Hey-o, hoped you liked the last chapter more, because the one before it-I wasn't too proud. I definitely didn't like how I did Bruce in the second chapter, was he better in the third? The last two chapters were mostly about Natasha (Why? Because she's my baby), so I'm doing this Bruce-centric chapter. Because, you know, to be fair...Brucie!
So, who's ready for a chapter all about Bruce? *Raises both hands* Me!
Hope you like the new cover art. Not my own, just found it.
Chaos. It reigned all around him, it billowed in numbers, Bruce could barely even focus given the sheer intensity of the scene happening all around him. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of fire, smoke, and blood. People were running, screaming, crying out for their loved ones. It was a painting of tragedy, the sky was painted with dread, death, fear, and rage.
Why were they running?
Bruce looked and saw his body was not his own, a green fist. Bulging muscles, snarled mouth, green skin, the body of a monster. His worst fear. The other guy was destroying everything, killing everyone. Bruce couldn't stop him, he tried, he really did, but he couldn't; he could never control him. The Hulk was far too powerful for Bruce's genius mind. He wanted to stop crushing people under his fists, stop running into buildings, stop spilling blood. Stop!
But he didn't stop, people kept dying, kept screaming, kept bleeding, kept running like their lives depended upon it-because it did. He was ripping cars into two, jumping onto the sides buildings, smashing the window, landing on the sidewalk crushing whoever was underneath.
Kill! Destroy! Green! Those three things kept running over, and over again in his head. Nothing else. Like a record player, playing some Frank Sinatra wannabe on cocaine. It was horrible, disgusting, like a buzz. Bruce didn't want to be stuck inside the mind of a monster, it was maddening.
The Hulk eventually stopped, and for a second Bruce thought the horrific nightmare was finally over; but it was nowhere near over. The only reason the Hulk stopped his deadly rampage was because everyone was dead, he was standing in ruins. The ruins of cars, bodies, baby carriages, buildings, the streets were running with blood. It was quiet, oh so quiet, why did it have to be quiet? No sound of children, no sound of birds, no sound of car engines, no sound of laughter, no sound.
Not again...Not again...Please, no. I just want to stop killing.
Bruce wanted to break down, to curl into a little ball to shy away from the world, from himself. But Bruce wasn't even there, the other guy was there, and he wasn't leaving anytime soon. So, for now, Bruce will have to wait, and wait, and wait, until more blood is shed.
But it didn't remain quit forever, soon, the sound of a slow clap filled his ears. It was the only sound in the sea of deafening silence. "Congratulations, Bruce."
No...
No...
No!
Why was he here?
Bruce could recognize that voice from anywhere.
Brian Banner stood right behind the green giant, also known as his son. He emerged from a building barely stand, courtesy of Bruce, slowing his slow clap to a stop. The other guy slowly turned around, and if was possible, his face snarled even more. His Father stood amongst the rubble of a soon to be forgotten city, almost smiling. The bastard was smiling. What part of this was worth be happy about? Why did his Father even need to be there? 'Father', does he even deserve that title? No, definitely not. "You got what you wanted. Everyone was afraid of you. 'Was' because they're all dead now." Brian spit out, like he was proud, or happy.
No. No. No. Stop, please! Just stop!
The one person Bruce never wished to please, was his Father, he never wanted anything to do with that man. How ironic is this? Standing face to face with a smiling psychopath, who is also known as his Father.
This isn't what Bruce wanted, he never wanted any of this. Why is he here? Why isn't the other guy killing him? If there was anyone Bruce wanted to kill, it was his Father. If anyone deserved the other guy's green fist, it was him. But he didn't move, he growled intensely at the gray haired man, but the Hulk didn't move. Just stayed still, and listened, like a dog. It disgusted him. The Hulk just stood there, patiently waiting, writhing in anger and agony.
It was like when Bruce was a child, patiently waited for his Father to badmouth him, to hit him.
"You became me," No. Bruce will never be him. Bruce will never be his Father. If it was possible, his skin was becoming greener, with a far more malicious intent. It was a sickening thought, the thought of Bruce becoming his Father. He wouldn't become a murderer, a destroyer of families. Bruce isn't that...right? "You're Mother must be so proud."
Something inside Bruce snapped. Not okay. How dare he speak about her. Not okay. He has no right to talk about her; not after what he did. After what his actions did to destroy them from the inside; to rip their family apart from the moment Bruce was born. All thoughts of waiting patiently like when he was a boy, went out the window, and was replaced by blind rage.
The other guy lunged at him, but something was wrong.
He landed flat on his face, and got a mouth full of grass. For a few moments, Bruce just tried to figure out what happened; once his affairs were in order he lifted his from the ground and got a quite once over. He wasn't the Hulk anymore, Bruce's pale, human skin was the most convincing factor, and the fact that he could control his own body. Bruce saw that he wasn't even in the destroyed city, but a children's playground. Bruce was clad in clothing, not in the scraps of pants like usual, he was in jeans and a dark purple button up. Bruce's shirt was a little ruffled up, but that was it, well, his hair was in disarray, but he did just fall flat on his face, so that was to be expected.
Bruce stood up to get a good look around. The playground was abandoned, a long time by the looks of it. There were no children, the park was completely empty, the sky was very grim, depressing, grey. As if any happiness, any joy, any love; was completely dried up, and it left the sky empty. The entire playground was covered in rust, as if no child has played on it in years.
So empty...
Completely devoid of love...
It was sad, lonely, depressing, dark; not fit for a child. It wasn't fit for anyone, but it seemed fitting for Bruce to be there, like he was standing in the childhood he never received, untouched. Rotting away in the wind, it felt so dark there. The playground felt even more abandoned and devoid of life than the city the other guy just demolished. "This is what you've become?" Bruce's heart immediately breaks at the sound of her voice. He knew exactly who that was; Bruce actually wasn't sure if the sound of her voice broke his heart, or filled it; maybe it was both. He turns around and saw her sitting on one of rotting swings.
"Mom?" Bruce breathed out.
She looked so sad, and something else that Bruce isn't quite so sure of. His Mother was right in front of him, she was still so beautiful. It was hard for Bruce to wrap his head around the fact that his Mother was right in front of him. He didn't know whether to break down crying, or scream out in pure joy, so Bruce opted for the third door and stood still, slack jawed. "My beautiful baby boy..." Bruce smiled sadly at that, his eyes were burning. "How did this happen?" She asks more to herself than to Bruce. Bruce's face etched into a frown.
"What are you talk-" His question was cut off by her; Bruce was still trying to get over the fact that his Mother was right in front of him.
"You're just like him, Bruce." There's only one person she could be talking about. His Father.
No...Mom, no. Please don't say that.
It broke Bruce a little more to know that his Mother thinks he became just like his Father. He isn't him, he's not a ruthless bastard...right? She knew up close, just how bad his Father was, so for those words to come from her, felt more real than anything. "I'm so sorry. I was meant to prevent that." Her voice began to break, and few tears slipped out, down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, just for a few seconds to straighten out her face.
She thinks it was her fault that Bruce is like this? No, no it's not her fault. She never did anything bad, she was perfect. Bruce's chest tightened because his Mother was blaming herself, blaming herself because he's killed thousands of innocent people. That's what she was talking about. How he took the lives of so many people; because of freaking science. That's the similarity between Bruce and his Father. But it's not true, it's not true...Bruce took a step forward to prove how wrong she was, it more for Bruce to hear it than his Mother, but he didn't want her lasting memory of her son to be that she thought that him and his Father were similar. But something stopped Bruce cold in his tracks, something crossed her lips that he never expected.
"Are you going to kill me too, Bruce?"
Bruce woke up instantly, leaving the horrors of his mind, his chest was heaving from the lack of oxygen. He was dripping in sweat, his brain running a mile a minute. Bruce usually has nightmares almost every night, but he has never had that one before. One of so much intensity.
What the heck just happened?
Destroying the city to nothing but ruble, his Father showing up in the middle of the wreckage. Then Bruce somehow ends up in a deserted playground with his Mother.
Brian...He's not him. There is no way he could ever be him. He killed his Mother right in front of him. Bruce could never be that. He isn't ruthless, aggressive, he isn't a...monster.
Oh no...He won, his Father won. Brian always called him a monster, always said he wasn't normal, because he had his DNA. His Father's DNA is coursing through his veins, and it sickened him. It sickened Bruce to think that a part of his Father will always be coursing through his veins. It sickened him to know that his Father was right. Because Bruce is a monster.
His hands have leveled cities, destroyed families, caused the pain of so many loses.
Bruce isn't technically the one whose done those things, though. The one who is actually causing the destruction, will never care, he never cares about anything, he's only ever angry, oh so angry. He was bred out of pure anger, so he knows nothing but. Every time he comes out, it becomes trending. 'Hulk attacking Fort Knox!' or whatever. Those hands have painted the city red, and left nothing in the wake.
It was in the middle of the night when Bruce woke up, he looked out the front wall which was just a big window. The city that never sleeps, was rather quiet behind the walls of his bedroom. The lights of the city felt a little more dim than usual, maybe because Bruce couldn't really see the city, his mind was mostly focused on the demons of his slumber. His Father, his Mother...Himself.
It was always just too much; too much pain, too much blood, too much blame, too much. But Bruce can never escape it, it's hard to escape your demons when they're right under your skin. Just waiting for an opportunity to escape, and unleash what he is capable of; and his demon is capable of everything.
But that doesn't mean Bruce is him, he isn't is Father. He isn't him. He isn't him. Bruce is not Brian. He doesn't attack without question, he doesn't destroy the lives of everyone around him; except he does. Which makes it that much harder for Bruce to convince himself that he isn't his Father.
His mind seemed so much bigger than him, right now. Everything always seemed so much bigger than Bruce, and always so much smaller; so easy to crush; to die. Bruce went on primal instincts to protect himself, or to protect everyone from him. He curled his on his side into the fetal position, cradling his head. It looked like a child hiding from the monsters, except Bruce's monsters were so real, so deadly, they were him. He was hiding from himself, which is not an easy task.
Bruce's mind kept reverting to the nightmare, something seemed off, it didn't make sense. But what was it? Because everything about that nightmare seemed off, but one thing stood out in particular.
You got what you wanted. Everyone was afraid of you.
That's not what Bruce wanted, that's not what Bruce wanted at all. For everyone to be afraid of him; no. For Bruce not to fear anything, for him to find a cure, for him to die; yes. Then it clicked (partly) why Brian said that; Natasha. Natasha was afraid of him; but why was that so important? It doesn't make any sense. But Bruce did want Natasha to be afraid of him; everyone should be afraid of him, it's for their safety. Everyone should be afraid, everyone; because Bruce is a...monster.
They are all afraid because Bruce is a monster, everyone is afraid of him. Everyone who's ever been attacked by him, everyone who's been in the crossfire, anyone who's ever seen him, all terrified. Expect Natasha, until now. Natasha was the only person who wasn't afraid of Bruce; now they're all afraid. Because Bruce is a monster, and will always be a monster.
Last hope...
Natasha was his last hope; now they're all afraid. Bruce will always be a monster, always, no cure.
No hope. No cure. No hope. No cure. No hope. No cure. No hope. No cure. No hope. No cure. No hope. No cure. No hope...
But that doesn't mean Bruce is his Father, he would never, ever be him. Right? He's not him. He's not him. He's not him. He's not him. He's not him.
Thinking those three words over and over again in his head, was the only thing keeping Bruce on the ground. The only thing saving him from his haunted thoughts, save him from his mind consuming him whole. That Bruce is not his Father. But soon saying it in his mind isn't enough, it's not enough just to think it. So, while Bruce is still in the fetal position, he starts muttering the words.
"I'm not him."
"I'm not him."
"I'm not him."
'"I'm not him."
And maybe, for once, Bruce will actually believe it.
By 8:00 AM, Bruce stopped chanting the words. He was sitting up in the bed with his hair disheveled, staring at the rising sun with dead eyes. Bruce couldn't even feel the heat of the sun upon his skin, he couldn't feel anything. Not his heart pumping blood, not the breath passing through his lungs, no the cool air around him; nothing.
After hours and hours of chanting, Bruce didn't have it in him anymore to repeat the words. Every time those three words passed his lips, Bruce lost even more hope. It all just felt so pointless. He was always going to be a monster, he was always going to be the thing under a child's bed, Bruce was always going to be the one whom everyone feared. Nothing would ever be the same. That thought passing through is mind, chipped a little more of Bruce's soul away.
Bruce tried to move, to get up and start another dreadful day, but he couldn't. Bruce was powerless to move, he couldn't move his tired arm, or his tired hand, nor a tired finger; nothing would move. A part of Bruce didn't really care, though. What's the point? Get up and walk around, just so he can be another danger to society? No...no, that's...idiotic. Maybe Bruce should just stay here; and maybe, for once, Bruce wouldn't wake up in a pool of someone else's blood. Because that happens a lot more often than it should.
But he also knows that if he stays here, Tony would come barging in, listing hundred reasons why Bruce should get out of bed. Mainly because Tony has done that before, needless to say, Bruce did not want to go through that again. It was certainly annoying enough the first, no need for a second.
Bruce slowly removed himself from the bed, and walked to the bathroom, his tired form protested every step of the way. He stood in front of the mirror and finally got a good look at himself, the bags under his eyes, wrinkled clothes, pale skin. From anyone else's standpoint it might have been a little off putting to see Bruce like, but this is what he wakes up to almost everyday. He doesn't care anymore, Bruce has learned the hard way, there are far more important things than your appearance. I mean, why fix what's broken if it will just break again?
His hand grasped the cool metal handle and turned it, the warm water came pooling out and Bruce cupped his hands underneath the flow of water to splash some on his face. He hoped it would wake him up, but it didn't, at least, not as much as Bruce hoped it would.
Bruce looked into his reflection once more and could only think one thing.
Monster...
Everything reminds Bruce that He, or at least something under him, is a monster. That he could destroy everything and everyone he loves. With that in mind, sometimes Bruce thinks it's a good idea to leave the tower, and go back to Calcutta. Maybe everyone would be safe then, Bruce has no idea what he would do if he lost any one of them.
Actually, Bruce tried to run away from the tower once and Tony caught him in the act; somehow five minutes later, everything was back in Bruce's room. Tony was actually the who convinced Bruce to come to the tower in the first place. After New York, He went back to Calcutta, two weeks later, Tony shows up and manages to convince Bruce to come to the tower. Bruce isn't really sure how he always manages to get roped up into these things.
But that doesn't change the fact that Bruce is a monster, something within him has leveled cities, destroyed homes, been the reason for so many funerals. He is the reason for so many deaths Bruce can't even count them.
Whenever he transforms, Bruce doesn't usually remember what happened, only what he wakes up in, a pool of blood, the rubble of a building. But sometimes, every once in a while, Bruce can hear them screaming, crying, begging, their bones breaking. It haunts him.
Like right now, Bruce is looking into reflection and can hear them screaming, so much screaming. Screams that he caused, screams that lead to thousands of deaths.
Staring at himself in the mirror while hearing their screams, Bruce knows it's all his fault. It burns him to know because of his mistake, thousands of people have died. And probably thousands more, more screams, more blood, more funerals.
It's all his fault. All his fault. With every passing second, the screams grow louder and louder, becoming unbearable. The scream of every child, every man, every woman, pass through Bruce's mind; and he can't take it. A surge of anger passes through him, through his bones, his skin, every fiber of his being. Before Bruce even realizes, his fist is in the mirror, shattering the glass around it.
It's like Bruce hoped that punching his reflection, would in turn, punch himself. But all it did was give him a few nasty scrapes. Bruce looked at himself in the shattered mirror and saw himself for what he truly felt like, shattered. His eyes were a tint of green, so Bruce slowly removed his fist and focused on his breathing. Now would not be a good time to go green.
Inhale ...
Exhale ...
Bruce backed away from the sink, still breathing in and out to get his heart rate down, he slowly sinks down onto the floor until his back is up against the cool porcelain of the tub.
Inhale...
Exhale...
Just calm down. Breathe. You're fine. Just breathe. Don't turn green. There's no reason for you to come out.
Bruce kept repeating things like that over and over again in his head, saying it not just to himself, but to the other guy, too. He hoped he would hear these things and stay away. He really can't go green right now. For a moment, Bruce heard a deep growl that reached his spine, a growl that came from the center of his mind, that came from the worst part of himself. That part of Bruce that wasn't himself. He stilled himself perfectly, like a statue, praying for the other guy to stay inside.
Don't turn green.
Don't turn green.
Don't turn green.
Bruce didn't turn green. His heart rate when down to normal, his eyes when back to a forest brown, everything was okay. Bruce raised his hand to get a good look at it, there was some dark red blood running down his knuckles; and it felt good. It felt good that he was in pain and got what he deserved. Bruce deserved to die, but that's out the window. So, for now, this was all Bruce had, a cut from glass, far too merciful for him, for the other guy. Nothing in comparison to what the other guy has done, it was too kind.
Bruce stood himself back up onto his feet and dully walked back over to the sink. He slid open the dark brown cabinet underneath the sink, and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze. Bruce opened the bottle and gently poured it over his hand, as the burning sensation washed over him Bruce let out a small hiss of air. He then grabbed the gauze and wrapped it tightly around his hand, sealing the wound.
Turning his head into his shoulder, Bruce realized he really needed a shower. He grudgingly removed his jacket and shirt, revealing on his side under his right arm, a scar. About five inches long, was a jagged scar. It's the only one Bruce has on him, and it's not really one he likes to talk about.
Bruce was walking along the corridor, there was wood paneling and plants on one side, and stone and paintings on the other. Whoever was the sole designer of the tower was rather creative, for every different floor there was different design, all spread throughout.
It was eerily quiet down the hallway, some people might find that uncomfortable, but Bruce found it relaxing. There was no one around in sight, no AC/DC blasting in the speaker system (which happens a lot), perfectly quiet. It was zen, comforting, there was a force of peace in the silent air; but it was just Bruce, well, Bruce and the other guy. And the probably wasn't the best thing after what happened earlier that morning.
It gave time for Bruce to think, which is not usually a good thing. Him thinking, leads to bad places in his mind. It leads him to think about how much Bruce hates himself and the other guy, it leads him to think about running away, it leads him to think about people dying under a green fist. All of these thoughts pass through Bruce's mind quite frequently.
Along the walls of the corridor, were vibrating the silent thoughts of Bruce's mind, dark thoughts. But they are all Bruce can think about, nothing else. Sometimes, Bruce can escape whenever he's in the lab with Tony, it's nice like that, but when he leaves, the dark thoughts come back; they always come back. They can creep around the corner when Bruce least expects it, when he's sleeping, always waiting for a moment to attack; and Bruce doesn't do anything to stop it.
Why?
He deserves the dark thoughts, he is a monster. A cause of mass destruction, a threat to mankind. When all Bruce wanted to do was help people. That's part of the reason Bruce came to stay at the tower, to help people, maybe it would help Bruce sleep a little easier at night. As if what Bruce is doing right now, and what he was doing in Calcutta is going to make up for what he's done. But it's the only thing getting Bruce up in the morning, false hope.
The peaceful silence was disturbed. A clattering sound came from up ahead, drawing Bruce from his thoughts.
His senses went on alert, thanks to the other guy, Bruce started walking up ahead to figure out where that sound came from. Once he was at the end of the hallway he still didn't hear anything else, dead silence.
Except the silence was disturbed once more, another clattering sound and a string a curses. The sound was now behind Bruce, he walked backwards until standing st the entrance of a little den at the end of the corridor; there was a couch, chairs, a bar cart. Bruce heard another curse and his attention was drawn to the vent above the couch.
Realizing Bruce couldn't exactly unscrew the vent from the wall, he went with a different tactic. "Jarvis, if I ask you to get me visual, am I going to regret it?" he cautiously asked the A.I.
"There is a chance, sir."
Bruce could almost sense the tone in Jarvis' voice, and it almost made him laugh. It didn't, though, but it did cause for his lips to curl into a small smirk. "Isn't there always?" Which was basically Bruce's way of giving a green light.
A screen popped up in front of Bruce and it showed Clint hiding in the vent. It surprised Bruce for a second but then it kind of went away, because it's Clint, he should've seen this coming. But Clint didn't move from his spot when the screen showed up, he probably didn't notice it. "Jarvis, can you get me audio?" Jarvis obliged. "Um, Barton, what are you doing?" Bruce awkwardly asked him.
Clint jumped, effectively banging his head on the hood of the vent. Bruce held back a chuckle watching him. Clint rubbed his head. "Ah, geez..." He finally faced the screen and looked at Bruce with wide eyes. "Wow, it's like Fortress of Solitude 2.0." Of course, that's how Clint would respond to this...situation? Whatever it was, it was weird.
Bruce had to focus on not rolling his eyes at that. "Why are you hiding in the vent?" He dryly asked the archer who was laying down in the vent, like it was a crawl space.
"How'd you even know I was in here?" Clint asked, generally dumbfounded. There was a number of things that gave Clint away, the cursing, the clattering, Jarvis. For a master assassin, he wasn't too bright.
"I overheard your, uh," Bruce tried to think of a way of putting nicely. "Colorful, language..." Guess that will have to work. He shrugged, this was a really weird conversation. And He hangs out with Tony most of the day, so Bruce has had his fair share of weird conversations. "Tipped me off," Bruce added, that was an understatement.
For a few seconds Clint didn't say anything, he just stared at Bruce, he said nothing, just stared. It was making Bruce very uncomfortable under his gaze, just what the heck was Clint thinking? "I dropped the camera on my face." He said it like it explained everything that was happening in that moment. It did not.
Bruce did not expect that to come out of Clint's mouth. That just further brought on Bruce's confusion, what the heck was he doing with a camera? Does he even want to know? Probably not, but Bruce is going to ask anyway. "Why do you need a camera in a vent?" Bruce let out frustrated sigh before asking, "And again, why are you in a vent?" He realized that Clint still hasn't answered his first question. Most people would have just left the conversation by now, but most people do not live in the tower, most people are not teammates with...whatever they are.
"Oh, I'm spying on Thor." Bruce just stared at his teammate through the screen with a dead expression. Clint really needs to be more verbal (never thought he would think that about Clint). Bruce spins his first two fingers in a forward motion, telling Clint that he needs more information than that. "For blackmail." Clint added. For a second, Bruce thought there was more, but Clint didn't say anything else.
What the...that stumped Bruce. "Why?" Why the heck would anyone do that?
Clint just shrugged. "Because..." He said, sounding like a nineteen year old.
Bruce stopped for a moment, when something clicks. "Do you-do you do that to everyone?" Bruce stuttered out, and awkwardly crossed his arms, hoping he was wrong. That would be very creepy.
Clint shook his head. "Not everyone." He way too calmly replied.
His shoulders started to relax. But then Bruce realized something and tensed right back up. "Wait a sec," Bruce can't believe he didn't see this earlier. "By 'not everyone', do you mean Natasha?" Why would he spy on Natasha? Those two are stuck together like glue, they're probably dating. Plus, she's the most terrifying woman on the planet.
He heard laughing coming from the screen. "Of course," Clint just said like he was stating the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm not a complete moron." Yeah, Bruce really, should have seen that coming. Only an idiot would use blackmail against Natasha.
"Hold on," Natasha was the only exception, which meant... "Do you...have photographs of me?" Bruce fearfully asked. If Clint had photos of him, what exactly was going on in the photos. Because there are vents everywhere in the tower. Oh my...
"Saving 'em for a rainy day, Banner." Clint told Bruce with a slight chuckle, confirming what Bruce did not want confirmed.
A shiver ran down his spine. Photos of what? Does Bruce even want to know? Because it's probably best if he didn't. He was surprised at first that Clint uses blackmail he gets while in a vent. But now that Bruce has had time to process it, it's not really all that shocking. Bruce isn't actually sure why he didn't suspect it sooner. It's make perfect sense that Clint would do something like that.
Bruce isn't the most talkative person out there, so that gives a lot more time to observe, to figure out each of their personalities. Steve is a good man, born leader, but he can get dark. Thor seems quite dense at first, but he is actually incredibly clever, and way too cheery for a man whose seen war his entire life. Clint is dark and brooding at a glance, but he likes to spend most of his time playing pranks and is quite the comedian. Tony is a man who acts like nothing is serious, plays it off as one big joke, but he bears the weight of the world. Natasha...Natasha is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.
Bruce realized he was still in a conversation, a very weird conversation, so he wraps it up quickly. "Okay, well, I'm gonna go. Cause this is, uh," How to describe it? How about what Bruce has been thinking the entire past ten minutes. "Well, it's weird."
Clint turns away from the screen and back to the camera in his hand with only one thing to say. "Bye bye, Zor-El." He lamely waved his hand without looking at the screen.
Bruce ended the video screen, while not holding back the eye roll this time.
While Bruce was glad the screen of Clint laying down in a vent was gone, he felt the shroud of darkness consume him once more. It's not like Bruce tries to think of all these vicious thoughts, they happen of their own accord, and Bruce doesn't know how to stop them. He doesn't know how to stop them from consuming his mind, his soul, his bones, his DNA, his everything. Anything that breathes, anything that moves, anything that resembles something good; Bruce's thoughts destroy them instantly.
The thoughts burned at his skin, making their way through each and every cell, till he is nothing more than a shell. Bruce gained this unrelenting desire to rip off his skin, to maybe ease some of his discomfort. It always felt like his body was not his own, that every structure and organ belonged to someone else. Bruce can feel the other guy bubbling at the surface, crawling his way through every part of him, till he completely consumes Bruce.
Ever since Bruce first woke up, the sensation just kept growing, and getting his hand cut by the glass from the mirror certainly did not help. It's like a force is in chest, constricting right underneath his ribs, and it's growing, and growing until Bruce's body cannot handle it anymore and his green friend rips out.
Bruce was in the elevator that was ascending to the lab.
The dark, sleek, metal walls of the moving, small elevator along the strong cable coincide of what was going on in his mind. So dark, so small, never ending, always moving, can't slow down, won't stop. Bruce can feel the other guy riding the waves right at the surface, he can feel the small vibration of metal walls, the 'bump' of the elevator as it rides the cable.
Whenever the other guy wants to come out, Bruce can sense everything far more than usual, and it's a nightmare. The wheels of his brain never stop turning, his thoughts never stop running. It's like the entire weight of the world is on his shoulders, and it crushes him, but Bruce wakes up and the weight crushes him all over again; a continuous, vicious cycle.
Bruce lets out a long breath, as a way to ease some of the tension, it doesn't do much. He presses his arms against the wall of the elevator and leans forward, telling himself to just calm down and breath. The small elevator felt so much smaller, like a box he was forever trapped in. The walls closing in, and in, and in, it made Bruce feel so small. He can feel the beads of sweat trickling down his face, his chest, his back, the force in his chest is growing even stronger, more unrelenting. The other guy was just itching to get out and crush him, take over and consume him whole.
Bruce looked up and saw that the elevator still had ten floors to go, but for Bruce, it might as well have been 1,000 floors. But he just kept focusing on his breathing, he cannot Hulk out, right now. He would destroy everyone in the tower, and then all of New York.
All of a sudden, the doors finally opened with a 'ding' and Bruce could breath a little easier knowing that Hulking cage was just a few yards away.
But that would have to wait, because out of the corner of his eye Bruce saw Tony frantically running past him. Seriously the guy was really in a hurry. "Tony, slow down, where's the fire?" Bruce called out to him. The other guy started to growl in his mind, because now Bruce was waving off to let him out.
"Testing room!" Tony called out over his shoulder, running down the hallway where there was apparently an actual fire.
For a few seconds, Bruce just stood there, rapidly blinking. Thinking if that really just happened. But Bruce heard the feint cry of the alarm, so apparently it really did happen. "That was suppose to be rhetorical..." Bruce muttered under his breath, and started to run after Tony.
He ran all the way into the testing room. The testing room was this room to test weapons and new suits, it was large enough to accommodate for it. There were ramps at either end of the room the led to a oval-shaped tunnel that circled the entire room from above, there were windows on side of the tunnel so you could see into it. It was made to test anything to do with flight.
When Bruce made it into the testing room, his face etched into a shocked expression, he saw Tony with a fire extinguisher blowing the white foam over what looked a pair of pants hooked around with wire holding it up, caught on fire.
Two things stumped Bruce at that point. 1) What was Tony doing using a fire extinguisher when there is a built-in, fire safety system in the tower? 2) Why were a pair of pants on fire?
With each spray of the extinguisher, the flame grew smaller, and smaller. After about 45 seconds, the flame was completely gone, and a pair of charred pants was in its wake. The blaring alarms finally stopped screaming in his ear, which did not help Bruce's heart wiped his brow with the hand the wasn't holding the red canister. "Wow..." he breathed out, looking at the burned pants, that may as have been in the garbage for a week. Tony then looked up at Bruce, and breathing heavily from the fire. "Well, that was uncalculated."
Bruce just stared at Tony. That's what the man has to say after setting a pair of pants on fire? Clearly, Bruce is missing some important pieces of information. Like, why the heck did he ever leave Tony alone in the lab? Bruce was still sweating and trying to control his breathing because of the other guy. He really needs to get to the Hulking cage soon. "What? The pants on fire? Yeah, that's, uh, usually uncalculated." Bruce dryly quipped. "Why are pants on fire?" He asked with a slight sigh, he felt his chest constricting more and more.
The moment Tony looked guilty happened so quickly, Bruce swore he imagined it. "A friend needed a tailor." Tony told him as coolly as he could. Bruce cocked an eyebrow at that. "After making so many suits for the team, I've gotten amazingly good at a thread and needle. Seriously, it's embarrassing." He said in all seriousness, and Bruce did not doubt that part for a second.
"And, What? Your friend just so happen to need fireproof pants?" Bruce gestured to blackened clothing. He could feel the other guy growling in his head, but for the time being, Bruce was able to hold him off.
Tony's face immediately brightened. Crap..."No. But how cool would that be?" He said grinning like a maniac.
"Me and my big mouth..." Bruce muttered to himself so quietly, that Tony didn't hear him say anything. It was never a good idea to give Tony ideas, not unless you want the world to end. He then remembered that there were no sprinklers jetting out water, which is what's suppose to happen. "Tony, why didn't the sprinkler system go off?" It was like only half of the safety system was working, only the alarms went off, but no water.
"I, uh..." An awkward, and uncomfortable look overtook Tony's face. "Piece of advice, Bruce. When you have a few shots of whiskey with your dinner, do not go back into the lab." Tony admitted with a grimace. "Bad things happen." He said with a full on shudder. Tony had a very active evening with Pepper, that involved lots of drinking. All of the alcohol caused his brain to storming up with ideas, left and right. Needless to say, Tony immediately left for the lab...it did not go so well. "Must've tripped a wire." He confessed, more to himself than to Bruce. "Eh, I'll fix it later." Tony shrugged it off with a wave of his hand.
"Lovely..." Bruce drew out through his teeth, with a flat expression. But he couldn't worry about that right now, Bruce could feel his cells breaking apart one, by one, and realized he couldn't hold back for much longer. "Uh, Tony, um..." He said, drawing Tony's attention back to the conversation, and not the remnants of last night, while taking off his shirt. Which was basically code for 'get me to the Hulking cage, now' or very bad things are going to happen. Part of Bruce's chest hair was sticking to him because of the sweat. He felt like a volcano drunk on kerosene.
Tony knew that Bruce had to get to the Hulking cage, but he couldn't resist to have a little fun first. His lips curled into a slight smirk. "Bruce, I am flattered, really, I am." Bruce's face deadened immediately. "But I'm with Pepper, so..." Bruce was in no mood for games, and neither was the other guy. His eyes, for half a second, turned a shade of green, before Bruce did his best to blink it away, letting out a small breath as he did it. The other guy was getting harder, and harder to hold off. Tony must've noticed because he shut up his joking instantly. "Okay, okay, letting off steam, got it..." Tony mumbled out. He went over to start to walk with Bruce out of the testing room, and Bruce let out a small breath of relief. But that didn't stop then tension in his chest.
While walking out, Tony noticed the bandage hand on Bruce from earlier that morning, and his faced turned into a slight frown. "What happened there?" Tony asked casually but concerned, lazily pointing at the hand.
Bruce froze for a moment, of course, Tony was going to notice. Tony notice's everything, it's kind of terrifying. But he did not want to talk about it, Bruce barely want to acknowledge what happened himself. That he looked into the mirror and could see the other guy in himself, the other guy that put thousands of people in the ground, that leveled cities, and Bruce wanted nothing more than for his reflection to actually be him. So he could punch his lights out, and when he injured his hand, Bruce felt a little better, well, once the other guy calmed down. Yeah, Bruce definitely did not want to talk about that. "I tried cutting off my hand with a machete, and I missed." He sarcastically told Tony with a straight face. Tony just blinked in response, not expecting that to be what Bruce would say. "I'm kidding," Bruce admitted after a moment, enjoying Tony's expression. Tony didn't seem satisfied with that, his concern didn't waver, or go away. "It's nothing." Bruce told him with feigned honesty.
Tony still studied his face for a more couple seconds. Looking for something to tell him differently, a twitch of the eyebrow, rapid blinking, looking in the other direction. But there was nothing; Bruce told him 'it was nothing' with a straight face. But Tony didn't believe it, he knew better, but he wasn't going to press the issue. That would just make things worse. "Okay." He finally said with a shrug.
Bruce could sense that Tony was still worried, but decided to stay quiet, and he was grateful for that. He knew that Tony will always worry about him, Bruce wish he wouldn't, he wasn't worth it. The only thing he deserved, was to die; but his demons, his careless mistake, prevented that. Bruce will never deserve someone to worry about him.
They finally made it to the Hulking cage. When you first enter, you step onto a platform that has all the monitors and controls, down the steps of the platform is the Hulking cage. It's the length of of the entire room, and easily 12 ft. high, it's trimmed with red but mostly consisted of glass. The shape of it is a square, not circular like the one on the helicarrier. The front wall is the only part you can walk across and can see into, the rest of it is sanctioned with the walls of the rest of the room, like a regular bedroom, with a really big window.
The doors of the cage were already open, ready for the other guy to have a hay day. Bruce walked down the steps with either hesitation or relief, he wasn't really sure. Because he was relieved to finally get this tightening feeling out of his chest, but he's also hesitant because he's about to let the other guy take over; to no longer be in control. The walls of the cage are strong, strong enough to hold back Thor. He never had a reason to worry, but they never make Bruce feel safe, because everything under the other guy's fist seems like paper.
Bruce stood inside of the cage, waiting for Tony to close the doors. Inside the cage, there were these high-tech, blue lights everywhere, so it wasn't dark on the inside. Tony gave Bruce a thumbs up, which basically means 'are you ready?' and Bruce gave a thumbs up in response 'yes'. But Bruce was never ready for this, but he didn't really have a choice. "Let's get this party started, mean green." Tony stated, he was at one of the consoles and clicked a few buttons, and the doors began to close.
The doors to the cage were closed, and Bruce was completely closed off from everyone, and everything else. While Bruce gained some relief from being in a cage, he hated it more than anything else. Behind those walls, everyone was safe from him, trapped in a cage, walled away from society. Trapped in a cage, like an animal, which is fitting because something inside Bruce is an animal. In that cage, Bruce loses himself completely.
He hated that term, 'cage', it was nothing like a cage, it was more on the lines of a prison. A prison of which Bruce unleashes his inner demons, to 'cool off'. It almost felt selfish for Bruce to be in there; letting out the other guy, putting everyone at risk, just so he could breath a little easier. Selfish.
Four walls, only one purpose, only one thing this cage was created for. Every time Bruce sees the retched thing, he's reminded of why it was created, and that every time he walks in, he walks in for only one reason; to let out the other guy, to let out the thing he hates the most.
The time of holding off the other guy until Bruce was securely in the cage, was up. He could feel his DNA changing, the cells turning over a new leaf, his bones growing and morphing to something new. The Hulk was taking over, changing everything, reshaping his mind; Bruce was fighting off every instinct to fight off the other, to stay in control. He never wanted to share his mind with something else, but Bruce is, now he has to live with it. He has to let his demons take over, and pray that maybe it will be okay. But it's never okay, it was never okay for Bruce to give the reigns to the other guy. To be striped down to his barest parts for the entire world to see.
I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare.
Bruce could hear the growls in the back of his mind growing louder and louder, until the sound of his snarling teeth from the depths of his throat were all he could hear. He felt his skin changing, taking on a new color, a new strength, a new body of something else. Bruce felt vibrations of his muscles shifting, and growing twice it's size to support something so much stronger than him.
Soon, Bruce's mind was no longer his own. His body was not his own. His DNA was not his own. Bruce was tucked away, hidden far from everyone, under the weight of a monster.
Tony watched as Bruce slowly turned into a shade of green with an 8 ft. body, he transformed so easily, like a river flowing over stone. Bruce only ever transformed like that, was when the transformation was a mutual decision. It went smoothly, but Tony knows that Bruce hated every second of it, but fighting it would be so much worse, and so much more painful. Bruce fighting it would be pointless, the other guy always wins.
Tony was watching the other guy storming around the cage from the monitors on the platform. He was either walking around in circles or running like a maniac, hurling his body into the walls. He was ticked off, as always; big green machine of unadulterated rage.
The sound of his vicious howls, grunts, and yells, echoed off the four walls; and Tony could hear them crystal clear. Those walls might be thick enough to stop ten tanks, but nothing could ever hold the sound of the Hulk. Like a thousand wolves, howling at the moon with an avalanche in the background.
But what Tony didn't know what that from the doorway, hidden from view, was Natasha watching the whole thing.
Her heart rate was running a mile a minute, the last time she saw the Hulk was during the New York. She still remembered exactly what it felt like to be entirely helpless, to know that there was nothing she could do. Natasha watched as his snarling face rammed the glass, trying to break out, yelling so loud that she could feel it run down her spine. Her entire being was was forming sweat, down her back, her face, her chest, everywhere.
Natasha heard the growls from upstairs, so she followed them to confront her fears, face it head on, instead of being a coward. But now that she's here, she's completely forgotten the reason for coming in the first place. Natasha's heart was beating so loud it soon began to drown out the other guy completely. The only sound Natasha heard was her heart rapidly beating beneath her ribs; not the wind passing through the vents, nor the 'hum' of all the electrical devices, and certainly not the Hulk rampaging within the cage.
The fear was coursing through her entire body, and it wouldn't leave. Natasha could feel it from the roots of her blood red hair, to her bone-like fingers, and all the way to her toes. She felt it moving through her bloodstream, taking over all of her cells. It left Natasha in a hollowed state.
Helpless...
No escape...
No control...
Helpless...
The inevitable fear began to control her body, it started to move Natasha's legs; and she didn't stop it. It took control of her muscles, it took control of her bones, and Natasha began to move; like a puppet. Natasha was always being pulled along by strings, the red room, KGB, then SHIELD also known as Hydra; but never by her own body. It was rather her own fear that was controlling her, not her body, but it soon morphed into one.
Natasha could care less, she just wanted to leave; and so she did.
By the time Bruce transformed back, it was already two hours later, and Natasha was long gone.
He could feel himself slowly gain back his senses, his bones shrinking back to their original size and the muscles with them, his skin could no longer be used as camouflage for Kermit the Frog. Bruce had his mind put back into place once more, his thoughts were of his own sound mind, from a sound body.
Well, they will be once Bruce gets out of the hazy fog his goes through every time Bruce transforms back. Transforming into the other guy was bad, but so was transforming back. Bruce didn't feel at home in his own skin, his skin felt like a second skin, like a mask. And Bruce was always left with the impending fear of 'what did he do this time?' and it felt like every time, that fear alone, was going to kill him. That fear made Bruce feel so small, so vulnerable, crumpled up like a piece of paper. His head would always be pounding, like it got trample on by a herd of elephants; he could feel every strand of hair upon his head.
But the fear...
That sense of doom...
There was nothing quite like it. Bruce would hone his senses in search of the sound of screaming, the smell of blood, the sight of destruction; anything that would tip him off that the other guy made a big mess. It didn't matter if Bruce was in the Hulking cage, his senses were a primal instinct, his fear was a reflex; just waiting for a sign that he acted the acts of a monster once more.
Once Bruce realized that no harm was done, that there was destruction, he pulled himself into a sitting position while the palm of hand was at his temple. Bruce's head was driving him crazy, but that's what happens when a green rage monster takes over. He'd rather have his head hurt than have anyone else dying, far better than the alternative.
The doors were still closed, which meant that Tony was still giving him time to cool off. He was still at the console waiting for Bruce to give him the 'okay', he would only open the doors when Bruce said it was okay; let him come out on his own time. Tony never left either, Bruce always felt safer when there was someone watching the other guy's every waking move in case something went wrong.
Bruce eventually felt himself completely, the other guy was gone; it was just Bruce. Bruce with the just the scraps of his pants. He looked down at his legs and saw what was left of his pants and let out a groan. That was another downside to the Hulk, his clothes kept getting decimated. The amount of shirts and pants Bruce goes through per week, is kind of insane.
His heart rate calmed down, and Bruce let an even and steady breath. Bruce stood up and all his bones were protesting, one hand gripped the front of his pants, so they wouldn't fall down for the whole world to see, because that's happened far more than it should. He slowly trudged over to the front of the cage, letting Tony know to open the doors. There was a slight 'whoosh' when the glass and red doors slid open, separating the barrier between Bruce and the rest of the world, nothing to protect them anymore. Before Bruce had a chance to step out, Tony walked out to him with sweats in his hands, they have this routine down to a 'T'. "Might want to cover up." Tony said and handed Bruce the clothes.
"Thanks..." Bruce muttered and walked out of the cage over to one of the side doors that were on either side of the room to change.
A few minutes later Bruce came out with black sweat pants and a gray sweat shirt. He tiredly walked over to the steps of platform ans sat down, the transformation always took a lot out of him. He kept trying to convince himself, that the Hulk was away in his mind, that he's himself now, that everyone's safe; but they're never safe, the other guy can jump out at any moment. Because of that, the agonizing fear never seems to go away.
Maybe it worked this time...
Bruce didn't just Hulk out to let off steam, there was another reason, so maybe when Bruce transforms, he doesn't feel like he's doing this for nothing, that there's a reason for putting everyone in danger once a week; a sense of purpose.
Tony eventually sat down next to Bruce on the steps, just to let him know he wasn't alone. He wanted Bruce to know that he will never be alone in this, and he was grateful for that. Bruce never said anything on the lines of 'thanks for staying', he usually never said anything after transforming, he was too busy being consumed by morbid thoughts. But he never pushed Tony away either, which meant that Bruce wanted company, he was just never going to admit that. Because being alone, with a mind like Bruce's, is the worst thing. It takes control over everything, and killing it all in the process; like cancer.
For a little while, the two just contemplated in silence, just a little bit of peace for a while, can do some good. Bruce knew at some point he was going to have to ask, just get it out of the way; so he let out a deep sigh and asked Tony. "Did we get anything?" Bruce asked hopelessly, because Bruce eventually figured it out that, hope is the worst thing you can do to a person. Every time it's taken away, you lose a little bit more of yourself, and you don't go back to rock bottom, you dig 50 ft. deeper, and lay there to die.
Tony, for a second, thought about lying, telling Bruce that they did find something; but he already knew that would be a horrible idea, to give false hope. So, he just sadly smiled, and told him the truth. "No," he shook his head. "Empty handed." Tony really wished he had better news for Bruce, but there was nothing.
Bruce let out a sigh, of course, there was nothing; there was always nothing. He doesn't even know why he's still letting it get to him, Bruce and Tony have been going down this road long enough to know that they were never going to find anything. It was just all so pointless. He's been turning into his Father, he has been for years, and he's been wasting all this effort to stop something that cannot be stopped. "We're never going to find a cure." Ever since Bruce moved in, him and Tony have been working day and night to find a way to rid of the other guy once and for all.
At first, Tony tried to convince Bruce to embrace the other guy and not find a cure. But he found out that Bruce is extremely stubborn when it comes to his greener side; and Tony saw how much it was killing him to live everyday with something else under his skin, so he caved and decided to help Bruce be free of his green shackles. "Don't say that, we're going to make a breakthrough...eventually." To be honest, Tony was starting to lose hope, too. They've been at this for so long and haven't found anything.
"It's been ten months, and we haven't made an inch of track." Bruce pointed out. Eleven months ago, Bruce moved into the tower, ten months ago, Bruce and Tony started to work on a cure. Five months ago, Bruce started to lose hope, two weeks ago, Tony began to lose as well; but he'll never tell Bruce that, it'll wreck him.
It's true, they haven't a single scrap of data for a cure. "Took Edison 10,000 tries before he finally managed to get his invention to work." Tony retorted.
It didn't make Bruce laugh, Tony isn't sure if he's ever heard Bruce laugh, but cause his lips to curl into the smallest of smiles. Then he let out a light groan, filled with amusement. "How did I know you were going to throw that in my face?" He asked, while lightly scratching the top of his head.
"That's like the go to line for when someone wants to give in." Tony said with complete honesty. Because it's true, whenever someone wants to give up, someone else will always mention Edison and his light bulbs.
"Are you gonna give me some Nike commercial next? Just do it?" Bruce asked, feeling slightly better. Slightly. All hope has completely escaped him. That was clearly evident from earlier that morning when Bruce woke up in sweats after having a demon of a nightmare. If there was a shred of hope, that dream, sucked it dry. But it wasn't the dream, though. The nightmare just shed a little light; that it was seeing the person who he's attacked and wasn't afraid of him, turned out to be completely terrified; is what rid Bruce of all hope.
Tony can see it in Bruce's eyes, that he's a little bit lighter; but he also knows that on the inside, he's still rotting. Tony has never seen Bruce completely happy, everyday he shows up in the lab with bags under his eyes, a morbid expression, and a broken soul. But, to be honest, they all have a broken soul. "It is the best back up if Edison doesn't work."
Bruce does let out a morbid laugh, he does those sometimes, maybe even a chuckle. But he has never laughed out of pure happiness, joy, or glee; not completely. "And what if I told you that a man who created the light bulb after 10,000 tries isn't going to convince me that there's a cure out there for me?" His laugh left a dark and hopeless expression forever carved onto on his face.
Tony thought about it for a moment, before he shrugged. "Just do it?" Tony isn't exactly a life coach.
Bruce let out a light snort, but it was only light in appearance; behind the walls, it was dark and heavy, gruesome and lost. It was a cry for help out into the dark abyss, a cry that will never be found. He keeps sending out a life line, but no one has ever seemed to catch him; the only person to ever get close enough was Tony. He was like the smallest light in the distance, and Bruce kept swimming towards him, but he never seems to get a good grasp from falling into the time he comes up for air, that little light is still there; but it's always so freaking far away.
He knew, Tony knew that Bruce kept slipping farther and father away from his humanity; and he was determined to keep that from happening. Because not only was Tony the smallest light in Bruce's life; but Bruce was one of the paved roads for Tony when he had to walk through the Andes, the other paved road was Pepper. They were both still drowning, but Bruce was also being buried by an avalanche, and burned by a volcano. Tony knew he wouldn't ever be enough for Bruce, but he will never, ever stop being there for him. "Listen..." Tony started with a deep sigh. "It might ten years, might be twenty, or it could be tomorrow; I just don't know." He really doesn't know. Science is made up of numbers; cold, hard facts; and lots of guessing. "But I swear to you, by my dying breath, I will find you a cure." Tony's gaze was steady, unchanging; true, so sure of himself. Because it is true, Tony will use his last, dying breath, to make sure Bruce will one sane mind; and never get low again.
But, for a split second, every time Bruce transforms, and every time Bruce transforms back, he gets low again. It would be easier to just end it all. But then Bruce remembers swallowing a bullet, and the other guy spitting it out. But the thought doesn't leave him, not completely, not forever. It was just one time, that feeling got so strong, it took control. And even though Bruce woke up, a little bit more of him died that day.
False hope. It sucks.
Bruce listened to Tony words, intently, sincerely. He knew that Tony was speaking the complete, and utter truth; Bruce could see it in his eyes; determination. That's a strong force, determination; you don't win wars from brute force, you win it from the tenacity to not give up. That is exactly what Tony was radiating off, in extreme numbers. "I know." Bruce simply told him. Because he did know. He knows Tony, he knows that he is not the type of man to give up, ever; he's way too stubborn. Sometimes it was good thing, and sometimes it was a bad thing; on that day, it was a very good thing.
A promise; Tony was never going to break it, ever. But Bruce knew that all of their efforts were going to go to waste, he knew that promise was one not worth making. A cure will never be found, it was all lost in the wind. Bruce is the who put this on himself, now he has to deal with it.
On the rooftop of the skyscraper with the big 'A' was someone who was lost. They lost their way a long time ago, fighting a losing battle. A man stood so high in the sky on that rooftop, he felt as if he could touch the heavens. But at the same time he felt so low on the ground, one wrong move, and he would fall out the other end of the Earth. He was an empty vessel, void of anything; anything that lived within him kept dying. The newest death: Hope. Hope is always 50/50, a high stake gamble, a good hand, or a bad hand. That man was dealt one of his worst and final hands.
Bruce was lost in a fog on the rooftop, hoping for an answer. A sign, that all of this was worth it, that there was a reason for everything, that he's not just falling into a bottomless pit...just something. Because without that, Bruce will be a monster for the rest of his life, a danger to society, something to stop him from turning into his Father. He's already turned into what his Father told Bruce he was: a monster. He would grind that into his mind everyday; that anything that touches his hands, will die. Oh, the irony. If only his Father could see him now.
A thousand questions kept running through Bruce's mind, never letting it be at peace. All the thoughts that are created there, keep him up at night, and on the off chance Bruce does go to sleep, his mind is plagued with his slumbered demons. They never leave him alone, always knocking on the door, but last night-the door was blown off the hinges. It took the small amount of Bruce's hope for a cure that he had left, evaporated into thin air. Now, forever in time, Bruce will always be a monster, and the monster will always be waiting to bare his teeth. He will always be waiting to destroy everything in his past.
Is my Mother really disappointed in me? Most likely.
Am I my Father? There is a definite chance.
Is there hope for a cure? Was there ever?
Did I do my Mother wrong? Of course, I did.
But before Bruce could become even more lost in his thoughts, something beautiful happened. The sun was setting upon the city, ending another day, waiting for a new one to begin. The sky was bright with the colors of red, yellows, orange, and purple; as if it were ablaze. It danced across the glass of every skyscraper in the city, which just enhanced the beauty of it all; then the body of water surrounding New York, reflected the sky, like a mirror; it was absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking. As if someone could only see it in their imagination, maybe not even that.
It didn't give Bruce hope, it was oh so rare for Bruce to be hopeful. But it gave him something else that Bruce desperately needed, it gave him warmth, and more importantly; love. He looked into the sun that lowering further, and further down below to the Earth, and the rose gold across the sky was growing richer and deeper, with every passing second. And what Bruce saw, was every good thing that has ever happened in his life; he watched the sun dip down, and only felt safe. For half a second, Bruce didn't feel like a danger to others; for half a second, Bruce felt human.
Bruce comes when the sun sets everyday, because this is the only true couple seconds of peace he ever gains. He also made a promise; but that's a story for another time. All of the worries of his mind, and thoughts of the other guy, ideas of eating another bullet, completely disappeared from his mind. Whenever Bruce sees the the sunset, he is at peace; it's his favorite time of day. Each one gets more beautiful than the last.
Do you see it, Mom?
Bruce silently asked his Mother in the back of his head, every time he watches the sun go to sleep, he can feel his Mother's presence stronger than ever.
I do, Bruce. It's beautiful.
A part of Bruce, heard his Mother answer back. Any fear of his Mom being disappointed in him, disappeared the moment he heard his Mother answer. She wasn't mad, Bruce could tell. There was no hate, or sadness in her voice; only love, and adoration. It was just an echo in the back of his mind, could have been a simple trick of the mind, but as cheesy as it sounds, Bruce heard it from his heart; it was enough.
Bruce wasn't the only one on the rooftop that evening, deep in the shadows, near the elevator, was Natasha.
She was sneaking around again, and somehow managed to run into Bruce for the second time that day. Well, to be fair, the first time technically wasn't Bruce, it was his greener self. But these days, to Natasha, those two were morphing into one. It was just her minds playing tricks on her, deceiving her, like always; but she couldn't shake it that time. Something inside Natasha snapped when she had the nightmare of him, her fear of him was always dormant, but that night it woke up. A fear she has been avoiding for a few years, came at full force, all in one go; it was rather overwhelming.
Natasha could feel her body start to leave once more, to hid away, like a coward. Her entire being was entering fight or flight mode, a primal instinct, of one she could not escape. Maybe when her newfound fear first entered her, Natasha would try to fight it, like the stairwell; but all the fight in Natasha was drained, it's always been drained, she's just been running on empty.
But something inside her, made Natasha stop dead in her tracks. Something felt different; lighter. She took a closer look at Bruce, she wasn't able to his Bruce's face, only his back, but something about him felt different than all the other times Natasha has seen him.
He looked relaxed, not on edge, like usual. He seemed calm and peaceful, not dangerous. All of the vibes Natasha was getting off of Bruce, and none of them were bad, none of them reminded her of the Hulk. She wasn't getting any painful flashbacks at the sight of the doctor, which is what usually happens. The only thing Natasha could read off of Bruce, was that he was completely content. A small part of Natasha was still afraid, but she doesn't think it was because of Bruce, but maybe that other guy is right underneath his skin; and can jump out at any moment.
For a moment, Natasha thought about going over to talk to him, get rid of her fear once and for all. But the closer she looked at him, the more she realized that this moment was a private matter. Something for Bruce alone, and Natasha was intruding. The more she lingered, the more it felt wrong to be there. At least Bruce hasn't spotted her yet, so she can still slip out unnoticed. A shadow of the night.
So, that's exactly what Natasha did; and this time, it wasn't out of fear, but out of respect.