"Time to go, Doctor Banner." It has been one hundred and eighty-three days since the last time that Bruce Banner transformed into the Hulk. Just over six months without ' incident ' . Which is why, even as adrenaline flows through his veins at the sudden sound of someone in his makeshift, jerry-rigged laboratory, Bruce does his level best to stay calm.
Easier said then done though when you were pretty sure you were completely alone just a second ago, and then all of the sudden someone is talking to you from just across the room where you were confident nobody was there mere moments before.
And to think, it'd been such a good day up until now too. He' d just gotten done watching the opening ceremonies for the 2010 Stark Expo on his ancient, barely alive CRT television. Would he have preferred to have been able to attend in person? Of course he fucking would have. But Bruce had grown used to the way his life had changed since his mistake five years ago. Since he'd turned himself into a monster. Honestly, seeing Tony Stark on stage, talking about the Expo's history, showcasing a few new toys and also highlighting some of the projects that others would be presenting at the Expo had… it'd reinvigorated Bruce. Perhaps that's why he'd been leaned over a microscope mere moments after the opening ceremonies were over, studying another sample of his blood.
Now, of course, he slowly raises his hands in surrender and just as slowly turns to face the weirdly robotic voice of whoever's found him. Not for his own sake mind you, but because if they were armed and did decide to shoot him, it would go very, very badly for them… and he's trying so hard not to turn into a big green rage monster these days.
Funnily enough, his adrenaline actually shorts out for a moment when he finally lays eyes on the owner of that robotic voice. His first instinct is 'robot'… but then as he looks it over a bit more, he realizes no. That's no robot, that' s a suit of armor. An incredibly advanced, high-tech suit of armor at that. Gaping in amazement at the matte black, sleek metal suit, Bruce almost forgets himself. Almost.
There's no visible guns at the moment, but then there doesn' t really need to be if whoever this is thinks they can just manhandle him into submission. Looking over the armored suit however, Bruce doesn ' t like their odds. Offering a sheepish smile, his hands still raised in surrender, he tilts his head to the side.
"Look… that's a really nice piece of technology you have there. But if you think that suit is going to help you take down the big guy, you've got another thing coming. This is a really bad idea."
He doesn't have high expectations of managing to talk down someone with this kind of technology. This level of advancement has to come with a whole lot of confidence in their capabilities. But he figures he owes them, himself, and the surrounding area at least the attempt. A hundred and eighty three days… he really doesn't want to break his streak if he can help it. The armored suit tilts its head to the side at that, and then a chuckle comes out of it.
"Well done, Dr. Banner. I think you're the first to realize this was a piloted vehicle, rather than just a robot."
Bruce flushes a little bit, feeling his ears go a little hot at the praise. Been a while since he got a compliment for his intelligence, he supposed. He's not used to them.
"As for this being a bad idea… no, I don't think so. I think this is a very good idea, that will preempt some very bad ideas on your part and the part of one Thaddeus Ross."
What? Bruce furrows his brow, confused by that. Fortunately, his mysterious visitor seems to like to hear himself speak, because he's happy to elaborate. " I ' m not here to capture you or apprehend you or experiment on you, Doctor Banner. I'm here to warn you that it's time to move along."
That causes Bruce's jaw to clench and he has to take in a few deep breaths to calm himself down again. It wasn't like he was unused to moving around a lot in the last five years. It was just… he was finally making some real progress here. He could be getting close to a cure, especially with the help of Mr. Blue, his long-distance research partner. So…
"Why?"
Whoever's in the suit doesn't seem perturbed by Bruce biting out his question. They should be, because at the moment Bruce is trying not to get too angry. No one wins if he gets too angry. Only … the next thing out of that metal faceplate of theirs is like a bucket of ice water right down his back. "Because earlier today General Ross got actionable intel that you were here in Rio de Janeiro, Doctor Banner. In a couple of days he'll have traced you to the bottling factory. He's already mobilizing his forces and he'll be here within the week to try to take you into his custody. At which point we both know what will happen. You will transform and go on a rampage, and people might get hurt."
Bruce flinches. People WOULD get hurt. People always got hurt. Still… fuck. Honestly, he believes them immediately. It had been a while since Ross had tracked him down. Too long. Bruce knew he couldn't stay ahead of the United States General forever, so it made sense that he was finally due for a visit.
The armored figure was right. If Ross was a week away from Rio de Janeiro, then Bruce had a very short window to escape the country and slip out of the General's net before he closed in on his location and caused another incident. It was just… Bruce looks around at his ramshackle lab almost mournfully. He was so close. If only he could-
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