Marvel's Avengers: The Extinction Key, page 5
“God,” he said. “How do you do that?”
It had been a long time ago, and it hadn’t even been a date. Just a morning meeting to go over lab notes before a huge exam. She’d put down coffee and a plate of cookies and hadn’t noticed his puzzled expression for several moments.
He’d thought about asking her out that morning, but he hadn’t.
Maybe just as well. Even if she’d said yes, what relationship could have survived what happened to him a few months later?
Better that this was happening now, when he was finally coming to some sort of—well, not peace, exactly. But at least a truce with the green guy. Now something was possible. What, exactly, he still wasn’t sure.
“Just a guess,” she said. “I wondered, why would that pastry make Bruce smile? I entertain a hypothesis…”
“You couldn’t find any decent pastries, you said.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I was devastated when I realized you thought it was odd. I had hoped to make a better impression on my brilliant lab partner.”
He smiled, watching her sip, thinking again how close to normal this all felt. How he wanted it to keep going.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Why did you go in with George on AIM? You could have been in one of the big labs, with unlimited funding.”
“Well, I have that now, thanks to you and Tony,” she said. “But I see what you’re getting at. I think it’s that I liked the idea of working with like-minded people. A place where I wouldn’t just be a cog in a machine I didn’t design. And look where I am—with George, with you, with Tony—doing exactly what I want. Making the world a better place.” She put her cup down and her eyes drifted a little.
“I mean, it may sound corny, but that’s what I always wanted.” Then she looked up. “And to get my share of the credit. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”
“Wow,” he said. “You never really got over that science fair thing from when you were a kid.”
Her eyebrows drew together.
“I invented a programmable robot knife!” she said. “He had a cheese volcano! That his father built for him! How is that fair? In what world—”
“Hey,” he said, fending her off with one hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Her frown vanished, and she chuckled. “You see, I sometimes take myself too seriously. You were always able to ground me, Bruce. I like that about you. I think I kind of need that, to stay balanced.”
He studied her for a moment, saw she was serious.
He took her hand. “I like that,” he said. “Look, I get it. You deserve to follow your own path. And I don’t doubt it will take you to even more amazing places than you’ve already been.”
“Thank you,” she said, setting her cup on the small table. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”
“And I’d like to… be with you for it. For the whole thing.”
“Of course,” she said, softly. “I’d like that, too.”
* * *
EMIL watched Rappaccini and Banner approach on the monitors, waiting to see if the bot recognized them and applied the appropriate security measures. The system had been buggy for the first week or so, but he finally seemed to have tamed it. The two showed their IDs, the bot scanned them, then gave the greenlight to enter. Emil switched it to auto, and allowed it to let them in.
Emil knew who Banner was, of course. If the Avenger really wanted to come in, he could, and nothing they could bring to bear would stop him.
That was a problem. Even as a child back in Zagreb, Emil had known that the only way to keep someone out was through force of arms—not just the threat of violence, but the ability to deal it out. The defenses here were all passive, and that had profound limits. AIM needed more… aggressive measures.
He had started out with AIM when they were a tiny start-up. He’d been protecting them from scams, cyberattacks, and run-of-the-mill burglary. But now there was millions of dollars’ worth of equipment within these walls. That increased the threat of an organized break-in considerably, and that had to be reckoned with. But with Stark and the Avengers involved—with the Hulk actually here—he worried more than a little about his own job. He had to show that he could protect this place as well as any so-called super hero.
But he needed the okay, and a budget. Tarleton seemed interested, but he was always busy, and hard to pin down. Rappaccini had told him to run a cost analysis, which he had begun doing.
Emil wanted to do well here. He was good at what he did, and he meant to prove it. Coming to the United States, he’d hoped to start over, rewrite his history. He didn’t talk about his past, the war, his years in the military and as a mercenary. It kept people from knowing the worst about him, but it also prevented him from becoming close to anyone. Inevitably potential friends or lovers sensed the gaps he wouldn’t speak of.
Add to that the natural suspicion Americans had of immigrants, and he’d found a lack not just of personal prospects, but professional ones.
America wasn’t the land of endless opportunity even if you were born there. When you came from a place like he was from, you were starting in a hole to begin with. Over the years the optimism which had brought him from his war-torn country had soured. He had been lucky to get this job. He intended to keep it.
SIX
BRUCE made a final solder, inspected the workmanship, and sat back, regarding the scattering of parts from the gutted projector. Monica, hard at work on her side of the lab, glanced his way. She had tied her long dark hair back, to keep it out of the way, but little wisps strayed from the tie here and there. He found it endearing.
She noticed him looking at her.
“You’re sure you can put that back together?” she asked.
“Pretty sure,” he said. “Do you still have the instructions?”
“Considering what Stark paid for that thing, you’d better be a little more than ‘pretty sure.’”
“It’ll be as good as new,” he said. “Better, actually. It should project at about twenty percent greater efficiency.”
“That… will be impressive,” she said, “when I see it.”
“Oh, you’ll see it,” he said. “Don’t worry about that, Doctor.”
She smiled at him, and dark eyes seemed to gleam, and for a second he wanted to drop everything, cross the space between them, and just—
He realized that the tumblers in his heart and mind had stopped. The combination was lined up, and he’d decided.
“You know what,” he said. “I’m gonna take that as a challenge. I’m going to go outside, and when I get back, I’ll put this thing back together—with no distractions.”
“You’re going outside?” she said. “Have you taken up smoking?”
“No,” he replied. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Ah,” she said. “George’s cell-jammer. Annoying, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “It’s a sensible precaution, I guess.”
* * *
ONCE beyond the range of Tarleton’s jammer, Bruce tapped Tony Stark’s private number.
“Hey, Bruce,” Stark answered immediately. “How’s it going out there?”
“It’s going really well,” Bruce said. “They’ve got their labs up and running. Very impressive.”
“You’ve seen Tarleton’s work?”
“Yeah, this morning. It’s moving along. He got a thirty-percent reaction from the crystals, but he seems certain he can get it to ninety or even higher.”
“Without any pesky explosions, I assume?”
“Right.”
“That’s good,” Tony said. “I’ve got some ideas myself. An ion-permeable filter—”
“That’s kind of what he’s doing,” Bruce said.
“Oh. Well. I’ve got other ideas, too. That’s not my only idea.”
“I’m sure it’s not,” Bruce said. “Look, Tony—that thing we talked about. The West Coast thing.”
“You can say it,” Tony said. “Don’t be afraid. Just say it.”
“I—it makes it sound like a franchise,” Bruce said. “Like some kind of burger joint.”
“It is a franchise,” Tony said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not important. It’s America. Say it. You want to talk about what?”
“The, uh… the West Coast Avengers thing,” Bruce muttered.
“See? Was that so hard?”
“My mouth hurts,” Bruce said.
“Just—what about it?” Tony asked.
“The idea… it’s growing on me.”
“Growing on you. I like the sound of that. I don’t suppose a certain Italian genius had anything to do with that… uh, growth?”
“That is really not your business, Tony,” he said. “Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”
“I’m all aflutter,” Tony replied.
“I’d like to stay out here for a while, that’s all. So if you really want to do this thing—”
“This thing?” Tony interrupted. “You mean the West Coast Avengers?”
Bruce closed his eyes. “Yes, fine, that. I think… we might start the process.”
“We might,” Tony said. “If I hadn’t already. Been looking for a location for months now. I’ve narrowed it down to two…”
“So I’m okay to stay out here?”
“You have my blessing, my son.”
“Great,” Bruce said. “That’s great, okay.”
“Bruce?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re gonna do this.”
“Yes,” Bruce said.
“What are we gonna do? Say it.”
“Goodbye, Tony,” he said, and hung up.
He stood there for just a moment. As easy as that.
He knew he had a goofy smile on his face when he went back into the lab. He didn’t care.
* * *
BRUCE reassembled the projector and then ran a test on it. He was pleased to see that it outperformed his expectations. Slightly. He glanced over at Monica as she was tidying up her work area. A look at his watch showed him it was almost nine o’clock.
“Calling it a night?” he asked as she approached.
“Maybe,” she said. “Are you finished up?”
“For now, I’ve got some ideas for a few adjustments…”
“Tonight?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“So you’ll still be here tomorrow?”
He liked the look on her face. Confident, like she already knew what he was going to say, and was glad about it.
“You should probably tell Blonsky I need long-term security clearance.”
“Long term?” she said. “How long term?”
He allowed a little smile. “I called Tony,” he said. “I’ve let him know I’m going to be staying out here for a while.”
There were those eyes again, taking him apart in the gentlest way imaginable. She nodded and stepped closer.
“Good,” she said. She leaned. He leaned.
When they finished the kiss, he realized they were holding hands.
“Perhaps,” Monica said softly, “we ought to call it a night.”
“That sounds good to me,” he said.
“Just let me shut down a couple more things and lock up,” she said. “I’ll meet you by the security desk.” She squeezed his hand. “I won’t be long.”
He tidied up his workspace, and then went to the foyer, trying not to put too much on what had just happened. It felt like he’d made the right choice, but he knew it didn’t guarantee anything. He wasn’t sure exactly what Monica wanted. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. But now they had the space—the time—to explore that.
Another, more worrying thought had been lurking for a long time. Now it pushed its way forward.
What was the Hulk going to think about this?
Bruce knew the Hulk was part of him—had always been, even before the accident that gave him the power to come into the world—but it helped to think of the green guy as something… separate. Apart from Bruce Banner, both as a practical matter and as a way to stay sane. In reality, though, if he and Monica were together, he was going to be sharing her with the Hulk. Sometimes in a very literal sense. It was something he had to think about, however weird and unfun those thoughts might be.
It was a measure of how distracted he was that it took him a few minutes to realize he was alone in the room. Blonsky was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was on patrol. Although Tarleton’s lab was locked down, and he’d just come from Monica’s lab. There was storage space, but that was mostly out in the open. There weren’t a lot of places the security chief could be.
Maybe he was outside, on the phone. That made sense.
But something about the situation made Bruce feel uneasy.
He took a step to peer out the window, but didn’t see Blonsky out there. Shrugging, he turned back to the kiosk, and noticed a booted foot sticking out from behind it.
“Blonsky?”
The man was on the floor behind the desk, unconscious. Bruce bent down beside him and was relieved to find that he was still breathing. He might have fallen, or fainted, or had a stroke, but Bruce didn’t believe it. Something was wrong here. He felt his pulse quicken and begin to throb in his temples.
“No,” he said. He stood up, sweeping his gaze about the room as he dialed 9-1-1. Nothing looked out of place. He gave it a second pass and saw—something. A distortion in the air, like a piece of warped glass—or an energy field.
“What the…” The phone told him it didn’t have a signal. Of course…
The blurry patch moved, fast, and in it he saw a sort of misty outline—a person, or at least a humanoid. A woman.
Coming at him.
“Hey!” he shouted. “No!” He stumbled back, but she came on. A spectral arm plunged into his chest. He felt a tingle… and then white-hot pain detonated in his entire body. Through a haze of agony he saw his attacker, looking a little more solid. Wearing a blue outfit, she had sharp features, a thin nose, blonde hair cut short…
His legs crumpled, but already he felt the presence pushing back against the pain. The jittery, awful exhilaration of strength flowing from the depths to the surface as he—Bruce—was dragged down below, caught in the undertow of the approaching tsunami…
“Whoever you are,” he said just before he lost control of his lips, “you just made a big mistake. Huge.”
Then the anger overcame everything.
SEVEN
THE mist-woman stuck her hand inside of Hulk and hurt him.
Roaring his rage, he hurt her back, swinging one of his bunched knuckles into her. It was almost like hitting air, but he did feel something—like water, or a curtain. The woman flew in the direction of his punch. She vanished through the wall.
He went after her.
The difference was, when she went through the wall it was still there. When he followed her, it smashed to pieces. She flew through another wall, and he went through that, too, getting madder with every second. He didn’t know her. Why had she hurt him?
Something to do with Banner.
Soft, weak Banner.
Banner, who thought he was so smart. He thought he knew everything, but when Banner went away, Hulk could really think. He knew what was real, and he knew what to do about it. Banner just thought and thought and thought, filling his head with clouds of suffocating nonsense—guesses, maybes, might-have-beens. Banner couldn’t concentrate. Not like now—now everything was clear.
The mist-woman hurt Hulk.
He would hurt her.
Hulk was outside, now. The sun was gone from the sky, but there was a little bit of yellow left in the clouds. He remembered the street as if in a dream, but it was real, something he could put his hands on. He dug his fingers into the pavement and ripped up a chunk of it to throw at his antagonist. She faded through another building before the mass smashed into it. With a growl, he prepared to spring.
There was motion, something coming at him, and he turned to meet it—but it was already there, hurtling toward him feet first from above. Claws slammed into his shoulder, digging in and pushing him down with enough force that he almost fell to one knee. Another one! Why didn’t they just leave him alone? Why was someone always attacking Hulk?
Hulk swung a backhand, but the guy flipped over it and slashed him in the face. Sharp claws cut into his skin; the pain was surprising, and so was the blood that spurted. His skin was usually hard enough to protect him against anything. Bullets and missiles bounced harmlessly from it, but this man-lion—or whatever he was—his claws looked like they were made of light, or lightning.
Screaming his fury, he caught his attacker with a left, sending him hurling through the air. The punch felt solid, and good, and he didn’t think the guy would get up again.
But he did.
The man-lion was big, for a human, with long golden hair. His eyes were yellow, too.
“Stop cutting Hulk!” he shouted, charging.
The man with the yellow hair opened his mouth. He yelled, too, and Hulk saw a light so bright it blinded him. The light came right out of the lion’s mouth and hit him so hard it felt like he had been knocked half out of his own skull. He crashed into a building and sailed through it, tearing through walls like they were tissue paper, before he finally broke through another brick wall and skidded down the street.
The weird thing was, even though the light had hit him, hard, he felt stronger than ever—although still furious and confused. The cuts from the lion’s claws were all healed. He jumped up, just in time to see that the mist-woman was there again. She flew right through his chest, and all of a sudden he felt like he’d swallowed lightning. His arms and legs jerked and cramped as if they didn’t belong to him.
Then the woman was laughing at him, stoking the fury within him like a raging flame. She ran and he chased her, punched his way through another building in pursuit. He would make her stop laughing. On that he was absolutely clear.
The man-lion was there again, charging him. Hulk stamped on the ground, cracking the pavement and sending yellow hair up in the air, where he swatted him like a bouncing ball. He watched with satisfaction as his attacker slammed into a building, but just like before he jumped back up. Hulk braced himself, ready to pound the cat-man flat into the pavement, but then the woman was at it again, flying through him, snatching him off his feet and into the air.
