At the headquarters of Locke Technologies, Nolan kept a close eye on the unfolding situation.
Although General Ross's pursuit of the Hulk was meant to be classified, Nolan had his own sources. With his growing influence and access to discreet channels, intelligence like this wasn't difficult for him to acquire. Even without being on the battlefield himself, he could roughly piece together how the events would develop.
Ross believed he could subdue the Hulk with firepower and military tactics. But Nolan knew better. Relying on Terminator T-800 units alone wasn't enough. That plan was bound to collapse sooner or later. The only uncertainty lay in how much of a fight the Terminators could put up before they were inevitably crushed.
As Nolan pondered, he couldn't help but think beyond the immediate conflict.
Facing the Hulk was just the beginning. His true enemies weren't limited to one green giant. Out there in the cosmos were threats far greater beings who could wipe out entire civilizations. If he couldn't even match the Hulk, how could he dream of punching Thanos or trampling down Hela?
He needed a trump card.
The thought brought him back to his greatest resource: the mysterious System Shop. Within it were not just blueprints of advanced technologies but even tangible artifacts from countless worlds. However, there was a catch. Many of the more powerful creations relied on resources unique to their native universes. Earth simply couldn't replicate them. The stronger the item, the greater the discrepancy.
That limitation had always forced Nolan to think pragmatically. He invested heavily into profit-making ventures and corporate growth before daring to touch anything extravagant. But Locke Technologies was now stabilizing. Funds were still tight, yes, but steady revenue had begun to flow in. For the first time, Nolan felt he could afford to prioritize his personal survival over profit margins.
"One more successful deal," he thought with determination, "and I'll buy myself a real trump card."
Money was important. But his life his future mattered more.
Still, a pang of longing tugged at him. If only he possessed the sheer might of someone like Superman. No machines, no armies just raw, personal power. Then he wouldn't need to fret over these contingencies. Mechanical marvels were impressive, but they would never truly surpass the strength of one's own body.
Should he consider altering his own flesh?
He recalled the phrase: Flesh is weak; steel ascends.
The System had entire categories dedicated to bodily enhancement cybernetic augmentations, nanotechnological transformations, even complete mechanization of the human form. The advantages were immense: resilience, strength, near immortality. The downside was simple yet profound: one stopped being human.
Nolan hesitated. Deep down, he still clung to his humanity. For now, he shelved the idea, unwilling to abandon the last pieces of himself that made him who he was.
Meanwhile, at Culver University, chaos reigned.
The Hulk roared furiously, his enormous fists slamming against the relentless T-800 units. Yet, for all his fury, his blows often struck nothing but air. The machines were fast, weaving around his strikes like wolves harrying a bear. But whenever one did get hit, the damage was severe metallic bodies caved in, limbs twisted or torn free.
General Ross observed from a distance, his expression cold but confident. The machines weren't strong enough to kill the Hulk, that much was clear. But Ross had prepared for this moment far in advance.
As the battle raged, four heavily modified Humvees rolled into position around the campus, each outfitted with experimental sonic cannons.
"Target locked," a soldier reported.
Beside Ross stood Betty Ross, her face pale with fear. Watching her father orchestrate this cold-blooded assault filled her with dread.
"Father, stop this! Let Bruce go!" she cried, desperation in her voice.
Ross turned his stern gaze on her, his voice like steel. "That creature is not Bruce Banner. Bruce died years ago in that experiment. What stands before you now is nothing but a monster."
Tears welled in Betty's eyes as she shouted back, "No! He's still Bruce! I know it!"
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Ross raised his hand and gave the order.
"Fire!"
The Humvees unleashed their sonic waves. The air vibrated violently, and the Hulk staggered as his body convulsed under the assault. His ears rang, his muscles twitched uncontrollably. Even the T-800 units faltered, their processors glitching from the disruptive frequencies.
Ross didn't care. Collateral damage meant nothing if it meant capturing the Hulk.
But the monster wasn't finished.
Blood-red fury blazed in the Hulk's eyes as he let out a thunderous roar, forcing his battered body to push forward. With a sudden burst of strength, he leapt clear of the sonic field, charging straight toward Ross.
For the first time, fear flickered in the general's eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one had ever broken free of the sonic traps before.
"Retreat! Now!" Ross barked, though his voice betrayed a tremor.
The Hulk loomed over him, a living storm of rage, and drew back his colossal fist.
"Bruce, no!"
Betty hurled herself between her father and the monster, her eyes brimming with tears.
At her voice, something shifted within the Hulk. His rage softened. The red haze clouding his vision began to fade. For a heartbeat, he simply stood there, staring at Betty. Then, with a guttural roar of frustration, he spun away and bounded into the night sky, vanishing from the campus.
Ross clenched his fists, his face twisted in rage. Failure. Even with preparation, even with cutting-edge weapons, he had failed.
"Check on Emil Blonsky," he ordered sharply. "And prepare stronger Terminators. If we can't overpower the Hulk with these, we'll need something bigger."
His eyes lingered on the damaged T-800s, admiration burning in them despite their battered state. They were impressive machines, but not enough. Not yet.
Far away, the Hulk finally slowed. His breathing steadied, his fury ebbing. Muscles shrank, green skin faded, and soon Bruce Banner collapsed by the roadside, exhausted and vulnerable.
When he awoke, night had fallen completely. The world around him was dark and unfamiliar. With a weary sigh, he dragged himself up and walked aimlessly until a faint light caught his eye a villa, isolated yet welcoming.
Desperate for shelter, Banner knocked on the door.
To his surprise, it was answered by a calm young man.
Nolan Locke.
For a moment, Nolan froze. He hadn't expected Bruce Banner to stumble onto his doorstep. Still, he kept his composure, hiding his astonishment. Silently, he handed Banner a glass of water.
"Thank you," Banner said softly, his voice tired.
"It's nothing," Nolan replied smoothly. "If you don't mind, you're welcome to stay the night. You look like you could use the rest."
Banner hesitated. "You're not afraid? Letting a stranger in so easily?"
Nolan smiled faintly. "Of course I'm cautious. But as long as you don't let that big green guy out, I'd say I'm pretty safe."
Banner's heart skipped a beat. This man knew. He knew his secret.
His pulse quickened, unease rising.
"Relax, Dr. Banner," Nolan said gently, sensing his tension. "I'm not your enemy. But if you lose control again, I'll be the first one out that door."
Banner drew in a sharp breath, trying to calm himself. "Who are you?"
Nolan extended his hand, his eyes steady.
"Me? I'm Nolan Locke. Surely, you've heard the name."
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