Bruce Banner
Hulk
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Issue #1 (Volume 3)
"Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes" Written by Travis Hiltz The Hulk raged amongst the rubble of what had once been a vast city, eyes wild with pain and rage. His massive, green body was slashed with dozens of cuts that bleed copiously. Lightening flashed across the starless sky, striking all around him. The Hulk pounded the ground, until his knuckles bled, enraged beyond reason, beyond words.
All he could do was roar out his pain. Then it was that the sky split open, as if the very fabric of reality had been slashed with a jagged knife. The enormous rent in the sky, resembled a mouth, ringed with fangs. It spewed out destructive, searing cosmic energy. It rained down upon the ruins, melting stone and metal, like a child’s sandcastle hit by a firehouse. Even the Hulk could not stand against it. His skin burned. Roaring, the Hulk leapt. Treating each ruined building, like a step, until he launched himself into the air. As he flung himself into the cosmic maw, the Hulk slammed his powerful fists together, causing a shockwave, which struck the next burst of cosmic power like two tidal waves colliding. The explosion of energy sounded the death knell of the planet. Broken, bleeding and exhausted, the incredible Hulk fell... Bruce Banner woke to the sound of the ocean in his ears and the taste of sand in his mouth. He sat up, spitting, and rubbing at his eyes. He was on a sandy expanse of sandy beach. Overhead, a clear blue sky. The nearby ocean washed ever closer to his bare toes. Blinking and feeling slightly woozy, Banner got to his feet. “Well, at least he brought me somewhere nice,” He walked out, knee deep in the water, shading his eyes with a hand, peered out to sea, and then to either side, up and down the tropical coast. No boats, docks or buildings. Not even a cabana or discarded beach towel. Bruce randomly picked a direction and started strolling. Despite, his confusion, Bruce found himself enjoying the mild weather, the quiet and the feel of his feet in the cool sea water. Banner spotted a large rock, and thought it might give him a better view, and made his way, along the beach, to it. He scrambled up the rock and looked around. The interior of the island seemed to be dense, tropical jungle. In the distance, he could see several large structures, that could be either buildings or most likely mountains. “I guess I could head that way...?” The scientist muttered. And then the rock moved. Bruce tumbled to the ground, and rolled, across the sand, before jumping to his feet. “What the...?” He exclaimed, quickly retreating into the underbrush. He ducked down amongst the bushes. The creature stood close to ten feet tall, and resembled a crude statue of a man, all blocky and rough. It stretched, as though having just woken from a long nap, and trudged down the beach. “So, probably not a tropical resort,” Banner muttered, tentatively stepping out of the jungle. He turned and walked quickly, down the beach, in the opposite direction from the one the rock creature had chosen. “It looks like Earth, but still...?” He walked along, a bit baffled, moving around a curve in the shoreline. The beach stretched back, forming a clearing. There was a small white dome, like some kind of futuristic plastic, beach bungalow. In front of the building was a squat podium of stone, with two stumps on either side, forming a crude table and stools. “Huh...? Jetson guest house, with Flintstones’ patio furniture...maybe not Earth after all...?” “Ah, Doctor Banner. I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” Striding out of the jungle, was an outlandish, yet familiar figure. “The Mole man!” Banner froze, unsure if he should be trying to calm his heartbeat or let the Hulk emerge and deal with the villain. “Come, have a seat.” The pudgy ruler said, with a gesture towards the stone table. The Mole man planted his staff in the sand and retrieved a flask from a pocket in his cloak and poured two cups of a brown liquid. Bruce Banner perched on his chair and waited nervously. “What do you remember?” The Mole man asked, before slurping his beverage. “I don’t...almost nothing...How?” “Have some tea,” Mole man interrupted, pushing the cup closer to Banner. “I do not know many of the details myself, but you...and your bestial alter ego were badly injured...quite near death...” Bruce picked up his cup and sniffed at the dubious liquid, before realizing what his tablemate had just said. “What...?” “Calm yourself,” The Mole man said, placing his cup down. “I am neither your foe nor your captor. I was approached, after...whatever befell you, to allow you and the Hulk to shelter here in order to recuperate and rest. As I have a soft spot for monsters and disgraced scientists, I agreed. The Hulk has been some help in dealing with several of my more...rebellious creatures and you are a worthy chess opponent.” “What?!” Bruce said, baffled and struggling to stay calm. To give himself a moment to think, he sipped his beverage, immediately regretted it and set the cup back down. “How long have I been here?” “Three weeks...a month, roughly,” Mole man shrugged. “You apparently suffered both physically and mentally...we have had this conversation twice already.” “We have...? I don’t remember...wait, who arranged for me to stay here?” “That’s not for me to say.” His host replied. “I have little knowledge of what occurred before you arrived and will speculate upon none of it. I am to inquire about your well-being and play host. No more than that. Do not mistake my sleight benevolence for friendship or weakness.” He stood up, took hold of his staff, and walked off. “We will speak again.” He said, simply. Bruce Banner sat, dumbly, watching his bizarre host stroll off, struggling to absorb and process what he’d just learned. “What happened...to me...to the Hulk...?” He muttered, clasping hold of his teacup and sliding it, idly, about the stone table. “Where did I go...?” He picked up the cup, absently, and almost took another sip, before remembering how the first one had tasted. Banner got to his feet and walked over to the odd guest house he had apparently been staying it. Its interior was sparse: a bed, a chair and small desk. A cabinet-like closet contained a half dozen white shirts and purple pants. A shelf, built into the wall contained some books. “Huh, ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘Treasure Island’...somebody has a sense of humor,” Banner said, before pausing at a couple dense science textbooks, one of which he’d helped write. He changed into a clean, unripped shirt, picked a book off the shelf and headed back out to the beach. “Well, there’s questions and work to be done, but I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off...” # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Night fell and the Hulk woke up when high tide washed over his large, emerald toes. The massive behemoth rubbed his eyes and slowly looked about. “Hulk hungry,” He mumbled, getting to his feet. He tossed aside the remains of his torn shirt, and then bent down to pick up the book, laying in the sand. Not being to make sense of the writing, he poked it with a green finger, then gave it a sniff. He tossed it aside, before trudging off into the jungle. The path was thin, but the passage of the Hulk broadened it significantly. The Hulk moved lazily, pausing occasionally to help himself to a piece of fruit. Wiping his mouth on the back of a massive hand, he came to a clearing, a rough circle, surrounded by a fringe of shrubbery and trees. Hulk paused, peering around, his head cocked, listening to a distant sound. It was a faint rumble, like distant thunder, except it was accompanied by the fierce rustling of the surrounding foliage. With a sound like steam locomotive, a creature broke through the trees and into the clearing. It resembled a trunkless elephant with a massive turtle’s shell. It flicked a barbed tail the length of a grown man. Its shell was a nicotine yellow; its leathery skin had a reddish hue. It sniffed at the Hulk, giving a snort that blew back his shaggy hair. “Huh,” Hulk growled, more curious and not fully awake than angry. “Big monster....you hungry too?” The creature gave a gurgling roar and then headbutted the jade giant across the clearing. Hulk lay on the ground, amongst the broken trees, now fully awake and with building anger. “Stupid monster...!” Hulk grumbled, climbing to his feet. “Hulk just want food! Would have shared...” The monster swung its cumbersome body and its thick tail whipped around, knocking the Hulk stumbling back, several steps. It glared, its red rimmed eyes, narrowed, and snorted angrily, pawed the ground. “Hulk does not want to fight stupid monster, but if monster does not go away...!” The monster charged and plowed into the emerald behemoth. Hulk grabbed hold of the edge of the beast’s shell and dug in his heels. The two were locked, moving mere inches one way, than back the other, both combatants straining with the effort. With a low growl, the Hulk, twisted and briefly lifted the beast off the ground, slammed it down, on its side, in the dirt. The elephantine creature struggled and thrashed; its thick, stubby legs kicked about wildly, striking the Hulk several glancing blows. Hulk grabbed one of the legs. “Stop hitting Hulk...huh...?” Hulk glanced down and noticed a palm-sized splinter of wood jammed into the leathery redskin. With two fingers capable of crushing stones of bending rifle barrels, plucked the splinter loose. The creature shook its massive head, tentatively moved its leg and then awkwardly climbed to its feet. It stamped its foot tenderly and, with a contented grunt, ambled off into the jungle. “Stupid monster...!” Hulk mumbled. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Morning came and Bruce found himself sitting against the trunk of a large tree, surrounded by the remains of a vast amount of jungle fruit. “Looks like I’ve already had breakfast,” he said. “Wonder if my hut has a coffee maker...?” Bruce made his way back through the jungle, feeling anxious from both half-remembered dreams, and concern over the jungle’s inhabitants. He ducked into the bushes several times to avoid massive, lumbering creatures, also in search of breakfast. So far, Bruce Banner had only encountered the fruiteaters, but there was no guarantee the island was free of carnivores. Next time he stopped by Bruce decided he’d need to learn more from the Mole man about his current home and the neighbors. He hid from a giant gorilla, was nearly scorched by a man-shaped creature formed from molten lava and barely dodged being snatched up, off the ground, by a Tetradactyl. Crawling through the shrubbery, Banner thought he was safe, when the Mammoth came charging through the jungle. It trumpeted angrily, tearing up trees and bushes, as it went. Banner rolled out of its path, leapt to his feet and jogging away from the shaggy behemoth, scrambled up a nearby tree. The mammoth caught the bit of movement and halted, stamping his broad feet and peering about with small, red, angry eyes. Banner clung tightly to the tree, keeping as still as possible, barely breathing. It would probably be easier if he just gave in and let the Hulk deal with the mammoth. At the same time, he needed to learn how to deal with his new home, and needed to stick around, to have a chance to piece together what had happened to him and the Hulk and what they should do next. Even while dealing with the big chunk of missing memory, Banner had enough pieces to tell him something had changed within him, as well as with the Hulk. “Okay, just leap to the next tree and scramble over those rocks,” He mumbled, peering around. “Easy. Captain America could do it in his sleep...” Taking a couple deep breaths, Banner flung himself from the tree. Unfortunately, his plan relied on the mammoth not moving. The hairy behemoth not only moved its head, trying to spot its prey, but also moved a few steps toward the surrounding jungle. This resulted in Bruce Banner not reaching the branch he was aiming for, but rather colliding with the mammoth’s enormous head. He desperately grabbed handfuls of coarse brown fur. An ear, large and rough as an old-fashioned welcome mat swatted at him. “Hey!” He yelped, his legs kicking in the air as his arms trembled with the effort of holding on. His arms ached, sweat stung his eyes. It would be so easy to give in, let the Hulk emerge, let him deal with the mammoth...smash it. “No,” He muttered, through gritted teeth. “Some...times...you can...hnn...think it through...or...maybe...just...let...go...!” Banner unclenched his hands, slid down the body of the mammoth, taking handfuls of as he went. He hit the dirt with a bone rattling thud, rolled and tumbled into the foliage. Branches scratched his bare back and shoulders, while rocks dug into his knees. In his haste, he didn’t notice that the mammoth had calmed down. He hastily made his way, from tree, to bush, to rock back home. He found a first aid kit in his plastic shack, and was dabbing at his scratches, when the Mole man returned. “Enjoy your stroll, Doctor Banner?” He asked, leaning on his staff. It was difficult to judge the diminutive villain, as the visor he wore obscured his eyes, but Bruce felt, from his posture, that his host had something on his mind. “Oh yes, fine. Very invigorating to get back to nature and see the wildlife up close.” Banner replied, tightly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” “What do mean?” “I didn’t stumble into that mammoth’s path. I was trying to avoid any of your...uh...pets. It almost seemed like it came at me. And there’s this...” He dug into the pocket of his purple jeans and took out a handful of coarse mammoth fur and a palm-sized splinter. “Where did you find that?” The Mole man said, with barely disguised interest. “Jammed behind the ear of the monster that tried to trample me,” Banner replied, pulling the strands of fur off it. “Now, maybe, like an ancient fable, it looked kindly upon me for pulling a splinter loose, but I’m skeptical. Besides, there’s something...not right about this splinter...” “What?” “I...don’t quite know,” Banner muttered, thoughtfully. “It looks like wood, but has a faint smoothness...almost like plastic...you want to tell me what you’re trying to drag me into?” “Humph! As to that,” The Mole man said, straightening up. He waddled over to the table and settled down, across from Banner. He arranged his cloak, and then reached out, touching the splinter with a stubby finger. “As I mentioned the other day, I have been having difficulties with unruly creatures. Nothing too serious but concerning. Creatures resisting my control, bursts of rage and violence, and happening with increasing regularity.” “And that’s out of the ordinary?” Banner asked, incredulously. “They’re monsters, not puppies.” “My creatures are kept docile when they arrive here, but they become calm, over time, because they feel safe here, they are cared for...” “Until you send them out to attack the Fantastic Four,” Banner said. “If we could focus on the topic at hand,” The Mole man said, gruffly. “Here, on my island, they are safe and content...until recently.” “These little rampages keep happening?” Banner asked, thoughtfully. “And how many of them had one of these weird splinters?” “Too many,” The Mole man replied. “It was only noticed recently. My subjects are loyal, but they are...drones, workers, not thinkers.” “And so, when you got offered a thinker, that could also go toe to toe with any of your rogue monsters, you jumped at the chance...?” Banner mused, toying with the splinter. “I am a practical man,” The Mole man replied. “It seemed only fair, that you be allowed to ‘earn your keep’, as it were.” Banner frowned at his host, but he couldn’t fault his reasoning. Devious, as the Mole man was, he was, in his own way, looking out for his home and the creatures that lived there. He also couldn’t deny, that with all he was sorting through in his own life, having a mystery to distract himself with, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not to mention, the selfish reason, that it was going to be hard to relax and recuperate with a horde of rampaging monsters in the neighborhood. “So, somehow, these splinters are causing the rampages,” he said, forehead creased with thought. “It looks like wood, but it’s...maybe not...too smooth...like plastic or polished ceramic.” “It was manufactured?” The Mole man asked, sitting back and lacing his stubby fingers across his paunch. “Possibly.” Banner continued. “But there’s nothing else to it. It feels like a big splinter. It’s not disguised circuitry...but, it looks like...wood, or at least that what it’s trying to do.” He rubbed it between his fingers and then held it close to his nose and sniffed. “I can’t see how it could be causing the...uh...animals to act up,” He muttered. “Faint chemical smell...maybe...I don’t know...any idea where these splinters come from?” “A tree?” The Mole man suggested. “There’s an evil tree, targeting your creatures? “Banner muttered. “I...or the Hulk have come across stranger things, but I’m going to stay skeptical on that theory. We need to find more of these splinters, or where they’re coming from.” “I will have my subjects sweep the island,” The Mole man nodded. “What do you require?” Banner looked, thoughtful and slightly surprised that he seemed to have been put in charge of this project. After some initial suspicion, he’d come to realize the bizarre little villain wasn’t up to anything past looking out for his domain. He was being recruited to be a scientist, with a pretty unorthodox research project. He glanced into the open doorway of his spherical guest house. “Let me see what I can figure out,” Banner said, getting to his feet. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # The sun was beginning to touch the horizon, when Bruce Banner looked up from the makeshift lab kit that he’d Macgyvered from odds and ends around the guest house: appliances, cleaning products and a few pieces the Mole man donated. He’d run a few preliminary tests, and they had just confirmed his vague ideas: it was sort of wood, but there was something wrong with it. For more definite information, he was going to need more sophisticated equipment and better questions. “Well,” Bruce muttered, cleaning up the clutter on his patio table. “What’s more likely: I’ll come across a multi-phase ionic scanner on a desert island, or my host will become more forthcoming with information...?” Glancing at the scribbled map he’d had to cobble together due to his host being evasive, Banner yawned and gathered up his equipment. “Better clean up, in case the Big guy wakes up in a grumpy mood.” He said. Once that was dealt with, Banner walked down to the beach. Whatever had happened to him, the change between him the Hulk had become a bit fluid, as though it was resetting, or change was occurring. The Hulk still emerged when Bruce got angry, but occasionally the change would happen when he slept. Since he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying here, Bruce was working to avoid having his hut smashed into kindling. He found a nice stretch of smooth sand and lay down. He bunched up his shirt for a pillow, and looked up at the darkening sky, his brain still sleepily analyzing and making plans. “Need a larger sample size...,” He mumbled, his eyes closing. The sky went dark, a few stars and a sliver of moon emerged. Banner, breathing deeply, rolled onto his side, and changed into the Incredible Hulk. The green behemoth snored like a steamroller driving over gravel. The Hulk fidgeted and growled in his sleep, moving his broad shoulders, as though to shrug something off. His face scrunched in annoyance and sleepily opened one eye. Three ants, each the size of a school bus loomed over him, gently probing him with their over-sized antennae. “Stupid bugs,” The Hulk muttered. “Go away...Hulk sleeping...!” He waved them away and rolled over. The trio of ants started back for several seconds, then returned to trying to make sense of the emerald stranger. Several more gentle pokes and the Hulk sat up angrily. “Go away!” He shouted. “Hulk wants to sleep! Let Hulk alone or Hulk will smash!” The ants took a step back, at the jade giant’s outburst, and peered at him thoughtfully. They then glanced at each, as though in silent conference. A decision was made, and all three giant insects pounced. Massive pincers pinned him to the sandy ground. “Arrrrggh! Stupid bugs think they stronger than Hulk...!” The Hulk growled tossing the monstrous trio off him. He leapt to his feet; fists clenched. “Hulks is strongest there is!” His uppercut sent the first ant’s head snapping back and it staggered backwards, all four legs stumbling and quivering. The next one he struggled to grab, as their caprices were smooth as polished metal. Twice, the Hulk grabbed the giant ant, and his large fingers failed to find purchase. Frustrated, The Hulk lunged forward and just grabbed one of the creature’s legs and swung it over his head, flinging it back into the jungle. The Hulk turned towards the one remaining giant ant. “Wait...Hulk supposed to...uh...remember...something,” He muttered. Almost casually, he leapt up, grabbed the ant by its neck and pulled it down until their faces were mere inches apart. “What Hulk supposed to do?” He asked. The massive insect twittered anxiously, struggling to get loose, its fore pincers clawing at the air menacingly. The Hulk reached up and ran his hug hand over the creature’s body. He seemed unsure, until his fingers touched something, pulled it free from the ant’s body. Hulk looked at the large splinter with vague satisfaction, nodded to himself and then tucked it in his pants pocket. “Puny humans say Banner smart one, but Hulk can think.” He then realized he was still holding the giant ant and put it down. “Go away. Hulk not want to fight. Hulk want breakfast.” The creature skittered off, appearing unsure of where it was and why this green brute was grabbing it. Hulk frowned and snorted, as he watched the creature slinked away. “Hulk hungry.” # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Bruce Banner woke up, curled in a ball, on the sandy ground. “Oh god...!” He muttered, struggling to open his eyes, and propping himself up on one arm. “What did I...the Hulk eat...uh...and do, last night...?” He sat up, arms on his knees, as he took a couple deep breaths. Banner was sitting under a palm tree, on the fringe of a clearing, carpeted with sand and patches of sea grass. He was surrounded by the torn husks of dozens of coconuts. “Dear lord, how many did the Hulk eat...?” Banner muttered. “And did he even bother to break them open first?” Past the remains of the Hulk’s repast, were a trio of sleeping monsters: A purple , double-tailed triceratops, a loincloth-clad cyclops and a giant ant. While all four sported various cuts and bruises, they all seemed to be sleeping deeply. “Must have been quite a party,” Banner muttered, getting unsteadily to his feet. He steadied himself by resting one hand against the nearest tree, while the other probed a tender, bruised spot above his right eye. He went to move and felt a sharp twinge in his hip. Investigating, Banner found his pocket was full of splinters. “Huh...? Interesting.” Banner reached into his other pocket and quickly pulled his finger out. “Ow! Stupid, Banner, they’re splinters...!” He pressed the tip of his finger, a single drop of blood emerged. Still not fully awake and operating on autopilot, Bruce stuck the finger in his mouth. ‘What...?” He said, taking his finger out and looking around. “What did you say...wait, who’s there?” Glancing around, all he saw were the sleeping beasts. “If you want to talk to me, you need to show yourself and speak up...hello...?” He took a few tentative steps into the clearing, anxiously peering at the surrounding foliage. “Just...show yourself,” Banner called, immediately stepping back, concerned he’d wake the quartet of monsters. “I’m just trying to make sense of this.” He moved his head, seeking out the voice that was at the edge of his hearing. Someone or thing, out in the jungle that wouldn’t speak above a whisper or come nearer. After several minutes of tiptoeing amongst the creatures and coconut husks, Banner gave up the search and pushed through the bushes and tall grass, in search of a path back to his hut or some hint of his mysterious whisperer. The faint, indistinct voice drifted along with him, as he weaved his way through the jungle. It faded away before he found his way back to the beach. Banner washed his hand and splashed some water on his face. Then, ankle deep in the warm ocean, he walked along, his brain whirling with thoughts and snippets of information. He struggled to figure out where any of it connected or made sense. Bruce had the germ of a theory...an idea, by the time he reached his hut. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # As he was splashing slowly along, he spotted movement at the tree line. A trio of the moloids, scrawny yellow skinned creatures, clad in loincloths and crude versions of the visors the Mole man wore, were huddled in the shadows of the trees. One of them beckoned to Banner. Frowning thoughtfully, Banner walked over to the trio. “Hello...? What’s happening?” The moliods, none of them taller than Bruce’s collarbone, crowded around him and, without grabbing him, sheparded him into the jungle. In a small clearing ending at a rocky incline. Carved into the rock was a slab of a bench. The Mole man sat upon it. “Doctor Banner,” The Mole man said, with a brief nod. “Harvey.” Banner responded, settling down on a low rock, facing his host. “I was growing concerned,” The Mole man said. “There was quite a...ruckus in the jungle.” “Yes,” Banner nodded. “I think I have some ideas how we deal with all this.” He glanced over at the trio of moloids. “How many of the...um...your subjects, can you spare to run some errands?” “My subterraneans are legion,” The Mole man replied, haughtily. “I can summon an army with a wave of my hand...!” “Yes, okay,” Banner interrupted. “I don’t think I need a legion, maybe a couple dozen. We need to track the creatures who have been effected by the splinters and keep an eye out for bigger pieces of this strange wood. We need to find the source.” “If there is a branch, there must be a tree,” The Mole man muttered, rubbing his pudgy chin in thought. “I don’t know,” Bruce shrugged, digging one of the splinters out of his pocket. “I’m skeptical there’s an evil tree behind all this, but there has to be something behind this craziness...an intelligence, of some kind.” “Is there a plan?” The Mole man asked. “The attacks seem random.” “Maybe they were at first,” Banner explained. “But now it seems that the Hulk is being targeted. Your...pets are seeking him out. Some one sees the big guy as a threat or stumbling block to whatever its plan is. We need to locate more pieces of these. We need to track where they are coming from. I’m beginning to understand how they...how it works, I think.” He leaned back, his back against the tree trunk, and rubbed his face. “The splinters aren’t disguised tech, but...whatever they’ve been treated with, have made them into transmitters.” “What?” The Mole man interrupted. “I scratched my finger on one of them,” Bruce explained. “And started hearing...voices or signals, couldn’t make sense of them. The source must be here, on the island.” “And if...whoever has dared to invade my realm has focused upon the Hulk, “ The Mole man said, thoughtfully., as he got to his feet. “Then, my moloids can search without attracting much attention. Good. “ He gestured, and the trio of subterranean approached him. The Mole man tapped the rock wall with his staff, and it slid back. They entered the tunnel behind the wall, leaving Banner alone once more. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # By the time he found his way back to the white hut, there was a small pile of splinters, and a few sticks, on the outside table. “Well, he didn’t waste any time,” Bruce muttered. He went and made himself a cup of decaf and some toast. Loaded down with breakfast and a notebook, he settled to work. Periodically, one of the Mole man’s subjects would shuffle out of the jungle and drop a handful of sticks at Banner’s feet. Busy scribbling ideas, and sorting through the sticks, the moloids became a vague parade that would drift along at the periphery of his vision and attention. So, he was too absorbed to notice one of the yellow skinned creatures, with a splinter embedded in the leathery skin of his shoulder, carrying a club-sized branch, until the branch cracked across Bruce’s shoulder blades. He was knocked forward, smacking against the edge of the stone table and then tumbling to the sandy ground. Bruce scrambled to the other side, keeping the table between him and his attacker. “Okay, let’s stay calm,” Banner said, more to himself than his attacker. The moloid swung his makeshift club, scattering the splinters and notes. Bruce Banner jumped back, wincing at the twinge of pain in his shoulders. “Okay, okay,” He breathed, shifting to stay out of reach, while at the same time struggling to not transform into the Hulk, and think this whole crazy scenario through. “Can we talk about this?” The moloid thrust the branch at Banner, like a sword. He dodged, and then caught the branch, between his arm and body and lurched backwards, wrenching the branch out of his attackers’ grip. Banner tossed away the branch and approached the moloid. “Let’s sort this out,” he said, lunging forward. He grabbed the yellow-skinned subterranean by the wrists and forced him backwards, until they slammed against the wall of his hut. The scrawny moloid slumped in Banner’s grip, and the scientist let go of one arm and reached behind the creature. He dug his fingernails into the yellow, leathery skin, until he pried loose the splinter. “Sorry about that,” Bruce said, as the moloid slumped in his arms. He lowered the little creature to the ground. He went back to the table, studying the splinter. It looked like every other one he’d collected. Banner clamped his hands together over the splinter. As he felt it bite into the skin of his palm, he heard that strange faint, murmuring, at the edge of his perception. He pressed down harder, wincing slightly at the surge of pain and trickle of blood. “Come on, tell me what you are up to. What do you want...?” The murmuring swirled around him, like a breeze: words were indistinct, but impressions and flashes of thought hit him in random bursts. He swayed for several moments, working to keep his breathing even and stay on his feet. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, until his head stopped spinning, opened his eyes and glanced off into the jungle. He nodded to himself and then walked away from the hut and pushed through the foliage. Bruce kept a tight grip on the splinter and just followed where it wanted him to go, walking the trails and then just forcing his way through branches and bushes, climbing over boulders rather than going around and splashing through a stony stream. On the other side of the stream a mammoth almost trampled him. Then, a giant ant. Then a triceratops that walked on its hind legs. Mixed amongst all the creatures, were moloids, scrambling and jogging past him, through the jungle and up a rocky hill. Bruce Banner dodged the monsters and moloids, as he followed along. Soon, dirty, sore-footed and weary, he reached the top of the hill. There was a dozen more creatures and moloids at the top of the hill, all gathered around an object in the center of the bowl-shaped clearing. “I’ll be damned...!” Banner muttered. “It was an evil tree after all!” The tree looked gnarled and ancient, not overly tall, but with thick, leafless, bent limbs reaching upwards. As he looked upon its grey, rough, rutted bark, the murmur he’d heard from the splinter became the roar of crashing ocean waves. The roar of a storm. Banner staggered, his hands going to his temples. The force was there, pounding in his head. Even this loud, it still contained no clear or discernable words or sentences. It was louder, but no more distinct. It was still all bursts of feelings and ideas. All around him, the creatures ambled about, slowly, lazily. They all seemed to be where they felt they should be and patiently waiting for whatever came next. Banner wondered if his intellect, the thing he used to piece together clues, was also his barrier to actual understanding and communication. It had gotten him this far, but no farther. “Fine,” He muttered, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist around the splinter and jabbing himself in the chest. “Your turn...” He flinched at the pain and stumbled, colliding with a red, leathery, rhinoceros-like beast. The creature took the bump personally, and turned its head, slamming into Banner and sending him colliding with a heap of stones. It was the Hulk that got to his feet, brushing dirt from his face. “Stupid monsters...!” He growled. The Hulk swayed and then sat down on the rock pile, suddenly dizzy. His forehead wrinkled in concentration, and he looked around, as though trying to spot someone calling his name from a distance. “Who...? Want Hulk...?” <Want> Hulk looked around, scanning the crowd of beasts and subterraneans. “Who talks to Hulk?” <want> Frowning in confusion and annoyance, the Hulk got to his feet, and stomped closer to the tree. “Tree talks to Hulk? What tree want?” <want> Hulk pushed past several of the massive creatures, until he was within a couple feet of the strange tree. “What?” Hulk asked, again. “What tree want?” <want> “Tree keep saying that!” Hulk growled. <need> “What? What tree say?!” <want> “Grrrrr...!” Hulk reached out and laid a massive hand against the rough bark. The swirl of voices and energy flowed through his hand, up his arm and washed over him, filling the green behemoth, inside and out. <want> <need> <want> The Hulk closed his eyes tightly as emotions flowed across his broad, brutish face. There was no attempt to make sense of this torrent of emotion and impulse. The Hulk merely excepted what mental energies flowed from the tree to his brain, and he reacted to them. The jade giant’s body shook, and emotions changed his expression so randomly and quickly that it looked like he was flinching. His eyes opened, and the Hulk stumbled back. His features settled into a single emotion. Anger. “No!” Hulk shouted, drawing back his arm and punching the massive trunk. Bark cracked with a sound like a gunshot, and every creature in the herd flinched and growled in distress. As the Hulk was drawing back his fist for second punch, the assorted bizarre beasts pounced, driving him to the ground. The mass of creatures gnashed, clawed and pummeled the Hulk. “AAARRRGH!!” The Hulk flung away the massive creatures and swung back towards the tree. He glared angrily at it, and could almost feel, despite the featureless, gnarled surface was glaring back. He opened his muscular arms wide and brought his hands together, striking the tree with a brutal clap that shattered the tree. The resulting sonic boom and onrush of broken wood caused the herd of beasts and crowd of moloids to panic and scatter. The Hulk spat out sawdust and swayed on his feet. He fell to his knees and then toppled forward, crashing to the ground like a felled tree. Bruce Banner woke up, wincing slightly. He sat up, brushing scraps of wood and dirt off himself. “How are you feeling, Doctor Banner?” Bruce glanced over his shoulder. The Mole man stood nearby, leaning idlily on his staff, as he watched his subjects clean up the debris from the destruction of the tree. “Feeling tired and...perplexed.” “What occurred here?” The Mole man asked. “There was...a tree,” Banner said, getting to his feet. “Some kind of mutation...alien perhaps...? It communicates erratically through some form of telepathy. The splinters acting as... a receiver of sorts. Though, it seems the tree was a poor communicator, or its thought process were too alien. Primitive creatures, like your monsters...and the Hulk, can make sense of the psychic impulses and...whatever the Hulk saw or learned was enough to convince him the tree was a threat...it’s all a bit of a blur.” “Curious,” The Mole man nodded. “I’m sure you’re happy,” Bruce continued, sullenly. “A potential threat to your rule was dealt with and you now have sole ownership of a big pile of alien wood.” “I don’t think I appreciate your tone, Doctor Banner,” The Mole man scowled. “Harvey, I’m tired and don’t think I care,” Bruce said, walking towards the edge of the clearing. “Tomorrow, you can buy me breakfast and try and convince me you didn’t use the Hulk to destroy a creature for your convivence.” # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Author’s note: Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry...mostly because I get sullen and don’t get any writing done. I feel I should have something interesting and deep to say here, for my first issue, but all I have to say, is I love the Incredible Hulk. Always been a favorite and was thrilled to discover no one else had dibbed him. What to expect going forward:
After that: A mix of science mysteries, cool fights and yes, I will explain what the ‘big, bad thing’ is that happened during the time jump. -Travis Hiltz |