Against My Will 7

The pad beeped under his fingers, the agent punching the last digit out of six into the locking system. His keycard came free from a pouch as the red light switched to yellow and he swiped it through the available port.

The air was silent, a total of six extra bodies right behind him quiet in their breathing.

‘ROLLINS, JACK – LEVEL VI.’

The pad intoned his name and clearance, that little yellow light switching to a bright and steady green with one final beep.

“Clear!” Jack Rollins barked the word, locks thumping inside the wall in a quick four-beat. Glass walls pulled apart, the hydraulic sigh enough to blow air in each of their faces. “Alright.” He waved them all through with two quick motions. “We’ve got a time crunch.”

Nobody disagreed.

Three armed operatives in all-black and three medical staff in solid blue kept a solid pace behind him, remaining layered glass reflecting warped forms as Rollins led the way through to the small cell.

A single gurney was left outside, IV waiting and ready.

“Director wants him moved before twenty-one thirty.” Rollins’ boots squeaked against a polished white floor. “Science chief’s busy turning Manhattan into fucking Beirut, so his sign-off’s a no-go.”

“We’re going offsite?” One of the medics looked up at Rollins, mask covering his mouth and nose the same color as his scrubs. “Offsite where?”

“Need-to-know.”

“I’m putting drugs in him.”

“And all you need to know-” A single pointing jab directed the medic to what he should have been focused on, Rollins’ face as hard as his words. “- is where his vein is.”

Subject Jade’s holding room sat at the end of another long corridor under harsh blue light, the small enclosure secured behind another wall of glass.

“Hate this fucking glass, sir.”

Rollins nodded without even thinking, his feelings much the same as his soldier. Everybody upstairs loved the shit; let the white-coats watch without getting close, let cameras see every angle…

“It’s convenient, though,” was all he bothered with as an answer back.

“Makes the whole thing feel like a zoo, though.”

Another nod betrayed him. “Expensive ass zoo.”

Chuckles from his men lasted as long as it took for them to reach the second set of doors and for all gathered to slow to a stop. Subject Jade lay there, curled up on a cot — knees almost up to his chest as he shuddered under temperature control that was damn near perfect.

“Jesus…”

“Stow that, soldier.” Rollins snapped out the command. This was not the time or place for anything that could be read up the ladder as sympathy, not for some off-earth thing that presented as human.

Even still, Rollins had to agree with that quiet ‘Jesus’ as he took in the ribs that stood out beneath graying skin. Three months in SHIELD hands had definitely taken its fair share of whatever broadness the subject used to have, those curls both unmanaged and limp over his face. He’d been solid at one point, even.

Not built, sure, but lean enough that it used to take two operatives just to hold him down properly to draw blood from an arm. One of those arms rested outside the blanket, thin as a rail and bruised purple all up to the elbow with its fair share of needle marks and patches of skin that spent too long under adhesive.

Even still, that was a problem for medical, not him. “Subject awake?”

One of the medical team shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Good.”

The walls of glass slid apart and Rollins stood back with his men, medical taking the lead this time. All three of the SHIELD staff in scrubs and masks stepped forward, the one who had actually bothered talking the first to reach for the downed subject.

“Vitals?”

“Stable.”

Rollins raised an eyebrow at the medic.

The man shrugged. “Relatively.”

Rollins couldn’t pretend like he knew enough to argue.

That same medic peeled away at the tape on his arm, slowly at first. The second strip proved a bit more difficult, though. “Hold his arm.”

A second set of gloved hands pinned the limb down, and the medic pulled again. “Oh… come on.” Three fingers wrapped entirely around the tape, the man behind the mask yanked hard enough to take a strip of skin with the adhesive.

Green eyes flicked open, no confused blink that you’d expect from someone dragged out of sedation. The subject came off the cot so fast the medic lost his hold on that too-thin wrist, black curls flying as Jade drove his forehead straight up. A crack filled the room, the medic falling backward with both hands over his nose and blood running free behind that mask before his ass even hit the floor.

“CONTROL HIM!”

The cot slammed into the wall, one trooper got an arm across Jade’s shoulder and drove him chest-down onto the mattress. Another caught him under the ribs, the hit hard enough Rollins heard the breath leave him.

A hand buried itself into all those black curls before Jade could drop, his head dragged backward as another trooper threw a fist into his stomach.

Stomach.

Ribs.

Chest.

“Stop fucking moving!”

There wasn’t much movement from him, though. At least, not from his body.

His lips, though? “…brightest…”

“What?” The trooper holding his hair leaned forward. “What’d y-motherfuck!”

Jade coughed through a blood-stained grin as red-flecked spit ran down his mouth and the other operative’s face. “…blackest night…”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Sixty feet should have been enough to handle anything.

In any other situation, it probably would have been. After all, most problems suddenly became extremely easy to handle when you could fit them in the palm of your hand.

“HAAAANK!” Bruce Banner didn’t seem to care about that, though.

Giant-Man’s vision went white in one eye as a gray fist the size of his thumb drove across his cheek, enough force behind it to snap his whole head sideways. An avenue cleared of people suffered his size as Doctor Pym stumbled backward, an abandoned cab crumbling beneath him as his right foot came down without care. It flattened entirely before he could even look down, simple metal not doing much against all his mass.

Before the goliath of a man could even catch his breath or rub vision back into his eye from that monster hit, Hank was forced to stagger another step; rain-slick pavement giving way just the slightest bit beneath him.

But that wasn’t the biggest issue when Hulk was climbing him.

“Goddamnit, Bruce!”

Actually climbing him like an ape, one hand buried itself in the material over Hank’s ribs, bare feet digging in just beneath that; every single movement from the gray-skinned beast punching bruises through skin that didn’t even notice bullets.

“HANK SO STUPID! BANNER SMART! BANNER KNOW MORE!”

Giant-Man staggered back under a wild swing, chest protesting. “Would you ju-!”

Hulk silenced the giant in red as the monster forced himself up and threw another of those unbelievable blows. Hank’s face shook again, stars blinding him yet again.

“HANK JUST TALL!”

A building caught him.

Glass burst inward around his fingertips, an entire floor of wet metal and windows destroyed in an attempt to stop himself from meeting ground. “Shit!”

“HANK MAKE BRUCE LOOK STUPID!”

“You make yourself look stu-”

“IN FRONT OF BETTY!”

The giant’s jaw tightened, because of course that was what this whole thing was about. “Y-you fucking manchild!”

One hand got around Banner before his gray fist could land another punch, giant fingers closing tight around a body that felt absurdly small for all the force it could bring to bear. “Is that all you care about? Your pathetic little ego!” For one hopeful second, the monster of Manhattan disappeared almost completely within his grip. “Just give up!”

Then the gray bastard started prying those fingers apart.

Giant-Man’s eyes widened behind his goggles as his attempt failed further, his fingers aching as Hulk leapt free again and went for his torso.

“No!”

Hank threw his other hand forward, grip tightening  — “GET OFF!” — and Hulk went airborne.

A gray missile overtook entire lanes, the roof of a brownstone and most of the sidewalk passing beneath Hulk’s arc. His landing was an explosion, Banner’s body cratering an office building somewhere around the third floor. Building material folded with all the consistency of wet cardboard, windows shattered to glass dust as the Hulk was swallowed up.

And Hank Pym stood there, rain pouring down his body as he breathed out entire clouds of mist into the air. “…okay.”

Something moved in the hole and Hank’s stomach sank with his shoulders. “Oh, come on.”

“HAAAAAANKKKK!” Hulk jumped out headfirst.

Giant Man could barely blink as a hundred yards of distance was eaten up by a gray blur and he took a hit to the chest worthy of a bomb. Hank barely had time to grunt, ribs protesting as he went down over.

A hand came down to break his fall and that hand landed in a parking lane, cars flying from between his palm. His head hit the asphalt with a sound like thunder, a sedan rolling onto its side and its tires still spinning by his eye as Hulk charged his way again.

Another fist caught Hank. “HANK SKULL MAKE GOOD TOILET!”

“What the fuck is wrong with yo-uuuuu!” The question barely managed to leave him before his mouth went under attack by the gray Hulk, monstrous fingers trying to maul his lips. Blood coated his tongue, Hank still screaming as he realized size was not helping him nearly as much as he thought.

He could grab Bruce and throw the little bastard, more force in one shove than most machinery on Earth could manage. None of it meant he was winning though, not when Bruce Banner was still stronger.

There was something deeply, personally offensive about that as a concept.

Unfortunately, Hank Pym — as fast as his brain worked — didn’t have the time to properly comprehend that.

“HULK HATE HANK!”

Not as the world tilted and Hank Pym’s back was informally introduced to the front of a department store. Brick and steel folded around his shoulders, entire floors of glass raining down on his head as concrete supports gave way like toothpicks.

“HULK GONN—!”

Then Bruce Banner vanished under a beam of blue, ripped sideways from his chest in a bloom of light that left Hank staring before a red-and-gold shape screamed past in the rain.

“Stark?” Was all he could get out before his head slumped back into a shattered rack of half-off clothing. “…thank God.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“Tony, it’s Nick. We’re minus visual for a solid thirty. Give me a sit-rep.”

“Sit-rep?”

Tony had hit the gray lump with enough power to punch through an Abrams.

All Banner did was bounce twice; the first impact cratering the avenue, and the second putting him clean into the side of an empty city bus. Said bus slowly settled sideways on suspension that would never be whole again, the whole side panel folded inward.

Warning markers crawled across the Iron-Tech HUD as Tony dropped lower, rain bursting into steam beneath the heat of his thrusters. “Are you kidding? First the silo door jams and they take a solid three minutes to launch me, now the sights in this thing are a few inches off.”

Green fingers appeared in the hole, metal squealing beneath them.

“Oh, that’s bullshit.”

Both sides of the bus began to peel apart.

“Nick.”

“Stark.” Say what you will about Fury, but the man was quick to respond.

“I need somewhere empty.” The thought was one of many going through his brain but, as something growled within the depths of crumpled metal, it was quickly taking priority.

“Emptier than an evacuation zone? You’re in it, Stark.”

“No, I mean empty empty.” Those warning markers were high enough to worry him now, a heat signature building. “Big building, lots of mass, somewhere the city won’t personally bill me out the wazoo for.”

“You’re a billionaire.”

“Not the point.”

Then the Hulk stood up out of the bus, that ugly face wearing a grin that humanity hadn’t seen since cavemen were still clubbing.

“Grand Central.” Fury’s voice sounded off into his helmet, the Iron-Tech’s systems already pulling up a flight path for him. “Cleared five minutes ago.”

“Beautiful.”

“STARK!” The Hulk threw his head back with a bellow that shook the ground.

“Doctor Banner.”

The gray monster visibly stilled at Tony’s choice of address, Banner wearing a look best described as ‘Confused Cro-Magnon.’

“So, you like respect.” Now, that was interesting.

“I’d stop with the conversation, Stark.” Fury sounded off again. “You’ve got a solid five seconds before he turns around and goes after someone else.”

Banner’s fists clenched.

“Pretty sure I have less.”

Hulk jumped and Tony strafed immediately, thrusters kicking him sideways as gray tore by at speeds best belonging to a supercar. The Iron-Tech rolled in the air, twisting around Banner before the big gray lump could properly land.

“Up we go, big guy!”

Both arms locked themselves tight underneath massive shoulders and — “STARK!” — just like that, all engines fired.

The street dropped away as they crossed Manhattan at speed, too low for Tony to pretend the concept of ‘margin of error’ was even at play. Thankfully, even with Hulk wriggling like a giant monotone baby, Tony still had enough control to miss buildings as everything below them vanished into colored streaks.

“STAAAAAARK!”

An elbow hammered against chestplate, warnings flashed followed by more and more as something expensive cracked. “Could yo—”

Another hit. “—stop—”

A gray backhand nearly got around the side of his helmet. “—doing that?!”

Grand Central filled his vision, Hulk not answering in anything but a gargling roar as Tony simply accelerated harder; his passenger held in front of him like an airbag. Hulk met stone and stone met Hulk, the handshake a brutal entrance that blew inward across the concourse.

The two of them tore through the outer wall, masonry pulverized to dust before their impact did the same to marble flooring. Both Hulk and Stark crossed half the floor, momentum alone propelling them through kiosk after kiosk before a hard entry through an interior wall forced Tony to throw away his sense of direction.

“Tony, for the love of God-” Nick’s voice sounded off in his suit. “-what is happening down there?”

The armor rang around him, stabilizing gel within the suit only able to handle so much. Before his HUD could determine which way was up, a big gray hand decided it for him; Hulk’s grip around Tony’s throat holding him high.

Tony grabbed at the wrist, his own gauntlet’s strength accomplishing absolutely nothing against a hand that could palm his head through the armor nearly three times over.

And yet, for some reason, Tony wasn’t dead yet.

Banner’s eyes narrowed; the monster’s face clear through the suit’s optics. It came in even clearer as the Hulk leaned closer, nostrils flaring.

Then again.

“…a-are you smelling me?”

“STARK SMELL FUNNY.”

“…okay?”

Hulk sniffed anyway. “LIKE CANNED MEAT.”

“E-” That was enough to stun the billionaire, Iron Man stopping his fight against Hulk’s wrist for a half-second. “Excuse me?”

“HULK WONDER…” Banner’s mouth spread wide, those teeth bigger than anything Tony Stark was comfortable with. “LITTLE MAN TASTE LIKE CANNED MEAT?”

“Let’s not find out.” Tony brought his right hand up, repulsor barely inches from that big gray face.

Blue-white filled the room, Hulk’s head snapping backward from the blast. That grip stayed tight though, even as Tony fired again and again; armor reserves dropping steadily under full-force blasts.

Gray skin blacked around the nose and cheeks stared back at him as Tony Stark stared.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The subject had stopped resisting a while back, Jade with his head hanging low as two troopers held him upright. The first medic had left the room and the second-in-command had taken charge of threading a fresh line into his arm.

Rollins didn’t particularly care how they did it as long as they got him out; the sooner, the better.

Those black curls hid most of his face, blood drying beneath his nose even though Rollins couldn’t remember who hit him there.

“…no evil…”

Rollins blinked over as the kid spoke again. “What?”

The kid’s lips moved again. “…shall escape…”

One of the soldiers snorted. “Little idiot’s still going.”

“…my sight…”

Another slapped him, not hard enough to break anything but still enough to jostle. “Shut up.”

Jade’s head snapped with the motion, a fresh little thread of blood trailing down the side of one lip as those eyes remained down and hidden beneath all that hair.

“…evil…”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Janet Pym knew Bruce Banner was a lot of things.

And so was the Hulk.

Everything else aside, they both shared one thing — besides a body, at least.

They were both straight men.

And if Jane knew anything, it was straight men. So, standing there in the middle of a rainy avenue just outside Grand Central, both hands against the front of her costume, she knew she had two weapons left to use

“Hey, Banner!” Bruce’s attention snapped over to her as Janet pulled the front open. “Betty Ross got a rack as nice as these?”

Hulk’s eyes dropped. “Huh?”

And then widened at the sight of her rain-glistened chest.

“A double PhD, and all you can think of is the Mardi Gras special, Janet?”

“…BOOBIES!”

Janet Pym buttoned up her suit again, eyes rolling at her boss’s words as she quickly shrunk before Hulk’s grasping hand could make a mess of her. “Give me a break, Nick! It worked, didn’t it?”
“WHERE BOOBIES?”

Of course it fucking worked.

In that single moment of distraction, something blue vaulted over Janet’s shoulder fast enough to blur. Before anyone could so much as blink, the greatest hero in American history threw himself through the air and delivered a dropkick firmly between the Hulk’s legs.

Hulk folded with a wheeze but that didn’t matter to Steve Rogers because he wasn’t done.

The super-soldier was still in-motion as those boots hit pavement and he immediately dropped to a run, shield in one hand; curved buckler bearing a white star atop red and blue. By the time Hulk was done sucking in air from what sounded like half the atmosphere, the edge of that shield hit him square in the throat.

Banner gagged, one arm swinging forward on instinct. Captain America weaved like a champion boxer, shield already coming down again.

This time on a knee.

The impact cracked pavement beneath Hulk’s foot, the gray beast bellowing as Jane’s mouth fell open with him. Steve didn’t waste a moment with surprise, the man adapting to superhuman combat like he was still in the 40s as that shield forced a spray of green blood to burst from Banner’s nose across that blue uniform.

A split second later, the Captain dropped a flying kick right into the side of the Hulk’s face, the blow enough to force a blink from the monstrosity.

His red-gloved fist swung out next, the cartilage in Hulk’s protesting as loudly as the monster did under however many tons of force in that punch.

“SMASH!” Hulk swung hard enough the air protested but Steve just wasn’t there.

A gray fist cratered a taxi and the ground beneath it as shield and fist pounded ribs beneath that outstretched arm, Steve moving from vulnerable body part to body part — throat, knee, ear, groin again. Each hit forced a pained groan from the Hulk, the monster getting angrier with every hit, but that didn’t seem to matter much to an infantryman that could throw a motorcycle one-handed.

“HULK SMASH LITTLE MAN!”

All the force in the world came down as Captain America’s shield rose high — the whole of New York seeming to shake.

Vibranium held strong, though, as the Hulk was rocked back, the impact rebounding back to him as his own strength proved to do the trick.

Just like that, the Hulk toppled over and hit the ground, water bouncing out of every pothole around him.

Iron Man dropped down on one knee nearby, thrusters still firing strong as his helmet opened up to expose him to the elements. “Did Cap just knock out the Hulk?”

“What?” Steven Grant Rogers wiped green blood off his face with the back of a glove as he looked between them, breathing hard but far from winded. “Banner’s not the only one here with super-soldier serum in his veins.”

‘Apparently.” Janet rushed forward, wings flitting her at speed, and dropped the injector into Steve’s open hand. “Here you go, Cap.”

“Thank you, Janet.” Steve bent over the downed monster, adamantium needle readied as he prepared to plunge it into his neck. “Now someone radio Nick for a med-team pronto because this little guy’s going to be a bit of a mess after this antidote does its job.”

“LITTLE…”

Everyone present held their breath as Hulk’s eyes snapped open, bright green and angry, his hand suddenly up and around a patriotic blue arm before even Cap could blink. “WHO YOU CALLING LITTLE?!”

The snap of Captain America’s arm was even louder than his scream.