Evil Hearts Can Love
Chapter 7-Hellys yellow
Three weeks later
(Bruce)
The time inside their mental land seemed sluggish, with no sun to mark the passage of the days in the ever present darkness, there was only black fire that didn´t bring any light, the voice of the monster, and the pain.
In the beginning, some of Hulks perceptions from outside broke through the barrier that separated the mind controlling the body – that of Hulks- and the ones currently trapped inside the mental land; Bruces and the monsters.
But he had since started blocking the visions he got from Hulk. They were barely comprehensible as they appeared to him, and the agony they brought along only made the infernal blaze hotter. Like throwing wood to a fire, since the flames were, or so he thought, the internal manifestation of his own hate.
Bruce couldn´t say how he recognised them as such, was something he simply felt as true. Maybe because they were his emotions, and maybe because he could feel the inferno in the horrible hate barely contained inside his chest, as accurately as he could feel it in the flames.
Hate for his situation, for the monster, for his own helplessness… A hate so strong…
At the start bare embers, now a roaring inferno that was consuming him.
Bruce didn´t know what day it was, how much time had come and went… what had fared Tony… if years had passed, or only a few hours.
Since he became trapped by the creature, the timeless quality of this place that had always been so peaceful for Bruce- before the fire and the abomination came- had become one more of the pieces of the Hell the monster had created for him. He wouldn´t have thought the mind landscape so serene back them, if he had knew that such evil had been living trapped in it all along.
Now in the darkness, surrounded by the black fire, Bruce sat on the ground folded in meditation like pose. Eyes closed to the vision of his charred flesh, chanting in the silence of his thoughts.
"…ny… Tony… Tony…" it hurts "…Tony… To…" it burns "… ny…"
His skin was covered in blisters and scabs of singed flesh (what passed for flesh in this mental land).
Blood and melted fat oozed from the busted bubbles of meat that kept on popping painfully; wounds that sizzled in the heat and the flames, developing where his clothes couldn´t protect him, all over his face and his hands – everywhere.
His shirt and trousers were a sodden mess drenched in nasty, reeking fluids, and clinging to his salt-pale body like a filthy membrane. His locks dangled limply from his forehead, looking more like putrid seaweed than actual strands of hair…
It was disgusting, yet, Bruce could barely register it among the pain that racked his frame.
The floor was boiling hot and burning his legs through his scorched trousers.
The stench of his sweltering flesh was horrible.
The pain was unbearable.
But Bruce had a lot of experience with unbearable pain. He knew how to make himself as still as rock, and more importantly, to be as resistant. A barely there shudder became the only visible sign of his distress. But not even rock is everlasting. And the pain, the exhaustion, the anxiety… were slowly wearing him down.
Bruce knew he was near his breaking point, he knew the yellow monster was waiting for it, circling him, trying to feed the fire. It spoke gut-wrenching words full of lies…They had to be lies, Bruce thought.
"You know Tony is dead, Don´t you?" It laughed.
Bruce didn´t listen to him because Tony was fine. He had to be.
"Tony, Tony…" He chanted, and tried to remember the exact shade of brown Tony's eyes shone when he smiled… but it was getting difficult. The memories were fading from his grasp, the way old paper loses its colours and shapes. It was still enough to keep the hate at bay for a little more time. However that wouldn´t last for much longer.
At the start, when the fire began, the happy memories could block the hate well on their own. But by now the strain had eaten away at them. Trapped by the monster and unable to leave, Bruces resolve had become his only armour, but it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain when he could barely sit straight. His shoulders were slumping and his back arching, his mind was getting more sluggish by the second…
He was not made of super stuff like the Hulk, could not take it forever, but he was stubborn, and even if he couldn´t escape by himself, he would keep holding on, until his team, –…Tony, Tony, Tony…he kept on thinking over and over again– found a way to rescue him. Because even if he couldn't trust anyone else, the better part of the last two years had convinced him of this: he could trust those five incredible people to catch him.
He had to hope they were going to stop the monster now that he couldn't do it on his own, even if their help meant he would have to tell them of yet another monster inside himself.
…
Bruce stopped thinking such thoughts, knowing they would only add to the weariness and the dread he felt.
"Tony… Ton….ny…"
The name had become a mantra to soothe the hate and anger that threatened to consume him; A fire that was becoming hotter, raising higher … and thinking was turning difficult.
The creature laughed at his pain.
Bruce was getting weaker... the monster, however, was getting stronger every day.
"…Tony… Tony…Tony…"
The creature – an enormous being – shifted in the darkness. He could not see it, but without a doubt felt its sickening presence.
"¿You know he is dead, don't you?" It whispered again, like it had been doing day after day for maybe weeks now.
Bruce didn't react.
It was lying, he knew this. But the doubt slowly started sinking in, as the memory – brief as it was – of Tony's bloodied body in Hulk's arms, started to invade more and more of his mind.
"…Tony…"
He didn't know what would happen if he broke down, but the dread he felt was enough to give him the strength to resist for a little more.
"Tony."
oOo
Tony came awake by degrees, gradually gaining awareness of his surroundings: the steady hum of machinery, hushed voices, a very recognisable smell of cleanness, chemicals, and bland food, then he became aware of his aching limbs through the fog muddling his thoughts, recognizable as the after-effects of some very severe sedatives.
"A hospital, I'm in a hospital. Fuck, Bruce is going to be pissed that I ended up in surgical again."
Just thinking about Bruce made Tony want to see his lover's smile.
"Hey, you can start cheering now. The sexy billionaire is awake." Tony announced with a dry, rasping croak and his usual cheeky smile, pretending he was still half-asleep. Even if smiling made his lips feel like they have been rubbed with sand, and then salt for good measure, Tony knew it would totally be worth the effort for the dry but fond remark about stupidity being an incurable illness, which he knew Bruce was just about to make.
Or at least would have, had he been in the room. Because when Tony opened his eyes, weary of the bright light that usually shone in every hospital room (whether it was one of the many in SHIELD's headquarters, or some high-class institution Pepper had deemed adequate for his health care) he realized his lover was nowhere to be seen. Nor was anyone celebrating.
Where was Clint when Tony needed him? And where was Bruce?
The room was relatively small, plain, sterile, no windows, a single door with a hi-tech lock… it was one of SHIELD's helicarrier medical rooms, that much he could see on his own. There being only two good things: the first one were the machines providing him with oxygen and fluids, and the second the presence of two of his friends: Steve and Pepper. The conversation they had been having (which he had been only vaguely registering) came to an abrupt halt with his words.
During the shocked ominous silence that ensued, Tony was able to take a proper look at them, and see how tired and worn they appeared under the bright white light.
Pepper's dark suit had little wrinkles along planes that usually were ironed to perfection. Her hair didn't look anything like her usual luscious ginger locks anymore – it was dull and lifeless, as dull and lifeless as was looking her pale skin. Even so, the most telling signals of her distress were the dark circles around her heavy and tired eyes, which Tony could see even under the timeworn makeup.
This was not a result of a few sleep-deprived work related nights– Tony knew that kind, he had seen it many times before, and this wasn´t it. They reminded him of smudged dark stains, a look that he only had watched appear when exhaustion went beyond body and mind.
They were the junk born of sadness and quiet desperation rather than fatigue. The ones that make the usual dark circles around the eyes look pale and healthy in comparison.
Pepper seemed to be at the end of her rope.
And Steve didn't look much better.
Standing there dressed in his dirty uniform, cowl drawn globes off, streaks of sweat and grime on his face, hair and hands, Steve looked exhausted; like he had been fighting for much too long. The aura of the battle was still so heavily obvious in his darkened eyes and messy hair, Tony could nearly smell it.
When Steve looked at him, gladness blossomed on his tired face for a second, before some other dark emotion dimmed his blue eyes again, taking away the momentary respite.
That made the smile on Tony's face flicker and die, the forlorn aura inside the room finally overwhelming him, too. Something was very wrong… Bruce was not here…
He then remembered in a flash of painful images that Bruce had been about to abandon him not so much ago.
"Where's Bruce?" he asked instantly.
Pepper placed a delicate hand on his arm, her touch so frail and so delicate, meant to be comforting. It only strained Tony's heart more –his arc-reactor seemed to weigh a ton. He knew the sensation couldn't be real, but the way his heart seemed to contract felt very much like that.
"How areyou feeling?" she asked instead of answering his question. And the genius recognized straightaway that the situation was bad. Really bad.
He knew that tone really well; had heard it many times before… It meant Pepper was truly worried, and wanted to shield her best friend and boss from pain she felt was too much.
It was Pepper at the end of her robe.
And Tony didn't want to add to the strain she was under. If Bruce really had left him, he didn't want Pepper seeing his pain. The experience would fracture the two of their spirits, and he refused to drag her down with him. Tony needed to know, that at least one essential part of his life- his oldest and best friend- was going to be left whole, when Bruce was gone.
His optimism returned as quickly as it was gone. Putting the mask on was easier than it should have been.
"I'm ok, just a little beat up. Nothing I didn't go through before in other more pleasurable settings." - Tony grinned, not really managing to fool her, but succeeding in getting a small sad smile on her lips.
"Tony…" she exhaled.
"Aaaand I'm also hungry," he interrupted again, pointing at his stomach. "Could you bring me a burger?" he made a pretty nice imitation of a beatific, pleading face and hoped she would just go along with the charade.
"You are not supposed to eat that kind of fat…" Pepper said.
"Come on, how is that fair? I'm an injured man…" Tony barely managed to stifle a glad sigh when she went along with it.
"… But I can bring you a sandwich," she retorted in an imitation of her usual exasperated amusement, getting up from the chair beside the bed that she had been sitting on, and taking her purse with her.
"A sandwich? Good, that's good. Bring one, or maybe two. Hey, Cap here is hungry too, make it two dozen sandwiches," Tony smiled, speaking in a hurried excited monologue, so that there would be no place for anyone else to get a word in. And kept on going until he was sure Pepper was out of the room and out of earshot, leaving him with Steve alone inside. Then, and only then, did Tony let the false cheerfulness wither away, a serious pained expression overtaking his features.
For a minute neither of them spoke.
Steve rose silently from the chair near the door and took seat at the side of the bed. The movement was so stiff it looked he was about to rise and strike something. The darkness obscuring his features didn´t discourage the barely contained anger sensation.
Yet Tony could see what Steve was feeling was not so much anger as it was self-blame. It was as if the emotion was draped around Cap's shoulders, which were not proudly squared, as was usual, and were instead slumped. Steve's posture was as telling as a spoken admission of his feelings. At least for the ones who knew him well.
Identifying it only tightened the chocking hold dread had around his heart, increasing its beating to a drum like rhythm, mad and desperate, thrumming in his ears like thunder.
"Steve," he greeted his friend, face devoid of the turmoil inside his mind "What happened?"
One of the monitors beeped warningly when his pulse rate became erratic, but it elicited absolutely no response from the dejected men.
"We don't need to have this conversation now, Tony. You should rest." Steve said in the reassuring tone he usually used as Captain America, so that it would not seem like he was pitying Tony, which was something he knew his friend didn't take well. But the worry was still evident on his face, and it was clear that he was trying to spare Tony pain.
The effort only managed to further increase the dread that had settled in the genius billionaire.
"Tell me," Tony deadpanned.
"Tony, let it be for now." Cap tried to brush it off again, but his face cracked under the strain of the previous weeks, and his sorrow and worry seeped from the fractures like too bright light.
It was too intense and painful to watch, so Tony just… looked away, and let it go. He felt too tired and pained, too tattered inside to hurt his friend.
"Ok, but if I'm expected to lay in here for who knows how long, I will have to ask for a TV," he reverted to the capricious billionaire facade; all smiles and no seriousness, a totally self-absorbed man.
Steve just huffed thankfully, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He knew this was Tony's way of letting the confrontation drop, and he couldn't express how thankful he was to have been granted a little more time of his quirky remarks. The moment his friend learned the truth, he would get so low, become so enraged and wounded…
Tony wasn't anywhere near healthy, and Steve could not watch his friend put himself in danger again so shortly after nearly having him die in his arms, so he remained silent.
"I'm serious, I want a TV, Steve. A damn good one. Not the garbage Fury puts in his reunion rooms. What kind of spy organization uses Pleistocenic TV screens? Maybe he thinks they are vintage, I don't know. Embarrassing, that's what they are," Tony pointed at a shameful screen that wasn't there.
Steve smiled and rose from his seat. By now he knew Tony's tactics too well not to recognize his need for some privacy.
"It's ok Tony, I will bring you a TV," he said with a slight note of teasing in his very tired voice. But underneath the playful tone of his words was an undercurrent of seriousness Tony didn't fail to notice: "Just don't try to leave the room, ok? You are not in any condition to wander the Helicarrier."
"I will be as quiet as a church mouse." Tony raised a hand in a mock scout promise.
Steve just shook his head, still smiling.
"Will you need something else? Since I'm going out."
"Ice-cream! Ice-cream is always good."
"I will bring you some," Steve said at the door. "You just rest."
"I will, I will," Tony shushed his friend.
Steve waved back and left the room, the door closing after him.
The second he was gone, Tony took out the objet he had been hiding under the blanket; polychromatic planes in white, blue and red caught his sight. Steve's Stark phone gleamed under the harsh white light, with the pattern of the American flag Tony had personally selected (he just loved to annoy Steve), shining in his hands.
"I knew Natasha's lessons were going to be useful someday," Tony told himself, easily bypassing Steve's password (he had designed the thing himself, after all), opened the hidden application that enabled the Avengers access to their main information source. "Hey Jarvis, long time no see."
"It's always a pleasure to hear from you, Sir." Jarvis' smooth voice came from the speakers, smaller than he accustomed to. Tony knew his AI would never admit it, but in that instant, the British voice sounded sincerely relieved to hear from his creator.
"Lets see what Cap wanted to hide."
oOo
(Steve)
Finding a TV wasn't very difficult; Steve only had to locate some clerk who could help him. Now, as he waited for it to be delivered in his care, he made use of the time to wash himself of the grime still clinging to his face and hands.
He should have cleaned before going to see how Tony was faring, but Thor and he had been battling Dooms bots longer than they had foreseen and the continuous worry about his health he had been harbouring for the last three weeks, had made Steve need the reassurance before anything else.
Now that Tony was awake, his worry didn´t disappear, it just changed to an imperative need of keeping him safe… Even if it meant he had to guard silence about Bruce. Because if Tony knew, he would put himself in danger again, and his body, not fully healed, wouldn´t sustain more damage so soon after the last. Natasha had already warned him about this. He had to remain silent on the matter until Bruce was home again… or Tony was healthy enough to help. It was the only way to keep their friend away from harm.
Steve decided to check his phone for Natasha's and Clint's progress… when he found his phone was not in the pocket he had put it in when he returned to the Helicarrier from the battle.
"Tony!"
Trepidation filled his chest.
oOo
(Tony and Steve)
He ran back to the room, hoping against all odds that he made it in time. But as he barged inside, his hair still damp, he was already too late.
His phone was in Tony's hands, and from it came the Hulk's mindless roars, his own shouts and Thor's screams. Then, Tony pressed something on the screen, and the recording ended. His expression so guarded Steve couldn't tell if there were any feelings behind.
"Tony…" Steve tried, but did not know how much he had seen, and what he could say to stop his imminent breakdown. It was like seeing a mountain of debris slowly tip and come down, impossible to be stopped.
"Where did he take Bruce?" Tony lifted his gaze to look Steve in the eyes.
Steve crept closer with impossibly slow steps. It felt like he was walking through sticky gel.
"Tony…"
"Just fucking tell me, Steve!" Tony exploded with anger, and tried to get up from the bed, but his body failed him and he collapsed to his knees on the floor.
"Tony!" Steve managed to grab Tony by the shoulders before his upper body collided with the tiles.
It was a little too hard and painful on Tony's abused muscles and broken ribs, but Tony didn't care. He hated feeling helpless, hated the way Steve was looking at him, and he hated more than anything the horrible feeling of knowing Bruce needed him and he wasn't there by his side.
The rage, the dread, and the pain he felt were unbearable.
"Where is Bruce?" He asked again, using what little air was still left in his lungs, after the force from the impact took nearly all his oxygen. His voice was raw, full of resentment and hurt, overflowing with the hate he felt that very instant.
For a second, Steve could only stare at his friend, pale and fierce and so very frail. Taking in his bruised body, the tubes and wires connecting his chest and wrist to the machines, the faintly green hospital gown that only made the pallor of his body look sicker than it should be, the pain so very clear on his face…
All these things reminded him of how Tony nearly died on his arms only three weeks ago. That memory kept turning up in his nightmares, together with the ones of Bucky and the war.
The only difference was that this man he so desperately wished to protect was still alive. A fact that made Steve want to shield Tony from anything, and anyone, who could wish to hurt him. A want that rendered his next words an excruciating need.
He had hoped to have more time; time for Tony to became healthy again, and for Clint and Natasha to do their job, but…. There wasn´t any time left.
"We lost Hulk two weeks ago. A week after we brought you here. But Bruce had been gone days before that."
"So… he is gone. That's what you are saying?" Tony hissed bitterly, his fingers instinctively gripping at Steve's uniform. "Because he would not change back?" His chest felt like it was about to collapse, but he could no longer tell if it was actually something physical, or a consequence of the horrible emotional pain.
Tony didn't see Steve's full of sorrow gaze, didn't feel the way his arms sneaked around his body, to hug him against a warm, though still dirty chest. The uniform smelled of sweat, grime, blood and gunpowder.
Somehow, the familiarity of such scents helped.
Steve's reply rumbled inside his chest and against his cheek.
"When you were injured in the explosion, Bruce lost control, and Hulk became a berserker. He could have killed you; he nearly did trying to take you with him." The fear of the moment he thought Tony was dead permeated his words and raised his voice in painful anger. His fingers dug into Tony's flesh in response, making sure he was there. "Thor had to engage in combat with him and is still covered in bruises, and Clint had to fire all his Hulk tranquilizer arrows to stop him. Even then, after he awoke in the Helicarrier, he didn't change back. He just started pounding the walls of the new adamantium room until we had to tranq him again. It went on like that for a week. He wouldn't listen, he wouldn't stop unless he was unconscious. He did nothing, save to smash everything in his reach. We tried, Tony, but Hulk…" his voice became gentle, as if tempering the sound could soften his next words. "…Ross was somehow informed of it, and convinced the Council Hulk was a danger SHIELD wasn't going to properly take care of." Those were only excuses to experiment with him, they both knew that, but did not acknowledge it out loud. "He said Bruce was gone, and only the monster remained."
"Bruce is not gone, and Hulk is not a monster," the genius clenched his teeth. "There must be a reason why he's not changing back."
"That's what we are hoping, too, Tony, that's why the team is trying to take him back." Determination filled his words with something that sounded very much like hope, yet… "We don't know where Ross has taken Hulk, but Clint and Natasha are doing their best at infiltrating his contacts network.
Steve tried to find the words that could convey the other discouraging things he had to say. Because Tony may have watched the videos, but was not there to see how Hulk lost more and more control, hour after hour, day after day. He didn't see his mindless brutal anger, the way he even lost the ability to recognize his friends as the end was nearing, He wasn't there to see how they lost their teammate, unable to do anything. Not the agony of not knowing for days if Tony was even going to make it. They were very close to losing two members of their family. They lost one for the time being, (at least until Natasha and Clint could find where Ross hid Hulk, he told himself), but they could still lose both if he didn't manage to clear the situation up for Tony, and if they failed to bring Bruce back. He didn't want to see him too hopeful, just to watch as the hope and the inability to make it real tore the genius to pieces little by little.
"But Tony… you have to remember that we already tried everything we could think of, and Bruce still didn't come back." With those words he helped his friend back into bed, before he could protest the treatment. "You need to rest."
"I need to help find Bruce." He protested, but suddenly felt very tired…
Steve watched as the morphine took hold of Tony and the sleep claimed him in seconds, the remote of the IV resting in his hand, and the regret at having had to do so eating his guts.
Yet, it was the only way he could think of that would make the genius rest. Tony didn't feel how injured he really was, full of painkillers as he was. But he had four broken ribs, extensive muscle bruising, and a barely healed punctured lung. He was in no shape to go back to working day and night. Not with the kind of intensity,( Steve knew), he would work for Bruce.
"Let Clint and Natasha do their work, they are the best at what they do. I promise, Tony, they will find Bruce."
oOo
(Pepper)
It was already night, and Pepper had been sitting beside Tony's bed for hours, working on her tablet ever since Steve and Thor had been called to duty again, unwilling to leave him alone. Since Clint and Natasha had Fury's unofficial permission to go find Bruce, and Steve and Thor had to handle all other missions the Avengers where needed on, (two Avengers not as efficient as six) she had been nearly constantly here.
And the strain of it was starting to show.
At the start Pepper had been afraid if she left, Tony would suddenly stop breathing, and now that he was out of danger, she feared losing him for entirely different reasons. Since, she, better than most, knew how difficult was to gain access to Tonys heart, and how auto destructive could Tony become in his quest to save the ones he loves. If he was not allowed to help save Bruce, he would find his own way.
A way that was usually way more dangerous than needed.
"Tony, I know you are awake." She saved the last file, and smiled tiredly at her friend and boss, trying not to let her sadness and worry show too much.
He stopped pretending be sleeping and looked at her.
"Pepper."
"Take this and find Bruce." She handed him her Stark Tablet, refraining from any other comments. "Just promise me that you won't go to his rescue alone." A promise that could go unattended, she knew, that´s why she had recruited Jarvis to warn her about such attempt.
Tony took the device from her hands, sitting up.
"Thank you, Pepper."
She smiled a little more brightly.
"Don´t thank me, just find him."
Maybe it wasn't the best thing she could have done, but she knew it was the right thing to do. Bruce was too important to Tony for him to lose him now.
oOo
Three days later.
(Ross)
Ross strode in the enormous laboratory crowded with scientists and assistants who worked diligently on various last-generation devices and computers with perfect synchronization. An excited scientific discussion seemed to be taking place among all of them at once: they were giving and taking in ideas so fast Ross could not understand anything.
But he was not here to listen to the staff; he came to debrief the chief scientist.
It took him less than a few seconds to find the small man in his late forties, with a greying, dirty brown military haircut, and grey, tired eyes. His name was Colvin and he was in charge of the project of replicating Hulk's capabilities. He could easily be spotted at the main computer, observing what seemed to be a few DNA helixes.
Ross walked over to his side, and the man lifted his gaze to look at him with an enormous smile that showed his too big teeth, more excited than Ross had ever seen him. It looked promising.
"What are the results of the last tests?" he asked the scientist.
"Oh, that is incredibly exciting. We already knew about his capability of regeneration, but this is simply sublime. We have found a correlation between the amount of pain inflicted and the amount of strength gained on a cellular level." He taped something on the keyboard with barely contained excitement and a new set of schematics came to life on the screen. "Do you see it?" He asked the General in a breathy voice.
Ross could not help but to harden his gaze at the scientist, his eyes full of veiled disgust.
"No, I'm not a scientist," he said, and it sounded as it being even a little like Colvin was a disgracing and diminishing thought no one should even contemplate.
The sentiment went completely over Colvin's head, not even registering in his brain focused only on new possibilities.
"That doesn't matter," he gestured, waving off his boss' inability to understand the facts. "The potential of such a breakthrough, when we succeed in extracting the cellules that manage the reaction, will be endless. We could make soldiers whose bodies would not only regenerate, but would even draw strength from the wounds! They would be unstoppable, and whatever the enemy did to them would only strengthen our men! The serum will revolutionize the concept of war!"
Ross felt his lips curl in satisfaction. This was what he had been trying to accomplish ever since the green monster came to life and managed to escape his grasp.
"And when will this serum be prepared?"
Colvin scratched his head.
"Well… it's difficult to estimate. The process of isolating the cellules and replicating the…"
"How. Long?"
The scientist shrugged.
"Maybe two years, if we manage to find the genetic marker without much trouble. We will need more advanced instruments to properly stimulate his pain receptors."
"That's…"
CRAAAAAACK! Out of nowhere the sound reverberated through the room.
Suddenly, all the walls shuddered, the floor filled with cracks, like an egg about to be broken through the inside, and everything started to fall apart as a colossal yellow leviathan emerged from the basement.
The screams began.
oOo
(Bruce)
…. He… could not take it… anymore.
"….To… ny…" His mind was scattered and fractured. What colour where Tony's eyes? ... He thought that sometime, long ago, they had been some other, warmer shade, but now he could only remember them black.
Black as coal, just like the flames surrounding him.
The monster roared in triumph.
oOo
(Tony)
Three days of barely any sleep, uninterrupted work, and painful dread that only became heavier with time finally came to fruition when Tony found what he had been so desperately searching for.
There it was in the tablet, highlightened in clear blue letters:
Doctor Banner's location verified with 93% of accuracy.
The program he had created to cross-validate every movement and transaction any military base under Ross' command took part in finally gave him a likely match: Reborn base, Wisconsin.
"Jarvis, send the Mark VII to the deck B of the Helicarrier, I'm on my way," he told his friend, who was listening through the tablet.
"Sir, your vitals are still low and the damage to your heart and lungs is not sufficiently taken care of for you to partake in a rescue mission. It's unadvisable…"
"Jarvis, send the Mark VII and let me worry about my health," Tony cut the tirade of reasons he should not go about, already disconnecting the wires and tubes from his chest and wrists.
"Should I inform the rest of the team?"
He remembered Peppers words, and the promise he did not, in fact, make.
"Wait until I'm there." They would try to stop him from going if they knew what he was up to.
"…As you wish, Sir." Jarvis voice answered from the tiny amplifiers on the device, in a sarcastic clip.
"Don't worry Jarvis, I will be back with Bruce before you know it," Tony managed to smile reassuringly at the tablet, since sarcastic replies, such as this one, were his AI's way of expressing concern. Then he rose from the bed, thankful for the drugs still coursing his system, and put on top of the hospital pyjama the jacket Thor had forgot in the chair, last time he was here yesterday.
I'm on my way, Bruce.
By the time anyone became aware of his absence, he had already sneaked out.
oOo
(Steve)
"Tony, listen. Natasha and Clint had already found the place, and they're going to infiltrate the building tomorrow. You have to come back, we can't go in there head first, the Council…"
"The Council won't make me leave Bruce in there for one more second Steve. So you can either come and help, or I'm going to do this myself!" Tony replied through the speakers of the armour, as he flied on his way to where Bruce was being held. Dam Pepper for calling Steve, and dam Jarvis for calling her.
"Tony, I know how you feel…"
"Jarvis, cut the communications."
"Yes, Sir."
Now he was so close to taking Bruce out of Ross' hands, the memory he had been suppressing for days, came down and made itself known; it was the one a sleepless night he and Bruce passed tucked against each other, on the sofa in their laboratory. Bruce couldn't sleep and Tony was tired beyond belief after three days of working on their last project. It was peaceful, one of those rare times; when both of their minds slowed enough to fully connect in a way far deeper than the simply sharing and understanding each other's ideas, which was the way they usually connected through. It was then that Bruce spoke about the nightmares that wouldn't let him sleep sometimes; about the time he had been hunted from one place to the next and about the things Ross had done to him and to Hulk when he had managed to capture them. He wasn't imprisoned for too long – a few days at most, before Hulk was able to break free, but still, it had felt like torture that stretched beyond time and space. Sometimes, in those increasingly rare times when he felt so low he could barely remember anything good that had ever happened to him, he still felt like he was there. Like he didn´t come out whole. That's when Tony had kissed him, reminded him he was not alone, that he was not in danger any more, with warm skin and hotter, sweeter, words.
That was why he could not leave Bruce there a second more.
So he raced fast against the darkening clouds of the rapidly dying day, a red and golden silhouette, against a red and grey sky.
oOo
He saw the smoke before he did the place: a black column between the mountains where the base was supposed to be. His heart lurched, and Tony managed to speed his progress up to a crazy pace. In mere minutes he reached the peak of the mountains surrounding the valley, surpassing them to see the buildings they were hiding.
What met his eyes was nothing short of a nightmare. The largest building had crumbled into itself like a hollow shell, and the smaller ones had been destroyed by something enormous that had levelled them to the ground. The helicopters and vehicles scattered around the place where demolished into scraped metal, most of them still on fire. Yet, when he descended to the base, what really sent chills through his spine was not the material destruction, but the bodies of men and women alike, soldiers and scientists, that where disseminated around the base. They have been trying to escape, and the thing that had demolished the place had hunted and killed every single one of them. The human corpses where nauseating; body parts had been torn off, still warm guts painting the asphalt and cement in red and brown, unseeing eyes full of horror, and the horrible stench of death that oozed from all of this which he could smell even through the armour's air filters. They hadn't had any help, and even when the smoke reached high enough to be visible from very far away, there weren't inhabitants in the surrounding area to see it and send help.
Tony landed in front of what had been the largest building. His body was suddenly covered in icy sweat and he felt himself start trembling with shudders he could barely control upon seeing all that destruction. He was unable to reconcile Hulk's goofy smile, with the massacre that was before him.
He could not have done this, he could not have, Tony told himself firmly, just as a blood-curling scream tore from inside of what remained of the structure ahead. It was a man's voice, and Tony raced inside without thinking. There he was greeted by rubble, destroyed equipment, broken wires that had sparks flying out of them, and busted pipes that had flooded the floors.
"Sir, I can identify two life signals, one is human and the other emits an enormous gamma radiation field, and seems to be eleven point three times bigger than the human, but its signature doesn't fully match Hulk's one. Sir, you should wait for the rest of the team to arrive."
"I can't wait that long, Jarvis."
Tony flew through the halls when he could, and ran the rest of the time through water and debris, searching for the man whose voice rose at intervals in unabashed agony. His road suddenly came to a halt when the floor disappeared in an enormous hole bigger than half the floor. The water from the busted pipes fell down in an impromptu waterfall, against something enormous and yellow in the bottom…
It was two times bigger than Hulk, looked like a cross between a human and a tough massive reptile, and had rough, scaly skin, the yellow of bile.
Tony thought about wingless dragons.
"What…?"
The colossal monster raised its head, like feeling Tony's gaze upon it, and smelled the air for a second… until he found Tony. Yellow white-less eyes, pinned him with their elongated black pupils.
In just a second, with only one gaze at it, Tony knew this creature was one thing: evil.
"I was waiting for you, Tony."
To be continued
*This chapter has been terrible to write, between the exams and the work my beta and I had been about to lose our mind, but finally here you have the 7 chapter of Evil Hulk. It would surely take time to write the next part, since we are both so occupied, but don´t worry, the fic won´t be left unfinished. ^^ Have a good summer and we hope to see you soon. ;)