Nolan Locke.
Bruce Banner froze for a moment when he heard the name.
Of course, he had heard of him. As a scientist himself, how could he not know about a genius who was spoken of in the same breath as Tony Stark?
And the proof was right in front of him. The Terminators and battle robots he had encountered earlier in the night were all Nolan's creations.
"It seems my luck isn't too bad after all," Banner muttered under his breath, shoulders loosening slightly.
The fact that Nolan Locke knew who he was, yet hadn't immediately reacted with hostility, suggested this man bore no malicious intent for now, at least.
Nolan, on the other hand, chuckled. "No, Dr. Banner. I'd say it's my luck that's good tonight."
Bruce raised his brows. He had certainly heard of Nolan's reputation, but he never expected their paths to cross so suddenly, in such a strange place and time.
"Looks like you're in a bit of trouble," Nolan observed, his eyes sharp, though his voice remained calm.
Banner hesitated. Should he tell this man the truth? On the one hand, Nolan Locke's achievements were legendary; on the other, Banner had been hunted by the military long enough to know better than to trust someone so quickly.
Seeing the uncertainty in his expression, Nolan smiled and waved it off. "If it's hard to say, then don't. I won't press you."
That simple assurance made Banner exhale in relief. For a man like him, being pursued constantly, any moment of reprieve was worth savoring.
"Dr. Banner," Nolan continued, his tone softening, "from what I know, you're still troubled by the Hulk. Have you managed to resolve that issue yet?"
Banner's face darkened instantly. "No."
That single word carried the weight of years of torment. The Hulk wasn't just a problem; he was the deepest wound in Banner's heart.
"I may have a suggestion."
The words hooked Banner's attention despite himself. He looked at Nolan warily, but also curiously.
Nolan leaned forward slightly. "To you, the Hulk is a nightmare. I know you've tried countless ways to destroy him. But have you ever considered the possibility that the Hulk… is you?"
Banner's eyes widened, then hardened. "No. That's impossible. He's a beast, a monster born of a failed experiment!"
Emotion surged in his voice, his self-loathing laid bare.
Nolan didn't push back aggressively. He only said, with quiet conviction, "Perhaps. But from where I stand, the Hulk and you are two sides of the same coin. Gamma radiation didn't just spawn a monster it awakened a second self. You reject him because you're brilliant, because you can't accept sharing your mind with something so savage. But perhaps that rejection is exactly why the Hulk exists as a separate persona."
"Absolutely not!" Banner shot back, his voice sharp with denial. He refused to believe it. The Hulk had ruined his life, chased him from city to city, stripped him of peace. How could that monster be the same as him?
He shook his head violently. "The Hulk is not me. He never will be. He's only a monster."
Nolan studied him for a moment and let it go. Pushing too hard now would only deepen Banner's resistance. The man's pain was raw, and no amount of reason could undo years of fear and hatred overnight.
Instead, Nolan smoothly shifted the subject. "Dr. Banner, have you ever considered joining Locke Technologies?"
The question caught Bruce off guard. His frown softened into an apologetic expression. "I'm afraid that isn't possible. I'm still a fugitive, hunted by the military. If I came under your roof, I'd only drag trouble to your doorstep."
Nolan chuckled lightly. "That may be true. But should the opportunity arise in the future, I would very much like to see you with us. I'd consider it an honor."
Banner gave no answer. The meeting ended without resolution, and Nolan watched him leave, not surprised. Trust wasn't built in a single night.
What neither of them expected was how quickly the world would spin them back together.
The following morning, Nolan's phone rang. The voice on the other end was steady and authoritative.
"Good morning, Mr. Locke. This is General Thaddeus E. Ross of the United States Army. I'm very interested in your company's Terminator T-800 units. I'd like to procure a number of them. But more importantly, I want to know: do you have anything stronger?"
Nolan's lips curved upward. Ross. Of course. The general's Hulkbuster squad was among the most elite forces the military possessed and one of the wealthiest. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was the largest buyer of advanced tech in the world, then the U.S. military, and especially Ross's branch, wasn't far behind.
After a moment of thought, Nolan replied smoothly. "I'm afraid our newest prototypes are still in development, General. However, if you're looking for more powerful tools, I can recommend two alternatives: the ExoSuit combat exoskeleton and the APU armored combat platform."
Ross perked up immediately. "What I need is raw power, Mr. Locke. Show me something that can break the unbreakable."
"You won't be disappointed," Nolan assured him, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. "The ExoSuit is designed to double a soldier's speed and strength while enhancing durability. The APU, however…" He paused deliberately, then continued, "the APU is a mechanized war platform equipped with heavy-caliber weaponry. Its firepower is nothing short of brutal."
The moment Ross heard the word "brutal," his eyes gleamed. That was precisely what he had been searching for.
Within hours, the general himself arrived at Locke Technologies.
Nolan led him into the testing grounds. Rows of ExoSuit-clad soldiers demonstrated enhanced leaps, staggering strength, and resilience beyond any normal human. Impressive, yes but Ross's attention was drawn to the towering figures beyond them.
The APU units.
Each stood like a metal titan, their armored frames bristling with weaponry. Ross's gaze snagged on the ammunition belts feeding into the arm-mounted cannons.
"Twenty-five millimeter rounds?" he breathed, astonished. He knew the difference well. Anything below twenty millimeters was classified as small arms. Twenty millimeters and above crossed into cannon fire.
And these machines were carrying twenty-fives.
In The Matrix, the APU suits had no armor, nothing but exposed cockpits. But Nolan had corrected that fatal flaw. His APUs carried reinforced plating, turning them into walking fortresses of steel and firepower.
"Prepare for demonstration," Nolan ordered.
One pilot Frank, a grizzled veteran stepped into the armored frame. The cockpit sealed, and the machine came alive with a roar. Before them stretched a mock city of reinforced concrete.
Frank's voice rang out through the comms. "Target acquired. Lock and load."
The APU's arms lifted, barrels rotating into position. Rows of identical units followed suit, the air thick with the hum of engines and the clink of ammunition.
"Fire!"
The command detonated like thunder.
The battlefield erupted.
The twenty-five millimeter cannons unleashed a torrent of destruction, muzzle flashes blazing even under daylight. The mock city vanished under a storm of shells, concrete walls shredding, towers crumbling, smoke and dust consuming the horizon.
Ross's heart pounded in his chest. His face flushed red, eyes wide as a boy's on Christmas morning.
"Holy…" He caught himself, but the word was already out.
This was it. This was power incarnate. Even the T-800s paled in comparison to the sheer savagery of the APU's assault.
When the barrage finally ceased, the mock city was gone, reduced to rubble and ruin. Silence fell heavy across the range.
Ross turned sharply toward Nolan, his eyes alight with hunger. "Tell me the price, Locke. Tell me how much it will take to bring these beasts under my command."
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