Chapter Text
The last thing Bruce properly remembers is the normal rush before a battle. The alarm pounding through his ears, punching into his carefully maintained control, but not enough to set off the other guy. The scrambling up from the lab, up onto the roof and into the jet. The stomach flipping turning and swerving from the jet avoiding enemy fire. The jet door opening, Thor and Tony streaking out first, followed quickly by Clint, Natasha, Steve, and himself. The brief glance at the widespread damage already caused by the villains. He even had time to realize that this time the enemies were holing up in a building, probably hoping to funnel the Avengers through the single entrance and pick them off one by one. They should know by now that nearly all of the Avengers could create their own entrances anyways.
Then the other guy, or as everyone liked to call, the Hulk takes over and everything turns green. His consciousness is left on its own for a while, to hope that the other guy won't hurt anyone who wasn't a bad guy this time.
Well, Bruce actually can remember a bit more, if he concentrates. Everything is fragmented and muddled when the other guy is out. But if something significant happens, he can sometimes get a better idea. Looking down at himself, Bruce concedes that if this isn't significant, he didn't know what else could.
There's the feeling of machinery being crushed underfoot and between his hands, the sound of screaming that the other guy hates so much. Those bits are usual.
Then there's a slightly more lucid memory, where Bruce feels a surge of protectiveness from the Hulk. The ground- cement dusted with debris from the smashed walls of the building- scrape under him and wind whistles past him. Hulk rushing forward, metal man is hurt. Have to rescue metal man!
Bruce blinks at the memory of the Hulk's clipped thoughts. The other guy didn't usually think, at least not strongly enough that Bruce can sense it. And even as the panic that Tony is injured, and needs to be saved, rushes through him, Bruce reminds himself that Tony is right there. He's fine and honestly, Bruce is probably in a worse position. He forces himself to continue his attempts at recollection.
There's some relief now, metal man safe. There's a flash of red and gold up above, Tony flying safely in the air again, firing blasts at a strange machine. Hulk saved metal man, let him take care of himself. Metal man strong. A few more fragmented sensations flit by, a metal plate folding like paper under his hand, the tiny pinch that was a bullet uselessly pinging off his side.
Finally, something unusual. Bright light, something that Bruce hates almost as much as the other guy. Pain, something Bruce never felt from time as the Hulk, beyond the slight soreness caused by the transformation. He feels his bones, already giant and misshapen, shifting, sliding. Flesh bubbling and sliding and joining together, being weighed down as more built up on an already over grown frame. The ache of his vocal cord as the Hulk roared and screamed. Heat and explosions as Hulk thrashes and twists, his legs trapped together by something. A piercing pain- something could cut the Hulk like that?- crawling down his arms and up his back, across his neck. Sputtering, choking, confusion, he can't figure out how to breathe and then a deep breath.
Now there are voices, pleading voices. “-t's over, done!” “-ed to let Bruce ba-” “-ome on, big gu-” The only one that Bruce fully hears through the other guy's ears is Tony. “Hulk, Bruce can help fix you better than just I can! You need his genius now, like he needs your smashing!” He feels the other guy's uncharacteristic panic and anxiety. There's no way they talked reason into a panicking Hulk! And yet, Bruce now clearly remembers a single thought, you help now, just before the haze of green recedes, and Bruce finds himself in this position.
Bruce looks down at himself again. His entire body, save for his head, the front of his neck, and the front of his torso is covered with shimmering green scales. The scales are a dark green, with a pattern of lighter green stripes that seem to match the other guy's eyes. Bruce flexes his fingers apart, fingers that are now webbed. The palms of his hands are another part that have been spared from scales, as well has the underside of his forearms. Sprouting out of his arms, from the smallest fingers all the way to his elbows, are large pale green fins- one for each arm. With a muscle that Bruce assumes is new, the fins fold tightly against the scales. He can also tell that there is a similar fin on his back.
Bruce doesn't need to see to know that something has changed his neck as well. It feels like an open cut, except that the pain is gone. Going by the theme so far, Bruce assumes that they are gills. He doesn't want to think too much on it.
None of those things are anything compared to the biggest change at all, the one that Bruce first noticed and had caused him to think back on how and when, exactly, this had happened. He didn't have legs anymore. The supposed binding of his legs that Hulk had felt, was actually them fusing into a single limb.
Bruce's legs are a tail. Despairingly, Bruce realizes that they were extremely reminiscent of a mermaid's tail. Starting as thick as his torso, slimming down until it was about as thick as one of his ankles, and ending in a great big fin. The tail is very long- longer than Bruce's normal legs. It's all very streamlined and surprisingly, his still human parts and these strange new fish parts seem to blend perfectly. Whatever was done, Bruce could still breathe, think, and speak. Which is what he did, as he looked up into the faces of his shell shocked friends. It seemed that they were waiting for him to say something first.
“ My body appears to have mutated in an unexpected, drastic way. I believe that is has something to do with the experimental weapon that the enemies were originally threatening us with. Am I correct in saying that the other guy was hit by the weapon?”
There were various nods and mumblings of assent. Steve looks like he's about ready to faint from shock.
“Well then.”, Bruce began in his calmest, most sensible voice. “We should bring the weapon back with us, then. And perhaps we should get to the tower as soon as possible, I don't think the media seeing this would be a good idea.”
That got the other Avengers scrambling. Natasha tuned her comm link to whoever was flying the jet- letting him know that they are ready for pick up. Steve and Clint go to the crushed remains of the weapon- a great big machine built into the floor with a giant, but snapped off, barrel. Thor follows, helping Steve rip the machine from the bolts that secured it to the ground.
Tony, instead, quietly walks up, sitting beside Bruce. He can hear the suit's quiet mechanical whirring.
“Well... this is a little different.” Tony begins casually.
“I would consider that an understatement.” Bruce replies, equally as easy. He supposes that he should be freaking out, and indeed the scientific part of him is running over all of the reasons that this wasn't possible. The logical part of him can at least remind himself that the other guy was just as impossible as this is. In fact, being a strange merman thing was not nearly as bad as the other guy. Logically, he shouldn't worry until after he goes through some detailed analysis. After all, it could easily be something that wears off or is easily reversed. Bruce doesn't think that the rest of himself- the part that was neither scientific nor logical, the normal part- is caught up yet.
Bruce is brought out from his musings by Tony, who's sliding a hand across Bruce's scaled hip. “On the upside, your scales are so, so pretty.” Bruce swipes his hand off with an annoyed expression. “Be serious, Tony. I have scales everywhere, fins on my arms and back, and my legs are a tail. Prettiness is not exactly an upside.”
“But I am serious”, Tony pouts, “You make the best mermaid ever! The Hulk makes the second best mermaid. You should have seen the damage he did with that tail.” Bruce sighs and puts a webbed hand over his forehead.
“Oh, you know you love me.” Tony teases, slinging an arm around Bruce's scaly shoulders. Despite his outward exasperation, Bruce leans into his partner, ignoring the cold metal of his suit.
“Yeah, I guess”, Bruce admits quietly. His mind is exploding with theories and ideas and concerns on this mutation to his body, while the Avengers were each freaking out in their own way, being very obvious with their concern and shock. Amidst all of this, at least somebody isn't taking it seriously.