"Is this because of the last operation?" General Ross growled into his radio, lips tight with frustration. "Did it remember the last time we cornered it?"
He clenched his fists, knuckles pale.
The battlefield on Yeshiva University's grounds was rapidly spiraling out of control.
The last time he tried this, they had Bronski—an elite soldier who had been injected with the military's experimental serum. Bronski had turned into a monster, yes, but even so, his death had been catastrophic. Crushed. Disintegrated. Erased by a single kick from the Goddess of Judgment.
Ross had buried that report. Silenced the press. Paid off scientists and whistleblowers. It had cost the military millions and cost him even more in political capital.
But if he could capture Hulk—extract the serum, refine the formula—he could regain it all. Everything lost could be regained. Power, recognition, command.
As long as he succeeded.
But if this mission failed?
If Hulk tore through this university, killing dozens of students and civilians, then Ross wasn't going to face a slap on the wrist. He'd be court-martialed, scapegoated, maybe even imprisoned.
He wouldn't recover.
And that terrified him.
On the field, the situation had worsened.
Hulk, wild-eyed and roaring, had broken through the first two lines of armored resistance. Despite the firepower, the gunfire, the Apache chopper, the tanks—it wasn't enough. Not nearly.
The monster wasn't just rage and strength. Something else was happening now. A war inside his own mind. It showed in the way Hulk gritted his teeth, snarling more at the air than the soldiers.
Ross couldn't see it, but inside Hulk's mind, a second consciousness was clawing its way to the surface.
Bruce.
The man beneath the monster.
But the Hulk wasn't giving up control.
He wanted out. Now.
"Sir! Hulk is heading for the west gate!" a pilot reported from the helicopter overhead.
Ross whipped around, eyes wide.
"There are still civilians evacuating at the west gate!" the voice continued. "Students and parents haven't cleared yet!"
Ross's blood ran cold.
"Dammit!" he snapped into the walkie-talkie. "All units—reinforce the west perimeter! Stop him! Stop him now! I don't care what it takes!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground shook as Hulk barreled forward, muscles bulging with every impact, shrugging off gunfire like it was dust. The west gate loomed ahead—a bottleneck of fleeing students, parents, and faculty.
Panic erupted.
Screams filled the air.
Dozens of people surged toward the exit, but the gate wasn't built for this kind of mass rush. The crowd became a jammed wall of desperation—pushing, shoving, crying, praying.
Some people began to trip and fall.
A few turned to look behind them—
And froze in horror.
Hulk was charging straight for them.
A girl in the crowd clenched her eyes shut.
Goodbye, Bella…
BOOOOM!
The sky split open.
A thunderous sonic boom echoed like a meteor crashing into earth. The shockwave alone sent fallen leaves swirling and shuddered the ground.
A figure dropped from above—descending like a heavenly hammer—and slammed into the ground in front of the fleeing students.
CRACK!
The impact shattered the terrazzo pavement. Dust exploded outward in a violent shockwave.
A heartbeat passed.
Then she stood.
Bathed in gold light, clad in glimmering silver-blue armor, she rose.
Her white trousers tucked neatly beneath sleek metal greaves. Her arms covered by thick, plated vambraces. A crimson cloak whipped behind her in the breeze. Golden hair, tied with a blue ribbon, fell over her shoulders in waves.
She looked like a knight from a forgotten era—a figure from myth, born anew in a city of steel and glass.
The crowd gasped in stunned silence.
And then—
WHIP!
Her right leg arced in a perfect, fluid motion. A high spinning kick laced with enough power to crack a mountain.
BOOOOOM!
It struck Hulk directly in the chest.
He didn't have time to brace.
The green giant was sent flying—crashing through trees, over the campus quad, and slamming into the earth with such force that he dug a trench across the lawn, smashing through park benches, fences, and eventually coming to a halt near the stadium wall.
The entire battlefield froze.
Silence.
Then—
Cheers.
People cried. Laughed. Screamed with joy.
They had been seconds away from death. One step closer, and they'd have been scattered like bowling pins.
Now, they stared at the woman who saved them—this armored figure who stood with calm grace, her back to the crowd.
Angie, standing breathless among the students, blinked.
She squinted at the figure.
Something… familiar…
The way she moved. The golden hair. The stance.
Could it be—?
Then the knight turned.
Her face, though unpainted, was radiant. Her skin like ivory. Her eyes—emerald green, sharp and calm.
A voice, crisp yet noble, rang out across the quad:
"Please evacuate in an orderly fashion. I will hold the line."
It wasn't a shout.
It wasn't a request.
It was a command—and one that everyone instinctively obeyed.
There was a quiet authority in her tone, the kind that didn't need proof to be believed. The tone of a ruler, or perhaps a protector. A knight sworn to duty.
Angie's jaw dropped.
Then she smiled faintly and shook her head.
"No way," she muttered. "There's no way my Bella could be that badass."
And with that, she joined the others in fleeing the scene—her curiosity overridden by a survival instinct that screamed get out now.
Bella exhaled quietly beneath the magical disguise.
That was close.
She'd nearly rushed out of the house in her usual vigilante attire. In her panic, she hadn't realized how easily someone like Angie—who knew her best—could've put the pieces together.
Thankfully, she remembered at the last moment.
A flash of inspiration, and she summoned a set of armor through magic—based on an old fictional design she'd always admired: a noble, medieval knight. She'd modified the aesthetic slightly—silver-blue tones, a red cloak, and no visible weapon—but it worked.
Especially since she disguised her face just enough.
Too bad I don't have the Sword of Promised Victory, she mused. That would've been the perfect touch.
Across the field, Hulk groaned as he pushed himself upright.
Dirt and smoke billowed around him.
Bella's gaze sharpened.
She looked from Hulk—to the line of damaged tanks—and finally to a familiar face in a military vehicle behind the lines.
General Ross.
Her emerald eyes narrowed.
"You," she muttered.
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