Being a Banner [ 1 of JA ]

44

The lab was dark just like the night outside. All was quiet except for the sound of his footsteps and her labored breathing. He held her bridal style as he maneuvered into the room. Manhattan's lab had a broken radiation machine, so he had to make a detour to Bronx. Damn monster, he cursed. His daughter's head turned softly to look at her surroundings.
      "The beast destroyed the other one," he muttered. His daughter coughed as her oxygen tank fell down behind him. He didn't stop to pick it up. "Hold on darling," he assured. "You won't need that anytime soon."
      He lay his daughter down in the white chair in a separate room from the control room. The radiation machine pointed right at her. She hardly moved.
      "Don't worry," he cooed, "I promise this'll work, you'll be stronger than ever,"
      He exited the room and closed the seal lock door behind him. The control panels lit up as soon as he touched a button and flipped a few switches. After he twisted a few notches and pressed many buttons, the man looked at his daughter through the glass. He closed his eyes tightly and whispered a prayer as he pressed the button to start the process.
      The chair in which the girl lay in began to turn. "Open your eyes, darling," he said into a microphone. She slowly opened her eyes as her chair tilted backwards, and the white box machine hovered over her. Suddenly, a beam shot in her eyes.
      In that moment she felt something travel through her body, something awakening another that's been there all along. Her chest opened up and she gasped. For the first time in a long time she felt strength. She felt alive.
      Her chestnut eyes turned yellow, her thin arms turning into muscles. It was the kind of pain that felt great, something healthy. Suddenly faster than reflex she tore the radiation box down from the ceiling, letting it shatter over the floor. He flipped the switches to stop everything from moving. She was out of the chair, on her bare feet, hands curled and looking for a fight.
      "Morggy," Her father whispered. Her eyes looked over at the glass. She approached slowly, and when she did she placed her hand on the glass. Her father smiles wide, a sickening smile. She walked out from the small room into the control room. Her hospital gown was dirty and torn, but he hugged her tightly nonetheless.
      "Can you breathe?" he asked. She nodded. "Fresh sir can make you sick sometimes," he took off his book bag and unzipped a small pocket in the front. He took out a woman's camouflage suit, and sitting on top of the clothes was something else. It was a hard, black mask. It was for breathing, a new prototype for marine men in deserts.
      She took the mask, admiring it.
      "Do you like it?" Her father asked. Before she could answer, she coughed hard, and as she did little specks of red flew from her mouth, coating her lips in a small sheer layer of blood. "The mask!" Her father scrambled to help her put it on. It was a clip on that she placed underneath her hair at the base of her head. Once the mask was on she could breathe right again, her lungs opened up.
      "You okay?" He asked her once he heard her breathing. "How do you feel?"
      Her yellow eyes looked up at her father, the skin around her eyes crinkling to indicate she was smiling.
      "Like a monster."

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I based her off Bucky Barnes man I love him so much