Alrightie, gang! Sorry I haven't updated in ages, I just got swamped with finals and work. Summer came and I just wanted to chill a bit, but here's chapter 6. I hope it's okay, I feel like my writing is a little rusty after going so long without writing anything. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it, and please remember to give me feedback...it makes me smile.

Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters and Universe are not mine...that's a nice notion to think it is though.

Chapter 6: Nostalgia, am I right?

Ben smiled weakly, and turned to run up to the house. He definitely didn't want them coming in…something wasn't right here. As soon as he saw the familiar eggshell blue, Victorian style house he grew rather nostalgic; he hadn't been home for quite a long time. He's been staying downtown for months now to stay close to his mother in the hospital. But as they had driven closer he felt a shiver run up his spin. There was a black car in the drive way…and it was not familiar to him in the slightest.

Ben bit his lip nervously as he slowly gripped the cold metal of the doorknob in his shaking hand. He twisted it and pushed the door open, stepping forward cautiously, and looking around the house. Everything was dimly lit; the lights were all off and most of the curtains were drawn still; just as they had left it. Everything seemed eerily quiet, and Ben didn't like it one bit.

He wanted to have time to himself to say goodbye to the only home he's ever known, but he wasn't sure if someone unwanted was here or not…so all he wanted to do now was grab what he absolutely needed, shove them in an empty book bag, and scram.

The hair on the back of his neck was sticking up and Ben shivered again…something was DEFINITELY not right here, he just couldn't pin point exactly why; he could just feel it.

Without hesitating, Ben bolted to the stairs and sprinted up them, skipping multiple steps with a few long strides, and skidded around the rugged corner to slide into his room on the left. Once he was in the room, he slammed the door shut and twisted the lock securely with a small resounding click.

Releasing a pent up gulp of air, Ben turned around and scanned his room with calculating eyes. Nothing appeared to be different, and it all seemed to be exactly as he had left it. This greatly relieved him, but, none the less, Ben speedily set to work and started pulling various items of clothing out of his dresser and tossing them onto his bed.

Dropping down nimbly onto his hands and knees, he stuck his hand under his bed, feeling around looking for his rucksack. His fingers found the bag in a moment, and he pulled it out and plopped it on his bed. He hurriedly shoved his belongings into the bag, and then zipped it up. His eyes wandered around the room sadly, and suddenly stopped on a picture frame sitting on his desk.

It was of him and his mom. He was about four or five in the picture, and his mother was holding him in her lap underneath the oak tree outside in the backyard in the middle of autumn. They were sitting in a pile of fallen leaves, the red and orange hues painted the ground around them with warmth. Ben smiled softly and picked up the frame gingerly in his hand. He looked down at it for a short while, and his eyes watered, a few silent tears dripping down his cheek.

He sniffled and rubbed the tears away with his sleeve as he walked back to his bedside. He wrapped the picture frame with a spare hoodie and tucked it securely in the bag before adding a few more essential items and zipping the bag up once more. He looked around his room and frowned sadly; he wasn't sure when he'd next be coming back for the rest of his things, but he certainly didn't want to be here any longer.

In one swoop, he swung the bag onto his shoulder and opened the door a smidge, just enough to peek around the corner and see up and down the hall way…

All clear.

Ben took a timid step out into the hall, and ran down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, he quickly broke into a run for the front door, and snatched the door handle to leave…but the handle wouldn't budge.

"Going somewhere, son," an old, husky voice said, piercing the silence in the small house.

Ben's heart froze and his eyes widened in fear. He spun around to face the voice, pressing his back flush against the door. Sitting in the living room was an older gentleman, in an army green suit, decorated with countless merits, badges, and metals. He had white hair and a thick mustache that rested above his smug grin.

Ben's gaze flitted quickly over the man, sizing him up…and the breath hitched in his chest when he saw a gun strapped to the man's waist.

"C'mon now, my boy. That's no way to treat your grandfather…now is it," the man said with a chuckle, his eyes never leaving him. They were his mother's blue eyes, but his were cold and icy, unlike her soft and loving baby blues that he missed so dearly.

Ben barely took the time to compute what he said, before stuttering shakily, "Who…who are you? You shouldn't be here."

The man pursed his lips and clasped his hands over his lap, "My name is General Thaddeus E. Ross," he paused and smiled, "my close colleagues called me Thunderbolt Ross back in the day, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that, do you?"

Ben stood completely frozen, quickly making the connection upon hearing the intruder's name, "Are…are you my mother's…father?"

General Ross quirked an eyebrow and crossed his leg, startling Ben and making him jump, "Relax, kid. I'm not here to hurt you. I came because I heard that Betty has passed," he reached into the inside of his jacket and slipped a small, old photo out of his inner pocket; it was of his mother.

"You know…she was my only child," he said whilst running his thumb over the photo before folding it and returning it to his pocket, "I never would have imagined that she'd die so early in her life…she was such a beautiful young woman, and she deserved so much better."

Continuing sympathetically, Ross spoke slowly and deliberately, "I'm so sorry that I could never be there for the two of you. You see…you're mother and I had a bit of a…a disagreement over her life choices," he casually tapped his fingers on his leg, watching Ben like a hawk, "I'm afraid she called for a restraining order to keep me away from you both."

Ben's eyes narrowed and he said accusingly, "Her letter…she wrote about you in that letter to him…she said that you tried to take me away from her!"

Ross's smile faded away very quickly and turned into a scowl instantaneously, "What are you going on about?"

Ben continued angrily, his voice gradually getting louder, "She said that you were going to hurt me, and that I was the next best thing to my father or something, what the hell is that supposed to mean!"

Ross ran a hand over his face and sighed, saying lowly in a threatening tone, "Damn…you just had to be so clever didn't ya? I bet you got that from your father, just like you're good for nothin' looks."

The steely blue gaze of the general burned into Ben, making his heart pound faster and faster. Shit! Ben thought to himself as he started to feel a dull throbbing in his head. It wasn't apparent at first, as he was distracted by his so called grandfather, but his heart was racing and he was in danger of losing it…and fast.

Ross cleared his throat and said intensely, "You know…I always knew you were his kid. You look just like him, even when you were just a tot. Sweet Betty…she insisted you weren't a monster like that freak, Banner," he paused and smiled knowingly, "but just look at you, you can barely hide it from me, can you?"

A stabbing pain shot through Ben's head, and he gasped, falling to his knees. He felt a sudden wave of panic rush over him, and he frantically curled in on himself, desperately trying to recall what he was supposed to do. His hands gripped his head as the pain grew stronger, sending a burning sensation throughout his body. Clenching his eyes shut tightly, he inhaled deeply and exhaled, trying to steady his breathing.

Ross stood up slowly and rather calmly for this situation, his hand just barely lingering over the hilt of his handgun. He made a tch-tch sound as if he were shaming Ben, and scolded softly, "Now, don't go making this hard for me, son. All I want to do is see what you've got to offer for my work. I guess you could call it military research. You see, I need your help if it's going to get anywhere. So, just give me a little more proof that you have what I need…or I'll have to do this the hard way, and I'm sure you don't want to do that."

Ben grimaced with each throb in his head, but he forced himself to look up at Ross with a pained smile, and exhaled snarkily, "Listen…I'm not interested, gramps…this show is over now." He gradually sat up straighter, and breathed out a sigh of relief as the pain subdued to dull throbs, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not showing you anything."

Ross pursed his lips and sighed heavily while looking down at his feet. Unexpectedly, he looked back up at Ben with a cruel glimmer in his eyes. "Wrong answer," he said flatly.

There was a deafening bang, and a sharp sting ran straight through Ben's shoulder. He gave a surprised cry of agony, and hit the ground with a dull thud.

Sitting up weakly, Ben grasped the spot between his shoulder and collarbone where the pain had exploded. He hissed in pain and quickly lifted his hand away. Blood covered his palm, and was oozing profusely out of a bullet wound. Ben's mouth opened in both shock and pain, and his wide eyes looked back from the wound and to the man who was still pointing the handgun at him.

Suddenly, Ben's feeling of agony instantly turned into bubbling rage. His face transformed into a ferocious snarl, and his hands curled tightly into clenched fists. His blood felt as if it were starting to boil, and there was a pounding growing in his head like no other. Barring his teeth, Ben just barely growled, "You. Shot. Me…" before he felt a searing pain overtake his body and he threw back his head releasing an excruciating scream.

There was a loud bang that resounded in the silence of the neighborhood that instantly made Bruce's blood run as cold as ice. That sound was undoubtedly gunfire, and hearing it ring out nearly stopped his heart.

Stricken with panic, Bruce flung open the car door and sprinted towards the house.

"Bruce! Wait," Steve cried, quickly leaping into action and running after him, already slinging his shield into his grip.

Bruce threw himself at the door and desperately tore at the handle to no avail. Shouting in frustration, he began relentlessly throwing himself at it, but it wouldn't budge. His eyes scanned the house frantically, and lit up when he spotted an alternate way in…