Cold.
That was the first thing he felt.
Not pain. Not fear.
Just cold.
Bruce Banner gasped as he pulled in air too fast, his body jolting upright before his mind could catch up.
He didn't recognize where he was.
Dark. Open. Quiet.
Too quiet.
"…Okay," he said, voice dry, uneven. "…okay…"
His hands trembled as he looked down at them.
Normal.
Human.
That didn't make sense.
Because something had happened.
He just couldn't understand what.
Fragments came in flashes.
Noise. Impact. Movement too fast to follow.
Something breaking.
Something loud.
A voice—
Then nothing.
Bruce squeezed his eyes shut.
"…No," he whispered.
He opened them again, breathing uneven.
"…What was that?"
No answer.
Just silence.
He pushed himself to his feet—and immediately staggered.
"…What—"
His hand shot out, catching the tree beside him.
Something felt off.
Not pain.
That was the problem.
He should have been in pain.
His breathing was steady—too steady. His body felt wrong, like it hadn't just gone through whatever he half-remembered.
"…No," he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest.
His heart was pounding.
But not strained.
Not damaged.
Like nothing had happened.
Bruce looked down at his arm.
Bruises.
Fading.
Right in front of him.
"…No," he said again, backing away slightly.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't possible.
"…How did I get here?"
The question sat there.
Unanswered.
Because nothing about this made sense.
He looked around again.
Still nothing.
No people. No movement.
But then—
He heard it.
Low at first.
Distant.
A rhythmic thudding.
Bruce froze.
"…No."
The sound grew louder.
Closer.
The air itself seemed to shift with it.
Helicopters.
More than one.
His breathing spiked instantly.
"They're coming."
He didn't know who.
Didn't know why.
But it didn't matter.
The sound was getting closer.
Then—
A beam of light cut through the trees.
Sharp. Blinding.
Sweeping across the ground.
Bruce dropped instantly, pressing himself low behind the tree.
"…No, no, no—"
The light passed over where he had been standing seconds ago.
Close.
Too close.
He held his breath.
Didn't move.
Didn't think.
The helicopter passed overhead, the sound shaking through him.
Then another.
Searching.
Looking.
For something.
For someone.
Bruce squeezed his eyes shut.
"They're looking for me."
He didn't know that for sure.
But it felt true.
And right now—
That was enough.
The light swept back again.
Closer this time.
Bruce didn't wait.
He moved.
Fast.
Unsteady.
But moving.
"Just go," he muttered. "Just go, just go—"
His thoughts spiraled.
"I can't stay here. I can't stay anywhere. I don't know what that was, I don't know what I did—"
His breathing broke.
"I don't know what I am."
The words hit harder than anything else.
But he didn't stop.
Couldn't.
The helicopters were still above.
Still searching.
Still too close.
"I have to go," he said under his breath. "I have to go—"
He didn't know where.
Didn't know how.
Only that staying wasn't an option.
"I don't know what I did," he said, voice shaking now.
"I don't know what happened."
A step.
Then another.
Faster.
"But I know it was bad."
That was enough.
Bruce didn't look back.
Didn't slow down.
And this time—
He ran.