The Seventh Avenger

Chapter 3: Flight and Fight

          Edited: 22/05/2022

Word Count; 10,975

The first thing that I quickly discern about the quiet Bruce Banner before me is that despite everything that he has been through over the past few years, he is both surprisingly and extremely patient.

In the past hour or so that I have spent explaining to him how I worked my way here to his little Rocinha home, he has been nothing but attentive and silent, not interrupting me once to ask any questions even though he must have dozens at this point. If our roles had been reversed and it was me who had to endure listening to someone talk non-stop for as long as I have, I would have easily grown agitated and butted in where I pleased.

But not Bruce. He just stands on the other side of the room – putting as much distance between us as possible, I note – listening and still, almost statue-like, as he takes everything in.

And I do my best not to leave any details out. I tell him that I know about the lab accident, and how it changed him ( though not quite understanding the specific science behind it all ), and that he's been on the run from a relentless Thaddeus Ross ever since. His face pales considerably at the mention of the general, and I can't help but think that even after evading him all this time, Bruce is still terrified of him, to some degree. That, or he is wary of what it is Ross is capable of.

I explain how SHIELD had stumbled across his case, and that they had even managed to keep Ross off his scent in some instances over the past two years. I tell him that my boss has sent me here to help him deal with whatever it is that the accident did to him, or help him in any other way that he may need. I don't share my belief that it is more than likely that Fury has an ulterior motive in sending me here, knowing that Bruce wouldn't be happy with that in the slightest.

By the time the last word of my lengthy explanation trails from the tip of my tongue, the sun has started to set over Rocinha, the orange haze of the sky above streaking warm hues across the living room. Outside, the nightlife of the favela is abuzz, vehicles rushing by, bikes whirring past, chatter filling the air and faint music floating from somewhere down the road. It starkly contrasts the tense atmosphere inside Bruce's humble abode, and it's thick enough to be cut with a knife. Despite my assurances that I don't mean him any harm, I can tell by the nervous tap of his foot and the cautious flicker in his eyes that Bruce isn't quite convinced that my intentions are all that good.

I decide not to break the rigid silence, allowing instead for Bruce to take a moment to himself and process everything. My finger taps patiently against the edge of my knee as I wait for him to say something, and he is quick not to disappoint. Running a hand down his worn face, he tiredly questions, "Why did you come here?"

"I told you. My boss – "

"I understand that you were sent here. But you still haven't explained the why."

Leaning back in the chair, I calmly explain, "Fury sent me here to help you. He wasn't clear on the specifics but he somehow knew that you may need some help. With evading Ross, with dealing with... you know. I'm not sure. He wasn't really specific on the matter."

"I've been hiding from Ross for two years now – I think that I can take care of myself."

"Mhm. Tell me, when was the last time that you ate a solid meal? Or stayed in one place longer than a couple of months?"

Silence is his only response.

"Or didn't have to look over your shoulder wherever it is that you wound up?"