Bruce Banner (
hyperkinesia) wrote in
thisavrou_log2015-11-23 11:35 am
Entry tags:
( open ) my hands will stain the seas scarlet
Who: Bruce Banner and anyone!
When: A few days after the planet's destruction, once Bruce wakes up.
Where: The cage in the cargo hold.
What: Bruce's coming to grips with the fact that the destruction of the planet is his fault, hiding away in his cage while fully expecting people to come by. Some to blame him, others to say that it's not his fault - neither will really help.
Warnings: Bruce-flavored angst? Dry heaving. Probably a very brief and vague suicidal thought here or there. Nothing much otherwise.
(PS: I am STILL open to people tagging him at the event log, by the way - should anyone be wondering.)
His eyes open into an alarmingly sharp sight.
There's no confusion, no moment of laziness or feeling of rest. It's as if he just blinked - and now he's there again. Except he knows it wasn't just a blink, it wasn't just sleeping either. The memories are as sharp as his sight, and they assault him almost instantly. Screams, cracks, people's faces, yelling, crying, afraid - even the angry ones, even the fighters, they're all scared, all screaming, running. Nothing stops the monster. He just keeps going, and all Bruce sees is those massive green fists, crushing one statue after the other, shards of glass breaking off and spreading all around, a whole planet crumbling down in front of his eyes - and him, trapped on the inside, helpless to do anything.
Everything assaults him at once, his insides twisting and making him sick. He rushes to a corner and doubles over, heaving out air and spit but nothing else comes, his stomach empty.
He wishes his mind were empty too - but no such luck.
Standing up is a struggle. His head is light, and the weight of his body makes his weak knees shake. He feels dizzy all over again, but he tries to keep himself upright for a little longer, back to the wall. He looks around, studying the cage. It's an impressive work, even more so than the one that SHIELD had built, and he can't help but mentally congratulate the team who put it together, especially in such a short time.
The fact that he's locked up doesn't bother him in the least; it's probably for the best, anyway. The Hulk hadn't really fought the confines of the prison, he knows that much - he'd been brought in still frozen, and the moment he thawed, he relinquished control back to Bruce. But he knows that it would likely have held the monster, and frankly Bruce prefers being here rather than anywhere else. At least he doesn't have to face anyone yet.
Left somewhere in the cage, he eventually finds clothes, a pair of plain trousers and a sweatshirt, looking much like pajamas. Funny, someone must've told the crew that the monster was a man - or the man was a monster. People from his world, maybe, or the unsuspecting woman who had watched him turn. Regardless, he just grabs the clothes and puts them on, the warmth of the fabric offering no comfort whatsoever.
Eventually he curls up on the mattress, keeping the covers tight around his shoulders, back facing away from where people could come by and see him. He's not planning to ignore anyone - he knows eventually he'll have to face the consequences of what the monster did - but he's not about to strike up conversation. If people just want to come by and see him, look at him like an animal in a cage and nothing more, then let them. It'd be a relief if he didn't have to actually open his mouth and talk anytime soon.
When: A few days after the planet's destruction, once Bruce wakes up.
Where: The cage in the cargo hold.
What: Bruce's coming to grips with the fact that the destruction of the planet is his fault, hiding away in his cage while fully expecting people to come by. Some to blame him, others to say that it's not his fault - neither will really help.
Warnings: Bruce-flavored angst? Dry heaving. Probably a very brief and vague suicidal thought here or there. Nothing much otherwise.
(PS: I am STILL open to people tagging him at the event log, by the way - should anyone be wondering.)
His eyes open into an alarmingly sharp sight.
There's no confusion, no moment of laziness or feeling of rest. It's as if he just blinked - and now he's there again. Except he knows it wasn't just a blink, it wasn't just sleeping either. The memories are as sharp as his sight, and they assault him almost instantly. Screams, cracks, people's faces, yelling, crying, afraid - even the angry ones, even the fighters, they're all scared, all screaming, running. Nothing stops the monster. He just keeps going, and all Bruce sees is those massive green fists, crushing one statue after the other, shards of glass breaking off and spreading all around, a whole planet crumbling down in front of his eyes - and him, trapped on the inside, helpless to do anything.
Everything assaults him at once, his insides twisting and making him sick. He rushes to a corner and doubles over, heaving out air and spit but nothing else comes, his stomach empty.
He wishes his mind were empty too - but no such luck.
Standing up is a struggle. His head is light, and the weight of his body makes his weak knees shake. He feels dizzy all over again, but he tries to keep himself upright for a little longer, back to the wall. He looks around, studying the cage. It's an impressive work, even more so than the one that SHIELD had built, and he can't help but mentally congratulate the team who put it together, especially in such a short time.
The fact that he's locked up doesn't bother him in the least; it's probably for the best, anyway. The Hulk hadn't really fought the confines of the prison, he knows that much - he'd been brought in still frozen, and the moment he thawed, he relinquished control back to Bruce. But he knows that it would likely have held the monster, and frankly Bruce prefers being here rather than anywhere else. At least he doesn't have to face anyone yet.
Left somewhere in the cage, he eventually finds clothes, a pair of plain trousers and a sweatshirt, looking much like pajamas. Funny, someone must've told the crew that the monster was a man - or the man was a monster. People from his world, maybe, or the unsuspecting woman who had watched him turn. Regardless, he just grabs the clothes and puts them on, the warmth of the fabric offering no comfort whatsoever.
Eventually he curls up on the mattress, keeping the covers tight around his shoulders, back facing away from where people could come by and see him. He's not planning to ignore anyone - he knows eventually he'll have to face the consequences of what the monster did - but he's not about to strike up conversation. If people just want to come by and see him, look at him like an animal in a cage and nothing more, then let them. It'd be a relief if he didn't have to actually open his mouth and talk anytime soon.

no subject
He doesn't really remember the man's voice too well either - different context and all that. So when the voice comes, his mind doesn't make that connection, especially when he's still keeping his back turned to this new visitor.
It's not a question he likes much. It's complicated, difficult to explain, but he knew questions just like this one would come sooner or later. Trying to answer them is the least he can do, after all that's happened.
"it comes in pieces." No more than flashes at first, screams and loud sounds in his dreams. Eventually they'll all piece together into a more complete image, and it's not an image he's at all looking forward to seeing. "I remember... some of it."
Most, at this point. It's quiet in the hold, he's all by himself. There's little else to occupy his thoughts here, and it might be for the best too, to help him come to terms with what he did.
no subject
Maybe it's a lie, but he wants to believe it's not. What could they do with someone who chose to abuse his power that way?
"Can you tell me what happened down there, what set you off?" Clark asks, his tone carefully neutral.
"It's not the first time this has happened, is it?"
no subject
"No, it's not the first time." He looks at the man finally, a tired gaze that tries to find the man's features in the memories he has. There's something familiar there, he thinks - he just can't quite place it yet.
"I was with... someone. A woman. The natives attacked us. That was the trigger." A couple of natives had quickly turned into a mob, and it had become impossible to escape. "I think she made it, the woman. I told her-- told her to run, when I started changing."
It's more of a question than a statement. In the grander scheme of things, it might not seem like it matters much - he's still killed thousands of people, some with his own bare hands - but to him, it is. It's the handful of people who managed to get away that he tries to take solace in. Even if It doesn't really work.
"I couldn't control it." The man might not believe it, but he says it anyway. "Something happened to me, some years ago. An accident in a lab, with an experiment I was working on. The transformations are triggered by a release of adrenaline, so whenever my heart rate spikes, I turn into this... monster. If I control the transformation, then I control the monster. But if I'm triggered like that..." Well, the man saw.
no subject
At least the man seems genuine. When he mentions Shepard, it's not an excuse, just an explanation threaded with concern. And it's quite the explanation, all told. Straight out of a modern Jekyll & Hyde.
The full responsibility for what happened doesn't lie with the man in the cell. And as much as Clark wants to think he could have done something different, something better, he knows that it doesn't lie entirely with him either. It was all a terrible accident. But it was still an accident that had killed thousands and, somehow, they would have to be accountable for it.
But one thing at a time, he supposes.
He crouches down beside the cell, closer to eye-level with its occupant now. "The woman who was with you - she's still alive. She warned everyone on the network and went to help with the rescue effort. Shuttles from Caducus Secondary came to aid with the evacuation. We all did the best we could."
He doesn't expect that to be very much comfort, but the preservation of life is as important as the loss of it. "I'm just sorry that it wasn't enough."
Clark looks at the man in the cell again. "Is there a way to stop you after you change?"
no subject
She hasn't dropped by, either. Somehow he has a feeling that's because she doesn't want to see him. He can hardly blame her for that. But he's still glad and relieved to hear Clark's answer about what happened to her after she ran away.
He sighs, his eyes closing, and he nods slowly, silent but clearly grateful for that. Every one person that made it out of there relatively unscathed, even if only physically, is a good thing. It doesn't really alleviate all the death and destruction, but at least the Hulk didn't hurt every single person there.
The news that she posted to the network doesn't bother him much. He didn't really expect to keep his condition a secret, after what happened-- even if introducing the monster like that wouldn't have been his choice. But then again, had he had any sort of choice, a lot would have happened differently.
"So am I."
Words, just words. They're only worth so much, and right now, they weigh practically nothing to Bruce. But they're all he has to offer.
"No. The Hulk is impossibly strong. He can't be killed either. I... I tried," he confesses in a small voice, clearing his throat before he goes on. "What you did is all that can be done. Someone to fight him off and to steer him away from populated areas. It would have worked too, if the planet hadn't been made of glass."
no subject
Clark is silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say to that. To have to live with a monster inside of oneself, and to be driven to that extreme because of it, is an awful thing. There must still be some way to help, some way to mitigate the situation, but he's sure Bruce has exhausted his resources before, and he's hesitant to dive into the subject right at the moment. What's important is the future, taking care of those who survived.
"It won't happen like that again. We've got this..." He inclines his head to indicate the cage. "And now I know I can drag you into space relatively safely, if you don't punch me out of the sky first."
He smiles a little, and it's gone just as quickly, but the expression that remains isn't unkind. "You know, we went though all of that and I don't even know your name."
no subject
He's learned the hard way that running and hiding only does him so much good. The world isn't big enough for one man to go by unnoticed, apparently.
"Right, that you can do," he smiles weakly, getting the confirmation that this man is who he assumed. He doesn't ask anything about it, about all he did back on the planet, about what he really is. Maybe some other time, he'll allow his curiosity to take over, but not right now. "Actually, you can do just about anything to him. As long as you don't hurt anyone else in the process, and you manage to get him away from people. You can't really hurt me." No more than the transformation itself already does, anyway.
"I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner."
no subject
"Clark Kent," he says. "Tony Stark mentioned you, actually - he said you were a biological engineer back home. He said something about the Hulk too, but I never thought you were the same person."
He presses a hand against the cage. "You feel safe enough to come out?"
no subject
Which may be for the best. He's curious, but some things are better kept as a mystery.
"Depends on your definition of 'safe'." He looks up and down, all around the cage, then back to Clark. "I'm not going to turn again, so I feel safe in that regard. I don't imagine everyone on the ship will be alright with me walking around freely so soon, though."
no subject
There's the Hulk, but that had been an accident, and even the Hulk isn't without merit. If Bruce can control all of that strength, he can help just as much as someone like Superman.
"There's something to be said for wanting people to feel secure," Clark says, nudging his glasses. "But it's not about what you did, or what the cage prevents you from doing. Who you are and what you can do for people now is important. Punishing yourself - or letting others do it - for something that wasn't your fault... It doesn't change anything."
no subject
It's difficult to explain what he does as a physicist. It's all a little bit of everything, of trying to figure out the universe down to its smallest particles, and over the years it hasn't been the only area Bruce has worked on. When he was hiding, for instance, all he did was helping people, being as close to a medical doctor on third world countries as one can get. That only tangentially relates to physics.
"I'm not punishing myself." He says it out loud as if that makes it in any way more true. In reality, he kind of is, a little. But that's not how he sees it, nor how he wants to see it. "I feel fine here. I'll leave soon. Just... not yet."
no subject
He doesn't know what the right way to finish that is. Were they even there when the accident happened?
"If this is you not punishing yourself, I'd hate to see the alternative." Clark doesn't look even remotely impressed with the denial. "This thing inside you, Bruce, it doesn't make you a monster. Sooner or later you'll have to stop hiding behind this cage."
no subject
Like Betty. He swallows dryly when that memory comes to him with sudden and crisp clarity, seeing her covered in bruises and open wounds, lying on that hospital bed. It had been a mistake to go see her afterwards, but he needed to know that she was alive, that she'd made it. He'd hoped not to run into her father, but it was a long shot.
Ultimately, it was all that, his visit to the hospital, and his argument with the General, that drove him all the way up to Greenland. Not that it made any difference.
"I'm not hiding. Believe me, I know something about that, and I really am not." But then he's used to having a whole world to pick from. He doesn't have a lot of options on a space ship. "I just want to have a little while for myself. And I'm sure some of the people on board wouldn't be too happy to see me walking around freely so soon."