[CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/G9Heh9x.png[/img] [/CENTER]
[COLOR=AF7AC5][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=white][I]Belize City, Belize[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]A [color=228B22]Green[/color] God, A [color=228B22]Green[/color] Devil – 1.04[/b][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][color=AF7AC5][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [COLOR=white][I]None[/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5185813][I]1.03[/I][/url][/right][/SUP][/color][/INDENT]
[indent]Shoved to the floor of the brig, Bruce coughed out in pain as he rolled over. The soreness at the beating he’d received earlier had already begun to fade, but it’s not as though it made this treatment any better. Door slamming shut, he was left to his own, another door closing moments later.

Opening his eyes with a groan, Bruce saw no difference. Sharply taking in breath, he tried to sit up, managing to find some kind of balance in the dark. [color=AF7AC5]“HEY!”[/color] he bellowed. When no response came, another cry came out, this one far weaker. [color=AF7AC5]“Don’t leave me here!”[/color] Breath coming on harder and faster, he couldn’t perceive much. With virtually no sight in the blackness, the slight movement of the boat in the water starting to make him nauseous without a visual point of reference to fixate on. Sounds from outside were distorted from the layers of metal separating him from the outside.

He hadn’t expected to be taken back like this. Even though there were so many differences, the darkness alone put him in the same frame of mind he’d been trying to escape for twenty years. Bending down and pressing his forehead to the metal floor, as if the cool surface might calm his rising temperatures or rapid breathing, in his closed eyes he saw that crack in the floor, where Brian had removed the boards. A blue bucket and dark green extension cord might seem innocuous enough on their own, but whenever Bruce was being punished, and Brian chose not to get physical, he would make Bruce sit in the bucket. Then, with the cable, he’d be lowered down. Bruce didn’t even know what the room was, or what was really down there. Was it an old basement? A cave? Brian most likely didn’t know either. But it was dark. After lowering him down, Brian would cover the entrance, Bruce stuck in that hole for who knew how long. All he could ever think to do was stay in that bucket and pray. His only link back to his house was the extension cord, not strong near enough to hold his weight. Next to his fantasies of climbing out to escape were those in which thay spider’s thread might fall, or snap, trapping him down there forever. Trapped with nothing...or everything. Whether they were auditory hallucinations or rodents skittering in the distance, unknowable noises haunted him. Odd shapes would form in the darkness: maybe it was phosphenes tracing patterns for him as he shut his eyes to keep out the dark, or the dark coming to greet him.

Although here he could move, Bruce still felt trapped in that bucket, curling up into a ball. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath rattled, every gasp he took failing to supply him with enough air. Even though he knew full well who put him here, just this slight similarity brought Brian back to his thoughts. He was gone, Bruce believed. He remembered little of that night after the transformation, but no one survives a drop from 20 stories. And yet, even though he knew that, Brian was here, in Bruce’s mind, in the dark with him. No, more than that: his palms formed the walls, the fingers, bars.

His life here in Belize had been simple, free. As he teacher he focused his efforts on a makeshift curriculum, as a laborer he did simple (if backbreaking) work. The menial work demanded so much of his focus that when he thought back to home he primarily thought of Betty, sometimes other former coworkers or friends like Rick, at worst the likes of General Ross, but with Brian gone he didn’t need to think about him any more. He thought the ghost had been beaten back, but he’d been here the whole time, waiting.

And Bruce wasn’t strong enough. The green spider’s thread dangled, and Bruce didn’t believe it could hold his own weight, nor did he think it could lead to salvation. Perhaps pulling on that thread might bring everything tumbling down, crushing himself and all that he cared about. But if he stayed in the dark, it would only be himself that was crushed.

In the darkness, another moved.

If Bruce would not grab that thread, then the Hulk would.

[center]-----[/center]

Bullets hailed against the police car doors. Red and white lights lit up the area, an under-equipped police force held back by rifle fire from the ripped open warehouse.

“One hour!” called one of Jagger’s men. With a light sigh, he admitted it was a better time then he could have hoped for considering the short notice and length of sea in between here and their nearest outpost. Loading everything up onto that boat would be a cinch with Reg, and with the Belize police only equipped with pistols, they could be held back for the time being. If they called in bigger guns it could become a problem, but one rush with Reg and their efforts would be put back squarely. The rocket launcher would be kept in his back pocket for now. Firing his rifle again, Jagger’s thought process was interrupted by the wrenching of metal from behind him. Straightening up, her turned to see the boat lurching from within, jerking in one direction, then another. A rare expression of bewilderment briefly crossing his face, he wisely ran from the front entrance, heading towards the stairs to his office. The gunfire settled, in and out, the noise drawing attention before the Hulk burst from below the deck, landing on the ship before jumping to solid ground, grabbing one of the cartel members and throwing him into the nearest hard surface.

[color=8689B3]“Reg! Crush him!”[/color] Jagger ordered. Tilting his oddly shaped head to the side, Reg’s neck made a crack before his buckled legs skittered the Hulks way, long arms reaching for him, the man eager to put his strength to the ultimate test. Fist launching, smacking into the Hulk’s face, he recoiled from the blow before snarling. The Hulk went to grab with both of his arms, Reg meeting him, their hands meeting one another as they grappled, fingers interlocking as the tried to push the other back. Feet digging into the ground, the Hulk bent his wrists forward, forcing Reg’s back, the Venom laced beast starting to shrink under the mass of the Hulk.

Brain had once seemed like a massive monster to Bruce. If the Hulk had been there to be the bigger monster, then things might have been different. But Brian wasn’t here. In fact, neither was Bruce, not having the control he’d had before, not this time. And to the Hulk, Reg, standing in front of him now, was but a tiny man.

Gritting his teeth, the Hulk let out a roar, straightening out his back before driving his weight down on Reg’s wrists. Those bulky arms resisted, but the knobbly knees couldn’t take it. The skin on Reg’s shins split open like a ziploc bag, revealing muscle underneath. Reg cried out in pain. His ankles snapped, and he collapsed under the Hulk, legs crumpling as he was reduced to a whimpering mass of drug and muscle. Turning away, a smirk came to the Hulk’s face, the behemoth muttering, [color=228B22]“Leg day.”[/color]

The condescending smile was stricken from his face with a call from above. [color=8689B3]“Look me in the eyes while you die,”[/color] Jagger demanded, brandishing his rocket. The Hulk was not amused. Jagger had begun to perspire. It was out of character for him, but after watching his power gradually be picked apart by this Hulk, his heart pounded in excitement as he faced down that green storm, that force of nature. Practically leaning out the window of his office, knee braced against the low wall, he pulled the trigger, firing into the hurricane.

Though Jagger was a smart man, he didn’t necessarily have all the experience. He knew about the backblast, the force desecrating the office behind him as he fired. But had he actually fired the rocket launcher before, he would have known that the accelerator only kicks off after ten to eleven meters of airtime. The Hulk had only been about 7 meters away when he fired. The rocket bounced off his flesh, a confused Hulk casually grabbing the explosive out of the air out of sheer reflex. Expression bemused, the rocket activated, the Hulk’s hand jerking as it tried to escape, but ultimately keeping firm. Jagger’s expression was blank as the Hulk looked back at him, pulling his arm before returning the gift. The rocket once again didn’t have enough force to explode on impact, bouncing around the office like a bar of soap in a bathtub. As the metal ricocheted, a cocktail of emotions surged, the dam bursting open. Shame, regret, panic, dread, and above all, anger at the fool who thought he could stop the storm on his own power.

The Hulk didn’t even bother to look, heading towards the entrance of the warehouse once he’d tossed the rocket. The explosion behind him didn’t even turn his head. The remaining cartel members had given up, their spirits taken with the extend of their power. Standing over the local law enforcement, they merely watched on. The Hulk ignored them, looking to the sky, the edge of the horizon beginning to glisten with dawnlight. Feet springing into action, Bruce was gone for now, back where he always was. But Hulk knew what they both wanted. Not dark, but the light. And with the light as his guide, the Hulk moved north, where they might one day stand in the sun.[/indent]