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Banner hated Hulk. He hated all Hulks. No matter how they helped him, saved him, Puny Banner would never stop trying to find cures. Restraints, gadgets to restrain the gamma energy that had created them.
But Hulk knew that he would get out soon. Banner would get mad at some point, or those friends of his in their costumes would need more muscle. Then Hulk could be outside again.
Hulk could live again.
But that wasn’t happening. And it made Hulk mad. It made Hulk want to smash. And so, he did.
With wild and childish rage, Hulk charged through the city of the mind. Every house was empty, but they broke just the same. His green fists slammed the ground to cause a tremor, his yells shattered the glass. He leaped high into the air and crashed down like an emerald meteor against a library.
Stupid fake town. Stupid fake houses. Stupid books. Everything stupid and fake and dumb.
Pounding his chest, Hulk let out a powerful yell, as loud as he could.
”BANNER! LET HULK OUT! NOT FAIR TO TRAP HULK!”
There was no response against the rippling sky, Hulk grimaced, but didn’t continue his rampage, instead he sat down with his arms folded across his chest in a pout.
This wasn’t fair. He looked around at his destruction. Buildings, houses, debris and shattered roads. It was all rather boring.
Why was Banner locking him out? Didn’t he say he wanted things to change? To not keep up a constant push and pull of control? Where was the fairness in this? In barely letting any Hulk out?
It wasn’t just Savage Hulk who had been retrained. Joe Fixit, Green Scar, the other selves in the mind of Banner, they’d barely been allowed to be in control. Only Devil Hulk had been allowed and he had special privileges due to being the original.
He was there at the start. Back at Banner’s home when he was even punier and littler and weaker. When his daddy was big and alive and cruel. Devil Hulk was what Banner wanted a father to be. A protector. Someone to keep him safe. Every Hulk was a fragment of that desire. Keep Banner safe from bad people.
But what if Hulk wanted to be safe too? What if Hulk wanted home? Friends? Family, a real family?
With a sigh, Savage Hulk closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he wanted. He just wanted… something different than this.
A smell greeted his nostrils. A homey scent. Lavender. Warmth. Hulk opened his eyes, finding not the middle of a destroyed town or city, but the inside of a quaint home. The walls were wide enough for him to fit and walk through. At the end of the corridor was a door with a dim light inviting him to open.
Slowly, Hulk marched. This better not be a trick. He reached for the knob and threw it open, stepping inside to find something that made his eyes widen.
Banner’s home. But not like it was in his memories, of a bad place ruled by a bad man. No, this was… warm.
Hulk was in a living room, there wasn’t much to take note of, save for the subtle glow of a green fireplace. Green like gamma.
Sat in an armchair was a woman with a book. Paradise Lost.
Back in his childhood, Banner had read that book. He was only little, but his father had taken it as a sign to justify his envious hatred of his own son. That his son was a monster from birth. A devil, even.
Hulk slowly stepped closer to the woman, walking around the chair to see her face. She was dressed in a white dress and an orange cardigan overtop.
This was the woman who made puny Banner. The woman who was the wife of the bad man who made Banner hurt. Who had made Hulk and other Hulks form from broken compartmentalised pieces of Banner.
Rebecca Banner.
Once he was close enough, dwarfing her in both width and height, he did something unusual for him in any way. He kneeled, raising his head with a quiet light in his eyes.
”Mom…”
Rebecca Banner slowly lowered the book she was reading. Or maybe she wasn’t reading at all. She wasn’t really here, Hulk knew that, Hulk wasn’t stupid despite what everyone else thought.
Even so, he did not pull away from her touch against his face. It was rare for Hulk to receive affection and it was impossible for a dead woman to provide it. But this was the world of the mind. Logic was a suggestion and not immutable.
“You look tired,” her voice was like a siren, perfectly warm and safe, “And sad. What happened, baby?”
”Nothing… happened.”
A hum.
”Can you show me your hands? I believe you, but I think you’re hurt.”
Almost bashfully, Hulk closed his hands into fists. He wasn’t hurt. Nothing could hurt Hulk. Nothing could make Hulk stop. Strongest There Is.
Despite this, he eventually relented, unfolding his hands for his mother’s judgment. Her delicate and almost glowing palms traced Hulk’s own. He didn’t move an inch. Didn’t crush her hand in his. Why would he? Mama was good. Mama was the brightest good in a childhood of darkness.
”Hm. You got angry before you got here, didn’t you baby?”
A huff.
”Maybe. Are you… mad at Hulk?”
She shook her head.
”No. I’m not mad. Everything smashed can be fixed. Why didn’t you play with the others? I’m sure they’d be willing to let you spend time while you wait for Bruce to work himself out.”
The others. Hulk didn’t like the others. Well, that was a lie, he did like them.
Joe Fixit, the Grey Hulk, was like a brother. Devil Hulk, a protector and the first Hulk despite the name, was a better father than the original one. Green Scar, essentially a crisis control alter in the case of a big fight, was good to smash with. But none of them were what Savage Hulk wanted now.
”Want… you, mama…”
Rebecca chuckled, taking her hands and bringing them up to Hulk’s cheeks, framing his face within. He’d never felt this loved. This cherished. Not in a long time.
”You’re not a monster. None of you are. You’re all my boy. My boy who I love, even if I’m not really here.”
”You can stay here with me for a bit. Does that sound nice?”
A gentle smile spread on the green goliath’s face. Again, an unusual sight.
”Hulk… want that…”
Maybe he was stuck here for a bit. But at least he had someone who cared. For Hulk, that made things a little less frustrating. Enough to make him just want to sit and listen to a story.
For this moment, however long it lasted, he was home.