busy. Others froze, eyes wide at the man's arrival and unable to do anything, including blinking and breathing.
Stark ignored everyone around him and stopped beside Nat, his casual swagger still intact despite the catastrophe at hand. She knew Stark was pissed off. The quieter he was, the angrier he was.
"So—" Stark began as he sniffed. "Tell me what went wrong."
Reynolds was quick to reply. "It appears the subject's bracelet failed to—"
"Nah-ah," Stark interrupted, shaking his head. "Try again."
Reynolds looked confused, but he tried again. "Um… the subject was outside when his—"
"Jesus-fucking-Christ," Stark muttered, whipping his glasses right off his face. "Okay—you—shut up." He turned away from Reynolds, looking to Nat and Agent Maria Hill. "All right… spill. Tell me what's happening."
"Peter escaped," Nat answered to cool off Stark's head. "Based off the last record from the device, Peter was in distress."
She dug into her pocket and passed the bracelet to Stark. "Found it on the grass," she said. "My best bet is he broke his thumb, slid the gadget off and made the jump."
Stark fiddled with the unbroken bracelet, probably coming to the same conclusion. "How the hell did he get over the fence?" he grilled. "I was told no one could get over it."
Only because those capable were never given permission to ever get that close, Nat thought. Anyone who had the ability to hop over the fence were never granted permission to even be outside.
"Well, he proved you wrong," she said, nonchalantly. "He jumped it. It took a running start, but he did it."
Stark agitatedly rubbed a hand over his face. "Why was he even close to the fence at all? What the hell was he doing?"
"The course loop, sir," Reynolds popped himself back into the conversation. "I had my team do a few laps of the course for endurance training."
Stark's brown eyes irksomely squinted at him. "Endurance training, eh?" he murmured as he pivoted to confront Reynolds. "Is that code for letting your team go wild?"
"He wasn't a major threat. He's only a level six," Reynolds tried to reason. "He never displayed that capability to jump that high! Even when we were doing the laps, he fell behind as he grew tired. He…"
Reynolds stopped talking upon the look on Stark's infuriating face.
"You only had one fucking job to do, Reynolds!" Stark's voice swelled with indignation, and everyone around them tensed in anticipation of an explosion. "One! Look after the kid. Not that hard to do! Grandmothers do it all the time!"
Reynolds kept quiet, but Stark ranted on.
"I entrusted you with the kid," Stark continued, seething. "Out of everyone here, I trusted you to be the one person to keep the kid in line. I thought you could handle him! I was wrong and now, I have to deal with this."
Reynolds scowled at the criticism. "I did everything—"
Stark put up a finger, effectively cutting him off. "Not interested," he dismissed the man. "Can't be entertained with your excuses when there's a kid in danger."
Stark turned his back to Reynolds, officially ignoring him. He walked up to the big screen, his gaze hard on Peter's profile. Nat heard the man hum, a sign his mind was whirling a thousand thoughts. Stark rubbed a hand along his jaw before he turned to face Nat.
"Give it to me straight," he demanded. "What's our chances?"
Nat sucked in a deep breath. Their chances were high in recapturing the kid. Something she wasn't too pleased about as she secretly rooted for the kid. "High."
"Good… good," he muttered, but he was holding something back. "Good. What about the roads? Nearby towns?"
"Sir?" Agent Hill spoke up. "We have our people in place and set up road-checks. If the asset takes the road, we will find him. We also have two units in the outlaying forest following his trail."
"Great! Keep me posted," Stark responded, but again, he didn't act that invested in the information. "Um… Romanoff?"
Nat picked her head up, seeing that Stark wanted a more… private conversation with her. Away from all the prying eyes of everyone in the room. From what Nat analyzed of Stark when she pretended to be his secretary, he had trust issues that only deepened since the whole Captain America debacle.
Stark picked his people carefully. And as of now, he trusted her and her judgment.
They walked together in silence, out of the commander center and into another private room. It was a random office, unoccupied by anyone except them. Stark strode across toward the window, arms folded as he looked out over the grounds of the compound, toward the vast forest ahead.
She heard him let out a deep sigh. "This has gotten out of hand," he grumbled. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"What did you expect?" Nat challenged. "You really think the kid was going to go along with your plan?"
"I thought I made it clear to him from the beginning," Stark returned with a bite in his tone. "Get some training in and grow into his powers. Become someone." He turned away from the window, all agitated. "What kind of kid runs away from a 100 acre playground for super-heroes? I mean… there's even a lap pool and a cinema that is stocked with all kinds of candy and he just takes off? Into the woods with nothing?
"He's either brave or a complete idiot," Stark finished in a mutter.
"Or desperate," Nat countered. "He's a kid. Who's all alone and misses his family. He worries for his aunt."
Stark huffed. "Her? She's fine."
"Is she?"
Stark shrugged, indifferently. He didn't care about the family. All that mattered to Stark was Peter Parker.
"I want him back here. Now!" Stark declared. "I don't care what we have to do, but he better be back here where he belongs. Got it? I want him back here tonight!"
Nat arched her brows at the defining statement. Since Peter's arrival at the Compound, Nat trailed him. Without garnering Reynolds' notice, she scrutinized everything that happened and watched the poor boy be mistreated. Nat saw the fear in the boy whenever he joined up with them. The nervous and the constant second-guessing because of the "pranks" pulled on him or the blatant disregard of him because of his age. Reynolds tried to shelter Peter from the abuse, constantly punishing Powers, but he never gave Peter the assurance of his safety.
Peter Parker doesn't belong here. He belonged with his family—his aunt.
Stark drummed his fingers against his arm. "Have you contacted him?"
She pinched her lips in perplexity. "Who?"
"Your boyfriend."
Nat's heart plunged straight to her feet, burrowing her feet right into the floor. She kept her face neutral despite the sudden pang of heartache. "He's not my boyfriend."
"Yeah—sorry—forgot," Stark apologized, but Nat didn't truly believe he'd forgotten. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Can we trust him?"
Nat thought it over. She knew Bruce would do the right thing. The honorable man would never do anything wrong. It was why she loved him. "We can trust him," she said. "He'll do the right thing."
Stark nodded, but crinkled up his mouth in doubt. "I hope he does too."
Quietness fell between them, both lost in their own thoughts and pain to consider the other one. Nat noticed Stark looked older than she last remembered. A man with a scarred soul, slowly rotting from inside out.
The great Iron Man shook his head distractedly. "God… I need a drink," he muttered, eyes bouncing about the room in a panicky search. "Like now."
Dr. Banner pulled a chair around to Peter. "Have a seat," he said, tapping on the seat, "and let me take a look at your thumb."
Peter slowly lowered himself on the chair, his nerves shaking his arms. The air got thicker, making it difficult Peter to breathe as he watched Dr. Banner shuffle through his cabinets.
Maybe now was his chance. If he could reach the door, he could dart away from the man. He couldn't trust Dr. Banner to not be working for Stark. After all, he's an Avenger and old buddy of Stark's. He lived in the woods, not too far from the Compound. He was probably the last line of defense. The one card Stark held on in case all other security measures failed.
All Dr. Banner needed was to receive the call and take Peter down in his Hulk form.
Oh god! Peter was going to get smashed by the Hulk.
"Ah-hah!"
Peter jumped in his seat as Dr. Banner cried in victory. The man reached into the cupboard and pulled out a wad of what appeared to be athletic tape. He threw it into a container he dragged along the counter surface and then turned back around to join Peter.
He hauled another chair over, setting it close to Peter. "Okay," he said, setting aside his container of medical supplies. "Let me have a look."
Peter was hesitant to show him, but Dr. Banner took his hand anyway. The scientist studied it, twisting his wrist to get a better angle of the thumb. Peter sat rigid. He barely even took a breath as the Hulk medically examined him.
Dr. Banner hummed in thought. "Definitely dislocated," he confirmed. "Broken? I'll need to see an X-ray." He rotated Peter's wrist again, gently and with great care. "May I?"
Peter wasn't going to say no to a man that could instantly turn in a raging, green giant. Dr. Banner to his lack of response as an acceptance. He slipped his fingers over the dislocation, fingers caressing the area to gauge the injury.
"Got lost in the woods?" Dr. Banner questioned, maybe to make small talk. "Did you come from the campgrounds?"
"Yes," Peter lied, eagerly accepting the façade of a lost boy. "Um… yeah. Feel down a ravine and, um, yeah. Kind of got lost."
Dr. Banner nodded along to his story, almost like he wasn't listening at all to Peter's lie. He was too drawn into Peter's injury to pay attention to the story Peter concocted.
He watched the scientist frown in puzzlement. "That's odd," Dr. Banner muttered. "It's like… your thumb is healing in this position, which is impossible. I mean… how long have you been in the woods? It shouldn't heal like this or that quick—"
Dr. Banner stopped. His fingers uncurled away from Peter's thumb. Slowly, his eyes raised up over his glasses and peered right into Peter's face with a dawning realization.
"You're not lost," Dr. Banner determined, taking in Peter's full appearance. "You're from the Compound."
Alarms rang loud in his head. Panic seized him and he jerked into action.
He kicked Dr. Banner's chair away from him. It caught Dr. Banner by surprise and he fell right off his chair. Peter wasted no time jumping up, looking for the exit. He rushed to the closet window to him, yanking it up to climb out.
Except, it didn't open. It was locked tight. Peter forfeit opening the window and punched the glass to break it. Yet, it didn't break.
This was not good.
Peter abandoned the window entirely, looking for another way out. The only option he had was the front door, which was blocked by Dr. Banner who was recovering from falling off his chair.
Dr. Banner snatched his glasses from the floor where it slipped off his face as he straightened his back. He put them back on, eyelashes fluttering behind the glass. It took him a split second to adjust before he found Peter.
Peter backed away. "I'm not going back!" he warned Dr. Banner. "Okay? I'm not—I… I'll fight you! I will!" Peter glanced around him for any weapon, snatching up the closet object to him—a ruler. He held it up like a sword. "See? I mean it! I'll fight you!"
Dr. Banner groaned a bit as he adjusted his glasses again. "Huh? W-What are you talking about?"
Peter tightened his grip on the ruler. "You work for Mr. Stark don't you?" he accused. "You're like his… big, bad wolf! Hiding in the woods and lying in wait. Well—you messed with the wrong kid! Okay? I'm not afraid of you!"
Dr. Banner's eyes fluttered quizzically, eyebrows high up his forehead in bafflement by everything that occurred. "I think I hit my head too hard because I have no idea what you just said," he confessed. "Did you even speak English?"
Peter slid his feet back to the window and took a glimpse out. He looked to the boundaries, half-expecting to see armed men approaching. Nothing so far.
He looked back to Dr. Banner. "How far away are they? How many are coming?"
"I honestly don't—"
Peter raised the ruler up toward Dr. Banner. "Don't lie to me!" he shouted, his shaky voice betraying his confidence. "You contacted Mr. Stark and told him I'm here. You're working for him!"
The befuddlement on Dr. Banner's face lightened. He let out a small gasp of understanding while wiping a hand along the side of his face and down his jaw. "Okay… I think I know what's going on."
Peter shook his head. "Don't try to trick me! I'm not dumb," he shouted. "I'm not afraid to fight you!"
Dr. Banner smirked. "Yes, you are."
"No—"
"Kid? I turn into a green, raging monster," Dr. Banner interrupted him, pointedly. "I know what fear looks like in others. And you are full of it right now."
Peter gulped. The scientist was inquisitive and correct. Peter was afraid, but he refused to lower his ruler.
Dr. Banner paced a little and heaved a sigh. He took off his glasses and fiddled them in his hands. "Let's calm down a bit," he suggested, which Peter found it ironic considering Dr. Banner had anger issues. "You want to put the ruler down? Take a seat?"
Peter shook his head.
"Kid—I'm not going to hurt you."
Peter stood his ground. He kept the ruler high and ready.
Dr. Banner shrugged in surrender. "All right… well, let me set the record straight," he said and he gestured his hands to himself. "First, let me just say this—I do not work for Tony."
"Liar!"
"Really, I don't," Dr. Banner insisted. "Look around you. I don't even own a phone! That right there should tell you I don't work for the man."
Peter checked the cabin. After a quick search, he realized Dr. Banner was right. There was no phone or TV. All that was available was a laptop, scientific equipment, empty, microwaved meals and minimum furnishings. Nothing screamed of Stark's elaborate style.
Maybe the good doctor was telling the truth.
He lowered the ruler. Only a little though. "So—you don't work for Mr. Stark?"
Dr. Banner shook his head. "No."
"Then… do you work for Captain America?" Peter asked, hopeful.
His hope deflated when Dr. Banner shook his head again. "No… I-I don't work for either of them," he confessed. "In fact, I haven't spoken to Steve in years. Not since the Sokovia."
That was disappointing. "Then what are you doing here?"
Dr. Banner grabbed his chair and fixed it to its standing position. His gazed downward and away from Peter. "It's complicated, but after the whole fiasco in Sokovia, I realized it would be better if I just stayed away. I was collateral damage to the group. I was more destructive than helpful, and it would just be best for everyone if I left.
"So I did," he continued, fingers pinching the edges of his sleeves. "I went into seclusion. Wanted no more part in that world and they respected my decision. Not happily for some of them, but… they understood. I kept to myself. Rented this cabin and I worked on my projects. I was… at peace.
"Didn't hear from my teammates at all until about a year ago when Tony knocked on my door," Dr. Banner revealed, confliction in the man's eyes. "Claimed he needed my help. Said that Steve went off the wagon or some kind of metaphor nonsense. Went onto say that if Steve continued down his path, it would be the end of the Avengers."
Peter remembered the news outlets talking about Captain America going rogue. "He's talking about the Sokovia Accords."
Dr. Banner nodded. "Yeah, but, as I said before, I wanted to no part in it. I was taking no sides. I was neutral," he continued the tale. "I'm Switzerland and told Tony he would have to figure something without me."
"What did he say?" Peter asked, curious as to how Mr. Stark took the rejection.
"He said he got it. Understood and wouldn't pressure me into anything," Dr. Banner answered. "But… he did want me to make a promise. About staying neutral and to not get in the way of what happens between him and Steve. I told him that they should try talking it out. That whatever happened could be mended, but Tony said they were far past it. Said that if I didn't want to get involved, then I had to stay out of it. So—I did.
"In return, Tony sometimes sends me a monthly allowance," He went on, rubbing his finger across his nose. "Seems more like a bribe, but he insisted it was more to make sure I didn't die of starvation out here. Thought it was wild that I lived alone in the woods.
"Since then, no one had really reached out to me. Don't know what happening much in the real world," Dr. Banner came to a dwindling conclusion. "Just… stayed here in my cabin. Working on my project."
Peter flickered a glance to the work on the table. He read the notes and equations scrawled on loose sheets of paper and recognized some of the chemical bottles residing next to the beakers and vials.
"W-What are you doing here?" Peter muttered as he drew closer to the table. He plucked up one of the vials to examine it.
"Careful!" Dr. Banner shouted, coming up to the table in two strides and snatching the vial out of Peter's hands. "You don't want to mess with this stuff. It's dangerous."
Peter studied the table. "This… is this some kind of medicine?"
"Hopefully," Dr. Banner said as he carefully rested the vial back down. "One day."
Peter's brain clicked in recognition. "You're trying to find a way to cure yourself from the Hulk, aren't you?"
Dr. Banner rolled in his lips as he glanced away. "It's a working progress, but that is what I am aiming for," he said. "Find a cure to end the curse."
"But… what about the Hulk?"
Dr. Banner reeled in surprise. "What do you mean?" he said. "He'll be gone. The monster will no longer exist."
The Hulk gone? Forever? "But… but… you can't do that!" he argued. "The Hulk is a hero! You can't get rid of him!"
Dr. Banner's mouth dropped, incredulous over Peter's statement. "W-What?"
Suddenly, Peter felt childish and foolish. "I didn't mean he saved a lot of people," he said. "People see him as a hero."
"The majority do not," Dr. Banner countered. "I've killed people. Destroyed towns and homes. Most do not see the Hulk as a hero. He's a monster and all people fear monsters."
"I'm not afraid of you."
Dr. Banner snorted. "Really? Weren't you just pointing a ruler at me not long ago?"
"Well, I was afraid of the Hulk if he sided with Mr. Stark," Peter sheepishly replied. "Now that I know you don't work for him, I'm not afraid of you."
Dr. Banner shook his head in amusement. "Still afraid, kid. You're brave, but still scared," he said. "I see you try to glimpse a green hue on my skin every now and then."
Peter ashamedly dropped his gaze. That was true. He had checked for green hue. "I'm sorry."
The man waved his apology off. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it," he assured Peter, not offended at all. "Anyway, that's why I'm working out here. To find a way to cure myself and go back to living a normal life."
Peter didn't try to talk him out of it again. He backed away from the workstation and moved around Dr. Banner. But, the doctor put up his hand to stop him.
"So, now that we had this talk and understanding," he said to Peter. "Can you let me fix your thumb?"
Peter forgotten about his dislocated thumb and the second Dr. Banner mentioned it, a shot of agony pulsed from his hand up through his arm. He nodded his consent and they retook their seats again.
Dr. Banner studied it one more time. "Looks like I will have to break it in order to reset it," he said, flipping his eyes up to Peter. "Is that okay?"
Peter shrugged. "You're the doctor."
The former Avenger got his medical supplies ready at hand and then repositioned Peter's hand for accuracy. "Okay before I start," he said to Peter. "How's your pain tolerance? I know you can heal quickly, but does that affect how you feel pain?"
"Err… my tolerance is normal, I guess," answered Peter.
"Okay, then, I guess I should warn you," Dr. Banner quipped as he took Peter's thumb in his hands, "this will hurt."
The scientist didn't even do a count down. He snapped the thumb and Peter screamed to the top of his lungs. Tears sprung to his eyes, but before he could retaliate, Dr. Banner moved Peter's thumb again and he heard a click.
"There we go," Dr. Banner announced. "Sorry—I figured I would do it quick. You okay?"
Peter automatically nodded, although he knew Dr. Banner could see his tears. "Y-yeah."
The doctor patted his shoulder. "The pain will lessen," he said. "Here, let's put on this splint to keep it from healing incorrectly again."
Dr. Banner attached a splint to Peter's thumb and then wrapped it with athletic tape. "Now, don't add any pressure to it," he advised. "And ice it, okay? Here—let me get you a frozen bag of vegetables."
Dr. Banner went to his freezer and dug around while Peter examined his wrapped hand. The man returned with frozen corn and pressed it against Peter's thumb. "Hold it right there and keep it elevated for at least ten minutes," he prescribed. "Okay… you got it?"
Peter nodded as he held the bag of corn against his thumb. "Thank you," he said. "And, um, I'm sorry that I kicked you out of your chair and threatened you with a ruler."
Dr. Banner laughed a smile. "It's nothing. You were scared," he said. "Although, I was a bit worried when you pointed the ruler at me."
A joke. The Incredible Hulk was making a joke. "I can look intimidating."
"Of course," Dr. Banner said as he dabbed a tissue with rubbing alcohol. "Here, let me clean up some of these cuts on your face."
Peter let the man dab at his wounds. The sting of the alcohol made him cringe, but he endured the pain.
As he finished up cleaning Peter's cuts and face of dirt, he started to pack up his medical supplies. "Okay— now that I told you everything about me. What about you?" Dr. Banner questioned. "You haven't even told me your name."
He was right. Peter hadn't introduced himself. "Peter. Peter Parker," he said and stretched his hand out to the doctor. "It's an honor to meet you."
Dr. Banner stared at the proffered hand for a second before he shook it. "Nice to meet you, Peter Parker," he said. "So, you obviously have healing powers. What else do you have? Or is that it?"
"Oh, um, no. There's more," Peter said as he adjusted his chair. "I can do other things too. I can pretty much stick to any surface, and I have superhuman strength, speed, durability, and agility."
Dr. Banner nodded along with the list of powers. "Wow—that's… quite a collection," he said. "How did you get it? Were you born this way or—"
"Spider bite," Peter answered. "Got bitten by a radioactive spider."
Dr. Banner winced. "Ouch. That had to hurt."
"For a day or two, but then it stopped hurting and I got all these powers."
"Must be kind of scary having all those powers," Dr. Banner remarked. "What did you do with them? Don't tell me you tried to rob a bank or something."
"What? No! I would never—" Peter shook his head. "No, I used them for good things. Like, stopping bike thieves or car thieves. Helping kittens out of trees. Those type of things. Helped the little people out."
Dr. Banner looked impressed. "Wow!" he said again. "Wouldn't expect that to be the first thing a person would do with such powers. Not unless you were Cap, but he's a bit of a righteous person to begin with."
"Well, when you have powers like I have and you don't do anything, and then people get hurt because you didn't do anything, that's on you," Peter said. "I have to help people. It's… someone has to, I guess. Help the little people, who think they don't matter, but do matter."
Peter sighed, fixing the frozen corn into an easier grip. "Anyway, yeah," he muttered. "That's what I did before all this happened."
Dr. Banner didn't say anything for a long moment. He stared at him, astounded or confounded, Peter didn't know. There was shock in his face, etched from his chin to the deep trenches in his forehead.
"Who did you say you were?" Dr. Banner asked.
"Peter."
"And how old are you?"
"Err… fifteen."
Dr. Banner's eyes bulged. "Fifteen?" he exclaimed. "You're an actual child! W-What… I can't… How did you get involved with Tony?"
Peter scowled at the name. "I didn't. He kidnapped me."
"What?" Dr. Banner shot up in his seat, looking as if someone smacked him hard in the face.
Peter nodded. "I don't remember too much about it," he admitted. "All I remember was that I was in Queens and then next, I woke up in some strange, small room."
"Queens, New York?"
Peter nodded again, although he didn't see what was so important about that tidbit. "That's where I live with my aunt," he said. "And, Mr. Stark took me from her and kept me locked in the Compound with all these other super-powered people. Forced me to train and denied me any and all of my rights because of the stupid Accords—"
"Wait! Stop!" Dr. Banner cut him off, waving his hand frantically at Peter. He took a few breaths, fingers wrangled in his hair in distress. "You're saying that Tony kidnapped you from your home and held you against your will at the Compound?"
"Yes! I had this bracelet on me to keep me in line. Any time I did something they didn't like, I got drugged," Peter lifted his injured hand to Dr. Banner. "That's why my thumb was dislocated. I did it myself to get the bracelet off to jump the wall."
"The wall?" Dr. Banner arched his brows high once more. "The thirty-five feet wall surrounding the perimeter? You jumped that?"
"I had a running start."
Dr. Banner swore and buried his face in his hands. Peter heard the man grumble behind his calloused hands. Peter captured only few inaudible words, but based on the man's tone, it didn't sound pleasant.
"Oh, Tony… Tony…" Dr. Banner muttered as he dropped his hands from his face. "Damn it, Tony."
He got up from his seat, needing to exercise off his frustration. "He's gone off the deep end," he said. "I thought—I thought he got over it after Ultron, but…"
"What are you talking about?" Peter asked. "What's Ultron?"
Dr. Banner stopped his pacing. "You said you were from Queens?"
Peter nodded.
"Then you remember the Battle of New York?"
Peter nodded again. He remembered all the aliens coming from the sky to terrorize New York. It was the moment the world was smaller and the universe was bigger. The TV constantly replayed Tony Stark's valiant, near-sacrifice to save New York.
"After Tony went through that hole, he saw something. Something that terrified him to pieces," Dr. Banner explained. "He wouldn't talk about it. Didn't say what he saw. Kept it all bottled up. He wouldn't stop trying to find ways to create the ultimate 'defender'. He kept building Iron Mans left and right to the point it drove Pepper almost away. Then, he created Ultron, well, I had help in that as well, but—it didn't work.
"But, I thought he gave up on it after Ultron's failure," Dr. Banner groaned. "I didn't think— I didn't think he would ever go this far!"
"What's he planning?" Peter asked, rising up from his seat too. Dr. Banner's words scared him that he needed to know. "Did he tell you anything?"
Dr. Banner shook his head. "I told you! I haven't spoken to Tony in ages," he said. "I don't know what he's planning, but I'm guessing his fear of losing is playing into it."
"Losing what?"
Dr. Banner didn't answer him. Something distracted because he suddenly got edgy, checking the doors and windows. "You need to go."
Everything screeched to halt. "What?"
"I'm sorry, but you can't stay here much longer," Dr. Banner said, painfully and apprehensively. "If Tony finds you here… I'm sorry! Really, but you have to go."
Peter gaped at the sudden turnaround. He let the frozen corn slip off his hand and fall to the floor. "But—I need your help!" he said. "If they take me back, I'll never see my aunt again! They'll put me in the hole! Or whatever that is!"
"Peter, I'm sorry," Dr. Banner apologized, pained to even say it. "I-I can't help you. If Tony found out—"
He got it. It hurt him and made him a bit angry, but he understood it. If Mr. Stark learned of Dr. Banner interfering willingly by helping him, then Dr. Banner would be locked away in the Compound too. And, although Peter wanted his help and protection, he didn't want to do that to Dr. Banner. Not after he fixed his thumb.
Dr. Banner saw the disheartened expression. "I wish I could help you more," he said. "I do."
"I know." He did, but it didn't make him feel any better. "I should go as you said. Wasted too much time here anyway."
"Wait a minute!" Dr. Banner went to his pantry and came back with a box of granola bars. "Here. You look hungry and as your doctor, you should eat more."
Peter took the box. "Thanks," he said. "Good luck with finding a cure and all. And thanks for fixing my dislocation."
"I wish I could do more. Really—"
"It's okay," Peter interrupted. "Really. I get it. I'll be on my way. Thanks for everything!"
Peter stepped aside Dr. Banner and headed to the front door. There was nothing else Dr. Banner could do without drawing him down with him. Peter wasn't going to force the good doctor into a dangerous situation. Peter got out of the Compound on his own. He can get out of the woods and back to his aunt on his own too.
"Hey, um, Pete?"
Peter stopped.
"Before you leave," Dr. Banner said, moving around his workstation. "Do you see that bowl near the door?"
Peter saw the small bowl by the front door. "Yeah?"
"It's great. It holds a lot of things," Dr. Banner mentioned. "It's where I put my Jeep keys, money and all sort of things."
Peter stared at the scientist like he went a bit crazy for talking about a cheap, plastic bowl. "Um… okay."
Dr. Banner continued fiddling with his equipment. "Sometimes, when I want to get away, I take my Jeep and head north on the gravel road until I hit the asphalt," he continued on. "Then I drive east and keep going until I hit civilization. But, if I need a break to fill up or fuel up, there's a decent station off the side of the road where no one ever bothers me."
Peter scrutinized the scientist, wondering if he got a loose screw and finally went mad! But then his mind caught up with the subtle message.
He slipped a soft, thankful smile to Dr. Banner. "Thank you."
Dr. Banner raised his eyes up from his work. "For what?" he said. "Just telling you what I do when I want to get away."
He returned to his work, giving Peter free range to leave. Peter backtracked to the door. He reached his hand into the bowl and snatched the keys and money.