I'd knock but somehow I don't think they would invite me in.

So, I let my feet do the talking. The front entrance to the Starlight, a fairly upscale casino in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada, is encrusted with your typical neon and spotlights. Anything flashy brings the clientele in, or more importantly, their money. You'd guess that since I was coming to kill the owner, Mister G, that I would do my best to stay out of such a high profile area.

Guess again.

The two security guys they had manning the door had radioed up for backup, and probably the police, too. As soon as they saw my kick the front display fifty feet through the glass windows above the entrance, they went from worried to scared. When they saw me simply twitch at their bullets bouncing off my hide, they went from scared to terrified. When their eyes got a hold of my face inches from their, they weren't from terrified to passed out.

I had planned on just crashing the place, finding my old boss, and giving him a beat down…but that all changed twenty minutes ago. Now he was a dead man.

THE HULK: VEGAS GRAY

Chapter Four

Written by D. Golightly

Twenty minutes before I kicked in the Starlight's glitzy front door, I had just touched down from a mile and a half jump coming in from the desert. I landed in a nice part of town where a "friend" of mine lived. Truth was she hated my guts, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't want to see me.

Marlo Chandler was a hot, young, sexy aerobic instructor that had caught my eye one fateful afternoon while I was walking down the strip. She blew me off constantly but chicks like to play hard to get, ya know?

Mostly I just wanted to tell her how wrong she was for taking off and leaving me in the church by myself. Give her a real ear full. Imagine my surprise when she refused to open her door.

"Come on, Marlo!" I yelled through the door. Definitely been here before, and it sucks every time. When will she learn that I ain't some scrub that only wants to come around for shits and giggles?

"She's not there."

About twenty feet away was an older woman that looked to be in her fifties. She was clutching one of those Taco Bell dogs to her chest even though it was fidgeting to get away from her bony hands. The little runt was nothing but skin and bones and looked like something out of a Romero movie. Nasty little thing.

"She went out somewhere?" I asked. I recognized the lady as one of Marlo's neighbors, one of the ones that had called the cops on me. Twice.

"Some nice men in black suits came and picked her up as she was coming home," the lady explained while her dog snapped its pointy little teeth at her chin. "They looked like they knew how to treat a woman."

"I ain't got time for this, Lady Godiva. Where did they take her?"

"Who knows?" she turned around to continue walking back down the street, making sure to flap her feather boa at me as if I was in a lower class than an eighty year-old streetwalker. "Star light, star bright…first start I see tonight…"

For a second I thought e crazy old broad had lost it. Then I pulled my head out of my ass and realized that men in black suits meant a crew. The Starlight's crew.

That brings us to where we are now. Twenty minutes later and a few unconscious guards. Hell, I'm really just glad for the excuse to let off some steam. After a bullshit mental breakdown that shot my testosterone through the roof, I feel like I have energy to burn.

"Joe!" somebody yells from somewhere near the slots that are themed after King Tut.

It was Sal. He was probably the only guy at the Starlight that I could stand. Not too swift but he was loyal and did the job right. "Just shut it, Sal. Get running if you know what's good for you."

A look of concern washed over Sal's face. What a bleeding heart. If I wasn't feeling generous I would have smashed his face in right there. I was in no mood to fuck around and any mercy I showed was only temporary. When I'm upset my sense friendship quickly gets tossed to the side like a rented mule. All I see is red.

"Joe, this is crazy, man! You know that—"

"I mean it, Sal! Get the hell awa—HYUH!"

The wrecking ball came out of left field. I barely saw it in my peripheral vision before it slammed into my cheek and was brought to my knees. Damn if that thing didn't hurt worse the second time around.

I looked up to see Sal get a little smirk on his puny mouth. He yanked out his Glock and squeezed off a few rounds into my face. Bullets can't do much to me but holy shit are they annoying when they're fired point blank into your eyes. Looks like I underestimated my boy Sal. Tricky little bastard.

I reached up and clasped my hand around his, gun and all. Compared to him my fist was the size of a watermelon. I shot his little smirk back at him and crushed the gun along with every bone in his hand. A little blood seeped out from in between my fingers, dripping to the floor in a puddle of crimson conscience. Maybe I was being too hard on Sal, he was just doing his job after all. The guy was little more than an ox, going where he was supposed to and doing what he was told to do…

Nah.

"Sal," I said, "you should have walked away."

I yanked down on his crushed hand, pulling him down with enough force that when I punched him with my other fist the impact was doubled. His head snapped to the side with a quick twist followed by a quiet crack! I wish I cold have thought of a cool one-liner like in the movies, but well, this ain't the movies and I ain't Humphry Bogart.

Something heavy suddenly pounded into my side. The wrecking ball again. The enjoyment of watching the life slip out of Sal made me forget the big game that had gotten away from me over the desert.

"Creel!" I shouted, my fury pouring out through my teeth. "Where are ya, you pussy!"

His bald head popped into view just behind another row of slots. "Been wondering if you would show up," he said. He was almost uglier than I remembered him. "Didn't think that dropping you in the desert would take the fight out o' you. Wanna go for round two, jerkoff?"

I smiled a big toothy grin at him which said it all. This guy was just one more obstacle in my way and now that I knew how he fought I could take him done. That's the thing about me compared the other Hulks. I'm the sly one. Give me some time to know what's coming and there ain't no way you're ever going to get one over on me. I fight dirty and I'm damn proud of it.

"Bring it on, little man."

Creel snorted and raised his arm to touch the top of his wrecking ball. His fingers clenched around the sphere like they were almost magnetically held there. "Like candy from baby," he said as his skin started to change color.

I don't mean changed like straight from one to the other. I mean completely rearranged itself. His skin tone downshifted and came close to matching the wrecking ball's color while his features seemed to harden. The skin around his face went from smooth to rigid and his eyes sunk down like someone had pushed them in deeper. He dropped the ball after a moment and charged right for me.

I let him hit me the first time so I could gauge his transformation. The second time he hit me was totally by accident. Two huge haymakers rattled my teeth and I went sailing through the fountain that adorned the reception area of the lobby. Water sprayed everywhere, coating the entire lobby, myself included, in a thin mist of cold liquid.

"Funny," Creel said as he stalked toward me like a lion after a wounded gazelle, "I don't remember you having a glass jaw."

I ignored the wisecrack and shoved my hands down into the floor. Mister G had spent a lot of money to import huge chunks of marble to use for the lobby floor. Marble's pretty but it's also damn brittle, least it is to me. I pounded the floor hard enough that it opened up a crevice right under Creel, causing him to pause. I pulled up from underneath the tiles and marble shrapnel tore into the bastard like buckshot. Little indentations started to form all over his body as the pieces cut into his iron flesh.

He was disoriented, which meant he was a sitting duck. I reached back and grabbed a statue of the Sphinx made out of solid bronze. It weighed a few hundred pounds and was almost as big as me, but the way I rammed it into Creel's gut you'd think it was a paperweight.

The bald-headed moron exhaled sharply and doubled over from the hit to his midsection. I dropped the statue and closed the gap between us in one step, quickly landing an uppercut under his chin. Creel shot up and over a row of slot machines, crashing down on top of a craps table. The legs gave out under the pressure and he was sprawled out like a wasted teenager.

People were screaming all around us at this point and leaving in waves. A pack of old Jewish ladies ran by, reminding me that it was Thursday (they always come on Thursday to beat the weekend rush). Mostly tourists, a few stumbled over themselves on their way out, nearly inciting a riot. The place was in total chaos and the police would be here in less than thirty seconds.

I slapped a pair of slots out of my way and lumbered over the Creel. He wasn't breathing. The big oaf wasn't nearly as powerful as I was led to believe as long as he couldn't get a hold of me.

Creel's foot kicked out and caught me just behind the knee, causing me to buckle forward. His eyes sprung open and he sat straight up, throwing a right cross into my jaw that sent spit flying.

"Amateur," he said. "Playing possum, didn't you know? When I take on the properties o' something I don't need to eat, breathe, sleep, move, or shit. Jesus, when Mister G hired me on I figured I would be in for a good fight. So far you ain't been nothin' but disappointing. Just lie down and take it like a man; you're embarrassin' yourself."

I purposefully took his next hit so I could feign getting knocked loopy. I rolled with the punch and slipped my hand into my trouser pocket to grab what I hoped would save my bacon. He cocked back for another punch and I pulled my fist out, catching his as it swung down for the final blow. We sat there for a brief moment, locked in a struggle of brute strength, each one of us putting our all into it. It was like a weird game of arm wrestling.

"Goddamn, you really do have a death wish," Creel muttered against the strain of my leverage. "Remember what happened the last time I locked arms with ya?"

"Ain't no one stronger than me, pal."

"Your funeral. Nice knowing you, asshole."

I felt some energy begin to seep out of my knuckles, just like when he sucked me dry in the skies over Las Vegas. It wasn't nearly as bad this time, thanks to what I was palming. I felt my strength falter for a moment, but I wasn't worried. Creel was in for a nasty surprise in the next few seconds.

"Heh," he laughed, his ugly mug grinning in delight. "Feel that, do ya? What's it like to have your soul ripped out…wait…what's going on?"

His skin started to turn a lighter shade gray. The iron properties from his wrecking ball were starting to give out as they were replaced by what he was siphoning off of in my hand. Surprise leapt into his eyes and for a split-second, I saw fear in him.

"Hate to disappoint you," I said as I stood back up and towered over him. "But you just bought yourself a one way ticket to the trash heap."

His skin finished fluctuating and I took his hesitation for the opportunity that it was. With one quick punch to the center of his chest Creel shattered into thousands of pieces, dispersing all across the torn up floor. Most of his head remained intact, and surprisingly his eyes were still moving. Guy was damn near immortal.

"What the fuck?!" his head screamed, even though it was a little hard for his words to get through his chipped teeth. "Jesus! What did you do to me?"

I slowly walked over to where his head had rolled, crunching little bits of his body under my massive feet. I grinned and held my hand out for him to see, the hand that he had been pulling energy from. "See?" I said as I opened my palm for his frantic eyes to see. If he had more control over his features at the moment he might have shown more surprise. "Graphite. I learn and adapt, Creel. Set you up real good. You weren't stealing my power, you were absorbin' the properties of some fragile shit."

"You sonofa—"

"Say good night, Gracie."

I stomped down on what was left of his face, cracking his ugly mug for all it was worth. The bastard had it coming and I didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse. I expected the chunks of graphite his body was now made up of to start turning back to normal now that he was dead, but nothing happened. A little anti-climactic, I guess, but fuck it. The guy was done for and that was all that matter.

Next, I was headed straight for the penthouse and Mister G to rip him into a thousand pieces like his stooge here. Sirens were blaring just outside which meant that I had to be quick. There wasn't a cop alive that could bring me in but staying out of the law's spotlight was the smart thing to do. I had to hurry.

Ripping the entire elevator car out of the shaft, I stepped into the now empty space and fell the two floors to the basement. With my feet then firmly planted on the ground, I pushed off and rocketed straight up. A little hop like that was a cakewalk for a guy like me.

The penthouse came up quickly and I grabbed hold of the shaft walls to slow my ascent. Once in position, I punched in the steel elevator doors and plopped right down into the luxurious suite that only Mister G had access to. Not even I was allowed up here when I still worked for the guy.

"Glad to see you could make it, Mister Fixit."

I whirled my head around to see G himself standing across the room with Marlo a few feet behind him. Rat bastard had her up here the whole time. Lord knows what the slime was doing with her. Standing there in his expensive, white suit he looked like the devil incarnate if Satan had been lawyer.

"Hold it," he said as I stepped forward. "I thought we could discuss this. Like business men."

That caught my attention. "I'm listening."

"Good. I thought that would be the case. Listen to me, Joseph. You're a smart guy and there's no reason why this needs to be difficult. I'd be more than happy to offer you double whatever Marcus Price is paying you. You're worth it and I'm sure you've realized within your short employ with him that Price isn't the most…appreciative boss."

"You think that just throwing money my way is going to make kidnapping Marlo go away?"

His beady little eyes shifted back and forth from me to her. "Kidnapping? Miss Chandler is here of her own accord, Joseph. I merely had my men pick her up for her own protection."

"Yeah, right. And I'm the Dahli Llama. Protection from what?"

"From you, Joe," Marlo said.

I looked at her with a little shock and a lot of annoyance. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You have to admit, Joseph, that you can be a little…discouraging." G was looking at me the way a hyena looks at a meal. "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal? You come back on the payroll and we put all this behind us."

He said payroll but he meant leash. I was sick of having these guys play me when it should have been the other way around. All these pathetic humans cared about was getting something to make their lives easier, no matter the cost. I looked him square in the eye and gave him the only answer I could:

"Fuck you."

Vegas was dead to me. Marlo was so terrified of me after witnessing firsthand what I had done to my old boss that there was no way I could get her to see things my way. There was nothing left for me in that city.

So, I left.

I jumped a few miles at a time for the rest of the night, leaving it all behind me. Damn shame, too. There was a lot of opportunity there and I now knew why they called it The City That Luck Built. One minute you're sitting on a fat pile of chips and the next you're flushed down the toilet. I could start over, though, somewhere else. Some place where Banner wouldn't resurface. A place where a guy like me could find his place in the world and get a shitload of cash in the process.

After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

END