"Where is this?"
"This is the Cube Prison, Bruce."
"I've never heard of it."
"You weren't supposed to. But now… you're part of it."
---
In the northern desert of Wyoming, far from the tourist crowds of Yellowstone National Park, there exists a facility that officially does not exist.
No power lines connect to it.
No internet cables feed into it.
No water pipelines run beneath it.
There are no satellite uplinks.
No radio towers.
No signals in.
No signals out.
The prison is composed of several massive cubic structures built from reinforced alloy and concrete, buried partially underground, arranged like silent geometric monuments in the sand.
Its codename: The Cube.
It operates entirely on an internal closed network, isolated from the world. Even the most skilled hackers on Earth could never discover it — because there is nothing to find. No digital footprint.
Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. possesses official records of it.
The Cube exists beyond agencies.
Beyond governments.
Beyond law.
---
Inside one of its central containment cells, Bruce Banner hung suspended in the air.
Four thick alloy restraints bound his wrists and ankles, lifting him off the ground. The walls around him were layered with composite metal designed to withstand missile impact.
He wore only oversized purple shorts.
A man in a sterile uniform stepped forward and inserted a needle into Banner's vein.
Banner did not resist.
He watched calmly as his blood filled the syringe.
"We need Banner," the man said. "But you could become Hulk at any time. We need safeguards before cooperation is possible."
The syringe filled slowly.
Banner's eyes remained steady.
The man sealed the sample in a reinforced container, placed it into a metal briefcase, and walked out. The heavy door sealed shut with a mechanical thunderclap.
Silence.
Banner looked at the closed door and spoke softly.
"I could have transformed when that arrow hit me. Do you know why I didn't?"
A voice answered from the shadows.
"Why?"
From the corner of the room, stepping into dim light, stood Clint Barton — Hawkeye — dressed in a dark sleeveless combat suit, bow resting at his side.
Banner wasn't surprised.
"I've stopped treating Hulk as a disease," Banner said calmly. "I've started treating him as part of me."
Hawkeye crossed his arms.
"I heard Natasha mention the Tesseract releasing gamma radiation," Banner continued. "Gamma rays created Hulk. I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted help controlling that power."
His voice remained almost peaceful.
"But instead of a research lab… I'm here."
He looked down at his restraints.
"They took my blood. Do you think they want to cure me?"
Silence.
Banner answered his own question.
"No. They want to replicate me."
Hawkeye stared at him carefully.
"Then why not turn green and smash this place?"
A faint smile touched Banner's lips.
"I want to see who's pulling the strings. That blood sample? That's bait."
"The mastermind…" Hawkeye muttered.
He hesitated before speaking again.
"Natasha and I were ordered to deliver you to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Banner raised an eyebrow.
"But halfway back, we received a codename override. New destination. The Cube."
Banner's expression darkened slightly.
"You didn't confirm with Director Fury?"
Hawkeye shook his head.
"The authority that issued the command outranks him. S.H.I.E.L.D. answers to the International Security Council."
Banner exhaled through his nose.
So it was bigger than Ross.
Bigger than Fury.
---
When Hawkeye left, the door sealed again.
Now Banner was alone.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. … General Ross … the mastermind…"
He whispered the words thoughtfully.
For three years, Banner had prepared for this possibility.
Every day, he injected himself with a specialized biochemical inhibitor — a compound designed to destabilize gamma radiation signatures once his cells left his body.
If someone drew blood…
If someone extracted tissue…
Within hours, the gamma signature would degrade.
The sample would become biologically ordinary.
Worthless.
He had anticipated betrayal.
If they wanted research, they would need him physically present.
And if they transported him—
Hulk would breathe.
---
Outside the cell block, Hawkeye moved through corridors silently.
He didn't like what he felt.
He knew where Banner's blood sample was taken.
He positioned himself nearby in the shadows.
One hour passed.
Then two.
His patience did not waver.
Then he heard footsteps.
Light.
Measured.
Familiar.
Natasha Romanoff.
She entered the storage room after identity verification.
Less than a minute later, she exited.
Calm.
Efficient.
Professional.
Hawkeye waited.
Then slipped inside.
The storage container was gone.
Banner's blood had been moved.
Hawkeye tightened his grip on his bow.
"What are you doing, Natasha…" he whispered.
And he followed.
---
Meanwhile, in New York City…
The Osborn Group headquarters looked less like a company and more like a war zone.
The main glass entrance had been shattered days ago during unrest. Reporters crowded the barricades. Cameras flashed constantly.
Armed soldiers stood guard at every checkpoint.
Batman approached calmly.
Not as Batman.
Not as Peter Parker.
But as Clark.
A forgotten low-level researcher.
A man nobody noticed.
A soldier blocked his path.
"What are you doing here, Mr. Clark?"
Batman handed over the ID card Harry had provided.
The soldier scanned it.
Clark. Research Division. Employed five years. Minimal achievements.
Invisible.
The chip verified successfully.
"Purpose?"
"Work," Batman answered simply. "I need this job."
The soldier stepped aside.
Clark walked in.
---
Inside, tension hung in the air.
Every hallway had soldiers.
Every elevator had guards.
Every floor was monitored.
Researchers moved quietly, eyes lowered. No one spoke above a whisper.
It no longer felt like corporate headquarters.
It felt like containment.
A prison.
Batman moved calmly, blending in perfectly.
He carried documents.
Checked terminals.
Played the role flawlessly.
His objective was not immediate action.
It was information.
---
He remembered his visit the night before — when he had secretly purged all Super Soldier Serum-related data from Osborn servers.
Now he needed to confirm whether General Ross had already extracted copies.
Floor by floor, Clark moved naturally, speaking minimally, listening constantly.
On the twentieth floor lay the most critical laboratory.
Professor Curt Connors' lab.
Batman stepped out of the elevator.
Two soldiers guarded the entrance.
Clark nodded politely and entered after verification.
Inside, the lab hummed with quiet activity.
But something was off.
Certain storage racks were empty.
Several secure terminals had restricted access indicators.
Batman moved toward a workstation.
He typed casually.
Cross-checking server logs.
File transfers.
Time stamps.
His suspicion confirmed.
Data had been extracted.
Not everything.
But enough to be dangerous.
Genetic regeneration models.
Reptilian DNA enhancement theory.
Serum stability projections.
If combined with gamma research—
The result could be catastrophic.
Another unstable super-soldier.
Another monster.
---
Batman kept his expression neutral.
He copied encrypted remnants onto a concealed device.
Then he shut the system down.
Behind him, a soldier glanced briefly in his direction.
Clark appeared bored.
Harmless.
The soldier looked away.
---
Across the country, in the Cube Prison…
An alert flashed on a restricted internal monitor.
Gamma sample instability detected.
The blood sample from Banner was degrading.
Scientists frowned.
The gamma markers were collapsing.
Within hours, the sample would be biologically useless.
General Ross stared at the data feed.
His jaw tightened.
"Prepare transport contingency," he ordered.
If the blood failed—
They would need Banner himself.
---
Back in Osborn Tower, Clark stood at the lab window, gazing over Manhattan.
He knew what this meant.
Ross was moving pieces on multiple boards.
Banner in Wyoming.
Connors in New York.
Gamma and genetics converging.
Batman's mind worked rapidly.
If Ross transported Banner for live experimentation—
There would be movement.
Convoys.
Security shifts.
Opportunities.
And Hulk.
---
Clark adjusted his glasses.
Inside, he remained calculating.
Outside, he looked small.
Ordinary.
Invisible.
But the war was expanding.
Banner had set bait.
Ross had taken it.
And Batman was already in position.
Two prisons.
Two cities.
One mastermind.
And somewhere between gamma radiation and corporate power—
A storm was forming.
The Cube was built to contain monsters.
But it had forgotten one thing.
Some monsters are patient.
And some hunters never miss.
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