Pacifista

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: Navapo, New Mexico}

A Fresh Set of Eyes – 2.05

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 2.04

The shadow thin around the park bench, grass drying, pond shallow and akin to muck, Betty sat up as a dark purple pickup rolled into the nearby parking lot. Aside from that, she was completely still and relaxed, even as the vehicle stopped, General Ross stepping out in a casual polo shirt and jeans, arm still cast in a sling. Keeping tabs on Betty, he went up the slight incline, already in sour states. “So now you feel like talking? I can guess why but I don’t like it.”

“This isn’t about the drones. I know they didn’t come back,” Betty insisted. Ross was given pause, resting a few steps away and only just above her eye level, leaning on his leg against the incline, hand on his knee as he looked her in the eyes. “I’m not going to ask how you know about that. But I will say that if you think this misstep is going to convince me to stop then you don’t know me half as well as you should.”

Ross got back up, taking a seat on the bench, keeping his fair distance as Betty crossed her leg, gaze not deliberately going to him. “Just answer my questions so we can get back to what I’m sure we’d both rather be doing.” Ross’ mustache rustled with a tired breath. “We haven’t talked since the Hulk smashed through my base. This is what I would rather be doing. I want to see that you’re alright.” Betty’s stern look didn’t abate, nor did she turn to Ross, the man huffing as he looked off himself, letting his vision become distracted with a plume of cloud thinning and drifting apart somewhere far off.

“His name is Bruce.” Betty finally stated. “But I’m not here for that. I want to know more about Brian Banner.” Ross was taken aback, leaning forward, eyes betraying how much he had expected the subject. “Both of Bruce’s transformations happened after the Diffuser accident, but the trigger seems to be the anger he’s always had issues with. He’s not good at controlling himself when he’s angry, and he doesn’t get angry a lot, so I didn’t notice at first.”

“And why Brian?” Ross only had a second to take in Betty’s glare before she lashed out, striking him across the face. His eyes burned into hers, the warm day only getting hotter, much like his stinging cheek. Betty’s hand was trembling, her breath like a storm. “Don’t you fucking dare. You knew exactly what was going on in that house. I knew.”

Turning away, a hand came to Betty’s mouth, clutched. Every surfacing memory gave her a pang of guilt, a twinge of shame, a punch in the gut for every bruise she saw and said nothing. She had been eight. It was just a fact of life, something that just happened and no one could do anything about it. But she wasn’t eight any more. She understood well what could have been, what needed to be done. But that didn’t explain or excuse the lack of action from those around her. Hands steady, Betty’s breath seethed as she turned back to Ross expectantly.

“You don’t look like you’ll hear me out, but fine. Their family was not my business. The only reason any of it is my business now is because someone in that family turned my base into a playground. Don’t blame me for not getting involved in something they should have been able to sort out themselves.” Betty’s glare remained unbending, the woman’s anger blazing. Truth be told she couldn’t even speak. As she rose, her thoughts stumbled into one another. His complete dismissal of the Banner family dynamic and the power Brian must have had over it, the inequity and difficulty of those victimized by him to do anything about their circumstances, ones that left a person dead. And this man didn’t care one bit.

She wanted to storm away, but she hadn’t yet gotten what she wanted. Arms crossed, fingernails pinching her skin, she turned back, demanding, “I need to find out where Brian is.”

Ross scoffed. Leaning forward in his seat, he said, “So you can do what? Get him to un-fuck Bruce’s head? He’s not that kind of doctor.” Ross’ casual demeanor was only getting on Betty’s nerves even more. He didn’t care enough to even be angry. “Saving Bruce is the idea.”

Ross shook his head, leaning back, throwing his free arm over the back of the bench. “That’s not happening. Even if by some miracle you get to him before I do, he’s the poster child of what this nation is afraid of right now. A life in Blackgate would be lucky for him. An example needs to be made. Though maybe execution would be a wiser move. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about how he’d be better off dead.”

Betty’s mind flashed to images of herself getting him in the head, crushing his nose with her heel. Her arms twitched, as if to throw the first thing that came to them. Holding herself back, her palpable frustration almost became tears, but once she felt them welling up, she blinked them back. Keeping her eyes closed tight, inky blackness took over, the faintest of light getting through showing blobs of green. With a deep breath, she asked, “Is that want you want? To piss me off?.” She couldn't keep her voice from quavering, revealing her true self, but she could step back, Betty kept away from the playing field where she would have fallen in her lack of experience, unable to match the fervor of a man who’s shouting had resulted in the oldest memory she could recall.

Ross sighed, pulling his arm off the back of the bench. “I’m trying to protect you while you’re trying to kiss up to a monster!” Ross spat “He sneezed off the Diffuser, broke my arm without even trying, and a drone strike only slowed him down. And to shoot down your stupid theory, he’s transformed randomly in the desert, we’ve been watching him. What do you think he’s getting mad about out there? Huh?”

Betty was given pause, but she refused to give ground, “I’ll ask him myself, before or after I see Brian, whichever comes first, with our without your help.” Betty turned off, making her way. Ross was taken aback, standing from his spot. “Don’t you run away from me! We’re not done here!”

Betty didn’t stop. Ross bared his teeth, swearing before shouting back, “Just because you made it away from the monster once doesn’t mean it’ll happen again!” Betty didn’t stop, her words just barely audible to her father, eyes straight forward. “I don’t plan on seeing the monster again in the first place.” As she drove off, Ross had very well seen that she hadn't looked back at him even once, and very much feared he wouldn't see her again.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: New Mexico}

A Fresh Set of Eyes – 2.04

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 2.03

Waking up was a new beginning that Bruce was no longer looking forward too. These rests had only been fatigue after fatigue. Aimless, it didn’t seem to matter which direction he moved in, so maybe it was better not to move at all.

Then he caught the smell of oils of some kind, a manufactured stench. Opening his eyes, he got up, looking about to see smoke, black and noxious. Unnatural and artificial. Scampering across dust in between shrubs, he cried out as he felt pain across his foot. Looking down there was a hunk of metal jutting out of the ground. Watching his step, foot angled to avoid putting pressure on his wound, each step still testing it and making him hold back a small yelp of pain, he made it to his goal, looking at the wreckage. He felt his insides wash away, averting his gaze, not wanting to see any further.

It was an aircraft. The last sound he’d heard was that of a missile, set to destroy him. And yet now, it was he who was standing. He heard a raspy rattled gurgle from his own throat, reverberating as he tried to get away on his wobbly legs. The drumbeat of his heart matched the throbbing in his head. He couldn’t look, because if he did he’d risk seeing a body. The absolute proof he needed to know that the missile should have done its job.

Peeling away, he whined as he saw the smoke of yet another wreck, then another. The energy had been swept out of him. Buckling he feel to his knees, thrusting his forehead into the dirt. His hand gripped empty air, before clawing down scraping at the earth, but none of his pain could quell the despair at his actions, the anger at himself.

Anger, that was it wasn’t it. The linking thread between the smoke shop and Talbot. Some kind of intense emotion, like the stew of grief one felt before their death.

To invite suspicion was one thing, to invite government action was another. They knew who he was, what he was, and what he’d done, something Bruce could only imagine. Body no longer hurting, Bruce pushed himself over, resting on his rear. His foot still had blood, but it no longer bled. Wiping it away, it had healed like it was new, something he could see through eyes that had better sight then he remembered having even with corrective lenses.

It was all clear now. So very much.

---

Carefully out of sight, Bruce slipped on a red and white plaid shirt, loose and oversized on his thin body. Finally in something resembling an outfit after days, Bruce skulked away from the rural home, taking to the road a little ways up. His feet had hardened, resisting the heated asphalt with only a mild discomfort. And most importantly of all, he had direction: east, away from the setting sun.

The military hadn’t bothered him again, though for all he knew they could find him at any time. He would deal with that as it came, however. If need be he’d turn himself in, though he couldn’t be certain what prison could contain him. As much as he feared being stuck somewhere cold and dark once again, it was that exact fear that drove his step eastward. He couldn’t go back, not to Betty or Rick. He could only pray they weren’t hurting, that they were still alright. But going back would risk hurting them further. He’d felt guilt and shame over his emotions, but only after the fact. That was his mistake, now he had to know himself, to keep himself restrained before he showed what he was like when he was angry.

He’d never liked when he was angry in the first place.

But as chancy as it was, in New York there might have been someone he could burden, the one with the best chances at knowing why or what exactly he was. Because one thing was certain, he was the only one alive who made Bruce, Bruce. He still hadn’t ever felt resentment over his treatment, just fatigue. His step was not determined: the man could so easily make Bruce feel emotions he didn’t know he had, but maybe that was a good enough threat to keep him in line. A wave of guilt welled from within, but Bruce swallowed hit back. Even after all he’d done, Bruce still couldn’t hate him. And now he knew why. Or rather, where.

Where the one Bruce really despised had been all this time.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: New Mexico}

A Fresh Set of Eyes – 2.03

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 2.02

Bruce had quickly come to hate the sound of the desert, and in the time since he’d been stuck here, needless to say that hadn’t changed. It was mostly the wind, the breeze picking at dirt and boulder. Sometimes there was a sound of a creature, the fearful hiss of a snake or flapping of a wing. Mostly it was his feet taking step by step. It was through those feet that he had become so aware of whatever was within him. Every day he tore his feet to shreds walking, and every morning they would be patched up stronger. He was healing, regenerating. He had been for a while but only now was he starting to see. On one hand things were easier: he likely wouldn’t die at least, and as he skin was tanning and feet getting firm the actual trail was easier to blaze. But on the other he only had his thoughts and the sound of emptiness. He hadn’t found a road so he must have been going in circles, or been unlucky in the direction he picked, or perhaps set back by those times his body couldn’t handle itself and something else took control. It was all a terrible mess, and he wanted to be free of it.

Then there was another sound.

---

Splintered and shattered, dust bellowed into the air, lungs of fire glowing from within the cloud.

“Direct hit sir.” A bespectacled operative reported. Overseeing from the back, eyes narrowed on the footage being displayed among the various monitors, General Ross picked at his firm mustache with one of his hands. The other rested trapped in a cast, hung on a sling. The general only wore a regular army shirt, his dress coat not suitable with his current injury. The man need not have served in his present state, but his was a fury that could not be so easily contained. Between the current climate around metahumans, public response to the El Diablo attack, and his own fervor, getting permission for the counterattack was simple. They’d been watching, it was only a matter of time before they could strike.

As the cloud ruptured, a green monster tearing out of it, Ross knew other matters were not going to be so simple.

As the Hulk gave chase to its attackers, bounding after them, an analyst noted, “The target’s vertical jump distance leaves the drones just out of reach at their current altitude.”

Head perking up, Ross ordered, “Get closer. Attract its attention and pull back.”

Several miles away, the drones were but a speck to the Hulk, but each jump brought them closer. Plan of attack ready, in a short minute the Hulk was on them, jumping up only for the drones to pull upward and turn about, Hulk slipping past and crashing to the ground. As it began to turn back it met another payload, swallowed by fire and dust yet again. Drones starting to circle like vultures, Hulk came out of the smoke blind, but jumping dangerously close. Then there was a its arm, pulled back before letting loose. It began to fall back as one of the drones command consoles shout warnings, its integrity compromised, a rock the size of a cake having sent the drone closer to its last, a wing plummeting to the ground as the Hulk did. The drone stayed aloft but it wasn’t going to last. It’s travel was halted as the Hulk returned to the sky once again, grabbing the drone and twisting its whole body, redirecting its descent right into the flight path of a second drone. The third fired a missile that went awry, slipping past the Hulk as he fell back to the ground once again. The tossed drone narrowly missed its target, emergency maneuvers getting it out of the way, by the drone pulled to its side had trouble stabilizing, skirting the ground and bouncing off the crags below, grounded.

The third drone had pulled back, firing just as the Hulk went after it. The monster could not reach, but the cameras finally got a good visual, noting that the missiles had found their mark, Hulk speckled in char and matted dust. Yet it did not slow his charge. Another missile came in hoping to do just that, and the Hulk swatted it aside like it was a bug.

Ross felt his eyelid throb. Sneering at that monster on screen, he finally spat, “Abort the operation.” He could feel stinging in his throat from trying to shout orders these last few minutes of combat, but it had been a disappointing endeavor. All that ordinance and the Hulk didn’t even seemed phased. Then he heard the last of it. “Sir, the last drone was taken out.”

Brow crumpling, Ross stood from his seat. Lifting it up, his arm bent awkwardly in his sling, barely gripping it with that hand, before swinging it into the wall behind him. One chair leg made a dent in the plaster. If both his arms were working then it’d have done more, he knew. That fact only pissed him off even more, dent deepening with another smack of the chair. The back of the seat came off on the third hit, chair clattering to the ground and bouncing against his shin.

Holding back another roar, Ross’ voice cracked as he commanded, “You are all dismissed. Prep a team to salvage the drones once the Hulk is clear of the area, and GET OUT OF MY SIGHT BEFORE I RIP OFF SOMEONE’S ARM AND SHOVE IT DOWN THEIR THROAT.” The scramble was immediate and brief.

Placing one hand on his desk in the now empty command room, every breath further stoked the fire within him.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{Location: New Mexico}

A Fresh Set of Eyes – 2.02

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 2.01

With every step seemed to come a fall. With every breath seemed to come an unseasonal chill. With every pang of the stomach came a wave of nausea.

Falling to all fours, it took everything Bruce had to not fall even further. Getting back up didn’t seem doable. On his second day of trying to find his way, his body was past its limit. No food, no water. Even if he had his full vision he had no survival skills to speak of. He didn’t know where he could find water, couldn’t catch any animals with his sight, and didn’t know what plants were edible. The only reason he hadn’t died in the night was because he had a mind to bury himself in sand, creating a cover to trap his body heat, but now his legs and arms were giving out with no salt, calories, or nutrients to function. He wasn’t even sweating any more, his body holding on to every drop of water it had. He’d heard that the body could survive three days without water, but it seemed like that was a faint hope.

Recognizing the fruitlessness of his efforts to stay off the ground, Bruce collapsed, rolling on his side. Crags and expanse all about him, his eyes were back to the blue. And there they stayed. Trapped in his own body, the heat unbearable, muscles aching, throat arid, he’d believed he was weak, that it was over, but his body stubbornly held on. As much as he wanted to melt into the scorching earth, his body remained afloat. Losing the strength to even hold his eyes open, his vision became red, sunlight bleeding through his eyelids, refusing his respite. Helpless to his circumstances, Bruce couldn’t even muster the will to try and get up. Instead, his breath reached equilibrium, his sight engulfed by white. He briefly wondered if it was intended to be a canvas, a screen to which his life would flash in his last. No such visions came, but the pain became secondary. Like the void in his sights his body felt distant, and for the first time in ages he felt at peace. A peace that went cold as his body seemed to freeze. With his darkening mood, one delicate under death’s grip, his sight too went dark, and everything was gone.

---

Just a flash of green for every moment. The blood rushing in his ears gave way to a ringing, a beeping. Endless, incessant, obnoxious. Eyes tried to flutter open but they were stopped for just a moment. There was a strangled gasped, like finding air for the first time. The beeping seemed to get louder, but he wanted it to stop, not knowing its truth. Deaf to the answers, he only heard his name being called as he struggled against that which kept him down, hand grasping at the blanket over him. A brief glance brought him to the sight of a nurse, who held one of his shoulders down, trying to keep him still.

“Let me move.” He grunted. Pulling the blankets back he expected them to hold tight but they slid back like it was nothing. “Sir, please. Mr. Blonsky.”

“Let go!” Blonsky spat. The nurse held his hands up. “I’m not touching you sir!” Blonksy finally stopped to listen. The beeping of his heart monitor refused to slow, only intensifying as his hand touched his thigh. Or rather, the empty piece of meat he thought to be his thigh. Leaning forward, he went to reach his toes, but only his shoulders came up, his waist unmoving.

Holding onto the flesh of his leg, trying to hold himself up, he gaped, noise going muddy, sight swimming. With a rush of air his head fell ever so slightly, never being so high in the first place, yet it came crashing down all the same.

---

Betty felt her nose crinkle as she opened the door, wincing and the smell of incense. She never liked the smell of smoke, and whatever else was supposed to be called to mind by the scent she didn’t enjoy either. Unable to keep herself from coughing, she hacked, “Rick what the hell is this?

Leaning over a computer screen, Rick answered, “I just focus better with it, sorry.” Stopping so that he could wheel his chair over, he snuffed it out, nabbing a remote to turn on a fan.

Flopping down on the couch, she wished she really had the chance to get some fresh air. Rick’s apartment was sparse, made up of a couch, computer setup, with a table that extended into the nearby kitchen. She was only here for a bit, as trying to get to her apartment was...well, no longer easy. General Ross grasped why she’d had the reaction she did to that monster, coming to the same realization, and in her fervor he may have let it’s identity ‘slip’ to news outlets. Needless to say Betty didn’t want to be seeing him anytime soon.

The Hulk. That’s what the monster Bruce had become was being called, thanks to one of the earliest reports on the attack countrywide. Such a senseless attack on an unprepared, government run target by a previously unknown meta was just the story the current political climate needed, very neatly fitting the anti-meta narrative. Betty might have even been running with it: she’d said her pieces before, such as after the first student to attack their school with mutant powers, complicating school shooting and gun law discussions even further. But this time, even the thought of trying to put something to the page about the Hulk exhausted her. She’d known the signs, warned others to watch for them, ask them to look past their biases and certainties. To somehow find that which was being kept hidden before it exploded out. And in no capacity had she succeeded in following her own words.

Bruce ended up in the desert over road rage? And another car had randomly found its way into a smoke shop? The way he tended to shut down when certain topics came up wasn’t unusual for him, but in the moment she even had that thought of ‘he hasn’t reacted like this before’. And then she dismissed it. She’d known Bruce for so long it felt like she knew everything about him, but that thought was a dangerous one, and reflection kept bringing her more pain, more of their childhood.

How deeply did this go? And if recollection brought her so much pain, what was Bruce going through right now?

The air a bit clearer, Betty sat up again. Rick took note, turning about in his chair. “Thinking about...you know?” Betty unconsciously bit her lip, admitting, “It’s hard not to right now. Did you come up with anything?”

Rick had been lucky to avoid particular notice. Ross’ leak had been the only significant one. Rumor and speculation was abound, but the exact nature of the Gamma Stream project, and more importantly, those who worked on it, was still very much government secrets. Betty was expected to be involved in the eventual press release when it was ready for public display and investment, but now the whole thing was up in the air. At the very least, Fendi Labs was also being quiet, so Rick’s place was currently a blind spot to snoops, once Betty shook off anyone tailing her at least.

“There was one thing: Ross fired the Discharger and Bruce just sneezed it off.” Betty winced: to her it had been the Hulk, but she kept her mouth shut. “The residual radiation should have been a threat to everyone in that room, but there was barely anything.”

Betty frowned, “That was like when Bruce was hit by it too, right? The Discharger...” Betty trailed off, having moved towards an explanation in her mind, but Rick’s winced, moving in. “Those are the exceptions, not the rules. Every time Bruce was involved, the results have been relatively tiny, but every other time the measurable output has been expected. Levels that would pretty easily kill a person. It’s not the machine, it’s Bruce. Somehow he’s capable of absorbing radiation, like a sponge. I don’t know if it’s detectable, or if it’s even safe to be near him.” Betty felt her heart run cold. Rick sensed her anxiety and explained, “Look, everyone there was tested and you had no more or less radiation then anyone there. We can’t discount the possibility that this is a still evolving mutation, if it’s even a mutation at all.”

Betty swallowed. That confirmed it, and the explosive symptoms at the very least only seemed to have started after the accident. That said, they didn’t seem purposeful. A continuation of accidents, triggered by...

“It wasn’t before the accident. It wasn’t!” Betty realized, almost jumping out of her seat. Rick seemed taken aback, but didn’t interrupt. “He was mad at Talbot, and a little while before that he got into road rage. The car didn’t match the description he gave, but that might have been the first time: the Hulk sent it into a building.” Rick seemed a bit lost in her rambling, but she persisted, “I remember him doing the same thing as he did last time before the accident, he fought off a dog that attacked us. No Hulk.” Knuckle over her mouth, she admitted, “It’s anger. The Hulk is Bruce when he’s angry.”

Rick scratched his chin. “Well, I’ve almost never seen him angry so...”

It had clicked together, but it didn’t seem to solve anything. Losing that motivation, Betty flopped back into her seat. Trying to envision a future only muddled her thoughts. She could only see clearly when looking back. “Hey Rick, there’s a scientist I want you to look into, when you get time.” Rick turned back to his screen, head over his shoulder watching her carefully. Betty closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the scent of that autumn in particular, the light smoke from neighborhood fireplaces, the leaves molding into the dirt, and the cigarette stench of the one who found the two runaway children.

“I need to know more about Brian Banner.”

---

Taste of slime and muck filling his mouth, Bruce opened his eyes, something he hadn’t expected to ever do again. He felt moisture on his back, soft dirt all about. The air was cool yet above he could see the sun, in between the crags creating shade, and flashes of green tinged his sights. Rolling over, he was shocked to have the energy. The movement shifted his bowels, and a belch came to the surface, its taste like a vegetable. Looking up to see a pool of stagnant water, he swatted away at the itching, flies finding him. Moving away, he stepped out of the hideaway and back into the heat, getting his bearings.

He was still very much in the desert, but somehow he’d ended up at what was more or less a hidden oasis. A bit more plant life was about, including some destroyed cacti. That broken fresh scent reminded him of the unfamiliar taste, and it came together, hope and fear alike. He’d been saved by the very thing that put him here, that shoved that car into the building and threw him into the desert. And yet that thing may have done something even worse, and he could not remember even a bit. He wanted to see Betty, so badly, or even just to find out if she was alright. Talbot? Ross? Rick? Anyone?

Falling to his knees, taking in the heat, the landscape before him seemed just a little bit clearer. He had no direction, and he hated that his ineptness meant he would have to continue to rely on that, but it was keeping him alive.

For better or worse.

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."