The Hulk's strength was immense, but his mind was like a goddamn spoiled brat who only understood rage. After escaping the lab, he tore off into the wilderness, rampaged through the mountains for a whole night, and only then did he finally give Banner's body back.
Banner woke up, wearing nothing but a pair of massive, torn pants, ran home from the outskirts, changed, and rushed to the hospital.
Through the glass, he saw his beloved girlfriend lying unconscious on the hospital bed. A wave of guilt and self-loathing washed over him.
"How the fuck do you dare show your face here! It's because of your goddamn arrogance that Betty's like this!" General Ross, his arm in a cast, stormed over, grabbed Banner by the collar, and roared.
Banner looked down, unable to meet his future father-in-law's—no, General Ross's—eyes. He'd done this to her. Forget Ross ever letting them get married... What about Betty? He couldn't fucking stand to think about how she'd see him when she woke up. As her boyfriend? A colleague? Or... a monster?
Ross slammed him against the wall. "I'm placing you under arrest. You're not going anywhere until the military is done figuring out what the fuck is inside you."
Hearing this, Banner frowned and shook his head hard. He knew exactly what kind of man Ross was: a ruthless bastard who would do anything to get what he wanted. If it wasn't for Betty, Banner never would have worked for the prick.
If he let Ross take him, he'd be facing a lifetime of brutal experiments and torture. Ross would lock him away forever just to cover up the project's colossal failure.
"No. This is my problem, and I'll handle it. Don't worry, I won't stay in the country. I won't be a problem for the government or the military."
Ross's eyes narrowed. "Banner," He threatened quietly, "That's an order from the top. I advise you not to fight it."
"General," Banner shot back, looking right at him, a flicker of green in his eyes, "I'm warning you. Don't. Fucking. Push me."
Ross was stunned. He let go and backed the fuck up, then barked at his men, "Grab him!"
Banner just glanced at the soldiers, and they all flinched. They were Ross's personal detail; they knew exactly what happened last night and weren't about to make a move.
Banner looked back at Betty one last time, his eyes softening, then turned and walked out of the hospital without looking back.
Before he'd even come to the hospital, he'd booked a one-way ticket to Brazil.
He wouldn't be back... not until he figured out how to get rid of the monster inside him.
*
A military experiment gone wrong, birthing an uncontrollable monster... a scandal that big had to be buried.
Everyone who knew what happened was forced to sign the highest-level of non-disclosure agreements. One leak, and they'd be tried for treason.
The official story was an "equipment malfunction" that caused an explosion. The blast unfortunately killed a few guards, dislocated Ross's arm, and left his daughter, Dr. Betty Ross, in a coma.
As for the project's lead, the brilliant Dr. Bruce Banner? Dishonorably discharged, whereabouts unknown.
The fake news was good enough for the sheeple, but not for the real players, and definitely not for a half-assed prophet like Jason.
The second he heard the name "Bruce Banner," a giant, green fucking monster flashed in his mind.
Unlike hacks like Iron Man, Hawkeye, or Black Widow, the Hulk's power level was top-fucking-tier. Barring a few god-level beings, no regular "super" could stand against him.
Even scarier, his power ceiling was fucking insane.
The angrier he got, the stronger he got.
If Jason had to face him one-on-one right now... he wasn't sure he'd walk away.
The Hulk's birth... he had no idea if this was good for the Joker Organization, or a fucking disaster.
For the first time in a long time, Jason felt... pressure. The only thing he could do was grind. Max out his workload, take on missions non-stop, and get his power-level up. Fast.
*
Meanwhile, in a frozen shithole in the middle of Siberia, a broke-ass father and son were huddled around a stove, watching TV.
It was some American documentary: "Tony Stark: From Playboy to Iron Man."
On the screen, Tony, full of swagger, announced to the press: "I am Iron Man."
That one line set the world on fire. Iron Man and Tony Stark instantly became the darlings of the media, the protector of the American people.
Watching this, the old man, Anton Vanko, was overcome with despair, his face wet with tears of fucking rage and regret.
He was a goddamn genius, Howard Stark's partner. They'd built the arc reactor together.
But that greedy fucking Stark family wanted all the glory, so they framed him as a Soviet spy and had him deported. And the idiotic Soviet government, too fucking stupid to see his genius, exiled him to this frozen shithole to rot.
Being poor was one thing, but because of Stark, his son Ivan was ruined. No education, no university job, no government post.
The sons of the arc reactor's creators: Tony Stark was America's golden boy, enjoying a life of fucking luxury. His son was stuck in this frozen hell, barely scraping by fixing machines.
The fucking difference made Anton's blood boil.
He turned to his son, tears streaming.
"Ivan... all of this... it should have been yours."
Ivan Vanko said nothing, just gripped his father's hand. He understood. He understood all of it.
"Ivan... it should have been yours..." The old man whispered, over and over, until his heart finally gave out.
His father's hand went limp and slipped from his grasp. Ivan felt like he'd been gutted. A violent, searing pain... and then, a white-hot, all-consuming rage erupted from his soul.
After the funeral, Ivan had a plan.
Revenge.
He would make the Stark family pay. He would destroy those fucking thieves, even if it cost him his own life.
Ivan dug out his father's old blueprints and began to build his own arc reactor.
The day it was finished... would be the day Tony Stark fucking died.
*
The storm was brewing, and everyone was getting busy.
Jason, the goddamn incarnation of terror, was grinding missions for points.
The Hulk was hiding in a Brazilian slum, trying to control his rage and find a cure.
Tony was locked in his lab, working day and night on his new suit.
And Ivan, driven by revenge, was building his reactor.
In the very near future, all four of them were set for one hell of a fucking collision.
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
500 power stones.
Top 50. All time.