After Smith left, Tony sat alone in his workshop, the only sounds the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks below and the quiet hum of his servers. He turned the Four-Star Dragon Ball over in his hands. It was perfectly smooth, almost warm.
If he couldn't resurrect his parents, what should he wish for?
His gaze drifted to his own chest. The arc reactor's pale blue glow was visible through his shirt, a constant, low-level light. A constant reminder. The palladium core was slowly, inexorably poisoning him. He'd tested every known element, run simulations on compounds that didn't even exist, but nothing worked. Nearly a year since building the Mark 1 in that cave, and he was no closer to a solution.
How much longer did he have? Months? Weeks?
Maybe meeting Smith Doyle and learning about the Dragon Balls was providence. God ensuring he wouldn't die before finding an answer.
And it mattered who made the wish. Better him than some idiot wishing for something stupid. His wish would actually help people, advance humanity.
Tony's grip tightened on the smooth orange sphere. He'd have to give everything in the tournament. No half measures.
At the impact crater, Agent Coulson stood at the edge of the massive, concave hole carved by the Kamehameha. The air smelled of burnt earth and snapped pine. Hawkeye Barton and a S.H.I.E.L.D tactical team spread out across the devastated area, documenting everything, their dark uniforms stark against the gray dawn.
"Terrifying power," Coulson said quietly, adjusting his tie. "It's hard to believe a human being could cause this much destruction."
Barton examined a tree that had been snapped in half like a twig, the wood splintered. "He's god, remember? Can't judge him by normal standards."
He grinned, a sharp, quick expression. "They don't call him that for no reason."
"But the guy who fought him," Barton continued, kicking at a piece of glassed-over soil, "was pretty terrifying too. And according to reports, he survived? Actually ran away?"
Coulson nodded, his expression grim. "That's what our intelligence indicates."
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just thinking about writing this report gives me a headache. The level of power these people have keeps escalating."
"I miss the simpler days when combat ratings under eight points were rare."
He looked around at the sheer scale of the destruction. "I hope the public buys our cover story about a laboratory explosion."
Barton shrugged and walked away, tapping his comms unit. Report writing was Coulson's problem, not his.
At Betty's apartment, Ross's soldiers were tearing through her belongings. Drawers were yanked open, cushions sliced, books swept from shelves. They were searching for any trace of Banner.
Betty watched, numb, for as long as she could stomach the violation. Then she saw him, her current boyfriend, standing near a soldier and pointing. The realization hit her like a physical blow. He had betrayed Bruce. She turned, pushed past a startled guard, and ran outside into the street.
Ross barely acknowledged his daughter's departure. He turned to the psychologist instead, his face a cold mask. "You did well. Next time, contact me the moment you have information."
"That man is too dangerous to leave running around."
The psychologist met Ross's eyes. "General, as a psychologist, I can tell when someone's lying. I can also tell when someone's being manipulated."
Ross glanced at him, a flicker of pure contempt in his eyes, and walked out without responding.
The psychologist's face flushed. He shouted after him. "No wonder Betty never talks about you! I was curious before, but now I understand why!"
Ross paused at his vehicle, his hand on the door, and muttered, "Where did she find that idiot?"
He climbed into the military transport. His next priority was capturing Banner while the creature was still injured from Smith's attack.
Betty didn't run aimlessly. She got in her car and drove northeast, toward the direction she'd seen the Hulk throw the Dragon Ball.
Last night, Bruce had explained everything. He'd found a solution to his condition, shown her the orange sphere with its mysterious stars. He had been so hopeful, his eyes brighter than she'd seen them in years.
She didn't understand why Hulk had thrown it away, but she knew Bruce needed it desperately.
Betty drove through the night. Rain began to fall, hammering against her windshield. Thunder rolled across the sky, vibrating through the car. She'd calculated the approximate trajectory based on Hulk's strength and the throw angle, plotting coordinates on her tablet.
After hours of driving, she reached the search area. The pavement ended, and she continued on a muddy track until the car could go no further. She got out, flashlight in hand. Trees stretched endlessly in every direction. A sheer cliff face loomed ahead, a black shadow against the stormy sky.
"If my calculations are right, it should be somewhere around here."
But looking at the vast, dark wilderness, doubt crept in. How could she possibly find something so small in such a huge area? They'd never made it to the lab to measure the Dragon Ball's energy signature. She had no scanner, no detector.
Thunder cracked overhead. A brilliant fork of lightning illuminated the entire landscape in stark, momentary white.
In that flash, she saw him. The Hulk. Standing at the entrance of a cave halfway up the cliff face.
"Bruce!"
The Hulk's head turned. He saw Betty, a tiny, lone figure standing in the pounding rain, and leaped down. He landed ten feet in front of her with a heavy thud that shook the ground and nearly knocked her off her feet.
He reached out with one massive, green finger and steadied her gently, preventing her fall.
Betty shone her flashlight across his body, her hand shaking. She checked for injuries. No burns. No wounds. She smiled, a sob of relief catching in her throat.
"I'm so glad you're okay."
The Hulk's anger, stirred by the storm's thunder and lightning, calmed at the sight of her smile. When Betty explained she was looking for something he'd thrown away, he stayed close, a silent, massive guardian.
He lifted her to unreachable ledges. He moved fallen trees that blocked her path, clearing debris with casual, one-handed strength.
As gray dawn broke, Betty finally found it. The Dragon Ball, nestled between two rocks near the base of the cliff, half-buried in mud.
The Hulk saw what she held. A low growl rumbled in his chest. That was the thing. The thing Banner wanted to use to destroy him. He didn't want anything to do with it, or this woman who was helping Banner. He retreated inward, letting the man he hated resurface.
The transformation reversed. The Hulk shrank, his pained grunt fading as green faded to flesh. Bruce Banner stood where the monster had been, naked and shivering in the rain.
Betty held up the Dragon Ball. "You threw this away after transforming. I found it for you."
She smiled, pushing her soaked hair out of her eyes. "Lucky that you ran toward the area where it landed."
Banner took the sphere, his expression grave.
"Bruce? What's wrong? Aren't you happy I found it?"
She moved closer. "I remember you saying this thing could solve your transformation problem."
Banner stayed silent because he understood something Betty didn't. When the Hulk controlled the body, Banner still had access to those memories. They shared consciousness, existing simultaneously in the same space.
He in Hulk. Hulk in him.
When the Hulk took over, Banner experienced everything through the creature's eyes. And when Banner regained control, he inherited the Hulk's recent memories.
Which meant Banner knew exactly what the Hulk had learned about the Dragon Ball. About Banner's plan to use it to eliminate him.
The Hulk was no longer ignorant. He knew Banner wanted him dead.
And that meant the next time Banner lost control, the Hulk would fight back. Not just against soldiers or threats. Against Banner himself.
Banner closed his fist around the cold, wet Dragon Ball and finally met Betty's concerned gaze.
"I'm in big trouble," he said quietly.