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The well-dressed American businessman stood out like a sore thumb amidst the poverty of this small district in Kolkata. He didn’t appear concerned about the attention he was attracting, pausing occasionally to speak to the natives in rough, stuttering Bengali.
Down the street, Bruce watched him from the shadows, the man’s sudden appearance setting off every alarm bell he had. The man seemed familiar, like Bruce should know him, but he couldn’t place him, and that was more than enough to worry him. Besides, even if the other man wasn’t here for him specifically, he was drawing attention to this place, and that was the last thing Bruce needed. He had to leave.
The dark-haired man was speaking with an elderly woman now, his charming smile used with ruthless efficiency. The lady smiled back at him and pointed, innocently, further down the street – to the small house that Bruce had called his own since shortly after his arrival in this remote part of the world.
Not remote enough, apparently, he mused wryly, pulling further back as the man approached the ramshackle building. Not sticking around to see what he wanted, Bruce turned down the closest alley, already planning his escape. It was a shame, too, because these people actually needed his help, and he hadn’t seen any sign of Ross in months. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to run at a moment’s notice. He had go-bags scattered across the city, and as much money as he could save up on his person.
Moving swiftly, he headed for the edge of town, checking in both directions before crossing the street, careful to choose busier roads where the throng of people provided cover. He was dusty and tanned, run ragged, but he was still a stranger to this place and its people.
The rumbling groan of trucks loaded to max capacity was the only warning he had before the people started moving in waves, pulling back to make room for the trucks. Emblazoned across their sides in bold letters was the company logo for Stark Industries.
Pieces fell into place with the finality of a sledgehammer to the forehead, and Bruce bit back a curse. Glancing around, he kept a careful eye on the guards that were clearing the way for the trucks and allowed himself to be pulled along in the wake of the growing crowd of curious onlookers, hoping that it would provide him with cover long enough for him to slip away unnoticed.
There was movement ahead, and a small boy ran out into the street, his sister chasing after him, right in front of the oncoming trucks. Bruce shouted a warning, but he was too far away as the truck slammed on its brakes. Bruce stood there helplessly, terrified for the children, and for himself. Another body surged out of the crowd, slamming into the children as tires squealed, the front truck veering to the left as bodies scrambled out of the way.
The crowd fell into a sort of stunned silence, and Bruce fought to get his heart rate under control as he pushed his way forward, determined to see if his help was needed. Focusing on the children helped, and he was mostly collected when the children came running back to the side of the road, throwing themselves, crying, into the arms of their frantic parents. Behind them, Tony Stark – because that’s who he was, Bruce realized with a sinking stomach – came wandering out from in front of the truck, reassuring his driver and guards that he was fine, and the children were safe.
Bruce melted back into the crowd, but dark eyes found his before he managed to disappear into the relieved, cheering throng, and Tony Stark smiled widely, mouthing two words. “Stay, please?” Not Bruce’s name, not a threat, just a request to stay where he was.
Bruce looked around uneasily, his body tensing as he considered his options. He could run, but Tony Stark had obviously come looking for him specifically. Bruce was well aware that the majority of the weapons that Ross had used against the Hulk had been developed by Stark Industries. He also knew that the CEO of Stark Industries had shut down all weapons manufacturing following his suspicious disappearance in Afghanistan. Nobody seemed to know exactly what had befallen the genius billionaire, but the fact remained that if somebody with resources like Tony Stark really wanted to find him, there wasn’t a corner of the earth Bruce could run to where he wouldn’t be found. Besides, Stark had just risked his own life to save those children, and he hadn’t ordered his guards to detain Bruce, or called attention to his presence.
His decision made, Bruce nodded his agreement, startled when Stark smiled widely at him, obviously pleased with his capitulation. He might change his mind shortly, Bruce thought darkly, turning and disappearing into the crowd. Stark would know where to find him, but in the meantime, he needed to take some time to just breathe. The last thing he wanted was for the Hulk to kill a bunch of innocent civilians just because he was afraid of a single man.
He made his way back to his house, grabbed his research and his go-bag, and left again, heading for a more remote location outside of the city. If he had to run, he’d like to have an exit strategy in place. Besides, if Stark’s plan really was to capture him, there would be no way to escape an Incident.
Outside of the town, Bruce slowed his pace, figuring Stark would catch up to him. He wasn’t expecting the bright red and gold suit of armor that swooped in from above, and he crouched down instinctively, covering his head with his heart in his throat. The watch on his wrist beeped frantically as the suit dropped down for a heavy landing, then stilled. A moment later the face plate lifted, and Tony Stark stared out at him. He started to raise his hands in a peacemaking gesture, then seemed to think better of it and instead held them away from his body, the palms facing away from Bruce.
“Doctor Banner, I hope,” the other man greeted cheerfully. Bruce wasn’t swayed.
“Mister Stark,” he returned steadily, checking subtly to see if the other man had brought anybody with him. It seemed that they were alone, but that wasn’t very comforting when he was staring at a flying suit of armor that appeared to be weaponized. If this was another Hulk weapon, they were going to have words.
Tony was watching him curiously. “Okay, look, I know we got off on the wrong foot. The fact that I didn’t realize that it was another human that could turn into the Hulk isn’t an excuse. All I got was the military spiel and some videos that I’m now positive were very carefully edited.”
Bruce tilted his head. “I don’t take it personally, Mister Stark,” he replied, rolling his shoulders before settling. Stark was much faster in the suit than he was on foot, and while he was relatively certain that the Other Guy could take out a measly suit of armor, the potential for collateral damage was too great this close to civilization. Besides, it had been more than one hundred days since the last incident – one hundred and seven, to be exact – and Stark didn’t seem interested in starting anything
He jumped, startled, when Stark seemed to materialize in front of him, completely unafraid. Bruce’s hand rose to cover his heart, and he stared at Stark with wide eyes. “Do you have a death wish?” he snapped at him.
Stark smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “First, it’s Tony. Mister Stark was my dad. Secondly, I fly around the world in a metal suit, destroying weapons that I made and taking out terrorists with those same weapons. What do you think?” But his tone was light, as if he was inviting Bruce to share some inside joke with him.
Bruce offered him a self-deprecating smile. “I injected myself with an experimental serum and irradiated myself with gamma.” He tipped his head to the side. “I win.”
Stark laughed, both surprised and delighted. “Probably,” he admitted easily. “Anyhow, I promise I’m not here to start anything.” He paused for a moment, looking around. “Uh...if I step out of the suit, do you promise not to hit me?” he asked.
Bruce considered that for a moment. “Do you promise not to shoot me?” he retorted.
Stark just shrugged. “I don’t have any weapons on me,” he admitted easily, stepping back. The face plate snapped back down, and a moment later, the front of the suit pulled back, revealing the man underneath. Stark was still in his slacks and dress shirt, but he’d lost the suit jacket and tie, and Bruce breathed a bit easier as he stepped away from the suit of armor.
“What brings you out here? Why are you looking for me?” Bruce asked, both questions asking the same thing.
Stark tilted his head, considering him seriously. “I was in Santiniketan,” he explained, tripping over the unfamiliar word, “dealing with a tiny problem, and then I remembered that SI was sending medical supplies here, and you were here, so I came.” He shrugged.
“So you’re a philanthropist now,” Bruce mused, his tone carefully nonjudgmental.
Stark scowled. “I’ve always been a philanthropist,” he pointed out. Then he sighed. “But yeah, okay, I can see where you’re going. Look, I didn’t come here to fight, or to…I don’t know, collect you or whatever it is you’re worried about. I just came to warn you.” He grimaced, probably realizing how that sounded.
Bruce straightened up, his eyes seeking out potential escape routes, flickering upwards as if he was expecting somebody to drop on him from above. “Okay,” he agreed. “Warn me about what?”
“SHIELD,” Stark blurted out. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Shady government agency run by a one-eyed pirate.” Bruce stared at him in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or check for a fever. Stark must’ve interpreted his expression, because he grinned. “Look, I’m not crazy. They’re putting together a team, the Avengers Initiative. One of their agents, a guy named Coulson, sent me to talk to Ross. No wonder you’re running from him – he’s a bastard, and he really, really hates you. Agent wanted me to ask for Blonsky.”
Bruce stiffened. “Blonsky?” he blurted out in disbelief. “Why Blonsky?”
Stark grinned, quick and sharp. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t their choice. I’ve been snooping,” he admitted unashamedly. “They want you. Also, a guy who calls himself Thor and apparently actually believes he’s a god. A super-sneaky assassin spy, and a sniper. And me.” He sounded incredulous, and Bruce didn’t blame him. It sounded fantastical and insane.
“Why are you telling me this?” he demanded.
Stark shrugged. “Because I know for a fact that they know you’re here. They’ve been keeping track of you, throwing Ross off your scent. I don’t know when, or how, but they’ll come for you. They probably already know about this little tête-à-tête,” he muttered, gesturing between the two of them. “But I felt that you deserved fair warning. And if you want to run, that’s fine. They’ll probably just find you anyhow, but I’ll help you, if you want.”
Bruce grimaced; he had wondered why he’d been left alone for the past few months. If he was under surveillance, then that might explain it. They might choose not to interfere as long as he didn’t transform into the Other Guy, hoping that they could garner some goodwill, so that he’d bow to their demands later in gratitude. It wouldn’t work, but it wasn’t a bad plan, as these things went.
“I think I’ll take my chances,” Bruce said after a long, tense moment. Stark nodded in acceptance, not surprised. “But thank you,” he offered as a compromise.
Stark smiled at him. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that I just compromised your hideout.”
Bruce shrugged. “If they’ve been watching me, you probably didn’t make things any worse,” he argued. “Thank you for the warning, though.” He had no idea what the Avengers Initiative was, but he could extrapolate. SHIELD was gathering people with unique abilities or skills, intended to be wielded as weapons. It wasn’t surprising, really. Ross wanted him for the same thing, though he’d kill Bruce if he couldn’t use him. Bruce was under no illusions – nowhere was really safe. The best he could hope for was time – time to gain some control over the Other Guy, some way of protecting them both from whatever lay ahead. He had given up on eradicating the Hulk, had realized that, at least for now, it was a useless endeavor. He possessed neither the knowledge nor equipment that would be necessary, and there was no time to stay in a single place long enough to put any knowledge he did have to use.
Stark grinned. “Oh, there’s no need to thank me. I have my own reasons,” he admitted unapologetically. “I want a chance to work with you. I’ve read your articles, fascinating material. It’ll be fun.”
Bruce wasn’t sure what sort of expression he was making, but it made Stark laugh. “Anyhow, I have to get back, or Pepper’s going to start yelling again. She panics when I deviate from the schedule. Stay safe, Doctor Banner,” he murmured, stepping back into the suit, which wrapped itself around him, sealing him inside the metal. Bruce wondered idly what sort of material Stark had used, his eyes drawn to the central core – an ARC reactor, he surmised, a vague memory of that particular PR venture trickling through the limited knowledge he had of the man underneath the armor. No longer a Merchant of Death, Bruce wondered if he’d like the man he’d met today. Something told him that he would, whether he wanted to or not – Stark had charisma and brilliance, if nothing else.
The red and gold armor disappeared into the distance with a low rumble, and Bruce hefted his bag onto his shoulder, turning away from the town. He’d probably be back; he felt useful here, needed, and Stark had said that SHIELD was tracking him. But for now, he didn’t need the attention.
With a quiet huff, Bruce headed down the road. Maybe, one day, when he had the control he needed, he’d get another chance to meet with Stark.
For the first time in a long while, he found that he was looking forward to it.