The unconscious boy they brought to the lab late that night was almost as green as Bruce's alter ego. "Old bruises?"
Tony shrugged, his expression clouded, "Harley said they were purple a few hours ago."
So, he was a fast healer. What else was speedy about the boy? Metabolism? That would go hand-in-hand with enhanced healing. You need lots of energy to heal. Bruce rooted around his drawers of medical items looking for the IV supplies.
"You know I can't do much to treat him," Bruce warned. The compound was no longer equipped to do much in the way of medical care. Tony had let go of the small medical staff when Avengers had temporarily disbanded. The facility still wasn't fully operational, but even if it were, Bruce was hardly a medical doctor.
"Do what you can," Tony replied. His tone carried a rare edge of unease. "Keep an eye on him. I don't want this kid left unsupervised while Harley's in the building. He's strong, Bruce. If he wakes up swinging, we're going to need someone who can hold their own."
Bruce shot Tony a wary glance. The Other Guy wasn't known for his finesse in deescalating tense situations. He certainly wasn't an ideal babysitter in any situation, least of all for a teen who might wake up and choose violence. But Tony looked rattled. He'd had a rough day and clearly wasn't thinking.
"I'll do my best," Bruce said cautiously, "But if he's that dangerous, maybe Steve should—"
"I don't trust him," Tony's eyes stayed locked on the boy, his voice low.
Who? Bruce wondered. The kid — or Steve? He bit back the question and nodded instead. "Go take care of Harley. Fury's already grilling him, and you know how pleasant that can be. I'll clean this one up and take a look at what Nat sent over."
Tony hesitated, leaning over the bed to check the restraints binding the boy's wrists and ankles. Satisfied, he straightened and headed for the door. "FRIDAY, dear, let me know the moment the kid tries to get out of this bed."
"Of course, boss," the AI replied smoothly.
"Go," Bruce shook his head as the door slid shut behind Tony. "We'll be fine," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The lab settled into its usual quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the steady rhythm of the boy's shallow breathing. Bruce laid out his supplies methodically. Most of the boy's wounds were closed, but there was the one contusion to the back of his head that had knocked him out and needed to be cleaned and wrapped up. It was still wet with blood.
As Bruce gently turned the boy's head to assess the wound, something caught his eye—a ring of small, healed cuts at the nape of the neck, dried blood crusted around them. The pattern was too precise, too deliberate to be an accident.
"FRIDAY, get a picture of this, please," he said softly.
"Got it," the AI replied.
Bruce cleaned the strange marks with care, his brow furrowing. The cuts formed a perfect circle. What had caused this? A device? A procedure? Questions piled up in his mind, but he set them aside for now.
The kid looked so young, so fragile. Beneath the bruises and dirt, he was just a teenager, his thin frame dwarfed by the sterile bed. This can't be right, Bruce thought, his chest tightening. How could someone so young be involved in anything that warranted this level of security?
He covered the boy with a blanket and fiddled a bit with the restraints, wondering if he should pad them so they wouldn't hurt the boy's wrists. Bruce understood that the kid was enhanced, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around the boy being a cold, murderous operative. He looked so young.
"Where are your parents?" he muttered under his breath as he inserted an IV line. The boy stirred, a faint noise escaping his lips. Bruce leaned closer as the boy's eyelids fluttered open, his eyes unfocused but wide with startled fear.
"Don't try to get out of bed!" Bruce rushed to say. No need to have Tony down here again any time soon. "You're safe. You're at the Avenger's Compound. We aren't going to hurt you."
The boy's gaze locked on Bruce, his expression shifting to confusion. "You're Bruce Banner," he rasped, his voice rough with disuse.
Bruce blinked in surprise. "You know who I am?"
The boy nodded slowly. "I don't know why I know."
"Do you know how you got here?"
The boy's brow furrowed, then his eyes widened in alarm. "Harley! Is he—"
"He's fine," Bruce interrupted, his tone calm but reassuring. He didn't mention that Harley was also at the compound—no need to risk agitation—but he noted the genuine concern in the boy's voice. Interesting. "He's safe."
The boy relaxed slightly, sinking back against the pillow, though the tension in his body didn't fully leave. His gaze shifted to the IV in his arm. "What is this?" he asked, his voice wary.
"Fluids. Glucose," Bruce replied.
"That's it?" the boy asked, his tone skeptical.
Bruce frowned. "What else would it be?"
The boy hesitated. "I just feel tired. Thought maybe you were trying to sedate me."
Bruce didn't miss the 'trying to' portion of that sentence. Typical doses of medicine would not work well for someone with an enhanced metabolism. You wouldn't need sedation to sleep," he said lightly. "You're exhausted. Your body's doing a lot of work healing."
The boy looked unconvinced, his features clouded with lingering worry. "What's going to happen to me?"
It was the way he asked—like a lost child, wary of the answer—that made Bruce's chest ache. He softened his tone. "Nothing tonight. You're safe as long as you stay in bed. When you wake up, we'll ask you a few questions. But no one here is going to hurt you."
The boy's face twisted with doubt, so Bruce clarified honestly. "We will, however, stop you if you try to hurt anyone here, or yourself."
"I don't want to hurt anyone ever again." Bruce's hands stilled. Again. He couldn't ignore the weight of that word or the anguish in the boy's voice. Where are this kid's parents? Bruce thought angrily again.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," he said gently.
"Is Iron Man here?" The teenager asked warily.
"Yes. But it's okay. He won't hurt you," Bruce assured him.
The kid snorted.
"I'm serious. No one here will go out of their way to hurt you. You can trust me."
He raised a dubious eyebrow and Bruce sighed.
"I bet your healing is twice as fast when you're asleep. Get some rest. We'll figure everything out later. For now, just rest." Bruce had FRIDAY dim the lights, hoping that would help the kid fall asleep.
The kid was silent as he lay there with heavily lidded eyes staring at the door.
Bruce hoped he wasn't thinking of escaping. But he was able to relax again just minutes later when the boy's eyes closed and his breathing fell into a slow, regular pattern.
Bruce exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his shoulders ease. He moved to the evidence bag Nat had dropped off, unsealing it to inspect the bloodstained Hydra jumpsuit. Inside was a smaller bag, holding a strange, round device no bigger than a coin, ringed with tiny needles.
"FRIDAY, bring up the picture of the marks on the kid's neck," Bruce whispered, knowing the AI could easily pick up on the low command. The image appeared on his screen, a perfect match to the device in his hand. He turned it over, studying the intricate design with a frown.
"That's interesting," he murmured, his mind already churning with questions. What did they do to you, kid?