| Hulk Meets Apartment. Not Good |
| Summary: | Pete has gone out to get breakfast while Amanda is brewing hangover cures when Banner awakes from a very long nap. |
| Date: | 2016-07-24 |
| Related: | http://marvelreborn.wikidot.com/log:2016-07-22-domino-and-the-hulk-wreck-harlem http://marvelreborn.wikidot.com/log:2016-07-23-to-the-pig-and-whistle |
| NPCs: | None |
| Scene Runner: | NA |
| Social/Plot: | Plot |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. |
Late morning; Bruce had slept nearly a full day, which was - unusual. Pleasant, but unusual. He hadn't been able to catch more than a few hours here and there for - a long time. He trudges out of the bedroom he doesn't remember commandeering, clutching onto his jeans with his left hand, eyes half-closed. It's only then that he realizes he's in an apartment. And the rest of his brain finally boots up, minus the time the Hulk rampaged.
Rubbing his face with his right hand, he heads to the kitchen, to see about coffee. It's mostly busy-work, something to do as he thinks and ponders.
Amanda Sefton is already in the kitchen when the good doctor comes out. She is brewing up a remedy for not drinking enough water when she was drinking with Pete the night before. She looks like she feels ill still. As for coffee, the scent of a fresh pot is mingling with the scent of whatever Amanda is brewing on the stove.
"Smells like turpentine," is Doctor Bruce Banner's professional diagnosis of the scent, given as he trudges into the kitchen. Well, To it, so he doesn't crowd Amanda out of her own kitchen. And his comment is delivered in a more matter-of-fact manner than anything more - barbed. It simply really does smell like brewed turpentine to him.
"Are you okay?" he asks, one of the few conversational tap-dances he lets himself engage in. She doesn't look okay at all, but most people like to start off with that nearly-rhetorical question, so.
Amanda Sefton gestures to the brew, "I will be when this is finished. It's a remedy for the side effects from getting tipsy with Pete last night."
That makes the man arch his eyebrow in curiosity, though he doesn't really know what to say. "I see," is all he can think to say; not having been involved with anyone for so long, he had long since forgotten things like getting tipsy with someone else. IT was almost a foreign idea to him, now.
Amanda Sefton looks over at him, "Usually when people say I see, it's because they are either judgy or jealousy inside, but I'll forgive you for that. How are you feeling this morning?" Whatever she's brewing is finished and poured into a mug into which she mixes a little sugar and cool water to bring down the temperature before downing the entire mug in one go.
"Or they don't have anything better to say, and wish you to know your statement had been heard and acknowledged, even if no reply was immediately obvious," replies Bruce as he leans against the door jam, trying and failing to appear casual. It's hard to act casual when in a strange apartment and holding up jeans so one doesn't telegraph to the world whether one's parents were religious or not. "And I'm alright, thank you. Haven't slept this good in years. But - need to figure out what to do now."
Amanda Sefton grimaces a little then sets the mug in the sink for later dealing with and pours a mug of coffee for both herself and Banner. "How do you take it?" She glances over at Banner then gestures with one hand. In a faint flash of pink light, the pants he's wearing vanish and are replaced by jeans that fit him properly. She does not check to see if there's something comfortable underneath the pants first though. "And what would you be doing if you were back in your home universe?"
Well, for the curious, Bruce's parents weren't strictly religious, as is obvious in that brief flash he's fully naked. He barely has time to register the fact that he /is/ naked for that flash before jeans reappear. He looks down, and for a moment is tempted to ask for the old ones back; there was a reason he wore jeans a few sizes too large - but that can be dealt with, later. One mustn't appear ungrateful.
"…I, ah - thanks," he says, trying to get his eyebrows back down to their normal positions. "I - don't suppose you have any other answer to how you did that than 'magic'? And - back home I'd be running." A simple answer, with not-so-simple, but he thinks rather obvious, implications.
Amanda Sefton looks up at Bruce again and smiles rather benignly, "I conjured them from the fabric of reality. Does that work better for you? Specifically, I re-organized the matter of your original attire into those. Is it a problem?"
"For reasons I've never been able to understand," Bruce says as he rubs the back of his head with his right hand, "people always seem to have an easier time dealing with - with the other guy - than if he's nude, too. I've - I had to learn to buy the biggest pants I could find…" There's probably a scathing commentary about violence and sexuality in there somewhere, but he really can't be bothered to chase that idea down right now.
Amanda Sefton arches a brow herself for a moment at that then says quietly, "Well… I suppose I could give you something stretchy instead but he'd probably really dislike that. What do you mean you'd be running?"
"Because the other guy is a monster," replies Bruce plainly, looking at Amanda for a moment longer, then he reaches for the mug she'd poured for him. "Monsters are hunted - and monsters are killed. Usually. This one - maybe not…" He really isn't too irate at the idea of being hunted; the Hulk is a dangerous beast, a killer, and he has no compunction against putting dangerous beasts down - though this is made all the stickier, obviously, by the beast being part of /him/.
Amanda Sefton nods, "Yes. I've noticed that he had no problem with hurting people not involved in the problem that made him so angry. But I meant what would you be doing if you didn't have to worry about that?"
"Pinch myself," comes the immediate reply, given with a dry tone and an arched left eyebrow, then he takes a sip of the coffee. He's not one to take it black, but he hadn't spoken up, so he only has himself to blame. "I'd be dreaming, since I have no idea what I'd do with myself if I wasn't running. Settle down, find a picket fence…" More dry humor; that will never be his life, and he knows it.
Amanda Sefton hmms, "Well having to move around constantly isn't something I worry about. I'm a flight attendant because if I stay in one place too long, I go insane. Pete will likely kill me for saying it, but it's technically his job to help deal with your situation."
That makes Bruce arch his eyebrow again, and he pauses mid-sip to look at Amanda. As he sets the mug back down again, he says, "Pete - the one who wanted to ship me off to Russia." A statement, not a question. A statement of disbelief, but a statement nonetheless.
Amanda Sefton chuckles, "Oh he'd probably much rather I open a pocket dimension with no one in it but you and shove you in. But yes, that Pete."
Bruce grunts softly at that, about as obviously displeased as he can get without turning a shade of green. "I think I'll take my chances on my own," he says evenly, looking down to the mug. "I don't need someone /else/ after me like that."
Amanda Sefton considers that for a moment, "Well you know where my apartment is. I'm not always here though and my roommates might be freaked out if you showed up unannounced when they were here instead of me."
"We'll cross that road when we get to it," says Bruce confidently, though it's a confidence from having gotten used to there being no obstacle that can't be overcome - or smashed through. "This - Pete - isn't going to be a problem for you, will he?" That's asked more quietly; if nothing else, he's genuinely concerned for her well-being. She did help him, after all - when he really didn't deserve it.
Amanda Sefton smiles, "Well he hasn't thrown anything at me I couldn't handle yet and he did keep me from getting arrested after you tore down a building in Harlem so I think I can handle him. And if I can't I can just hold him still until he decides he doesn't want to be a problem any longer."
A soft snort comes from Bruce, there, then he says, "I - actually believe you. And it's better if you do it, than - well." He doesn't need to finish that; it's only obvious "who" would be the one doing the holding if it comes down to it. Bruce has been chased by far too many people in his life.
Amanda Sefton steps out of the kitchen now. "I could probably hold you still too, but I wouldn't want to try unless I had to. Magicking you was thoroughly exhausting."
Oh, how Bruce would love to grill her, to talk with her at length about the abilities she displays, to understand them without the superstitious nonsense surrounding such abilities - but he hasn't the time. "I imagine it was," he says a touch more quietly as he steps aside to stay out of her way. "And as much as I'd like to talk about that - I should probably leave. If - Pete - knows you well enough to have a night with you like that - he could come back at any time. I need to keep him off my trail as long as possible."
Amanda Sefton notes calmly, "If Pete Wisdom shows up at my apartment without calling first, he probably won't get me to open the door. My head still hurts. And you'd be better off if you ate before running off."
It's not like Bruce doesn't have a Hulk-sized appetite, so the mention of food does catch his attention. Still - caution overrides hunger, for the moment at least. "Maybe, but - would he stake the place out? Plant a bug somewhere to see if I leave?" He might well sound like he's had person experience in just those sorts of things.
Amanda Sefton arches a brow again. "Well he'd better not have. I could scry to see if there's anyone out there watching the place if you like. Or I could get you out of here in a way that cannot be spied on same as I got you in here. Was that a yes or a no to food?"
Though Bruce's memories are a bit scant and hazy, he remembers enough of her to believe her, that she could get him out if need be. "That's a yes to food," he says after merely a beat, then, "And if you want to make sure Pete doesn't have any surprises waiting, I'd not argue."
Amanda Sefton gestures to her fridge, "You can have anything in there, I need to get my crystal ball." She turns toward the main room where there's such an item on one of the shelves.
Both brows lifting in curiosity, Bruce watches her go to retrieve the item. "Mental focus, perhaps," he murmurs to himself, then turns to the refrigerator. He's going to look for meat, first and foremost; the fewest steps between it being in the fridge and having been mooing or bleating, the better.
Alas the apartment is rented by three women so there's far more salad makings than meat. There are some deli meats though. Amanda claims the crystal ball and makes her way to the sofa to sit so she can cast a scry on it.
Another low grunt comes from not finding much in the way of real food, then Bruce settles on making a sandwich. He /does/ add a /few/ non-meat items, but - it's mostly bread, mayo, and meat. A lot of meat. Deli meat will have to do. And at least he shows he isn't /uncouth/, as he grabs a paper towel to use as a combination plate and napkin to reduce the crumbs and such - and less to wash up afterward.
Amanda Sefton asks, "Anything you're worried about other than Wisdom spying on you? I want you less stressed. I like New York the way it is. Mostly. And this is the Upper East Side."
"I'm worried about a lot of things," quips Bruce as he goes to the other end of the couch. "Pete, where I am; if what he said, and this world's Jennifer Walters is still alive; how to get /back/ to where I came from - if I even want to go there…" The list was a lot longer than that, too.
Amanda Sefton stays focused on her crystal ball mostly but she answers as best she can, "Something really bad happened. Somehow people got pulled here from all over the multiverse. Somehow Richards was involved and Richards and someone called Braddock are working on the problem of how to get people back to their home universes is they want to go and how to pull back the souls of the people who were here originally. That is the most I got from when Pete explained the matter to me after he noticed me." She stares into the crystal ball which is currently showing the hall outside her apartment.
"At least you got that," mutters Bruce between bites of his sandwich, looking at the crystal ball as well. "All I got was repeated threats of Russia. Granted, he probably has a point…" He isn't dumb, of course; he knows all too well how - destructive - his other side can be when enraged. Probably safer to shoot him off to some other planet.
Amanda Sefton notes, "You had just knocked down a building and I gather he has some previous experience with you. He has previous experience with me as well. I do not have that experience in common with him." The view through the crystal ball slowly moves through the hall so Amanda can examine it in close detail then it moves on to the elevator.
Technological, then, muses Bruce as he watches the view in the crystal ball. Or perhaps some as-yet undiscovered talent of the human brain, though it should hardly require a crystal sphere. Testing would be in order, though now probably isn't the time for it. So, he looks back up to her as he takes another bite of his sandwich, and once that bite is swallowed he says, "Like I said, he probably has a point. Still - he needs to know I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on. He should know that there's nothing he can do to me to /make/ me go, either." From someone else, that might have been a threat - from him it was a plea. He doesn't want the Hulk brought out, but he can't leave Manhattan, not yet.
Amanda Sefton sighs softly, "I don't think he wants to make you angry any more than you want him to. The elevator is examined then she moves on to the area outside the building. "I doubt he'd try to force you in any way that might do that."
"I hope not," Bruce murmurs, glancing back to the sphere. It's easier to try and work out what's going on; of course, he has to start from the premise that this world operates like his own, and it's all too likely, simply as a matter of statistics, that key elements and laws of nature are either subtly or not-so-subtly different.
Amanda Sefton frowns, "I don't see anything. If there's someone spying on the building, they are a lot better than I can imagine."
A moment of thought, then Bruce says, "Well, you know this Pete better than I; would you think he /would/ use some sort of device or - something - to spy here?" Even for someone who became an eight-foot-tall creature of rage embodied, talking about "abilities" was - odd.
Amanda Sefton shakes her head, "I don't think he would. It would violate the trust he's attempting to establish with me. He wants me to help him with my magic."
That makes Bruce arch his left eyebrow in thought as he finishes his sandwich. Finally, he says, "Well, I'm sure he would. I'd be wanting help, too, if I were in his place. The question is if you think he'll keep to the trust he's building after you've helped him."
Amanda Sefton nods, "I do think he will. Of course he will. He's Kurt's friend. Kurt would not be friends with someone who would betray my trust." She looks up from the crystal ball and it stills back to empty crystal with a gesture. "So? Why not let him help you."
"I can name four reasons," Bruce replies without hesitation, then he lifts up right-hand fingers as he gives that list. "One, I have no idea who Kurt is. Two, I don't really know Pete, either. Three, Pete didn't actually offer any help, other than a ride to Bolshevik. Four, the last five people who claimed to want to be my friend and want to help me - they were lying, and I still don't know what happened to two of them." He has a decent idea, though…
Amanda Sefton asks softly, "So do you think I'm lying to you then?"
The one counterpoint he doesn't have a good answer for, other than the truth. Bruce grunts then gets to his feet, and only then he says, "I should. Everything tells me I should think you're lying, too. But - you did help me. I don't know whether it was intended, but - I remember that calm…"
Amanda Sefton smiles, "Well it did take me a while to think of it. Speaking of things that might be easier… is there anything you find particularly pleasing or soothing? Just for the future?"
"No," comes the immediate reply, though its given softly. Bruce looks back to her for a moment, then begins randomly pacing around the apartment. "I wish - I /wish/ I could get people to understand what it feels like…" he says, fingers loosely curling as he gestures vaguely toward himself. "There's no - there's no /end/ to it… It's not /love/, that fades with time. It's not /happiness/, that disappears when reality hits. It's not even /fear/, that fades once the threat is gone. It's a force unto itself - it's a primal force, and it touches /everything/. It winds its way through /everything/, whispering in the back of the mind. It's - a power that no one seems to understand. When you're beaten, when you're bloody, when you're eight years old and half-unconscious in a pool of your own fucking blood, that - that /rage/ is the /only/ thing that makes you get back up again…"
Another element of the rage is how easily it brings memories to the fore, how easily it lets one relieve them - the feel of fists, the taste of blood, the feel of old and worn carpet doing so little to cushion the fall. As much as those memories begin running freely through him, Bruce doesn't notice the way the brown of his irises starts to turn emerald…
Amanda Sefton contradicts him, "Love does not fade. Not if it's true. Love is a force unto itself as well. Heartbreak would not be so hard on people if it did fade so easily. And if you turn into the Hulk in my apartment, I will shove him through the first available dimensional rift and leave him where he ends up, so stop it."
Such a blase reaction should really be a clue as to how not-unusual such things are in this world - though Bruce isn't really thinking about that. He tries to, to latch onto it, to focus on it - but it slips away so easily. "Love is serotonin and dopamine in certain levels, mixed with trace amines such as phenylethylamine," he says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to clamp down on that rising tide. "Heartbreak fades, no matter how 'true' it seems."
Amanda Sefton's own gaze flares with something akin to anger now. "How dare you try to tell me my feelings are not real, Doctor Banner? When I love someone, it is a thing of my soul, not some chemical in my mind. Just because you haven't managed to love as much as you rage, doesn't mean I cannot."
"It's true whether you believe it or not…" grumbles Bruce, eyes narrowed. "I didn't tell you how to - scry, so don't you /dare/ tell me you know more about the brain than /I/ do. I've been studying the human body longer than you've been tinkering with herbs and crystal balls." With that he turns to storm out - less from wanting to have the last word, and more because he can feel that surge in his body, the rush of energy, and really doesn't want to destroy the apartment building. Even as he reaches out for the door, his skin begins to darken and turn green in splotches.
Amanda Sefton follows and calls after him, "Just because it was that way where you come from does not mean it is that way everywhere. Some places have very little magic. Please do not go away angry."
What whirls around - door ripped off the hinges - isn't Bruce anymore. The Hulk snarls as his face finishes metamorphosing from that weakling Bruce's, and he crushes the door handle in his hand, even as he slowly begins to tower over her. Banner is still fighting for control - but it's a losing fight. The jeans burst apart as muscles push out from calves, the tightness of the jeans making them split all the way up and fall off him in pieces.
A long morning. A rough night. A tough hangover. There's no better cure than what Pete managed to gather up, for himself and for Amanda.
When the door is torn from its hinges, and the Hulk is starting to form, there's Pete, ready to knock.
His sunglasses fall halfway down his nose. His jaw drops, just a little. The brown paper bag in his other hand smells distinctly of bread, bacon, cheese, and butter. Delicious bacon breakfast sandwiches. An excellent cure for hangovers.
Amanda Sefton has whipped out her phone to call Pete but drops it on the sofa when she sees him on the other side of the hulk. She holds up a hand. "I cannot let you go tearing through my building. Please calm down." Even as she says it she knows it's probably futile.
Very futile. Especially since the Hulk remembers the blonde before him - the one who made him go away. Banner's memories are vague and scant - but the rage that drew him out is clear. The rage directed at the one who made him go away. For a beat, he does nothing as his body finishes contorting and expanding, breaths coming in bestial snarls - then he steps forward and roars, arms spread.
The sheer force of wind pushes Wisdom's sunglasses right back up his nose where they belong. The spit and stuff that hit Pete in the face as the Hulk roared, well… uproariously, would be ringing in Pete's ears for some time.
The Brit would reach down with one hand, into the bag. Out came a bacon sandwich. He offered it to the Hulk, and said, in a quiet, even meek voice…
"Breakfast?"
Oh shit. Oh Shit. Oh shit.
That is not good on so many levels. Way to go Amanda. She flips neatly through the air and lands behind the sofa like the practiced acrobat she is. When she lands she holds out her hand again and pleads, "Come on, Big Guy. I was actually trying to be your friend."
She doesn't want to hurt him, but just in case, a gesture summons Amanda's mystic shield around herself curving partially around her on all sides.
The sudden appearance of Pete makes the Hulk's head-shaking roar end in a cut-off snarl, and he turns half-around. Green eyes narrow menacingly at Pete - then he leaps at Amanda, bringing the door down like a club - only to have it shatter before actually touching her. Another roar is loosed, though this one comes as he brings his hands up, then down, in a rage-fueled pounding not unlike an ape's.
With the Hulk suddenly crashing down on Amanda, Wisdom would probably do the stupid thing.
The hero thing.
Smaller than the Hulk, Wisdom would spryly try to sweep in and… closeline Amanda? No, no, that wasn't it. He was trying to heft her over his shoulder. One hand shot forward, hot-knives lancing from his fingertips and shattering her window as he tried to leap out of it, carrying her with.
The breakfast sandwiches were left behind. Are they mighty enough to slow the Incredible Hulk?
Amanda Sefton just doesn't have it in her to try and calm the Hulk again tonight. She just barely got rid of her hangover and her head is hurting still. The roaring is so not helping with that.
As the Hulk leaps, Amanda thickens the air around him so that moving through it is harder and he lands with less force. Of course that goes away when Pete ducks around her shield, grabs her and heads for the window. Won't that be fun.
Leaping out the window goes immediately nowhere since on the other side of the lovely wide glass windows is a lovely balcony. That is where Pete and Amanda land when leaping out the window rather than starting to fall. With a swing of her arm back toward the Hulk, Amanda sends a bolt of mystic force at him.
A sound akin to a huffed snarl comes from the Hulk as Pete sweeps in and grabs Amanda, his fists whirling through the space they vacated to turn the couch into two sectionals. Another loud roar of fury is given as the pair make their escape - which becomes a malevolent smile for that beat of time they're caught on the balcony.
In the blink of an eye, the Hulk crouches and leaps - just s the bolt hits him in the face. His blind, wild thrashing sends him through the all, right over their heads, to the street below.
"Stop antagonizing him!" Wisdom shouted. As they descended, Wisdom threw his free hand down. Immediately there was a cloying, dry rush of heat, and his coat caught in it. The two landed on the balcony much less hard than they would otherwise. Pete just saved their legs, at least.
"Make him float, or something! Conjure a bunch of pillows for 'im to land on!" Wisdom nearly yelled, but even he was still suffering from the hangover. "Make Hulk comfy!"
No no no, don't hit the bare street! Wisdom was a thermokinetic, but he couldn't do what he wished he could. That is, send thermals from below Hulk to slow his fall. He could do it for himself, as evidenced… just now. But not at range.
Amanda Sefton snaps, "I'm not trying to antagonize him. But my head is still throbbing and instinct takes over." As the Hulk starts to fall, she does the only thing she can think of. She spells the hulk into a bird. A really angry green bird.
Bird!Hulk flies almost randomly, green plumage trailing as he flies through a car windshield, then out the driver's window.
Once the Hulk is close enough to the ground to land softly, Amanda gestures again and turns him back to normal. Boy was that a dense bird.
When the mystical energy fades or dissipates or the like, the Hulk is left - dizzy. He stumbles in place, left hand cupping his head; growling lowly in confusion - then he goes down onto his right knee.