Bruce Banner didn't like rushed science.
He never had.
"Run that again," Bruce said, eyes fixed on the monitor.
A technician hesitated. "We already ran it twice, Dr. Banner. The readings aren't stabilizing."
"That's because you're adjusting the output mid-cycle," Bruce replied without looking up. "You're forcing the result instead of letting it settle."
"That's what we were told to do."
Bruce paused at that.
"…By who?"
The technician shifted slightly. "Command."
Of course.
Bruce leaned back, exhaling slowly. The pressure had been building for weeks now—quiet at first, then constant. Deadlines tightening. Protocols getting ignored. Experiments being pushed forward before they were ready.
Ever since the incidents started.
The footage had spread everywhere. Even in the lab, people had seen it. Lightning tearing across the ground. A man standing in it. Another not even reacting. And then the sky splitting open.
Bruce didn't understand it fully.
But he understood what came after.
Fear.
And fear made people rush things they shouldn't.
"Dr. Banner," another technician called. "We're ready for the next phase."
Bruce looked up.
The chamber stood prepared—reinforced glass, sealed systems, gamma output already calibrated.
Too high.
"…You increased the levels," Bruce said.
"It's within projected tolerance."
"That's not what I asked."
A brief silence.
"…Yes."
Bruce stared at the readings. They were pushing past safe margins—not recklessly, but enough to matter.
Too much to ignore.
"This isn't ready," Bruce said. "We don't have enough data to predict how the body responds at this level."
"We don't have time."
That answer again.
Always the same.
Bruce closed his eyes for a second, then nodded slightly.
"…Right."
He should have shut it down.
He knew that.
But if this was going to happen anyway—
Then it needed control.
Not guesswork.
"I'll run it myself," Bruce said.
That got everyone's attention.
"Doctor, that's not—"
"I said I'll run it."
If something went wrong—
Better him than someone else.
The chamber sealed behind him.
The hum of machinery filled the space as energy built along the walls, gamma radiation stabilizing into a controlled field.
Bruce moved quickly, adjusting what he could.
Lowering what was too high.
Stabilizing what was too volatile.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was better.
"…Let's see what you actually do," he muttered.
And then—
He activated it.
The first wave hit instantly.
Heat—internal, not external.
Like something igniting beneath his skin.
Bruce tensed, gripping the console as the energy surged through him.
"Levels are spiking—"
"I see it," Bruce said through clenched teeth.
His vision blurred. Not loss of control—overload. Too much input at once.
"…This is wrong," he muttered.
The readings were climbing too fast.
Faster than he could adjust.
"Shut it down," Bruce said.
No response.
"Shut it down!"
"It's not responding—!"
Of course it wasn't.
They pushed it too far.
The second wave hit harder.
Pain.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Bruce dropped to one knee, breath catching as something inside him shifted.
Not just energy.
Something else.
His heartbeat spiked—then slowed—then changed.
"…That's not—" he started.
His hand pressed against the floor—
And the metal bent.
Bruce froze.
"…No," he said quietly.
The third wave hit.
Everything broke.
His muscles tightened beyond control, his body expanding, warping under pressure that shouldn't have existed. His thoughts fractured, slipping through his grasp as something else pushed forward.
"Open the chamber!" someone shouted.
"It's not responding!"
Bruce tried to stand—
The ground cracked beneath him.
The sound that came out of him wasn't human anymore.
The glass shattered.
Not from pressure.
From impact.
By the time the alarms reached full volume—
It was already too late.
Outside, everything stopped.
Then—
Exploded.
By the time anyone understood what had happened—
Hulk was already gone.
Days later, there was no containment.
No recovery.
No explanation.
Only fragments.
Destroyed equipment. Radiation spikes. Missing personnel.
"He's gone," one agent said quietly.
No one corrected him.
Because that wasn't entirely true.
He wasn't gone.
He was out there.
And somewhere—
Bruce Banner was still inside.