"It seems your little alliance with that foolish Midgardian didn't go as planned," said the man seated on the throne, a wicked smile tugging
"It seems your little alliance with that foolish Midgardian didn't go as planned," said the man seated on the throne, a wicked smile tugging
"It seems your little alliance with that foolish Midgardian didn't go as planned," said the man seated on the throne, a wicked smile tugging
"It seems your little alliance with that foolish Midgardian didn't go as planned," said the man seated on the throne, a wicked smile tugging at his lips.
Amora's face darkened. "Baron Zemo turned out to be just another fool," she snapped. "His plan was idiotic from the very beginning."
"It doesn't matter," the man on the throne said lazily, voice dripping with arrogance. "It was just a bit of fun to stir the pot. But more importantly..." His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward slightly. "Get ready. The time is almost here."
Amora's expression turned serious. "It's coming already?"
He nodded. "Yes. So you must be prepared. When the moment arrives, there will be no second chances."
"I understand." Amora nodded with resolve. "When the time comes... I'll finish my revenge."
__
A remote, rundown diner on the edge of nowhere.
Dr. Bruce Banner sat hunched at a corner booth, silently eating fast food. Ever since that incident, he'd left behind the bustling cities, hiding away in desolate places, avoiding both friend and foe.
The diner was quiet—just a few scattered patrons picking at their greasy meals. Some absentmindedly watched the old TV mounted in the corner as the news played.
"According to sources, the Hulk has been missing since departing New York. Tony Stark has refused to comment on recent events, but inside reports suggest… the Avengers are considering formally removing the Hulk from their roster…"
Banner stared at his tray, trying to ignore the voice on the television. But the words dug into his skull like needles.
"Hey, could you turn that off?" he finally muttered toward the counter.
The owner, an unbothered man wiping plates, didn't even look up. "Other folks are still watching."
Banner sighed and returned to his food.
"Mind if I sit here?"
A calm voice came from behind him. Banner glanced up. A middle-aged man stood there with a tray in his hands.
"Go ahead," Banner mumbled.
He scooted over slightly, clearing some space. The man took the seat without hesitation.
"Not a fan of the news? Or maybe not a fan of superheroes? Or are you one of those diehard Avenger fans?" the man asked with a friendly grin.
"No," Banner said flatly.
I used to be one, he thought silently. An Avenger. Once.
The man chuckled. "Good, I'm not a fan either. I've always thought superheroes brought more trouble than good. If they hadn't shown up, maybe life would be a lot less messy."
He started talking freely, like he and Banner were old pals. About how he used to be a truck driver, now rushing a shipment across states. About how his son adored superheroes. About how the world had changed, and not for the better.
At first, Banner offered a few polite nods, maybe the occasional word. But eventually, he just stopped replying altogether. His mind was in turmoil, and he wasn't in the mood for small talk.
Then the man glanced at his watch, stood up slowly, and said something that sent a chill down Banner's spine:
"It's been a pleasure chatting, Dr. Banner… but I'm afraid this is where the real conversation ends."
Banner's eyes snapped up in alarm.
How did he know my name?
Suddenly, a freezing sensation shot through his neck—a sharp, icy liquid being injected directly into his bloodstream.
Banner stood up fast, eyes already glowing faint green, muscles twitching. But then…
Nothing.
The energy—his energy—vanished. The fire that usually surged inside him was gone.
The Hulk… was gone.
His legs grew heavy. Vision blurred. He staggered, barely catching himself on the table.
"What… did you do to me?" he growled.
The man smiled coldly.
"Credit goes to you, really. Remember when you donated your blood to Dr. Samuel Sterns? He was working on a Hulk Inhibitor. Total failure… or so they thought. But with a few modifications, a refined serum, and the right dose… we figured out how to shut the green guy down. Now, unless you're in extreme mortal danger, the Hulk will never come out again."
Everything spun. The room tilted.
Banner looked up—realizing now that everyone in the diner was standing.
The affectionate couple. The old man reading the paper. Even the guy behind the counter.
All of them. All of them were part of it.
A trap.
"Who... are you people?" Banner slurred.
Then—
BANG!
The diner door slammed open.
The crisp wind of autumn whistled inside, and the click of leather boots echoed across the floor.
The man who entered was clad in military fatigues, his face a stone mask carved by war. A pipe clenched between his teeth, burning bright red from the wind. Smoke swirled like blood in the air.
General Thaddeus E. "Thunderbolt" Ross.
The Hulk's oldest enemy.
He stepped forward with the slow, measured gait of a man who had waited years for this moment.
Looking down at the barely-conscious Banner, a cold smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Long time no see, Banner," Ross said.
Then his voice turned to steel.
"This time… no one's coming to save you."
--------------
T/N:
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