Pacifista

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: New Mexico}

A Fresh Set of Eyes – 2.01

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.07

Eyes engulfed by blue, the expanse of the heavens felt endless, yet even so, there was no place there for Bruce Banner.

Naked shoulders blazed from the heat, knees dug into the dirt, sweat building and draining, breath coming and going, Bruce felt like he was waiting without any idea what it was for. His mind was blank as the blue, a feeling creeping up on him that he couldn’t even call ‘deja vu’, because it was too recent to make him feel anything other than dread and guilt. He remembered the sensation of the phone popping between his fingers, a fresh smartphone turned to splinters of glass and plastic in his hand, yet it remained unhurt.

Feeling nauseous, he started to gag. Leaning over, he spread is arms to give him balance as he coughed, forcing it out. His sweat turned cold, anxiety building: vomiting under these conditions could mean easy dehydration, and there wasn’t much but flat waste and rocky outcroppings in his blurry sight. But what came was not a swill of orange and yellow, but a dab of red, and a dull thunk in the now wet dirt. Sputtering as he choked in swallowing back blood, he wiped his lip, squinting his eyes at the hunk that came out. Leaning in, the piece of metal with the rounded tip was something he feared to be a bullet. Wiping his forehead, answers seemed impossible. Vision swimming, his arms bowed, about to give. Falling to his elbow, then his back, he cringed at the heat, dust sticking to his sweaty skin. Throat dry beyond the blood that had dripped down, he gasped out, struggling to his feet. Spotting foliage, he headed to the nearest rock, slipping into the shade and collapsing back down.

Knees to his chest, arms wrapped to cover his eyes and he tucked in his head, every time Bruce thought about trying to go home he was felt with an unmistakable dread. He only had some pittance of memory: stumbling in stretches of dark, eyes hurt by flashes of light, chest rumbling from his yelling. It was definitely a nightmare, but the last time it happened, people got hurt.

Head swimming, Bruce trembled. There he sat, sky tinting to orange as the sun fell. Trembling was joined by shivering, and Bruce had no idea what to do. Because try as he might, he could not seem to wake up. Even with so little energy. Bruce forced himself to stand, back into the light on the sunset among the deepening dark shadows, the last fleeting warmth of the desert’s day. Picking a direction, as much as it hurt, he could only keep going.

---

“Here we have an urgent report from Navapo, New Mexico, which just recently suffered from an attack on El Diablo Air Force Base. Reportedly, the attacker was a hulking meta, who tore through the unprepared base for reasons still unknown. Miraculously there are no casualties, but dozens are injured: as you can see from the footage, the critical wounded were sent to a hospital for proper care. With the coast clear, concerned citizens and family members have begun to crowd around the freeway entrance to the base, now currently closed. We are now going to the scene. Christian?”

“Thank you Talanda. I’ve been here for 10 minutes and ambulances have not stopped coming out- there goes another one. We have several witnesses claiming to have seen this green hulk leaving roughly an hour ago. I’m about to get word from one of them now.” He stepped over, reaching a bearded elder.

“I really can’t believe it. It’s setting in now and I...this is a military base. A least robbers make sense, but that thing came in, wrecked shop, and scooted out. When are those metas and muties going to stop? When are they going to be stopped.”

“Sir, you said you saw the monster?”

“Monster? That was a monster alright. Probably looked like a man earlier today. I know I’ve never seen any green giants walking around Navapo. Could have been anyone though, s’far as I know. That’s how mutants work, right?”

“Uh, well, there’s more nuance to it than that sir...”

“I don’t care about nuance I want to go around the city without having to worry about some mutie going off, god dam-” The voice faded as the mic was hastily pulled away

“Well, thank you for your time sir. There you have it. We do not have the identity regarding the monster, but authorities have assured us that the search is underway. The situation is still developing and our ears are to the ground...”

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: El Diablo Air Force Base, (Navapo, New Mexico)}

Seeing Green – 1.07

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.06

The air was tight as the contingent went through the halls of the base. There were no words, the alarm’s blaring leaving an ominous air that stifled the thoughts.

General Ross led the way, Talbot in tow with the police, and Betty along by the General’s insistence. The defense was only just being organized, and with a battle plan in motion. Ross’ solution was going to be heavy handed, but the man had a point, as much as Betty hated to admit it. She winced as they finally came to the heavy doors, the unlabeled lab she so often came around to find her boyfriend.

The heavy tiled walls gave the large room a structured feel, while the blast walls separating the lab into two made it all the more foreboding. Going through the first half of the lab, dominated by computer equipment, Ross reached the wall, punching in a number, sliding his ID, before letting the reader scan his retina. With a shudder that moved the whole room, the walls shifted open, a heavy chrome behemoth of a machine shuddering out. Betty felt a pit in her stomach as she stepped away from the opening, much like a cannon barrel: the Gamma Discharger.

“I really think the rest of us should be somewhere else.” Betty insisted. Her voice had a bit of worry tinging it, which she hoped her father wouldn’t notice, but that was wishful thinking. Ross had headed for a console on the side of the machine, but instead stopped, going to Betty’s side and putting ah and on her shoulder. She felt herself tense, but she didn’t pull away. “The safest place for you here is with me. God knows where that monster is going to come in from.” Stepping away, he reached the machine. “The world is changing Betty, you know that as much as I do. If anyone had listened to me, maybe the Stryker incident wouldn’t have been half as bad, but now we have our second national landmark damaged by terrorists since the turn of the century. People are scared, and the government they have to trust is going to need the power to protect them.” With a whir, the Discharger began to rumble to life. “I’d love to see the meta who could look down the barrel of this without sweating.”

“Sh-shouldn’t we be wearing protective gear sir?” One of the soldiers asked, sweating even as he stood off to the side.

“You all are going to the other side of that blast wall. N-” Echoing down the hall came the sounds gunfire, shouting, and an angry snarl. Betty felt herself tremble: she only got the gist of it earlier, but it looked like she was about to get the full picture. Torn between her fear and her journalistic desire to pull out her smartphone and start taking video, she took a half step back, glancing at the Discharger. Her instinct says having a way to take down rogue metas wasn’t really a bad thing: the only thing that could fight a meta was another meta, at least generally speaking, and government forces were still a ways behind. But at the same time, it was an extreme solution: she wanted metas accountable for their risk factor, not dead.

The bystander group stepped back towards the open barrier while Ross got his hands dirty, switching the setting from ‘test’ to ‘pulse’. From his belly, Ross barked, “All combatants retreat immediately!” No one had any idea if the soldiers could hear him or not, one hurtling past the open door, before it came into sight. A naked foot stomped by the ground, the 10 foot tall beast’s posture rugged and standoffish. It only wore light purple slacks, stretched to the seams and torn at the sleeve, its massive chest bare to the world. A ratty mop of purple hair lazed on its huge skull, green eyes stabbing from a stern mug, its skin almost a neon green. It breathed heavily, stomach heaving, each breath joined by the sense that it might suddenly burst out into a snarl. The soldiers reached for their firearms as they defensively maneuvered backwards. Betty felt hands guide her as they moved her away, Ross working feverishly ahead. “LAST WARNING! GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Formality fell away to fervor. No soldiers were in sight past the monster, but untested weaponry could be unpredictable.

The monsters eyes lit up, the beast intent on something. Eyes locked on, its roar echoed on the walls, striking the eardrums of everyone nearby with one accusatory boom. “TALBOT!” Ross was given pause, sideways glance sent at the target, who looked about ready to shrivel up into his rectum with how tightly it was no doubt puckering. The behemoth began its charge, stomping in, and Ross stopped hesitating. The room had a surge of power, and then nothing.

Well, nothing was a reductive way of looking at things. Radiation wasn’t a magic green glow: it needed equipment to detect exactly because it was outside of the perception of humans, that was until the symptoms started to show. Outside of all eyes, a pulse of gamma rays hit the Hulk. A normal man would have been dead within seconds of a continued burst, but even just a pulse was likely to leave one wishing they were dead.

As it washed over the Hulk’s body, he sneezed.

Ross’ jaw dropped. With a glare he raised his fist and slammed it into the Discharger. “Worthless garbage!” Hulk stomped past him, intent on Talbot. The soldiers, having been given the retreat order moments ago, before seeing the Hulk sneeze off the most capable weapon at the base that wasn’t mounted on a jet, resumed their course to the blast doors, Talbot and Betty joining in the rush. Getting in, they weren’t fast enough in closing the doors: as they came shut, the Hulk’s arm followed, getting pinned for just a moment. He easily wrenched the doors apart, mechanisms groaning and cracking as they were forced past their limits. Fear and panic similarly broke into the hearts of the men untested in battle, who were more or less paralyzed as Hulk bore down on them. Ross yelled profanities and challenges as he dared the monster to come after him, but they went on deaf ears. As the Hulk reached out to Talbot, the man was frozen in fear, almost half the height and a fraction of the weight as the green giant. Betty reflexively grabbed him, pulling him aside as she tried to scamper away, the Hulk’s hand moved to follow but pulled back, teeth bearing as he followed, hand trying to reach for Talbot, but with Betty in the way it kept going short. Clenching both of his fists, Hulk snarled, it’s roar resounding, but Betty was starting to catch on to the monster’s hesitance. Hulk stepped around, going at it from a different angle, the soldiers scrambling to get out of the way, but Betty moved to intercept, keeping herself between him and Talbot. The Hulk paused, shuffling to go at another angle, and once again Betty moved. Face tightening in anger, the Hulk growled, arms at his side in frustration as he raised his foot, stomping on the ground in a tantrum, each footfall shaking dust from the ceiling and cracking the once ordered tiles on the ground. Turning away, he paced about the room, snapping out at any soldiers it moved close to, who kept out of the path. The Hulk might have been stripped of some his fangs, but no one was about to test and see if he could still bite or not.

The room was too stunned to react: the Hulk’s presence put a lead weight on everyone’s feet. Going back to Betty, the Hulk barked, “TALBOT HURT YOU.” Betty felt the air run from her blood. Her brain seemed to put pressure on her skull from how fast her mind was racing, chills echoing down her spine as that one piece seemed to click into place.

“Wh-what?” she stammered. Her knees were gradually becoming weak underneath her. The Hulk however, seemed to quiet down. A sternness was on his face, but the anger was reserved, a quiet, calm determination clear in his expression. One she’d seen before.

---

Betty cried. Curled up into a ball under a cedar tree, its red and brown leaves carpeting the ground underneath the child. No buildings were in sight from this small stretch of the woods, but such a distant feeling place in reality was much closer to home than Betty wanted to be right now.

Footsteps made the girl in her ponytail looked up, vision blurred from the tears. Wiping them away and drying her hands on her t-shirt, she saw Bruce. He stopped a few steps away and looked on quietly, sadly. Betty wanted to tell him to go away and leave her alone, but her sinuses were still full so she could only sputter and cough. Bruce didn’t seem to mind, coming closer, and reaching his hand out. “Let’s run.”

As if a bell had rang, her thoughts had cleared, Trying to hide the quavering of her lip, she stood, brushing off her jeans before taking the hand of the slightly taller boy. Bruce lifted his hand as he turned around. The long sleeve of his purple shirt fell back, an even deeper purple underneath. She felt her eyes water as his hazel ones were now out of sight. She was glad he was leading the way: it was hard to see right now. Betty couldn’t container herself, but now suddenly things didn’t seem as bad as she thought, so she beat them back, trying to beat them back until they were dry. It didn’t seem right to cry while Bruce had such dry eyes.

It would only be a few hours until they were discovered, well after the sun had set, but until then, Betty felt like maybe they could run forever.

---

Betty felt her breath coming on strong as her eyes darted between the Hulk’s hands and his deep green eyes. Once again, her hand trembled at her side, but it didn’t move.

Behind him, Ross reached into his uniform dress coat, .38 mm resting behind 2 stars. The tail end of a sentence came out as he trained his gun. “...my daughter...” A shot rang out, bullet landing square on the back of the Hulk’s head. Teeth bared, he turned about, letting out a rumbling scream, one that didn’t let up. Ross fired again, this one going straight into the Hulk’s mouth. He was silenced, for just a moment, biting down, eyes flaring, teeth on display. Ross winced, muttering in bafflement, “Do you even bleed?” Hulk took one step.

“Don’t!”

Hulk stopped, fist shaking, before he snorted, shaking his head, and continuing anyway. Storming on towards Ross, the man raised his gun, but Hulk only just went by him, the jab of an elbow sending Ross back into the Discharger and to the ground. Now that the Hulk was retreating a few of the soldiers who’d been transfixed and helpless found the courage to go their weapons, firing at the monster that raised its arms to keep away their bullets as if they were flies.

Before he turned to leave, Betty saw his back. One that looked so familiar, but while before it had seemed so big, now it only felt small.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: El Diablo Air Force Base, (Navapo, New Mexico)}

Seeing Green – 1.06

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.05

Door closing on the office, Betty tensed going alert as she looked around the empty room, her senses dedicated to the movements about the door. Turning about, Glenn Talbot was moving away, in her direction, movements a bit stiff.

“Bruce isn’t here,” Betty said, dripping with accusation.

“Bruce...” Talbot grumbled under his breath. He probably didn’t think she could hear him, but in this silent room it was plenty easy. Holding out his arms at his sides, Talbot admitted, “Look Betty, I like you.” He sounded exasperated, so the only feeling Betty had from her arsenal to toss was much the same. Betty had been an early bloomer with puberty so she’d had plenty of experience with affection, and by and large she wanted to have none of it. Talbot was certainly not going to be an exception. “I just don’t understand what you see in him. You’re always here for him.”

“No shit,” Betty sighed, reaching into her purse and whipping out her phone, going to her contacts. Talbot went pale as Betty took a half turn away, the phone ringing.

“Bruce, I’m at the base.”

Betty underestimated just how aware Talbot was, and just how stupid he was too. He realized how bad it looked once she pulled out her phone. Him, a solider with rank and authority, her a civilian lady, one by and large defenseless, having been brought to a secluded location. Such a thought of what that could mean only crossed his mind just then. Before then the worst case had been rejection, now the worst case was...much worse. His body moved before his brain did, lunging at the phone in Betty’s hands. “He-hey.” Betty shot him a death glare, keeping the phone out of his reach. “Glenn, Glenn.” He ignored her attempts to bring him back to reason, making one last grab, elbow nudging her in the face. “Ow, fucking don’t touch me-”

Talbot’s hand tapped the end call button just as it forced the device out of Betty’s grasp, the phone clattering to the ground. Teeth clamped, Betty shifted her foot, one arm grabbing one of Talbot’s as she slid behind him, her other arm grabbing his shoulder. Betty liked to think she kept herself fit enough, and it had been a short while since she really had judo practice, but a jerk in the right direction and a kick to the side of the leg was enough to allow Talbot to disembark from the floor, Betty helping to guide him on the return journey, bringing him down and keep him held there. The desks and chairs rattled from his impact, the man coughing and sputtering in shock. “I-I wasn-”

“Hey!” Betty called out. Talbot went quiet, rolling his face out of sight.

Betty was there for a short while before her calls alerted someone, and within 5 minutes from there, military police had arrive to handle the situation. Talbot wasn’t in cuffs, but he certainly look trapped as Betty gave what she felt was a fair approximation of the situation.

Her father wasn’t much for fairness though.

The door thundered open, 6 feet of unrelenting anger storming in. Talbot had only just looked up before General Ross’ fist met him in the face, making it the second time in 20 minutes a Ross had sent him to the ground. Betty raised one head to her forehead, eyes closed in derision, as the police kept the two apart, one stopping Ross, the other going to Talbot.

“I swear to god Talbot, I will string you from the floodlights by your intestines!”

Wincing, Betty knew something like this was coming, but...not like this. With the military police having the situation more or less controlled, there was still one other person she felt would need to be reared in. Spotting her phone, she scooped it up before redialing. Holding it up to her face, she waited, but all she could get out of it was a “I’m sorry, the number you are dialing appears to be unavailable.”

As she puzzled over that, the base went red, the emergency alert sounding off, those in the room looking up and around. A few moments later, another soldier entered the scene. Betty waited intently as Ross gave a cold, “What the hell is going on here?”

---

“...What?”

The security officer shot up from his chair, balking at his walkie. Going to a spot on the wall, he flipped up a pad before slamming the red and yellow button, the alert sounding. He didn’t stay put, running a hand through his light hair before shooting out of the office, sprinting down the halls of the base. He could hear pistols sounding off in the distant, and as he was getting closer he could feel the occasional shake or tremor. His heart pounded through his chest as he arrived at the door, hands practically shaking as he slid his card, punching in a number before couching down for eye recognition.

Entering the armory, Emil Blonsky trembled.

Blonsky had no business at El Diablo. He knew it and Ross knew it. This base was primarily for research and training, and Emil was a solider. He should have been in line to get his pilot license, but his attitude pissed off the wrong broke back limp dick officer, and well, here he was as the head of security at El Dialbo, bumfuck nowhere. The most interesting thing that happened here since he arrived was the scientist getting dumped in the desert the other day, when he found out about how that happened, damn did he get a belly laugh, but that was about it. Until now.

Emil hadn’t been required to train in the operation of the weapons he was grabbing: a rifle was about the heaviest gun he was going to find at a Chair Force base, god knows if a knife would help against that but Blonsky was a man of initiative, preparedness. If his plane went down he’d need to be ready to be behind enemy lines. A plane was valuable but the countless hours of specialized training even more so: he had to live.

And this right here would be the spit he could use to shine his way to wherever he wanted to be. Ross didn’t care to do anything, so he was going to make someone care.

Heading back towards the noise, a minute or so of running and he was stopped by a loud bang. With a wince he saw a dent in the wall, or the opposite side of one to be precise. Knowing the mess hall front to back, Blonsky leaned against the wall next to the double doors leading inside. Peeking in, it seemed empty: there were no screams or gunshots anymore, just a few bodies on the floor among the chairs and tables. “Dammit.” Blonsky cursed. They really should have just run. Leaning in a bit more, he saw a hulking mass of green and pulled back before his heart leaped out of his chest. It seemed to have looked in his direction for a moment, but Blonsky wasn’t going to check again.

Taking a few quiet steps away, Blonsky turned the corner, reaching a cubby area where he unlocked an electrical panel, switching off the breaker for the mess hall and the ones. The was a grunt and a snarl from within, so Blonsky wasted no time in heading back. He could hear shuffling from within, massive feet moving, the occasional jostling as it bumped into something. With only low light from beyond the hall reflecting downwards to go off of, he slipped back to the door, listening carefully. Skulking in, the monster made no sudden moves, he could vaguely see it shape just from the movement: there was no door for it to go to with the whole area blacked out, but at is size it could just pick a direction and go really. Breath held he stalked closer, raising his firearm, before bracing himself and pulling the trigger.

The room flashed back and forth from dark to light, the muzzle only briefly able to flare the room to life. Blonsky could only see the green in between the spots in his eyes from the rapid light changes, but he could still hear it’s yells of anger. A cold sweat began to break out as the fire never relented, but the green shape seemed to be getting closer, no signs of slowness of pain in its voice. Blonsky tried to back up, bumping against a chair on the ground, before relenting, stopping his fire and tossing his armament at the beast. There was another growl before Blonsky jumped to the side, the chair he’d just touched clattering as it was kicked aside, air rushing as the monster swung its arms without aim. Going for his knife with one hand and pistol in the other, he turned about, knife close to his chest as he stuck his pistol out. Firing again, he used the flash to guide him, catching the flash of the monster’s eye as it turned on him, roaring out. Stepping forward, Blonsky flipped the grip of his knife, stabbing it up, straight at the underside of its chin.

It bounced off like he’d hit a truck tire with his fist. He didn’t even have time to register, his senses taking a tumble. In just a moment it seemed like all he had was the faintest of wits about him. His eyes were open, but there were only the pieces of distant light, gradually reflected. He was trying to move his arms but everything felt numb. In the low light he could make out a fabric moving about on the ground in front of him. Moving his neck slightly, pain shot through his spine, eyes swimming with lights. He knew he was gasping for air now even if he couldn’t seem to hear anything but the blood rushing in his head. Then he saw his fingers, the moving fabric in front of him being his long sleeve, arm within crumpled beyond recognizably.

He tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle of spit, frothing to the ground.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: Navapo, New Mexico}

Seeing Green – 1.05

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.04

Wincing at the blue eyed gaze, Bruce looked to the side, before asking, “Do you mind?”

Standing in the lobby of Fendi Labs, in front of the secretary’s desk, a gray haired man in a lab coat shut his gaping mouth. With a shrug he admitted, “I don’t see very many ghosts, is all.” Bruce’s eyebrows arced in bafflement as he reflexively looked to Rick, who only shrugged. Dr. Starsky nodded for them to follow as he went beyond, muttering, “You can’t just walk away from getting hit by radiation like that with just a tan.”

Bruce sighed. “I see you’re glad I’m alright. And this is just a sunburn.”

Starsky reached a doorway, stopping before he opened it to give him a transfixed look. “You must have done something horribly wrong.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Doesn’t make any sense...” Looking back up he finally rectified, “I’m am grateful you’re alive, just...”

“It...doesn’t make sense?” Rick repeated. Starsky cracked the door open, admitting, “Yeah.” Bruce could feel the love, that was for sure.

Pushing into the room, there were a few desks and chairs about, but dominating was a small reactor, layers of glass allowing visibility to the materials within. “What makes you think it’ll preform the tight stream we’ll looking for?” Bruce asked.

Leaning over the reactor, Starsky explained, “Well, all tests so far have show minimal scattering compared to all other known isotopes. We don’t have the equipment to test it as the scale the military wants, but it’s the most promising so far.” Going to his side, Bruce said with a certainty, “Well, Ross doesn’t care for promises, he cares for results. I’ll sign off on it though.” Starsky nodded, going over to the desk and shuffling around with some paperwork, while Bruce kept his attention on the reactor. Wincing, his hand moved to the spot where he was hit.

They were right, he shouldn’t be alive.

The Gamma Stream Project was a directly named experiment in hopes of developing long distance radiation focused weaponry. Well, that’s what it was now. The original project was focused more on alternative power sources and long distance recharging of specialized power cells, but the military grants and use of military nuclear resources also meant more control on what the project would become. Bruce hadn’t been happy about the change of direction, but money spoke louder than words to the ears of his seniors. Bruce may have been contracted by the military but in reality he was employed by Fendi. He didn’t even have a doctorate yet, but despite being a little more than a paid intern, he was heading the project after the senior lab technician had to go on an emergency leave. With bruce the most knowledgeable and capable regarding the project, he was put in charge, Ross very much regretting the allocation of funding that effectively let to, well, Bruce. But all that negative emotion just ended up back on Bruce unless Betty was there to deflect some of it off. He didn’t blame the General for what happened of course, but Bruce might have taken more caution without the added pressure.

At the core of the project, regardless of its purposes, was reducing the scattering of radiation as much as possible. Not only would this increase efficiency, but it would become less widely dangerous for general use. The testing chamber had dummies which would be maneuvered about to test how much radiation was being scattered. To not interfere with the results, only one would be out at a time. Bruce had been maneuvering one into the new position, decked out in a radiation suit in case of an accident with the raw materials, but he’d skipped one simple safety protocol. Within the already small chance of a power surge happening was a small chance of the Stream activating, thus for complete safety the device was to be unplugged when anyone was in the chamber. Bruce didn’t listen, and as it so turned out, well, Bruce got away with his life after a short coma. Starsky was right: he might as well have been naked in front of that beam, and the power surge only should have made it worse. And yet Bruce was fine. The only plausible explanation was that the power setting was somehow dropped to the lowest, as there was very little residual radiation in the chamber. If the stream had been at full power there would have been more evidence, but instead there was nothing.

Bruce had been using it for tests, however, he knew the settings and capabilities of the device. Even at the lowest he’d have been done for. Nothing made sense.

Paper ruffling by his face, Bruce was snapped to attention, taking pen and paper before moving to a flat surface. Skimming through them, he reached the end, uncapping the pen and moving to sign.

Then his new phone buzzed. Putting the pen down, he took it out, seeing it was from Betty. Raising a single finger to call for a moment, Bruce headed out of the room and into the hall, door hanging open as Rick waited.

Answering the call, he didn’t even get the hello off. Alongside Betty’s voice he heard someone else in the background, and they were not happy. A fullness of the sound gave Bruce the vibe of an enclosed location, his body going on edge, as everything seemed wrong.

“Bruce, I’m at the base. He-hey. Glenn, Glenn. Ow, fucking don’t touch me-”

A cry quickly faded, going slightly distant before the line cut. Bruce’s jaw hung slack, phone falling away from his face, Bruce looking at the screen, only barely able to make out the short time blinking before the screen faded to his background: a picture of him and Betty at a local park.

Looking down at the phone and up at Rick just on the other side of the open doorway, his friend’s eyes were wide face clear with concern. He’d heard.

Didn’t matter.

Turning down the hall, Bruce started down, white lab-coat flowing as he stormed, teeth bared. Rick grimaced, a slight crunching and popping being heard just before Bruce turned a corner. “Bruce, Betty’s tough, you don’t need to-”

“Kill Glenn?” Bruce hissed through gritted teeth.

“General Ross would be happy too!” Rick tried to argue, but Bruce was having none of it, quickly punching through an emergency exit to the outside. Alarms sounding, Rick threw out his hands, the loud blaring grating at his ears. “Look, just call back...here.” Turning about, Rick rushed back inside, heads poking out of doors in the hall ahead out of confusion, not exactly urgent despite the alarm going off in a lab known for handling radioactive materials among other things. Backtracking, he stepped around the corner to find the phone on the ground, busted in half, bent straight through the middle. Gawking, Rick left the useless scrap behind, running back outside. “Bruuuuuce!”

Bursting out onto the concrete walkway, Rick stopped, glancing around as his eyes readjusted to the bright light, the heat pouncing on his skin. But as much as he looked at the wide open expanse, Bruce was nowhere in sight.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: Navapo, New Mexico}

Seeing Green – 1.04

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.03

Showered in dim light from the TV, the monitor display captured from the nearby laptop through a cable, Bruce leaned back on the couch, footrest extended. Wireless keyboard and mouse at work, Bruce occasionally glanced at the window, the continuous barking continuing to drive him up the wall.

Rubbing his eyes, he continued to strain them as he worked on the promised time tables. Sadly he hadn’t found any other pair of glasses, leaving him stuck with slightly blurred vision until he could get his eyes checked. This also meant he didn’t feel comfortable driving, so he’d be carpooling with Rick. Mind straying away, Bruce revisited that day before he knew it, soul weighted with a sense of guilt he still didn’t know where else to aim. Every breath matched by a pulse of his heart, Bruce nearly gasped out when he came to, from the sound of the door opening. Calming down as he saw Betty come in, he set his laptop aside, getting to his feet. Heat from outside following her until she kept it at bay with the closing of the door, Betty shot Bruce a look. “Don’t get up.”

“I’m feeling better,” Bruce insisted. Even as he said that, his steps were still ginger as he walked past Betty to the kitchen counter. It wasn’t a lie: Bruce was recovering quicker than he thought it would take. His burnt skin was already nearly peeled away, and many of his cuts and scrapes were closed up already, even if the skin was still raw. Bruce had always been the cautious, quiet type, not prone to really getting hurt, so he didn’t really have much frame of reference. Mostly he was just glad he would be back in fighting shape in a few days: for the rest he just tried to be cool. As she went to the bedroom to get into something more casual, Bruce asked, “Want some cereal?”

A few minutes later, the two sat on the couch, both in light, comfy clothing, munching on Grape Nuts in soy milk, Bruce leaning back while Betty took the mouse, bumbling around their bookmarks. As she meandered, Bruce began, “I’d ask how work was but usuall-” Betty’s head flopped backwards. “AuuuuuuuUUUUUGH.”

Scooping up another bite, Bruce nodded, continuing, ”Yeah, that.” Despite her preemptive complaints, Betty’s hand was already working, pecking at the wireless keyboard, pulling up a video. Bruce caught the word ‘gold’ before Betty full screened it, letting it play, gripping her bowl in hand as she focused.

Full-screening the video, it started to play, Bruce witnessing shaky smartphone footage of the opening to a bank, in a large city from the looks of things (New York?). The ‘opening’ was in fact, a smoky black hole. The camera kept swapping between the entrance and something on the other side, but the movement made it too blurry to really make anything out, until the camera settled back on the entrance, where a figure emerged, clad In black armor, the onlooking crowd (many of them filming as well), going into a fearful buzz. There was a flash of blue and gold, with some shouts from the crowd as people scrambled, the phone clattering to the ground, things becoming hard to parse for a minute, Betyy skipping through with some keyboard commands. When things came to the camera showed the two battling, after some exchange of glowing weapons and tossed cars, the blue and gold hero called out that she was here to protect them, before one last clash ended the battle, the hero subduing the man in black armor. At this point Bruce was uneasy: nothing seemed wrong with it: the line was a little corny, maybe, but what was there to really be mad about? Then she began showboating and:

"But I can't do it without the power from Roxxon Energy, and the great taste of Vitamin Water!"

Bruce felt his jaw drop in...awe? It was certainly a bold line in just how completely out of left field it was, even some in the crowd had been given pause. Beside him, Betty let out a low whine, the hero flying off and the video coming to a close, recommended videos popping up with more superhero antics and videos of elderly reacting to things. “Well that was...forced.”

Betty kept her eyes on him, expectantly, before letting out an exasperated, “If it was just corny and forced I’d just be lamenting the usual soulless capitalism, with them jumping on, really, the worst trends. But of course the one to jump on the hardest would be fucking Roxxon. They’re so blatantly trying to get more half-assed points with the progressive crowd, just like their limp dicked foray into solar, but this is just...ugh, I feel gross. I’ve always hated the precedent of corporations stepping in where the federal systems fail, but people are legitimately going to overlook a lot of bullshit because of a few unrobbed banks. And the fact that it’s a superhero. I mean she’s doing good, well, as much good as any of them bother to do, I’ll say that but...AAAAA.” Betty’s strangled cry cutting short, Bruce just let the storm blow through as always, nodding at appropriate times, but not having much to add nor the courage to ask for elaboration, even though he imagined Betty would be considerate with it. His bites of cereal even came slower: she’d never snapped at him for not paying attention, but it’d still be rude if she thought he was…

“It’s like so many of my least favorite things in one: Roxxon, forced marketing, and this stupid vigilante and meta craze. I don’t hate metas or anything, but-” And times like this Bruce kept his mouth full. At her most fervent she wouldn’t notice Bruce having to keep his head down to weather the storm. “-they are dangerous! I think it’s fair to say they need to be monitored or watched in some way.” Bruce just let the storm blow until it would peter out. She always did eventually, though this time maybe a bit more forceful than was typical. Even if the feelings in his gut sometimes churned the wrong way in response to her words, he still couldn’t help but to admire her passion, the woman blazing through so many topics: climate change, corporate interests and democratic systems, superhero exploits, metahuman rights: she might not have stopped if it hadn’t been for Bruce’s reaction after she brought up the volatility of mutants unaware of their powers, and the drastic consequences that could happen when they discovered them.

The topic led Bruce’s mind back to the morning. Driving about Navapo, they found the shopping center Bruce’s pickup was stopped at. While it had been easy enough, they couldn’t help but linger on the ruined smoke shop nearby. Betty had looked up the incident to find out that a green coupe had crashed into it, something she readily dismissed, but Bruce...couldn’t.

Milk burning his sinuses, Bruce hacked out what he’d accidentally breathed in, setting his nearly emptied bowl aside as Betty stopped herself, looking over him with concern as Bruce steadied himself. Cough still coming on, Bruce raised a hand, sputtering, “J-just went down...the wrong p-pipe.” As he tried to recover, Betty placed a hand on his back, Bruce mentally recoiling from touch, his back bending away slightly. Standing up, he coughed, “I’m fine.” As he finally went quiet, she nodded, finally cooled down, allowing the subject to shift over at long last.

Let her think that. As long as she believed it, Bruce didn’t have to think about whether it was true or not.

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

"Nah, you do you," Macario groaned, still bearing his wounds from the battle. Following the announcement, he'd headed back to the palace, knowing the rough location of the safe the king had been supposed to hide in, and sure enough there everyone was. Slumping down against a wall, he said, "I heal like a normal person: with food, sleep, and a bath, so I'll take that."

"...Does 'medical treatment' mean anything to you two?" Lina grimaced, still nursing her shoulder.

The king muttered, "This whole city needs treatment after this, how can you-"

Johannes held up a hand to the king, a faint smile on his face. "The man may be an idiot, but the easiest way to keep the calm would be to resume festivities as best as possible. The castle may have been damaged but the island is whole." The king frowned, but relented, the announcement going out, local journalists working to grab as much information as they could, quick to send out word to the archipelago as a whole, and the Blue as a whole. The Balder Knights saved the kingdom, along with the so called "Hero of Melonberry".

Oh, and the current leader of the Azure Company. The fact was thankfully not public, but the realization had Lina screaming, those present turning her way, before she blurted out, "Chester's a member of the Azure Company, and since he beat Cerulean he's Boss now! Boss Chester!?"

The king gawked, "Excuse me?"The queen gave Lina a tentative glance, to which she could only offer. "It's a long story, I'll explain..." Glancing back at her wound, she requested, "After I get patched up."

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

Chester crashing to the ground, Lina remained on her rear, catching her breath. Blood still stained her from her fight with Saff, and once again she'd exerted herself.

"I-is it over?" the king asked. Saff and Cerulean still lay defeated on the ground, as did Chester in his victory. From further ahead, Johannes still seemed conscious, though bloody. He panted, "I hear no mortars, or the sounds of soldiers storming the place, meaning your comrades still hold their ground, for now. I would hope the soldiers of the country are beginning to mount a counterattack, but if we can strike at their morale..." Johannes began to stand, but his leg caved out from under him. He nearly fell, and would have had Lina not caught him with her shoulder.

Looking to the king and queen, she said, "Keep my idiot safe, we might be able to end this ourselves." In tow with Johannes, the two moved.

---

Every breath he caught a valuable one, Macario continued to push back the attackers. Some had already gotten through, and he was getting more tired with every bout, but even Vermilion had taken a few licks by this point., his intimidation leading to cautious, slow burning strategies. In attrition, Vermilion would win out easily. Similarly too cautious to try and end things decisively, Macario laughed, "I'm trusting those idiots after all..."

Throwing a Xun just to keep the men rattled, Macario grinned, but before things could continue, a voice rang out, silver shining from the balcony of the castle.

"Cerulean is defeated!" Johannes cried. "Melonberry's hero won't stop there as long as you Four Color Companies continue your fight, so lay down your arms or his comrades and I will fight you to your last!" The man stood firm, clearly wounded but confident, he words shaking the hearts of those still stopped. The Azure company mooks were unmatched in the owner of their individual troops in the Blue, but Johannes' Balder Knights still head their ground despite being outnumbered. The Verdant Company had its leader defeated, and their mortars had been taken out on the first go round, its remaining men having already retreated as luck was not on their side. The Quartz Company had not been in the thick of things regardless and had no more stakes beyond logistics, which mattered little as everything fell apart. Vermilion gawked at the announcement, his men tittering in anxiety, some even making a retreat. "No way Cerelu-"

The clamoring of footsteps approaching, Macario snarled, Vermilion's guard well dropped. He was only able to let out one "Glack" while Macario went with "Li!" Fist catching flame, Macario's fist slammed into him, the man himself catching fire and bowling into his troops, the heat quickly spreading. Some went went to quench the outbreak, while many simply had no more direction with Vermilion's defeat, scattering like moths. Patting his fist out in the dirt, Macario let out a laugh, flopping to the ground. "What a damn mess..."

---

Stepping back, Johannes continued to catch his breath.

"'Melonberry's hero?'" Johannes repeated. Lina admitted, "He's going to be infamous one day, so I figure the king and queen wouldn't want to be linked to 'Chester D. Arnold'. He saved my town though, so the Companies would know him for that."

Looking back over the battleground, which was beginning to quiet, Johannes hoped, "Let's pray we don't need him again."

---

"No conformation on Cerulean yet but Vermilion was beaten!"

"What!?" Goldenrod spat, flopping back in his wheelchair. Teeth gnashing, he slammed his fist against his armrest. "And no word from Saff yet?" The messenger shook his head.

Goldenrod seethed. Kobicha and Chadwick had the misfortune of running into Kuhn, who'd technically beaten Viridian without taking any damage. Part of Goldenrod wanted to swarm him with the entire army, but he was hardly alone: forces from other islands were mobilizing as it was. If they were inside the castle they'd be defensible but as of now they were in the open, and he was the only executive left standing.

"Send some men to retrieve Saff, secretly. We're leaving, let the other armies keep making noise to keep attention off of us in the retreat."

The Quartz goon nodded. "Yes sir!" Another taking Goldenrod by the wheelchair, he began to roll off, the man hissing, "Just a bunch of pirates."

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: El Diablo Air Force Base, (Navapo, New Mexico)}

Seeing Green – 1.03

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.02

“So...what happened?”

Perking up at the voice, Bruce looked over from his bed to see Betty coming in. Right now it was mercifully quiet. The Base had a med-bay but it was now completely unoccupied, sans one bed. Betty winced as she approached. Her causal tone had likely been to alleviate any concerns Bruce might have had for her feelings, but either way, Bruce wasn’t in the best of states. His skin was burned red, especially the neck, back, and shoulders. The medical gown he wore under the light sheet covered much of it, but with as pasty as he normally was he knew full well the burn showed. His hands were more or less alright, but both of his feet were suspended, not in casts, but heavily bandaged. The doctor insisted he shouldn’t be walking at all for a day or so, and not extensively for more than a week, to which Bruce could only promise that he wouldn’t be taking any more desert expeditions any time soon.

While the military doctor hadn’t really pestered Bruce on the why, Betty wasn’t going to be so dismissive, and Bruce was about ready as he was going to be. Fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, Bruce cringed at the pain of his sunburn, letting out a groan, “Oh god I...I got mad again.” Shame was more than evident in his voice as he hid his face somewhat. “Road rage. A couple guys in a van almost hit a kid on the road.” Leaning back against his stiff, flat pillow, his hand rubbed across his forehead, palm over one of his eyes. “I remember getting out of my car and yelling at them. I turned away and they jumped me.” Betty’s eyes went wide. Bruce’s innards tightened. Lying always made him anxious, but the truth was even more baffling and fearful.

He had no idea. He was there then he was gone, waking up in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t hurt, just missing his glasses and phone. His story wasn’t completely implausible, except for that he had held most of the anger during that whole encounter.

However, where he could no longer get mad at this whole situation, a dark look crossed Betty’s face, her hand gripping her purse tightly. “That...I can’t...oooooh!” She hissed. Bruce winced, doing his best to keep his face neutral. “Sometimes I hate this city. What did they look like? Where did it happen?”

Letting his hand flop to the bed, Bruce murmured, “I don’t...really remember where it happened, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was driving. I think I know vaguely where it was... One of them was fat I think?” Bruce felt his insides pulse again. He was never one for lying, let alone to Betty. Biting the inside of his lip, he clenched the toes of his wounded feet, mentally grimacing at the pain. But even as it hurt, there was some satisfaction, a part of him knowing he deserved it.

Standing briskly, Betty said, “I’m going to head out for a bit.” Expression loosening she admitted, “You’re looking a little pale, should I get the doctor?” Letting out a breath, Bruce felt himself sinking into his bed as tension left his body. “He said he’d be back.” Betty gave a curt nod, before moving to the door. As soon as she reached it, it burst open, shoving her aside. Chest broad and decorated, gray mustache bristling alongside his anger, Bruce could feel his heart sinking lower with ever thundering step. He didn’t even need his glasses: even with his eyes closed he’d have known damn well who was coming. Towering over Bruce’s bed, General Ross shook his head. “Look at you. I’ve never had someone under my watch be so utterly inept at the basic duty of being at work on time.” Bruce’s breath came slowly, but shortly. His mind seemed to lock up, hair standing on end, body stiff in anticipation. “You know full well of the expectations shouldered on me, both from my superiors, my peers, those under me, and above all myself. Through some fuck up of fate, you’re in charge of the Gamma Stream Project. And now it’s going to fall even further behind. And that reflects on me.” Ross put one hand on the frame of Bruce’s bed, leaning in. Bruce couldn’t have replied even if he wanted to. “You being injured from walking of all damn things doesn’t mean you can’t come up with a gameplan. I want timelines, and-”

A stern cough fro mthe other side of the room stole Ross’ bluster. Stuck still, he turned over his shoulder, spotting Betty, the woman staring daggers. Ross slowly turned back to Bruce, releasing his hand from the bed and taking a half a step back. Giving Bruce a nasty look, he turned back to Betty, “Betty! Didn’t see you there. I should have known.” A flat smile on his face, he said, “If I knew-”

“Fuck off dad.” Ross didn’t move his eyes from her, after a moment he held his hands out helplessly. The awkwardness was punched through as the door opened again, Betty stepping away as the military doctor stepped in, nodding at the General. Ross gave Betty a nod. “I suppose I’ll just fuck off then.” Disaffected expression on his face, he kept his gaze forward as he took his leave.

Breath coming a little easier, if only slightly, he kept to himself as the doctor looked between him and Betty. “We can keep him overnight, but he’s technically not military personnel, so this is really a matter of his health insurance.” Betty gave a slow nod. “We’ll work that out tomorrow then.” The doctor saw an empty glass of water at Bruce’s bedside, taking the excuse, “I’ll be back with some water and I’ll make sure you get some rest.”

As he slipped out, Betty almost made to follow, but stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a glasses case. Bruce let out a sigh of relief, stretching out his arm for her to hand it off. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning when you can leave.”

Bruce gave a thankful nod as she finally left, Bruce alone in the spacious room. Cracking open his case, he withdrew a silver rimmed pair of spectacles, much like his other ones. Putting them on his eyes, he felt relief as everything became clear. Well, mostly. His eyebrow furrowed as he noted a slight disparity, his vision not quite as clear as he remembered. Realizing Betty must have grabbed an older pair by accident, he left out a light sigh, glad he could see regardless, and even more glad she was there for him. He reflexively tried to roll over, feeling drained, but his legs didn’t take much comfort at the odd angle, and they were starting to ache from the intense walking, far more than he’d done in years. Lying back in his bed, he was out before he knew it.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: Chihuahuan Desert (the outskirts of Navapo, New Mexico)}

Seeing Green – 1.02

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.01

Thumb sliding across the phone screen, blue eyes skimming a list of headlines, Elizabeth Ross adjusted her posture, crossing her legs the other way. One hand going to the hem of her black pencil skirt, her eyes shot up to the desk at the man in uniform, turning his Dallas-style mustachioed face away from her gaze ‘casually’ scratching the back of his head as he yawned. Rolling her eyes, she flopped her phone down, asking, “Can you page him again?”

Nameplate reading ‘G. Talbot’, the Staff Sergeant shrugged before turning to his internal phone line and picking up the receiver. Letting it hang, he asked, “What did you want to see him for again?”

Betty’s eyelids fluttered, breathing thrown off slightly. Keeping her cool, she reiterated, “I would like to see my boyfriend.” Her emphasis was pointed. She continued, “Look, I know security is tight after the accident, but...”

Talbot scowled, “What accident?” Looking around, he said, “You aren’t supposed to know about any accident.”

Are you fucking serious? Betty didn’t say the words, but Talbot’s sharp reaction was ample enough evidence to show that expression was all she needed. Holding up his free hand helplessly, he muttered, “I can’t just let a journalist in without permission.” Eyebrows raised, he added, perhaps playfully, “I mean, maybe we can work something out...”

Betty could have thrown her phone through his face. Science advocacy was a bit more broad then just journalism, but she knew damn well that Glenn was trying to earn some kind of favor, because he always did. Or always tried. Arm pulling back, she flexed as though she might toss the phone at him, but only for a moment, quickly bringing it back around to her face. There was a moment of hesitance as she went through her priority contacts, thumb hovering over ‘Dad’. “I can see what the General has to say if you’d like.” Betty hated pulling the ‘dad’ card, but being with Talbot was honestly worse. Eyes darting to the phoneline in trepidation, Talbot complied. Picking up the phone, he rolled his chair back and turned away, calling it out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Betty's hovering foot tapped the air lightly as she waited.

Hanging up the phone, Talbot came back to the desk. “Uh...Banner still hasn’t show up.”

Betty stared for a moment, before shaking her head. Going to her contacts, she phoned Bruce. Letting it ring, she knew it wouldn’t have reached him if he were actually in the lab where it wasn’t allowed, but at the moment he could be anywhere. Yet the phone only rang fruitlessly. “The person you are trying to reach is unav-”

Hanging up, Betty glanced behind her, as if Bruce might show up in the waiting area. Turning back, eyes finding a vacant spot on the floor, her mind was abuzz as she postulated on just where that man could have gone, or what he could have gotten himself in to.

---

First was the dream, the rush of the desert speeding before him.

Second was the heat of the dirt he rested on, its painful scent. Third was the breeze, the dust it carried lost, confused. Fourth was the harsh beat of the sun, so furious.

And finally was the terror. Bruce took in a sharp breath, coughing and hacking the dirt and dust that came with it. Grunting and groaning, he pulled his arms out from underneath him and crawled to his knees, mouth dripping globules of spit as he tried to drain the dirt out of his mouth. His breath couldn’t seem to regulate as more and more information brought him more and more confusion. His glasses were missing: he couldn’t see well, but he could tell he was in the middle of the desert, blurry rocks and dry shrubs spattered in the dusty flats. It was still day, but the sun was dipping even lower in the sky, closer and closer to tinting the day orange. His feet burned, bare against the ground. His pants felt loose, several of the seams broken. His shirt was in tatters, only hanging on quite literally by threads. The cold sweat on his skin might have made the breeze more comforting, even as dirt stuck to his skin, but it did not calm him. What he last remembered already seemed distant, the anger he’d felt well drowned out by his current emotional cocktail. Desperately skimming his pockets, his phone was gone, but he had his keys and his wallet, (for as good as that would do him).

Trying to make out anything he could, he stumbled to a shadier spot, crouching under a medium sized rock to get out of the blare of the sun. With one thing out of the way, however small, Bruce’s mind tried to figure anything useful, pushing back his confusion as a dread set in. legally blind without his glasses and in the middle of the desert, the very real possibility existed that he would die. The Base would be wondering where he was since he didn’t show up to work, but god knows how many hours it would take before they really got to searching, and what reason would Bruce have to be out here? Betty would be dragged into his mess too. She wouldn’t rest until he was found (bless her), but Bruce didn’t want to worry her if he could help it. But could he? Out here in the nothing? Picking a direction and going would be dangerous, but the phrase ‘do or die’ was one he couldn’t shake from his thought process. He needed direction, and if he was lucky he wasn’t that far. But then again, if he were lucky, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place.

Turning about, Bruce stooped and scrambled up onto the rock, the tallest thing within a few meters, taking a seat on the surface. Grimacing as the sun’s heat met him yet again, he bore it as he kept his eyes peeled. Rubbing his forehead with the back of his arm to keep the sweat back, he skimmed the horizon, straining to pick out some kind of landmark. Color was about the only thing he could really see in his blurred visions, any shape distorting ever so slightly. But among that was light, and from his position he swore he could make out points of light reflected in the sun: vehicles in a parking lot? It was the only thing that stood out from the tanned stone and stumpy shrubs, and with only one option before him, he didn’t feel like he had much choice. He had to move. Now. Or else he wasn’t going to make it back.

Hoping, praying, Bruce dared to make his way. His feet did not take to the movement kindly. Wearing shoes outside your whole life really dulled you to just how much there really was to feel underfoot. Cracks in the ground became falling hazards, Bruce ultimately blind to them. Every little rock poked at his feet, his reflexes demanding he flinch away but his mind fighting that notion, gritting through the pain and discomfort to maintain his course. After some time he stopped himself in some shade, removing what remained of his shirt. It barely covered him as it was, so while his pale complexion was set to burn a nice shade of red, he could at least protect his feet, even if only a little. Guarding his heel and toes with bindings from the scraps of his shirt, he continued on, but the reprieve only lasted so long before they inevitably came undone, the little protection they offered short lived as it was. Feet now totally bare and god knows how much desert lay in front of him, the dirt only became more of an issue. The longer he walked, the more he could feel it grind him down. Sandpaper had its name for a reason after all, and as the walk went on, blisters forming, then bursting, skin went red, rubbed raw, before splitting. The stinging as blood became matted in the dirt, wounds coated in dust was only bearable as Bruce tried to focus on the reflections still in the distance, steadily becoming closer as the sunlight fractured into orange. Even if the area’s temperature was becoming more temperate, the cold that was coming only made Bruce worry more, as he was certainly just as unprepared for that as he was for this.

Crushing day turned to foreboding night, even the moonlight could not make up for Bruce’s lacking eyesight. And yet, somehow, his tenacity allowed him to press on just long enough as he stumbled face first into a chain link fence. Falling back onto his rear, he looked, but he simply could not see it, though the sound was unmistakable. Beyond he couldn’t make out much of anything through the darkness, but he didn’t need to. One hand on the fence, he picked a direction and went, the fence allowing him to brace himself as he went along, praying it would take him somewhere.

But instead, it took others to him. The barking of dogs in the distance sent a wave of hope, then a wall of anxiety and dread in the face of not knowing what he was getting in to. Looking around, he saw lights bobbing out from the other side of the fence, shapes moving alongside. Letting go of the fence, Bruce took a step back, waiting for their arrival with his hands raised. A voice called out, spouting Spanish, Bruce only making out a bit of it. As they made it ever closer, Bruce sputtered, but no words came out, his throat too dry. Covering his mouth and trying to make due, he finally gagged, “No hablo m...mucho español. Solo un poco. I-” Bruce stopped, a series of coughs bursting from his chest before he groaned, “...speak English.”

To tired to even look up as lights looked over him, Bruce heard, “Hey he needs medical attention!” He nudged his partner, yanking the dog on its leash back, before pulling out a walkie to call it in. The other grasped the fence, looking around, likely trying to figure where Bruce was to go from here.

Bruce dared asked, “Where am I?” The guard’s head shot to him. Bruce couldn’t see much with the flashlights ensuring they only appeared as silhouettes. The guard answered, “El Diablo Air Force Base.”

Relief flooding through him, Bruce kept his hands where they could be seen as he sunk to his knees, bloodied feet taking any reprieve they could get. Voice raspy, he let out a low laugh simply out of relief.

“Sorry, I’m late for work. I got here as fast as I could.”

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: Present Day Navapo, New Mexico}

Seeing Green – 1.01

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: N/A

The sound of tires against pavement screeched, the scent of burnt rubber permeating in moments. “Oh fuck oh god auuugh... What the fuck.”

Hands gripping the wheel of is pickup, Bruce Banner gawked at the streets before him. Watching the green coupe crossing the highway he’d just been about to turn on, he pulled his car over, leaning out, intent on a shaken child with a backpack, who’d simply been heading home when that car went up on the sidewalk, barreling towards him before turning off at the last second, all right in plain sight, rubber based smoke still floating about.

“Are you okay!?” Bruce found himself shouting. The boy nodded his eyes wide, Bruce’s intensity likely not helping, but Bruce was focused now. Snapping his head back to the road, he stepped on the gas, the other vehicle still visible in the distance. Blaring past his turn, he pursued, streaming forward well past the low speed limit, keeping trail as they turned. The day was hot and dusty yet again in Navapo, meaning there weren’t a whole lot of people about off the main roads in this afternoon, giving Bruce ample room to follow, keeping pace until they pulled into an old shopping center, a few cars parked outside but no one about in the heat. As they pulled in front of a smoke shop, Bruce slammed into the space just past them, taking his keys and storming out of his car as the driver came out of his. They couldn’t have looked much more different, Bruce in his glasses, white dress shirt, and dark gray slacks, with the driver in a tank top and black bandanna, his face thin and stubble blonde. He watched Bruce incredulously as he approached, anger more than evident on his face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he demanded, on guard but not aware anything was even wrong. Bruce’s eyes might have shot out of his head. “D-di-did you not see the kid you almost hit?” Bruce felt his arm trembling, his glare harsh, but even though he was no doubt going to be late for work, even though he no doubt looked ridiculous, none of that was anywhere in his mind. “You went up on the curb because you weren’t paying any goddamn attention!”

Pointing a finger, the man spat, “Hey I didn’t see shit, and I didn’t do nothing, now you step off, bitch.” Gait thundering, he moved on, ripping open the door and going inside. Bruce stared daggers at the neon signs filling the entryway before his attention was pulled away by a passenger, the driver’s Hispanic friend having pulled himself out of the window, looking at Bruce over the hood, claiming, “He wasn’t close to hitting him, relax man. Shit.” Flabbergasted, Bruce had no more words, the man going back into the car and pulling out a phone, busying himself in its screen.

Standing there, completely dismissed, none of Bruce’s anger was going to just fade away. He could call the cops, but more than likely the kid had moved on by now, spooked and just wanting to get home, and Bruce couldn’t know how much the family would actually press the issue with no evidence and barely an incident to even speak of. And yet, he couldn’t shake his feelings, he mind dwelling on the worst case, the kid no longer having anything ever to say, how the parents might have felt, that sheer devastation. Friends at school needing to be explained what it meant when he was never going to come back. Bruce’s fist continued to tremble, his breath coming on tensely. Moving to the backs of the vehicles, he glanced at the license plate of their car, then to his own, which just last night had nearly hit something innocent, and not without guilt at the near miss.

And then, Bruce was gone.

---

Those within the smoke shop, a tired cashier behind a thick plastic barrier and the blonde driver, had only just been making a typical transaction. Neither had any expectation or explanation when the green coupe had come barreling through the entrance, showering the room in glass, hitting the cashier booth and shifting its trajectory, knocking the driver in the leg and merely shaking the cashier physically and mentally. By the time the dust had settled, the authorities swooping in for cleanup, no one was more or less aware of what the hell had actually happened. Security cameras only took footage from the entryway itself, the only part visible from outside was the grill of the coupe before it suddenly rushed forward into the building. Both the passenger and driver walked away with some injuries, but no one had seen what had happened at all, and the evidence was left...wanting, to say the least. The passenger remembered hearing or seeing nothing until the car was launched forward, and the only unusual evidence on the car was a dent on the rear. Both driver and passenger insisted it hadn’t been there before, and it was too small to be from an impact, or at least not one that could have thrust the car into the building. More likely someone driving had simply backed in to another vehicle unknowingly. With no conclusive evidence, the only remaining line of thought turn to ‘metahumans’. The unexplainable could easily be pushed away, fears still lingering from recent events making it so much easier to accept, at least personally. Legally, paying heed to the public spooks of ‘metas’ or ‘muties’ wasn’t looked highly upon, even if the thought was always there in the back of the mind. But while it may have been brought up as a possibility, it was just as quickly dismissed: no evidence or witnesses, and no potential suspects, superpowers or no. The case went ice cold just as quickly as it came in, in spite of its heated onset.

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