Pacifista

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

T H E H U L K

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^{_{B R U C E B A N N E R ♦ N U C L E A R P H Y S I C I S T / F U G I T I V E ♦ N O R T H A M E R I C A ♦ I N D E P E N D E N T}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"At this point, I don’t think I care if anyone tries to stop me."}

23 years ago, a young boy suffered deeply at the hands of the a monster who tried to turn him into another one. Two shining lights in his life dwindled to one before he was finally freed. 7 years ago, he found a life with that remaining light, and things were good. 5 years ago, he showed the world how much of a monster he really was. 4 years ago he met the monster who’d made him one, and snuffed the life from him.

The attack on Navapo, New Mexico, and El Diablo Air Force Base shook the world, and the inability of SHIELD to capture the Hulk directly led to further havoc in New York some months later. Though Hulk was captured at the end of his tantrum, he would come to escape, few prepared to contain such a powerful superhuman. Since then, while he occupied a specific place in the cultural consciousness, one that couldn’t be overlooked, luckily, for many who remained fearful, his escape resulted in the Hulk virtually vanishing, largely unheard of outside of fanciful, unsubstantiated rumor.

Bruce still lives, having escaped to Central America in an attempt to live peacefully, divorced from the self he aimed to bury. But nothing is meant to be repressed forever.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Spiritually succeeding the iteration of the character I played in the past, by jumping ahead to year 5, I’ll be able to skip a lot of that introduction (with the freedom to flashback if needed) and put Hulk in a much more free position to interact with other players. As a character with a lot of baggage, both mentally and given his place in recent history, there’s definitely a lot of potential given the inevitable discord between League and Avengers, not even just with Bruce, but Ross as well. All while Brian (spoilers, not dead) continues his machinations in the shadows.

This Bruce is one a bit less reserved. A once shy nerd having been thrown out into a harsh world, he’s fed up with sitting down and telling himself to put up with it if it means overlooking wrongdoing. Why should he run and hide while plenty of other monsters do business in the world openly? Of course, the Hulk won’t be so easy to tame, and no matter what he tries to do there will be those who refuse to accept him, and those who refuse to let him be accepted.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Elizabeth “Betty” Ross – Bruce’s childhood friend. Largely a reporter on cultural matters (metas and heroes in particular), she also grew up with Bruce, and was his girlfriend before his transformation into the Hulk.
General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross (to potentially become The Red Hulk) – Betty’s protective father and member of the US Air Force. Highly distrustful of metas, he’s been an active internal proponent of anti-meta measures and resources. Given that he fundamentally can’t respect or trust a superhero or meta who didn’t come from a modern military background first when it comes to metahuman matters, he’s only tolerant of the Avengers while not trusting the Justice League whatsoever.
Brian Banner (the Leader) – Bruce’s abusive father. Killed by the Hulk in New York several years ago. In the chaos of Hulk’s rampage, his body wasn’t found, so despite witness testimony and evidence, he has legally been declared missing.
Emil Blonsky (the Abomination) – a soldier injured in the Hulk’s attack in New Mexico. Through experimental science, he’s been given another chance, currently the head of Ross’ Hulkbuster squad.
Benjamin Tibbets (to become Flux) – A young Marine soldier.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Cough cough HAGCK

Spray of spit and foam splattering in the sink, Bruce caught his breath, rinsing his mouth out before cleaning off his toothbrush. Wetting down his hands, he wiped at the freshly trimmed stubble remaining on his face. Looking around, he pulled out a razor and a can of shaving cream, pressing down on the nozzle only for it to sputter and die. Shaking his head, he went without. Putting on a pair of light purple shorts, flip flops, a plain button up blue shirt, and a wide panama hat over his mess of brown hair, a pair of hazel eyes lidded, he stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom, largely consisting of a small, rickety bed and worn down dresser taking up 60% of the floor space, the rest walkable in two steps. Those two steps took him to the kitchen and entryway, making up the rest of the house, the floor dingy and worn but not dirty. Most of the light came from the windows, the room becoming brighter as Bruce pulled open the door, grabbing his bike (kept stored inside for safety), and locking up before heading out.

Even in the early morning, the humid sea air and blazing sun of Belize was rough, but nothing Bruce was uncomfortable with. His skin was quite tanned: the pasty lab nerd practically a different person. His routine of biking around this district of the city with its many long paths, along with occasional labor to make ends meet, had given him a little meat on his skinny bones. Though his face was relatively clean now, in the slightly cooler months he liked to sport a beard. Stepping out into the sun, descending a short stairwell to the ground level, looking out to the rows of small, dingy abodes, none of them older than a few years due to one hurricane or another.

Destroyed and rebuilt. That’s where Bruce was, getting down to it. He was ‘Benny’ now, a down on his luck American currently in Belize City, making it by through helping people out with odd jobs thanks to various skills and expertise, and through various handouts and favors he received from the grateful locals who supported the twice a week English classes he did for free. Benny never asked for much more than a chance, and now honestly, he could say he didn’t mind things where they are. He could look up at the sky, breathe deeply, and feel as though things were alright.

It had been years since the Hulk first took to the streets of Navapo on a warpath to El Diablo Air Force Base, inviting the ire of SHIELD. And it was less than a year after that Hulk was seen for the last time, in New York. It was still a blur to Bruce, but it was the past now. Betty was better off with Bruce gone. Everyone was. Because as long as Bruce was gone, there was no more Hulk.

Setting down his bike, he pedaled off into yet another day in this run down stretch of paradise. While he could certainly envision better, nowadays he was just grateful it wasn’t so much worse.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A Green God, A Green Devil

TBA

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel Comics / DC Comics Crossover RPG!

Might wild out and join. Or Hulk out, if you will.

I also had an idea I was thinking of using in DC Genesis (though I'd been pretty busy so I never got around to finishing it), but the idea of starting the Hulk's story a few years after his emergence gave me some ideas and got me juiced creatively, so I might use that other idea later.

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

"Hmph! Very well then, we'll disband."

With those words, Momo left, heading off without a word to her peers. Confused and disappointed, the Azure Company lieutenants gradually dispersed over the course of the next few minutes. Knowing Chester was likely to head to the Grand Line, Momo had full intent to merely continue the organization, but her attempts to contact others after the fact were met with suspicion due to her departure from the Great Stag Archipelago. In an attempt to find a new leader, in fighting occurred, the next months lending to a chaotic battle with no clear winner, many Azure Company groups disbanding or shedding their colors and their ideals, as power didn't mean much if it could not create order. Losing their muscle, the rest of the Four Color Companies would similarly struggle, their fates unknowable in the coming times as their grasp on the affairs of the Blue continued to slip, perceptions fostered by their decisive loss at the Four Color Festival.

Letting out a sigh of relief as the Azure boats headed off, Lina slouched over the ship railing, relieved.

"Maybe we should move on already..."

The Great Horn Archipelago quieting down, dwindling back to the norm, the festival well and over, the poorly named Grog Crusaders would leave later that day with little word of their departure, even if the ripples of influence they left remained in the relative peace. A quiet, swift end to a loud and protracted battle.

---

"Hmmmm..."

"Hmm?"

A finger tapped on a writeup on the desk. "Hmm!"

"Hmmmm..."

The two soldiers, surrounded by desks in the heart of Marineford, hmmed and hmmmmmed. Their information was sparse on the mysterious Hero of Melonberry, allegedly called 'Chest'. As a pirate, Lieutenant Commander Condroy recognized that he should be marked for the crime of flying a pirate flag, but to be frank, aside from that, it didn't seem like he had done much wrong. While he had beaten Boss "Iron" Cerulean, a man worth 30 million, did that mean he was of a similar threat level to that mob boss known for his power? It's not like he was a particular menace. The picture taken of him, a close up up his head and upper torso, the man looking up at to the side of the frame with a dazed look on his face and some notable dirt on parts of his clothes and face, was said to be taken at the moment he was waking up from a drunken nap. Hardly threatening, really.

Scratching at his peach fuzz, the young Condroy looked up as he heard footsteps behind him. White Justice coat trailing behind him, jaw squared and clean shaven, Vice Admiral Trench, in his dark green suit leaned in with a smile, "Who's this?"

"Ah, he's called Chest or something, new bounty I'm trying to figure out. He hasn't even done an-" Condroy went quiet as he looked up to see his comrade go pale. Confused, he looked around, seeing Trench, someone he's only known to be a jovial sort, with a face gripped in raw derision. Large hand grasping Condroy by the back of his head, Trench forced him to look at the image.

"Is the Marine information network so bad that the file for this man didn't include that he's a former Marine?"

"N-no sir."

"Are you really struggling to determine how much of a heinous criminal such a traitor is for shedding a flag of blue and white for black?"

"But sir he hasn't done anyth-"

Condroy's words were interrupted by the splintering of wood as he was forced through his desk to the ground, the room rumbling from the impact. Lifting his hand, Trench spat, "Commanding Justice! Marines follow their orders, and those who can't aren't worth saving! Chester D. Arnold...no, just Chester Arnold. 50 million minimum!" Trench slowed his roll, looking to the terrified junior, then down to the unconscious Condroy. "Tell him when he wakes up. He can decide the epithet himself for all I care."

Storming from the office, Trench took to some of the halls before coming out to a balcony, the path looping around to another corner of the floor. Looking down over the structure of Marineford, he shook his head. What was once a great Marine base, while still serving as a hotspot and the center of Marine activity across the world, was filled with decay, empty and dilapidated structures they no longer had the funding or manpower to refurbish. Hacking out a glob of spit, it hurtled well out of sight on the way to the ground far below.

Not even a century of peace after a battle with no winner, and all Trench could think of was what had been lost.

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

Rolling her pipe in her hand, Momo had a slight smile on her face. "Very well then. Laid out by Don Mono regarding the formation of the Four Color Companies, as leader of the Azure Company, you will have to take part in the yearly meets. Management of clerical tasks regarding the company will defer to your immediate subordinates to defer at your discretion. You will need to get in contact with the former Cerulean's men to organize the logistics, and also open up contract lines regarding the Blue-wide affairs of the organization, which include resource procurement, shipping, police and bodyguard detail, and subjugation of rebel groups in our territories. Contact will often involve direct dealings with your lieutenants. While generally we can manage ourselves, you will have to memorize our affairs and respond to any queries in the event we need to defer to you, any of the 42 of us throughout the Blue. Should you become involved with the affairs of another company then it would be best you better acquaint yourself with their structures and key members. Also..."

Lina was a fair distance away, not able to make anything specific out, but at the very least there was no fighting...

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

Macario nowhere in sight, Lina keeping low, Kuhn on his way, word sent out to Chester, the encroaching fleet made landfall. From each ship, over a score of blue suited men headed by leaders not wholly conforming to the usual dress code began to assemble. An aficionado with bounty's would recognize over half a dozen names, all under 10 million but feared in their own right. 'Bruiser' Boddy, 'Blue' Blaize, 'Wrecker' Roadan, Silfeed 'the Slimeball'. But among those others were ones that had not been quite recognized, yet the fact that they stood alongside one another meant that they were not to be overlooked: John John Johnsey, Kerbilia, Masquerade Doxeen, Lady Momo.

Oh this could be baaad, Lina worried fearfully. Keeping to herself, sword at hand if needed, she merely observed as they communicated with one another. A few goons scattered off, intent on something. For a moment Lina was prepared to go after one of them, but having some eyes at the ready didn't seem like a bad idea either. This was the hotspot as far as potentially risky opponents went, a couple goons wouldn't cause anyone any trouble.

After a bit of waiting, Lina let out a sigh of relief, Kuhn coming in, guns at his side. He wasn't alone but Kuhn had been the only thing Lina was relieved to see: Chester was as filthy and buzzed as ever. Though, even as Lina frowned, she quickly realized that his natural state was only a detriment some of the time.

The group of Azure Company Lieutenants facing off with Chester, Kuhn a few steps back, Lina only caught some of what they said, "Now...beaten Boss...we hence...defeat you or...waive that...you as leader!"

At that, the leaders all collectively bent the knee, or bowed in their own way. Just as Lina could faintly hear them, they, Chester, and Kuhn could likely hear Lina's faint "Ehhhhh!?" she'd burst out in response.

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

"BOSS CHESTER, BABY!"

"Oh no," Lina whispered, terror palpable and still mounting.

Luckily, it was not much cause of concern (yet), Chester's goodwill sparing many from being rounded up. Cerulean was the one major exception, his authority a potential threat to the emerging peace, Saff hard to excuse due to his attack on the king. Within the company his defeat sent ripples to his lieutenants across the Blue, the shock and anger quickly morphing into determination, sails unfurling compasses set to the Great Horn Archipelago.

---

The coming week was one of rest and recovery. With the coming and going of the Four Color Festival, and the security offered by Johannes, the conflict with the Companies faded quietly, both sides going back to their business with their losses taken, some more than others.

The mission of the Balder Knights completed, the man had taken his leave with no small fanfare. The 'Hero of Melonberry' was something of a mystery, one not easily associated with the loud drunk, Chester, who'd been making himself infamous in ways the Hero was famous. Surely, no one in their right minds would even entertain the possibility of them being one in the same. With Johannes' parting, he merely left a message for Chester, faring him and his crew well.

Tidying up the Breeze, Lina slipped off her navy blue hat, fanning herself with it, before taking a look at the horizon, seeing a number of vessels in the distance. Squinting her eyes, the sails of blue seemed ominous. Alone on the ship, to her knowledge, she swallowed, keeping a low profile, hoping it was nothing major.

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

_{Location: New York City, New York}

Hounded – 3.04

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_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 3.03

Feet sluggishly tramping down another alleyway, Bruce had an awkward sway in his step. The chill air of New York’s night in this winter was nothing to turn up a nose at. Falling asleep at the wrong place could prove to be unfortunate, but spots of warmth would often be targets for patrolling officers herding the wayward homeless away. If Bruce had known of spots free from that kind of policing then he wouldn’t need to keep up his walk, his movement intended to keep warmth coming from his body. His legs could take it, certain, but at this point he was more afraid of his mind. No progress was being made, much of his time spent on getting by day to day rather than finding Brian. Maybe that was fine. He hated living like this but it would get better in the coming months when the weather cleared. But...no, he quickly realized. It wouldn’t last. He couldn’t last. He’d felt it when seeing people herded out of a subway station. He was going to try and stay the night there, as he’d seen others doing, but bad luck left him bearing witness to police forcing them outside in the middle of a freezing night. He hadn’t even been a part of it, yet he still felt frustration. Anger that those who’d been at their lowest from whatever circumstance or sacrifice, incidental or deserved, were now being pushed around and put at even further risk. His head as throbbed, but the moment he felt a flash of green he ran from those emotions.

And now it was even worse. Sitting so low for so long, Bruce looked up and saw skyscrapers hemming in the starless night sky, knowing that if he looked back down he’d see the struggle and despair in those at his level. Those who’d been crushed and could not move. But Bruce could move, and act, and that was exactly what he was afraid of.

Ears perking up as he heard a dull thud around the corner, Bruce was glad to be ripped out of the shades of his mind, if only for a moment. That relief was gone as soon as he turned the corner, immediately ducking backwards. It was just a glimpse, but that brief moment of sight quickly contextualized everything he could hear from now as he witnessed a man being mugged. 3 others, maybe 4, surrounded him. Maybe he was fighting back, but Bruce couldn’t tell, aside from the pounding of fist on flesh, the scuffle of shoe scraping against the moist alleyway pavement. At one point there was a cracking sound, then the stomping of legs breaking out into a run.

And Bruce didn’t do a thing. He didn’t even think about lifting a finger, just of keeping his head down and letting it pass. Any twinge of anger he felt at the idea of someone victimized for no reason needed to be suppressed. Had to be suppressed. And once it was over he peeked his head out. Someone in a winter coat lay flat on his front, arms angled oddly from the fall. A faint light caught his eye, Bruce dared to get closer, spotting a phone on the ground. Leaning in, he noticed why it hadn’t been taken: the screen was cracked from the scuffle. Not knowing the state the man was in, Bruce picked it up, seeing that it was on a call screen, ‘91’ dialed. Swallowing, he struggled with the cracked touch screen, hands trembling as he pushed the screen away, pulling up a browser, using some of the phone’s data for his own ends. He’d thought about what he might search for some time now, and it came as easily as the broken screen would allow. And finally he had a street name, an address. Glancing down at the man, his feelings were muted. His relief at his goal being within sight had overshadowed any pity he felt at the victim, and that in itself sent a pit down his throat and through his stomach. Going back to the call screen, he finished the emergency number, letting it get picked up before immediately hanging up and placing the phone down. He had no idea if it would work, basing his actions off of things learned second hand, but as he moved on he wasn’t looking back. He couldn’t look back, for every moment he lingered on those events was another moment he’d regret. And he couldn’t regret it, for had he gotten involved he might not be able to hold himself back. He told himself inaction was for the best because he had to believe it.

Going to a main road, Bruce had no intention of skulking about anymore. His expression was cold, and approaching the first person he saw, an older man whose wrinkles deepened as he was forced to acknowledge Bruce’s state of filth, he stood his ground, too desperate to think of others at the moment.

His voice came, raspy, and broken, words unintelligible. Clearing his throat of what felt likes weeks of bile and mucus with a guttural hacking, Bruce finally spoke. “Where’s Neapolitan street?

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

_{Location: Washinton D.C.}

Till Death – 1.02

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 1.01

A overcast clouds releasing a slight mist kept the setting sun well out of sight, the slick roads reflecting only lamplight in the early evening. The slap of shoes against damp pavement accompanied Don’s steps as he went to the door of Perry’s Diner. Wiping his feet on the mat he stepped inside, the sickly scent of cooking meats and fried foods filling him with a guilty appetite. Just as he wondered if he’d arrived first or not, he heard a despondent waiter pleading with his date. “Ma’am, please put away the cigarette.”

“I wasn’t going to smoke them!” the seated woman insisted, a black coat over her pharmacy clothes, fresh off of work. An opened, red pack of cigarettes sat on the table next to a glass of water, one of them being rolled in her fingers despite her insistence otherwise. Swooping in, Don snatched the one out of her hand and slid the pack on the table away from her. “Excuse us.” he muttered, taking a seat across from her in the booth. Eyes, narrowed, Holly insisted, “I wasn’t! I don’t have a lighter!”

Putting the loose cigarette back before sliding the pack aside, Don murmured, “Why do you have cigarettes and no lighter?”Holly pulled back, one finger running along the edge of the table, like a scolded child. “I only just bought them, I’m supposed to quit.” Don’s mouth tightened to form a thin line. “I’ll treat you for dinner then, because you’re not getting them back.” Slipping them into the pocket of his light blue coat, he took it off and left it on the seat, before nabbing one of the menus left upright in a wire holder.

Taking up a menu herself, Holly hissed, “Tell me you wouldn’t need a smoke after that little acid trip.” Don winced, looking around carefully. The waiter had left them to decide their order, and the place was rather quiet at this hour, the only other guests well on the other side of the diner. The appliances of the open kitchen and fans made a baseline noise level that would keep them from being overheard, but Don was still wary. “Look, I don’t know what I’d call that but lets not bring drugs into it.” Squinting at his menu, he said, “Anyway, you’re looking...well.”

Holly snorted. “Oh, you definitely need glasses. I know I got fat, don’t try to smooth talk me. I swear, the next person who calls me ‘young lady’ is going to get my fist down their throat. And you’ve had better days too, while we’re at it. God I forgot what a tight ass you had, not that saggy thing.”

““It does not sag! And don’t make me talk about this in public!” Holly just cackled. Rubbing his brow, Don didn’t know if he could handle this woman.

The two went quiet as they decided, the waiter coming back around to give them drinks and taking their orders. One they had their orders on the way, two glasses of iced tea in between them, Holly’s with no ice, they were finally free to talk. Holly cracked open a few packs of sugar, beginning, “So, some aliens want us to put on costumes and fight bank robbers from the sounds of it.”

Don sighed. “I’m not up and up on this superhero stuff at all, there’s so many of them. And I don’t even understand...how. They took us to space and then put us back? If they can do that, why not just take all the bad guys and throw them into a black hole...”

Holly snapped, “Oh get off yourself. ‘Bad guys’? Who do you think you are? Look, I don’t know what some Lords of chaos and order want with Earth, but if they chose us of all people to fight, then do you really want them making other choices for us?” Stirring her tea, four empty packets of sugar bunched up on the table, she took a sip through a straw as apprehension crossed Don’s face. “No, I guess not.”

Holly continued, “Anyway, I didn’t get taken anywhere. Or, well, I remember it, but I was still at where I left from, if that makes any sense. My coworkers who found me said I’d just zoned out. When we got sent back, they were all around me, trying to figure out if something was wrong. So it’s like, our minds are the ones who become heroes, but not us, really.”

Don’s brow furrowed. So their minds were taken away from their bodies? At first it left an unsettling feeling, but on further through he realized that it kept their actual bodies out of harms way, though who knew what would happen to them if they got hurt. Even if they could fight without being in danger, where would they even begin? Trouble didn’t just happen every day, how were they supposed to find out about it? Just watch the news all day? Hell, Don didn’t even know how to do it. He was stuck in place, only uncertainty ahead.

“Holly, I don’t think this is a good idea. We’re too old for this. We’ve got a kid, and he’s got kids now. We can’t be superheroes, that’s...” Don trailed off, noting the blank look in Holly’s eyes. “Holly?” Leaning in, she blinked, but her eyes didn’t move, they were just focused on some point just past him. She moved lightly with her breathing, and occasionally she’d shift her posture slightly. “Holly? Holly?” Don continued to whisper.

I’m fine you mope. Her lips hadn’t moved at all, her voice only among his thoughts, a sensation he’d felt not to long ago while his senses had been hurtling through space. The voice was different too, younger, just like it had been then. Try it. Just think about it. That same feeling.

Don froze, glancing around the diner. The kitchen was as busy as ever, no plates being dished up to come over to the table, no guests appeared to be paying them any mind. They had a moment, so Don readied himself before daring to try.

---

Blue and black overtook him, before Don came to, a murky, cloudy sky far above him, brown roof tiling below. Even in the weather, his outfit, the hero costume, kept him from feeling any discomfort from moisture or temperature, which gave him a slight, disconnected dissonance. Glancing about the neighborhood, he started to piece together where he was. It took him longer than he should have from his unfamiliar, second story perspective, but he was at the same house he’d been at for decades, just on the roof. Aside from the faint sound of the light rain and the occasional car, he could also hear a low hum, one familiar, but muted. At once he was familiar with what was going on around him as the masked hero, but also he could hear the diner in the back of his mind, furthering his disconnection.

Though it was dark, he still felt open, naked, worried that his neighbors might see him. Body feeling immensely light, he managed to float, before steadily dropping down to the backyard. Reaching for the glass sliding door to the inside, it was locked tight. “Holly?” he spoke, before realizing his mistake. Holly? Where are you?

Look, I don’t know how to explain it any better. Just feel it, like earlier. No, I know, I’m at my house. Are you at yours? Wait, what? I assumed we would just go where we needed to be, like last time.

Heart racing, Don was worried. Wait, are you in trouble? Holly’s voice had been relaxed, though now it had been raised in response. No, everything’s fine here, I just...

---

Perched on the corner of a building over a city square, Holly slid to a sitting position, legs dangled over the side of the building. Where it had been late evening in D.C., here it was more of a late afternoon, the sun still burning brightly on its descent. The square was abuzz with people moving about, the weather temperate as far as Holly was concerned. Towering in the middle of the square was a pillar topped with a bronze statue of an angel, one of its arms holding up a crown.

Mexico City, Mexico

Well, just don’t ask me to tell you what’s going on because I have no idea. I think I’m in Mexico. Or, well, maybe. My geography isn’t the best.

Well, come back in time to eat. Don offered helplessly.

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

_{Location: Navapo, New Mexico}

Hounded – 3.03

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: 3.02

“Hello, am I speaking to Brian Banner?”

A long pause came from the other end. Betty’s heart was racing: she didn’t know if he was going to stay on the line or not. A part of her suspected she needed him to. There was no rationale behind it, as she wasn’t even sure what she was expecting to find out, but with this being her best hope of finding a way to help Bruce, as much of a longshot as it was, if it slipped through her fingers then she didn’t know what she was going to do.

“...Who are you again?” came the silvery sound of his voice. Goosebumps shuddered down Betty’s arms, Brian’s words splintering her thoughts, pulling foreboding memories out of places her mind hadn’t reached in years. “You seem to be a little confused, Elizabeth. I’m guessing you go by Liz? This is Brian Bush.”

“Actually I was named from my grandma, so it’s Betty.” There was another pause, then a short rush of air, the beginnings of a laugh garbled by the phone line before a howl erupted in full. “Betty Ross!? Well shoot me in the head and chuck me off the side of a building I knew that name sounded familiar! God, little Betty grew up and now she’s writing sensational pieces on muties. How’s your tea kettle of a father doing? Son of a bitch blew his top every other hour so he’s gotta have a heart condition or two at his age.”

Betty didn’t know what reaction he was trying to draw out of her, but she pivoted away from the pace he aimed to set. “I’m sorry to say, but I didn’t send that email to talk about your work. I wanted to ask a few questions about Bruce.”

“I mean, do you need to? Can’t you just ask him yourself?” That gave Betty a bit of pause. Perhaps she’d taken the metahuman related news cycle for granted. “Well, I found your current name through a postcard you sent him, so I assumed you were in contact. You didn’t hear? About the Hulk?”

There was a round of shuffling from the other end. “Give me a minute.” Betty waited as long as it took, listening to him walk a few steps, hearing the sound a keyboard going. The next audible thing she heard from his mouth was, “Well, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I have some unpublished insights, but I’d like to talk to you personally. Anything you might know that may have led to this. I-” Betty came to a stop as Brian’s laughter, a derisive chuckle, finally got to a volume she couldn’t ignore. “Well that’s just funny. Miss ‘10 Ways to Spot if Your Child is Hiding Powers’. That article is suddenly a dozen times funnier than it’s supposed to be.” Betty felt her grip tighten on her phone. It should have been something easy to shrug off: she’d certainly felt a sting every time she remembered that article, but that was the pain of lacking foresight. This was mockery from the man who’d fathered someone currently in legitimate danger, who was believed to be a legitimate danger by powerful people. As he finished laughing, Brian wondered, “Did you really assume Bruce and I are in contact? I never really thought he’d reach out to me. I’d never go back to me. If he kept that postcard he’s more of moron than I thought possible.”

“It was by the trash,” Betty stated. Knowing she couldn’t let Brian get the upper hand, she opened her mouth to speak, but his words went over hers. “Can-” “Yeah that’s what I thought. I know what this is really about. You just want to pick my brain regarding Bruce. Well, sorry, I’m not interested. I’m not interested in him and he’s clearly not interested in me. I moved on along time ago. Moved away even. You should remember, he was crying at your place when it was happening.”

Oh, fuck this man. Starting to boil, the only thing keeping Betty from exploding was that she was legitimately stunned at his complete disregard for Bruce, which in turn cracked open a vault she had yet to strongly consider, so much blocked out or poorly remembered from that period in her life. “So, sorry to take up your time, but-” “What did you do to Rebecca?” Silence.

---

Shaking his head, a hand scratching at his short black hair, Brian’s eyebrows arcing as a notification popped up on the corner of the display. Pulling his phone away from his face, his hand lowered to pat down his wiry goatee while his thumb went to work on his phone screen. Bright colors and a cheery tune played for a moment as he went to work, collecting his daily bonuses, before clearing his throat and going back to the phone. “Sorry, you still there? Something important came up.”

“If that was a game I just heard then I swear-” “Oh calm your tits. You grew some right? Anyway, I thought I was done with this shit 20 years ago. You fucking journalists are more interested in pushing your twisted narratives then reporting anything real. Funny you haven’t done an article in a while. Since the Hulk thing, right? It’d draw in the clicks too. Really makes you think. But no, I never touched...I didn’t kill her. I loved her. They say sometimes that if you love, you should let go, and maybe I should have let her go before I put...whatever that was inside of her. But I couldn’t. So if you know what’s good for you then you should let Bruce go, because if he’s smart enough he’ll keep far away from you.” Brian paused, blocks sliding together in his brain as he made a smooth connection.

“What I do is none of your business you disgusting creep.” Brian grinned, the sleeves of his black sweat bottoms brushing the floor as he took a seat on the recliner in his dimly lit apartment, the light of the nearby computer screen lit with green. “Oh, but you’re trying to make it my business. You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you?” In the silence, Brian took great joy in imagining Betty’s frustration and anger. The responding voice was less mad than he’d hoped.

“Wanted too, but having actually talked to you, I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to go to you. Bruce is probably just keeping to himself. Sorry to bother you.” Brian clicked his tongue chidingly. “On the contrary, I’ve been seeing someone. Funnily enough, her name’s Elizabeth too! She goes by Liz though.” Letting that hang in the air, his tone relaxed. “Anyway, I should apologize. You’ve been a big help, I didn’t know how far out of the loop I was. I just got a little heated there. If you’re ever in the area I’ll treat you to dinner, to make up for it. And if you want to pick my brain about Bruce well...I’ll think about it.” No response. She hung up.

Letting his arm fall, Brian turned his head to look out the window, the shades slightly ajar, the city lights in the night peeking through into half lit apartment. Standing up, he flicked on a standing lamp, illuminating it properly. The apartment was fairly upscale, but its current state was one of disarray. Loose packages of food and boxes once housing new computer parts littered the ground, the nearby kitchen area had counters covered in old dishes and cookware.

Bruce was coming. Brian chortled to himself. Betty had made it clear to him: if that boy cared for his father he was an idiot, but that wasn’t going to keep him away. No, Bruce had always been soft, weak. If he could turn into some big green monster then he wouldn’t want to go to someone he might hurt, oh no, he’d go to someone he didn’t care as much about. There was something else too. Betty mentioned her unpublished insights, wisely kept to herself. If Brian could trust that they were relevat, then he could trust in his hunch that Bruce was on his way.

“I’m gonna need to pick up a little...”

---

Phone dropping onto the couch, Betty sat up, moving away as if Brian’s slimy voice had contaminated it. Her hands trembled in anger as she brought both of them up to rub at her temple. She’d thought she could deal with someone else’s anger after having been brought up by her father, but this man was a level of despicable she couldn’t fathom. All the snide remarks, the genuine disregard for those in his family, let alone anyone else. Betty felt tears rimming her eyes from sheer frustration. The bruises, cuts, and tear stained faces of Bruce and Rebecca kept floating to her mind. If she did take up his offer, hopefully he was smart enough to keep out of arms reach because slapping him upside the head was about the nicest thing she could think of right now. Fast food would be ideal: no silverware to consider taking to his face.

Body shaking as she kept herself contained, visualizations of herself kicking a hole in her wall held in check, Betty instead brought her knuckle to her mouth and bit down. So much anger and nowhere to release it.

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

_{Location: A Far Away Star System}

Till Death – 1.01

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: N/A

Inky blue gases stretched and weaved, the interstellar medium completely engulfing the long dead solar system within. At the end of its length, a black hole gradually ate away at the fluid matter, its pull drawing spirals that rippled throughout its reach. Several light hours in the other direction, the beating star of the system, slowly crumbling, still gave form to the interstellar medium all about.

Along this way, beyond the reach of the cloud, a blue form came into order from the space between space, wispy tendrils wiring together, bending at perfect, precise angles. A human would have recognized its shape as a face, the contours leaving large holes for eyes as they built a forehead, nose, and mouth, the endpoint much like a mask. And as it formed, around it, similarly coming from nothing, a black cloud billowed to life, pulsing with an orange and red glow. Spots like eyes shuddered, other parts of the face seeming to form before breaking apart, only to come back together, never quite resembling what it was before, the voice low like distant thunder. “All life goes to its end. Destruction follows all creation.”

The thought was finished by the other, the tone clear and soft like a bell. “But life must be given its fair chance.”

Terataya, one of the Lords of Order, an astonishingly powerful being in their own right, had never expected to be approached by the Lord of Chaos, T’Charr. This plan had been a thought in their minds for a blink in the length of the universe, but as things were, that was all the time needed for the balance to shift in all the wrong ways. They knew their target, the proposed lynchpin of everything. They each had their suggestion for the champions, but in her search, Terataya had gone out of the original plan, and had no expectations for things to go smoothly. But T’Charr was ahead of her.

“You have chosen?”

“I have. A pair. For us to choose individually, while we may find fitting representatives, to force them into working together without prior contact could produce disastrous results. But in my search I found those who know conflict and peace. Creations of love and the pain of destruction. It is a change in plan, but...”

T’Charr was quiet, face broken apart, but he spoke again just as it reformed. “Very well.” Terataya was surprised, albeit pleasantly. “Earth faces great chaos. I had made my choice, but...order. Order is what the Earth needs. Not in excess, but as the scale shifts in the favor of chaos, I may defer to order.”

Agreement reached, there was no need for further words. Their respective glows intensified, one of the lines forming Terataya splintering off, beaming into the distance. Following along, a ball of orange fell from T’Charr, dropping through the cosmos after that blue line, circling it as black smoke fumed out a trail behind it, speeds surpassing what was known to man as the shards of power found their place.

---

January
Washington D.C.

Planting the butt of the broom on the driveway, a knobbled hand brushing away at the sweat under his gray bangs, Don Hall admired his work, the driveway now perfectly clear. Snow wasn’t a big problem the once or twice a season it met the city, but Don wasn’t about to let it be any sort of problem. Ducking into the garage, he shivered at the cold, moving past his light blue pickup, closing the garage door as he slipped his white winter coat off his sturdy shoulders. Hanging it up once he was inside, he walked through the small laundry room and into the lower hallway of the two story house. Reaching the living area, he let out a groan as he plopped into his couch seat, the off-white cushion well worn.

Around him was nothing but quiet. The powered off TV in the living area, the adjoining kitchen, the rooms upstairs, even the heater: all was quiet. Don rubbed one hand on his leg, creating extra warmth from the friction while the other scratched his throat, the skin looser than he remembered. As his body relaxed the aches started up again: his knees, the arm he’d broken a few years ago in a fall, his sides as he’d continued to shiver. Mind concerned with busying himself, nothing he could do came to mind. The grass was dead and had no need to be mowed, nothing was broken that he could remember, he was all stocked up on groceries. He’d just seen his son Hank’s family over Christmas. He’d called Holly and, well, she didn’t seem happy to hear from him.

Ears ringing in the silence, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, letting the news reporter fill the room with sound, any sound. Anything to keep him from picking up things in the distance, sounds he always misheard as calls for assistance that weren’t really there. He hadn’t lived with anyone in years but he’d never stopped hearing Hank or Holly call out his name, even though they were nowhere near. He hated it. He hated how no matter how much he rubbed his legs trying to get warm, it felt colder in here then it did out there.

---

“I’m taking my break.”

Getting up from the desk, Holly’s pudgy form, clad in navy blue, moved off without as much as nod from her coworkers in response to her gravelly voice. Wrinkles straining from her tense expression, she glanced at the clock reading ‘3:13’ before moving from the back area to the neighboring hall, outside of the reach of general store’s customers. Normally, the office served as a break area for pharmacy staff, but Holly Granger went a bit further, out through a glass door into the smoking section. Wiping away moisture from the bench situated in the walled off section, the sky open for smoke to pass, her hands flexed for cigarettes that weren’t there. “Oh fuck,” the woman hissed under her breath. Thin nails scraped at the line of her thin, white hair, swept back behind her ears. Bowing her head, she felt a headache come on in her frustration. She’d been trying to quit: she needed to quit, but dammit if she didn’t want to kick herself right now.

Rather than retreat back inside, she took a seat, grimacing at the cold and the wet. Letting out a grunt, a hand hovered over the metal bench, shaking in hesitation before she slammed it down. Letting it out was better. Her curses, pisses, and moans barely reverberated through the glass into the hall, largely slipping up to the sky where they would fall onto no ears. A part of her definitely wanted to take her rancor inside. Give someone else a piece of this hell. But her legs didn’t move from their spot, the only thing rising being the fire in her belly as she continued to grumble at the only one who could hear her.

---

A moment after a blue light filled his vision, Don was left star struck at the next sight to come to him. Before him stretched countless lights, most of them white, pulled flat and long, edge to edge in his vision. At once, he felt like he remained still, yet clearly he was moving at a pace he could barely comprehend. His body did not seem to be his in the same way. Looking at his hands, white and blue swirled together in an extraterrestrial glow. He didn’t seem to have form, but he was here. He breathed without breath and could hear the rush of the empty void. Then there was another sound, one ringing in his mind, not making words, just echoes of distress. Reaching out to that nostalgic voice, he called mentally, Holly!?

Don!? Is that you!? Her voice had a roughness to it, a friction that gave him warmth from the pleasant memories he’d shared hearing it, yet Don was also left confused, not understanding how it lacked the scratchiness it was supposed to have. But he left that aside for now. I’m right here.

As soon as those words came out, he could see something else, another shape. Its silhouette was tall and feminine, strands of fiery red trailing from the head, the body and mixture of of white and red like nothing known to his imagination. Before he knew it, he drew closer, reaching out his hand. In her reflex, her own opened up, but she didn’t reach out. Please, he asked.

Taking the leap, she grasped his wrist, Don clasping his hand around hers in return. Even if only in this moment of fear at the unknown, they would meet it together.

Then, it all returned to stillness. Feeling his eyelids, he wrested them open, struck breathless at the view of the cosmos before him: the swirl of a black hole engulfing an aurora, speckles of starlight visible beyond it. Looking down at his hands, he became aware of his form. His hands were clad in white, a light blue spandex jumpsuit coating a body much more toned than he’d been in decades. Running his hands across his face, his smooth skin was under the cover of a white cowl, a short cape flowing behind his shoulder blades. “Uh...” Those his voice should have gone deaf in the void around him, he could still hear it, questions piling up.

“Don!” Holly’s voice called back at him. Turning about, if being swept away to some unknown spot in the galaxy hadn’t been enough to empty his mind, seeing Holly again certainly would. Her hair a long dark red, it matched the wing shaped domino mask over her eyes and the red stream of ribbons trailing as a cape. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from her, the woman similarly much younger, skin tight suit generously revealing a figure that left him starstruck. He’d forgotten how much that playful bounce in her motion made his heart race.

“Good god, you got hot,” she said, taking the words out of his mouth, placing her hands on his chest as they clung to each other in the drift. One of his hands fell towards her read but she slapped it away. Senses restored, he gave a light shake of his head before keeping his arms to the side, ignoring the stab in his heart he was too distracted to linger on, letting his attention return to wherever it was they were. As once he looked back up, he quickly became aware of the two massive faces floating with them in the dark as they finished forming, their sizes closer to that of skyscrapers. “Holly!” Don called out, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her about. “Oh what the hell.”

“Don Hall and Holly Granger: we have chosen you to restore balance to your home world. I am Terataya, a Lord of Order.” The voice was clear, pleasant.

“I am T’Charr, of Chaos.” The name the booming voice gave in itself was less like a name and more like a roar, Don reflexively gripping an arm around Holly’s shoulders at its resonance. “And it is chaos that threatens your world.”

“We have fashioned your forms after the heroes that aim to protect Earth. We do hope you discerned our intent.” Don was just feeling more lost by the second.

Pushing herself out of his grip, Holly floated forward. “...To bring order to Earth?” she presumed.

“To bring Balance.” T’Charr’s form shattered as it moved its position a bit closer. “Holly Granger, your powers draw from chaos. While at its worst, chaos is disarray, instability, and irregularity, it can also be change, adaptability, and contention.”

“And you, Don Hall,” Terataya began, the blue lines etching form splintering, dashing across the region, looping around to the side, now closer to Don, who turned to see the lines reform. “Order is stability, integrity, peace, but if left unchecked it can be stagnation, complacency, or stubbornness. Chaos can be born from excessive order.”

“And vice versa. Order alone cannot bring balance to Earth, as other Lords may believe. And as such, they may not necessarily be your allies.”

“But...why us?” Holly wondered.

“It does not have to be you. We will give you a week to decide if these mantles are yours to don. Do what you shall as a hero, commune with us if you need, but first and foremost you must rely on yourselves, and each other.”

Don looked back to Holly, admitting, “I just don’t really...”

Holly turned about, floating back over to him. “What, you don’t want to give it a shot?”

“You are taking this way too lightly! I’d assume it was a dream if you weren’t so...you!” “Don, don’t you raise your voice, I’ve been done with that shit for years.” “Well sorry if the giant space faces and this superhero nonsense is getting me a little touchy!” “Oh, touchy, huh? You were touchy before they showed up.” “Yeah, and you have room to talk!” “I’m not the one making excuses!” “You are intolerable.” “And right into the ad hominem, which in case you didn’t know means: go-”

The two forms engulfed by light, they were pulled back from where they came, gone in a flash. After a moment of silence, T’Charr noted, “More chaos then I was expecting from a choice I deferred to you.”

“Change and adaptability, even contention, as you said. Let us hope it is change for the better.”

---

“-fuck yourself!”

Stirring to a start, Holly was grasped with a strong chill. Her body suddenly back to the heaviness she was used to, she looked around to see several coworkers looking on anxiously, having joined her in the smoking area, clearly concerned. “Get off!” She grumbled, shooting to her feet. Stumbling a bit, some hands reached out to help but she kept them away, retaining her footing. Moving past them, she went back to the hall, grateful to be back indoors. Going along the hall with no real direction except ‘away’, she felt more tired then ever, one arm on the wall to steady herself as she kept course. Buzzing coming from her pocket, she clumsily pulled out her phone, hands shivering as she took a look to see Don calling. Hanging up preemptively, she saw the time was now 3:33, a bit past the end of her break. After all that, she was going to need another one...