Howdy! I know I've been keeping you waiting, so without further ado, here's chapter nine! And once more, a great big thank you to everyone who has been reading, following, and especially reviewing! Hugs for all of you!
Disclaimer: Yep. They're still not mine.
"Rise and shine, Dr. Banner! It's a bright, shiny new day!" Phoenix's cheerful voice rang out like a bell, shocking Bruce awake.
With a faint groan, Bruce's eyes flitted open. The ceiling's intense lights nearly blinding him, he threw up an arm to cover his face. After a moment for his eyes to adjust, he slowly dropped his arm to his side and sat up.
"Yeah, bright is certainly the word for it." Bruce snapped.
It's one thing to torture me and drug me, but turning the lights on high just as he wakes me up? That's just cruel. Thank God I could block the light with my arm. Wait a minute…. My arm?
Throwing his gaze downwards towards the table he'd been forced to call home, he quickly realized that all of his restraints had been released. Rubbing his bruised wrists, he scanned the area in front of him and saw the door to the outside unguarded. He quickly stood up and sprinted towards the exit as fast as his weak legs would take him. His heart pumping, he grabbed the handle of the door just as a small click was sounded behind his head.
"Slow down there, Brucie. I'm not quite finished with you yet."
Turning around slowly, Bruce found a small handgun cocked and pointed at his head by a smiling Phoenix. His grin only grew wider as Bruce put his hands in the air, the tiny glimmer of hope he'd had only moments ago smothered by a cloud of disappointment and fear.
Lowering his gun to his hip, Phoenix gave a light chuckle. "You didn't really think I was going to let you go that easy, did you? No, I have even more exciting activities planned for the two of us. Here," he pointed the gun down a small hallway Bruce hadn't noticed before, "why don't we head down that way?"
Bruce plodded down the hall dejectedly with Phoenix right behind him, gun always at the ready.
"You do realize the gun is unnecessary, right?" Bruce ventured. "After all, you're well-rested and fit to fight and run. Even if I wanted to escape, I wouldn't make it ten feet before you reached me."
With a light shrug, Phoenix replied "This just makes it all a bit simpler. After all, I've got places to go, people to see, innocence to feign. Why take the risk of injuring myself and having to come up with an explanation when I can just as easily use a gun? Nasty things, I'll admit," he made a face, "but effective they are. Oh, stop here." Standing in front of Bruce was a large, transparent wall with steel reinforcements and a massive steel door. Turning around, he saw as Phoenix typed in a four number code into a small keypad. One-nine-four-eight, one-nine-four-eight, Bruce noted.
The keypad suddenly lit up green and the heavy door swung open, revealing a large room devoid of color or furniture. Glancing behind him, Bruce's breath hitched as Phoenix motioned for him to enter. His gaze once more focused on the cage clearly designed for the Hulk, he took a gulp of air and entered.
With a smash, the door closed behind him. His shoulders slumping in defeat, Bruce slowly turned around to find Phoenix typing codes in a small control panel beside the door. Looking around the room, he found no hope for escape. No other doors, no windows, not even a freakin' crack in the walls for Bruce to work on. Sighing, he sat down on the ground, crossed his legs, and began to meditate the way he'd been taught during his first trip – or should he say his first escape – to Thailand.
"You know, you're really quite fascinating." A cheerful voice from behind the wall found its way to Bruce's ears. "Most people, once released from restraints binding them to a bed for days, they take it upon themselves to stretch their legs, try to make an escape plan, maybe even beg for mercy. But you? No. You decide you're going to take this newfound freedom and sit on the floor and meditate. Really, I'm very impressed. Your self-resignation is admirable."
His eyes remaining closed, Bruce shrugged his shoulders slightly. "What can I say? I'm not exactly the definition of normal."
A light chuckle flowed from Phoenix's lips. "No, I suppose that's very much true. But being normal is quite overrated. I never found myself yearning for it. You see, you and me… we're like kindred spirits. Both outcasts with incredible gifts and the potential to change the world! Granted, your green… friend is initially a bit more formidable from my brainpower, but, as you see, brain over brawn."
"That's not the only similarity, is it? Both of us without mothers…" Bruce could feel Phoenix's eyes turn to look at him. He figured they were getting to the final stages of whatever Phoenix wanted before getting rid of him, and since there was no way in hell Bruce could win in a physical showdown, this might be his last chance to bring out the only weapon he had; Phoenix's vulnerability about his mother. "And my father wasn't exactly 'Dad of the Year'. But my mother… she had this beautiful voice. Sang me to sleep every night. At least, before… before her accident."
Phoenix snapped his head back down to his typing. "Accident is certainly an interesting way to describe it. Your father, beating her to death in their home? Spilling her blood in a drunken rage? Yes, quite an accident."
Bruce turned about to look at his captor. He appeared stiff, muscles clenched, as though he were trying to suppress something. Odd, the way he spoke about Bruce's mother's death with such passion and anger. "Well," he said, keeping a careful eye on Phoenix, "I forgave him a long time ago for that. Holding onto all that anger… there's no use for it. They've both been dead for a long time now, and staying angry isn't going to change anything. Forgiveness is a virtue, and one I think you might want to give a shot."
A fire burning beneath his gaze, Phoenix marched up to the glass and stared into Bruce's eyes. "Who are you to teach me about virtue?"
"I'm just saying that –" Bruce froze.
As noted when Bruce first met Phoenix, he possessed dark brown eyes. But only now, as Bruce stared right into them, did he notice a bright blue stripe through Phoenix's left eye. Now to most people, this would have meant nothing. But to a doctor, it meant heterochromia in the iris, most likely Waardenburg syndrome… an incredibly rare genetic defect.
How could he not have seen it before? He knew that straight black hair, he knew that pointed nose, and he certainly knew those eyes. Eyes that would tell him everything was going to be okay, eyes that sang him to sleep with a soft melody of "Sweet Violets."
"Oh my God…" Bruce muttered.
"What are you stammering about now?" Phoenix glared at Bruce, his impatience getting the better of him.
"The woman killed that night wasn't just my mother, was she?"
A dark smirk crawled across Phoenix's face. He stood up to his full height and folded his arms lazily across his chest.
"Hello, little brother."