January 1st, 2012 10:30 AM IST (1:00 AM EST)
Since his battle with the Abomination, Bruce had been moving from town to town and country to country, so as not to be tracked down. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for him. He knew Ross wanted to capture him, force the Other Guy out, then dissect it to study and replicate it, but fortunately that man had been pushed out of power long ago. That didn't mean whomever replaced him didn't have similar goals.
But Bruce was the only one who understood just how dangerous and unpredictable the monster's power was. He'd been living with it inside him for years now, and had spent most of his time and energy finding ways to keep the beast locked away or held at bay. For long stretches he was even successful. But occasionally someone would find him, track him down, and things would go terribly wrong.
He was becoming encouraged by the fact that he'd finally gotten the Other Guy under some semblance of control, and that he could bring some of himself into the creature. When he protected Betty and Ross from the Abomination, or even when he attacked the creature itself, he knew what he was doing. Knew what was at stake. And for all the damage, the injuries, the Other Guy caused – harm that Bruce felt responsible for each and every one of – he had managed to save scores more of other people who might have perished if the Abomination hadn't been stopped.
What Bruce didn't like was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s understanding of what the Other Guy was. He tried to explain, several times, that the monster inside was not the kind of thing that could ever be captured, controlled, but they disagreed. Keeping himself out of their hands not only protected Bruce, but also anyone who would get in the beast's way when he'd become enraged.
That was what forced him back to his wandering ways, just as he'd done for years when he was in Brazil; returning to the working in barely functional factories, or debasing himself as a beggar. Whenever he could do so, he helped whoever needed it along the way. That was how he had found himself in Calcutta now. Bruce was beginning to find that he was making for life for himself here, finding solace in helping people; and there really was no end to the number of people in need.
This kept him here longer than most places, but he honestly didn't mind. He enjoyed the heat, the noise, the chaos of it all. In an odd way he found it relaxing, and so did the Other Guy. For the first time in a long while, the monster was resting.
Or at least he had been until he turned on a television.
He stared into the burning embers that was supposed to be a man; a white hot tower of flame and purpose that was laying waste to poor, pitiful souls who had made some very unfortunate life choices. Bruce understood the local languages, how to speak it and read it, but it wasn't necessary; he could see the whole story playing out on the screen. A story of a man who was reached too far, rose too quickly, and was trying to be pulled back down into the pit he was climbing from. Things might have been different if the fools hadn't gone too far, if they hadn't killed those he was wanted to protect.
Bruce would have done the same.
And so would the Other Guy.
He could feel it rising up inside him. The monster within wanted out, wanted to fight, to lay waste to a creature that looked to be much the same as him, and only the barely understood knowledge that the two monsters were half a world apart from each other seemed to be holding him at bay. If the two were ever on the same continent…
"What a sight, huh?" a gentleman, older than Bruce and starting to grey, calmly stated as he sat down at Bruce's table. "It has been playing for days."
The little corner tea parlor wasn't a place Bruce managed to get to frequently, normally he would be on the opposite side of town doing his work already, but because of the new year he decided to treat himself. That was quickly turning out to be a poor idea.
"Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "First time I've seen it."
"I hope you don't mind, if I join you. I dislike sitting alone if I can help it." The older man smiled, a toothy grin that reached his shade covered eyes in genuine amusement. "I confess, I thought you might have seen it before. Something in your eyes made it seem…familiar."
In a way it was, Bruce agreed. Watching the flaming monster rip a car in two, stand on another and make it combust, backhanding a man who had the audacity to think they could stand against such a force of nature, it all brought back half-remembered things the Other Guy did.
Things that also usually ended up on the news, or at least youtube.
Bruce was shaken from his thoughts when he saw the creature breath fire like a dragon. "What in the world-"
"Yes, it was very scary when I first saw it." The older man followed his gaze, watching the tiny television playing atop the kindly older woman's counter. "Like seeing a tale come to life, a dragon in the flesh."
He chucked, "First the Stark makes a suit of armor, then a dragon rises to face him. Poetic, is it not?"
"Yeah," Bruce said slowly. "I'm not sure that was their intention."
The older man took a sip of his tea, resting the small porcelain cup atop its saucer. "No, I doubt it. They both thought themselves kings, but when you declare yourself to be above other men, challengers rise. Stark has faced down governments and fellow captains of industry. This one, this Hyperion, he starts his empire from a much smaller and fragile place than Stark, and yet aims to reach beyond the other. I wonder what drives him."
Bruce continued to stare at the screen, taking it all in. "Those with power usually seek more power."
'And yet you run from it. Hide from it. Does that make you better than them, or simply more cowardly?'
"Usually, yes." The older man took another sip, and set his empty cup down. "But not always. Some accept that they have such power, and do no more than what is expected of them. A teacher has power over their students, a policeman has power over all those who do not have a badge, and yet they do not seek more than they have."
"Different power, different scale," Bruce countered, smiling. "And a healthy amount of pragmatic fear. The teacher and policeman do not try to become Presidents or warlords. Knowing it or not, there is an understanding that somethings are still beyond their reach."
"And yet, men like Hyperion, Stark, and others are out there who are not so small. They do not have such limitations. Perhaps when you are able to physically shrug off what a normal man would find fatal, when you can ignore the might of armies, you take the first step down that road to more?"
The man may or may not have continued to speak, Bruce didn't know. Unbidden his pulse quickened and his breath grew heavy. The Other Guy wanted to meet this man, this Hyperion, and test him. To see what made the two of them so similar and so different. His eyes and ears were lost in the display of strength and power that the television served him. He drank it in like it was water, fed on it like mana, and before he realized it he was alone once more at his table.
He looked around, eyes darting around the small shop and the street outside, but the man was gone. Part of him was glad the distraction was gone, even as another part of him longed to return to those brief few moments where he was treated like a person and not just someone or something that could be of use to others.
With a reluctant sigh Banner stood, and walked out of the shop. He gave a final longing look at that screen, and those burning eyes that were so similar to the Other Guy, and went to work.
Maybe it was time for a change of scenery.
Maybe it was time he returned to the States?