Bruce Banner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hyperkinesia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2015-11-23 11:35 am
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
And here he is thanking her when she has wronged him more than she could possibly make up. She shifts uncomfortably, finally opting to sit on a nearby crate.
Perhaps a distraction? Wanda's been in his head, but she doesn't feel like she really knows much about him. "What's your favorite food? I can try to bring it later..."
no subject
"Shawarma," he says with a small little smile. Probably just for the memory that comes with it, and he could use that. Something good, comforting. "But I don't think you'll find that on board. Just... a burger? That's easier."