thisavrou_log | ( open ) my hands will stain the seas scarlet

Entry tags:

mcu: wanda maximoff

( 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.

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Peridot's here out of a combination of both concern and curiosity. The idea that the creature that brought down a whole planet turned out to be the same being as the mild-mannered human that she's been sharing cabin space with, is... well, it's a fascinating one, to say the least. But considering how the rest of the crew has reacted to the incident, she's also a bit worried about what's going to become of him.

The gem has had her limb enhancers back for a few weeks at this point, so she's less easy to miss as she makes her way up to the cage, metallic boots tapping lightly on the floor.

"Banner," she hisses, low and earnest, trying to get his attention. "Banner, you're not doing that 'sleeping' thing, are you?"

Pause.

"Because if you are I can just come back later, I guess."

...She's not used to trying to wake organics up, or telling if they're actually asleep or not. When she'd done it to Ratchet that one time, she'd been able to go right up and poke him in his furry face, but since that's not an option here she's kind of just winging it.

The clanking of boots on the floor doesn't instantly register to Bruce, or rather - he realizes they're steps, he just doesn't recognize who those steps belong to. It's her voice that catches his attention, his eyes opening when she makes the effort to speak quietly. Smiling hurts, more on the inside than out, but licking his lips and swallowing dryly, he shifts, slowly sitting up.

"No, I'm--" He clears his throat and rub his eyes, glancing briefly at her, only to drop his gaze back down to the floor, leaning back against the wall. "I'm awake."

Even if he looks like absolute crap right now. Tired, sick, and beaten. After a pause, he asks in the same hoarse voice. "Are you alright?"

Even if she weren't afraid to risk poking the bear now, Wanda doesn't need to look in Bruce's head to know he has be feeling several thousand kinds of awful. An entire planet, gone...that's a heavy weight to bear. She's probably the last person her Bruce would want to see, but she also feels like she owes it to him to try be supportive to this Bruce.

The hold is almost intimidatingly large, and the heels of Wanda's boots echo despite her attempts to step softly. "Bruce? It's just me." And there's really only one person on the Moira with that particular accent...

Eggsy had woken up in the medbay. He felt like shit, to put it lightly, and he'd been so disoriented that he'd just laid on his side for hours, looking at nothing. The lady that ran this part of the ship had been there, told him he was alright now, that the other captain had brought him back and he just needed to take some time to rest.

He didn't feel like resting. He felt like something was missing, and he wasn't just talking about his hand. Eggsy didn't feel right anymore. He didn't know how he could be here, not after the woman had told him he'd fucking died.

He doesn't remember much of it, but he remembers all that green and all that glass. Eggsy gets restless far too quickly, slipping out of the medbay and heading down to the cargo hold where they'd built up a cage to put the green man in. He's confused, more than a little bit, when he sits down outside of it, holding his arm up against his chest because he's afraid to touch it or bump it against anything. He doesn't want to know what it might feel like to realize there's nothing there.

"How's it goin'?"

Because that's Bruce in there. Not the green man.

At one point or another, Bruce expects to see everyone on the crew passing by the cargo hold. No doubt that the whole ship knows about the monster in the cage - even if the monster isn't there now, not like he was back at the planet, people will still come by. And they do.

But Eggsy... that's not a visit he expects. There's a number of impressive things that the captains can do, no doubt, but bringing someone back from the dead is something else entirely. Maybe they'd managed to find him just on the brink, somehow-- point is, when he hears that voice, he freezes up where he lies, eyes opening in shock. He doesn't move, though, at least not right away.

Eventually, he rolls onto his back, his head still turned away, eyes fixed on the wall. He can't bear to look at Eggsy yet, too afraid to see the state he might be in right now. His mouth opens but words seem to fail him, and when he does speak it's weak, faint, barely there.

"I'm sorry."

A pause, and he swallows dry, voice cracking when he speaks again.

"I thought you..."

Died. But he can't quite finish the sentence.

True, she's not the last person he'd want to see, but honestly right now Bruce is having a hard time thinking of anyone at all that he wouldn't mind seeing. At least Wanda knows about the Hulk, and he doesn't remember her getting personally involved in the fight, so hopefully that means they'll avoid some of the more unpleasant topics of conversation.

He rolls onto his back, sighing as he rubs over his eyes, blanket still wrapped fully around him as he glances at her. His eyes are darkened, complete exhaustion etched onto his face, coupled with the overwhelming guilt that he can't even muster the strength to hide. "Not the... worst visit I've had, so far."

When Clark steps into the room, he's dressed as he ordinarily is, in his crew uniform and a pair of glasses. He hasn't seen the cage since the creature was delivered into it, and there hasn't been so much as a single attempt to break free since then. He's been listening - he would have heard it.

The figure curled in the corner is far smaller now, human. It's difficult not to look at him and feel a sense of pity. But then, he'd felt that way about the creature too. This is someone he should have tried harder to save.

It's not that Clark was never angry, and selfishly so, but he'd already let himself be blinded by it after Miles had died. Going after the creature the way he did at that point had been senseless, and it had been a mistake. If he'd been able to keep his head a little bit longer, maybe they would have even been able to get him inside the cage before the Ingress had been destroyed, and all of this could have been stopped.

He's had some time to process things already. He's been down the path of what if and I should have plenty of times by now, so he stops himself there. He didn't come here to find a place to lay the blame.

He walks to the part of the cage that allows him to get closest. He knows the man is awake inside. He leans against a wall and tucks his hands into his pockets.

He doesn't really know what to say in a situation like this. He exhales softly, and glances away from the man in the cage. "How much do you remember?"

Eggsy glances up, a sharp movement, eyes narrowed in on Bruce's face.

"Sorry for what?"

Ah, that was it then. Eggsy still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. They'd said he'd died, and somehow they'd brought him back. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it all, thought maybe he'd flat-lined or something and they'd saved him. It's the only thing he can think that doesn't just weird him the fuck out.

"Nah, I ain't dead. Least I ain't anymore. Not really sure what happened."

For some reason, he feels a little bit guilty. Probably because he'd charged Bruce when he was the green man and if he hadn't, maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt. That was something they'd both have to carry and Eggsy knew he was responsible for it.

"I just, um, well. I may be goin' out on a limb, but that wasn't you was it? Like, were you in control?"

It made a huge difference, to Eggsy, and his own assumptions as to Bruce's character might be off the mark, but he didn't think it had been his choice to hurt Eggsy.

She straightens up, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Me? Pssh." Peridot makes a flippant hand gesture, rolling her eyes in amusement. "I'm fine. What about you? What the heck happened out there?"

Getting right down to the tough questions.

"Weren't you there?" His own answer, in form of a question, has a definite evasive quality to it. It's not something he wants to talk about, evidently, but he knows that won't work well. People will have questions, they'll want to know more about what happened - and after what the Hulk has done, telling them whatever he can seems like the least he can do.

"What do you want to know?"

"For what I did."

It doesn't need saying, he doesn't think. At this point, he's sure the entire ship knows that the monster was actually one of the crew, and if they didn't all know who it was, then a visit to the cargo hold would've made it more than clear. No doubt, a lot of the people coming by so far did so for that reason exactly.

He's silent for a little while, one hand lifting to rub over his eyes. That's one of the questions he was expecting to get sooner or later, and at least the answer isn't all that difficult right now.

"No. I wasn't." He swallows dryly and clears his throat. "But it was me."

And he still blames himself for it all.

There have been people coming and going often - angry, curious, wanting a glimpse of either the monster of the man. Not all of them try to talk to him, a couple who do he actually ignores, too tired for arguments about what happened. Eventually, Bruce expects the man who fought the Hulk to come by too, though he's not yet sure if he'll recognize him easily. He seemed to be dressed in some unusual uniform, the last he remembers.

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.

Concern flashes across Wanda's face. "Are they treating you well?" She had hoped the crew would be decent and wouldn't come to mock or stare at Bruce like some sideshow attraction, though honestly she's also surprised the captains are letting just anyone waltz in here. Wanda expected she'd have to pull the 'same world' card...or the hypnosis card. Her hands may be stiff with bandages but she can manage that much.

"I don't know what you remember, but if you have questions about this, what happened after, I will try to answer them.

Bruce doesn't care, either way. Of course some people will want to come by, to either catch a glimpse of the beast or get to see the man. He'd rather they come and watch him like some animal in a cage than actually engage and try to talk to him, ask for reasons, demand explanations that he can't possibly deliver right now.

"No, I. I remember." A little too much, a little too vividly. He wishes he could forget it all sometimes, let the hollow in his chest turn inside out and eat all of those memories whole. But then, he also believes he deserves those memories haunting him. "They're treating me alright. A lot better than you'd expect someone treating the monster who destroyed an entire world."

Peridot rubs her chin thoughtfully in silence, casting a critical gaze over him. Strangely enough, she doesn't seem scared by Bruce at all; on the contrary, there's a curious glint in her eye. "No, I wasn't there," she says belatedly. "I was on the ship. For starters, have you always been able to shapeshift like that? Do you have some kind of condition?"

"It's not the same, yeah?"

Eggsy frowns, opens his mouth to say something else and then stops. No, they both deserved Eggsy taking the time to think this through. To really know what he was feeling before saying anything else. He didn't feel negatively towards Bruce. He didn't hate him. Judge him. Want retribution.

In his own way, he knew Bruce was going to always carry the weight of what he's done with him. Eggsy didn't think he deserved even that, but if he did, it was way more a punishment than Eggsy would wish on him.

"I guess what I'm sayin' is that I ain't mad 'bout that. I don't blame ya. You didn't do it on purpose, yeah? I just.."

He stops, shrugs his shoulders, grimaces.

"Bruce. I don't want us to stop bein' friends, okay? I ain't got many here."

"Good. That's... that's good."

Doesn't make what happened any less grave, but at least he didn't hurt everyone. At least a few were relatively safe.

"A condition. You could call it that." His smile is bitter as he looks at her, shaking his head. "I didn't always have this. Only some years past. There was this-- this accident on a lab. Something I was working on. The experiment didn't go too well." A pause. "Obviously this wasn't what was supposed to happen."

"You should. I blame me."

He's not sure if this open and prompt understanding and forgiveness helps him any, or actually makes him feel worse, but he does know that Eggsy means it. For someone who once was able to turn into a dog, he seems to possess that same trait of honesty, and Bruce can appreciate that. For what little it may be worth right now.

He sits up slowly, a hand rubbing over his face and eyes, as he shifts around and leans against the wall of the cage. That's when he finally looks over, his eyes immediately landing on the stump where Eggsy's hand should be.

The knot in his throat turns to lead, and falls to the pit of his stomach with a violence that nearly makes him heave again.

"Better few and good." He tries for humor next, but it's self-loathing, a little bitter too, as he gestures at Eggsy's arm. "At least the others didn't do... that, to you."

If he's expecting her to protest, Bruce is about to be disappointed. Wanda knows it won't help - in fact, it might make things worse if she gives him an invitation to explain why he feels like a monster. "I am not going to let them hurt you," she says simply. "If you want to stay here, if you want to leave...I will support you."

She knows from experience at least that many well-meaning people focus so much on trying to make one feel better that it's unlikely anyone has asked Bruce himself what he wants. Honestly, Wanda isn't sure what to do in this situation, but she imagines listening can't be the worst course of action.

"Ah, well. Just can't blame ya for somethin' that ain't your fault."

He frowns, scooting closer to the edge of the cage, fiddling with some spare wiring laying on the ground nearby.

"I'm not bein' honest. I know people. See 'em around, but they ain't my friends. I've been tryin' but it's hard to trust people, ya know?"

Eggsy looks up, angling himself so Bruce can't see his arm as much.

"And we went straight past that when I was a dog. Like I trust ya, cause I know you're good people, and I just think we could be friends if ya gave me half a chance."

He feels like he's trying to persuade Bruce to be his friend and he's kind of glad that he's getting it all out of his system. If Bruce decides this is too much and he doesn't want Eggsy around him, then at least he'll know.

"I won't bother ya much or anythin', but I've been thinkin' about how long I might be here on this ship and I don't want to spend it without friends."

He's expecting her to protest, but he's glad that she doesn't. He doesn't feel like explaining why he believes he's a monster, and telling him otherwise isn't really going to change his mind on that.

"It's better that I stay here for a little while." He doesn't mind the cage, and the crew is still recovering from what happened. The planet's destruction, the loss of so many lives - not just the natives', but among their own too. It's probably for the best that they all have some time to come to terms with it all, and having the man who, all things considered, is at fault for all that violence and destruction isn't going to help with that process.

The sentiment in her words isn't lost on him, though. He might not know her very well yet, but he is glad to have someone willing to stand by him. Steve would have, but he's vanished from the ship a while ago, and Tony-- Bruce doesn't even know. He's starting to wonder what's happened to him. If he was on the planet...

He pushes that thought away, smiling weakly at her. "Thank you. I'll... let you know. When I decide to leave here."

Except it kind of is his fault. If he hadn't been on the planet at the time, if he'd gone to the ship and just waited there for the rest of the crew, then none of this would have happened. Of course he had no way of knowing that the natives would turn violent towards them, but he should have expected it. He's seen enough to know when to expect confrontation, and though his intentions were the best - just help people back to the ship, get the rest of the crew off the planet -, well... The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, as they say.

So the Hulk was to blame for all the death and destruction. But Bruce was still the one to create the conditions that allowed for the monster to break out of his cage. In a particularly explosive and violent kind of way too.

"Eggsy-- it's not that I won't give you a chance. You have..." He sighs, curls in a little more on himself. "You have nothing to prove to me. The fact that you're here right now is... it speaks for itself."

He still remembers how tense Natasha was after the Hulk chased her in the Helicarrier. Sure, she had eased a little around him after the battle, but every once or twice he had still caught her flinching when he moved a little too quickly, even after a week had passed. And yet, here's Eggsy, a few days after the Hulk killed him, asking Bruce to be his friend.

It's almost surreal. But he doesn't doubt that there's some level of trust here. Whether or not there should be, clearly it's not for Bruce to decide.

"Do you have questions?" People always do. And right now, that's actually easier to talk about. "About the other guy."

She blinks slowly. "I see... Hmph."

There's another stretch of silence.

"Why hasn't anyone come to let you out yet? You've changed back, right? These accommodations hardly seem necessary in that case, when you have perfectly good quarters up on the Mero deck."

He looks at her, almost surprised to hear her say that. Not just for what she says, but the way she says it. Casual, simple, like the reasons for him being in the cage to begin with hardly matter now.

"I can leave whenever I want. I just... don't want to leave yet."

"What?" Now she looks confused. "Why not?"

She really earnestly does not understand, the tone of her question not unlike that of a stubborn child's.

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( open ) my hands will stain the seas scarlet

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