Hulk (30 page)

In the observation lab, Talbot leaned forward, waiting for the Hulk to slump over unconscious. But the Hulk didn’t respond as expected. Instead he flailed at it as if it were just a nasty irritant, and in his flailing, his arm crashed through the wall.

“Oh, my God,” Talbot whispered, thinking that—with one arm through the wall—it was only a matter of moments before the rest of the Hulk followed.

The Hulk burst into the adjacent hallway, and some of the personnel ran screaming while others, armed soldiers, yanked out their weapons and prepared to fire. Their intentions quickly became moot, however, for the gas poured out into the hallway. Although it didn’t do anything to the Hulk beyond making his eyes water, it did manage to knock everyone else unconscious. The Hulk glanced around in annoyance, then made his way down the hall, not having any destination in mind other than to be elsewhere.

Back in the lab, Talbot swallowed deeply as he saw the swirl of gas in the lab, the large hole, and the complete absence of the Hulk. Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Nonlethals only. I must get a sample of him. Hit him with the foam.”

General Ross sprinted down the hallway as he heard alarms going off everywhere. His aide, Lieber, was half his age, but was still unable to keep up with him as Ross pounded into Command and Control. C and C was a madhouse, with everyone shouting information to one another, their voices all tinged with disbelief.

“Sir!” shouted Lieber, pointing at one of the interior monitors. Ross looked up and saw, in the flickering black-and-white image, a roaring behemoth facing a group of specially trained Atheon security personnel. That wasn’t surprising. After Ross had broken up Talbot’s little stomp-on-Banner session, Atheon had exerted its mysterious influence and gotten the entire wing from Sectors X through Z, Levels One through Seven, isolated so that only Atheon personnel were allowed there. Ross had been furious over the decision, raging that it was a calamitous mistake, but he hadn’t been able to get anyone to listen. This was one of those rare occasions where he hated being proven right.

“Jesus,” Ross breathed, and in the next breath said, “Get me Talbot.”

The intercom was a mass of crosschatter, and as Lieber tried to punch through it to raise Talbot, Ross watched in amazement. On the monitor, one of two techies stepped forward with a large-barreled gun attached to two tanks on his back. He fired, and a stream of gelatinous liquid covered the creature Ross referred to as the “Angry Man” in sticky foam. The Angry Man was stuck, struggling, the liquid congealing around him. He flicked some of it off, and it landed on one of the men, who was instantly frozen in it.

“Sir!” shouted Lieber. “I’ve got Talbot on channel six!”

Ross snapped the intercom dial over and barked, “Talbot, this is Ross. Talk to me.”

“Under control, General,” came Talbot’s voice. “I’ll let you know if we need you.”

Ross couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That was it, the final straw.

“Unacceptable,” Ross said flatly. “Unseat your asses down there immediately. I want a full-court evacuation now. I’m shutting you down. Lieber! Who’ve we got down there?”

Lieber was ahead of him, turning with a clipboard. “I’ve already scrambled units Bravo and Laramie, General—Bravo from above, Laramie from below. They can converge on site in thirty seconds.”

It was, of course, a breach of protocol for Lieber to have taken that initiative, and Ross could have kissed him for it. “Good thinking! Send them in!”

Shouting into a headset, Lieber shouted, “Bravo, Laramie, you are cleared! Go! Go!”

Ross continued to watch on the monitor, and couldn’t help but feel some degree of awe. The Angry Man was still struggling against the liquid, and damned if he wasn’t fighting it off. Some of the old warrior instincts surged in Ross. Now
here
was a hell of an opponent!

Then he quickly shoved aside the thought. This wasn’t a sporting event. Good men were going into combat against science unleashed. It was like sending troops to run to a ground zero to try to catch a descending atomic missile with their teeth.

“Talbot, we’re coming in! Acknowledge! Lieber, ETA?”

“Fifteen seconds, General!”

The intercom was still silent. “Talbot, I said acknowledge!”

And suddenly Lieber shouted, “General! They’re locking down!”

“
What
did you say?”

“Lock down,” snapped Glen Talbot. At that moment, watching the Hulk struggling against the hardening foam, he didn’t know how much power the creature possessed. He didn’t know what it would take to stop him. He didn’t know how many men he might lose. But there was one thing he knew beyond question: There was no way in hell he was going to defer this thing to Thunderbolt Ross so that he could turn around and make Talbot look like a fool.

Wein looked at Talbot incredulously. “But didn’t you just hear the general?”

Talbot was in absolutely no mood to screw around. He pulled a sidearm and aimed it straight at Wein’s face. “I said lock down.”

Wein gulped and activated the lock down mechanisms. Talbot’s gaze flicked from the readouts—waiting for the signal lights to come on—to the monitors themselves, where he could see the doors sliding into place. He nodded in approval and saw the “engaged” lights snap on, indicating that the doors were locked in place.

“I’ll show you whose ass is unseated,” he snarled. “Get a security squad up here. I’m taking them and dissecting that green son of a bitch myself.” When Wein didn’t respond immediately, he cocked the hammer of his pistol and snarled, “Do it!”

Wein did it.

The squad leader of Bravo company would have had just enough time to slide under the door before it locked down, but he would have been cut off from the rest of his troops. Wisely, he skidded to a halt just as the door thudded into place. From just beyond the door, he could hear the angry roars of what sounded like a rampaging lion, or perhaps a rhino. It was hard to tell what kind of creature was loose, but it was making all manner of noise. Whatever it was, it was big.

He shouted into his headset, “C and C this is 04. Doors are down.”

Up in C and C, also known as C2, Ross spat out the name “Talbot!” as if it was a profanity. Then he said into the microphone, “Oh four, this is C2 attempting override. Stand by one,” which meant that he should stay on station until further communication. Ross glanced at the screen.

The Angry Man was still struggling with the foam, and it was slowing him down, but it wasn’t stopping him from advancing on the Atheon security guards, waving his arms and bellowing like something from a Godzilla film. The guards were in full retreat.
Amateurs
, Ross thought grimly as he went on to the radiophone.

Despite the crisis that was before him, Ross’s voice was calm and even. Indeed, he was in his element. Struggling with mountains of paperwork, trying to finesse politicos and play nice with corporate goons, these were all things that grated on him, things that he hated. Give him an enemy to fight, troops to maneuver, strategies to implement, and he was a happy man.

“Break, break,” he snapped, his voice cutting across all bands. “All units this is C2. I say, spear point; repeat, spear point. Location: Sector Zulu, Level Four, Frame 256. Subject is Banner, Bruce. Interior ThreatCon is Charlie. I repeat, Charlie. All Laramie units, respond. Secure, neutralize, and report status, over.” He held back Bravo, hoping he wouldn’t need them, fearing he would.

By pure happenstance, the great green berserker who had once been Bruce Banner turned, faced a camera, and roared like an extinct monster from prehistory sent forward through time.

“This could be interesting,” muttered Ross.

what man hath wrought

Talbot moved with a contingent of Atheon security, some of them armed. They approached the area where the Hulk was pinned by the foam and paused as they heard him struggling around the corner.

“Let’s get a sample of him,” said Talbot. They took the corner and faced the Hulk. The creature took no notice of them, preoccupied as he was with trying to shake loose the substance that was holding him. It was hardening more and more, making it that much more difficult for the Hulk to maneuver or move at all. Most of him was covered up, but there was a small area left clear near the base of his neck.

Talbot approached cautiously, murmuring, “Now, let’s take this nice and easy.” He brought up a handheld laser drill and punched it into the Hulk’s neck. The Hulk recoiled, screaming. His undiluted fury caused Talbot and the others to take several steps back, and then—even though his skin was tearing off in huge chunks—the infuriated man-monster began to rip free from the foam.

Once one piece came loose, others did as well, and suddenly Talbot realized that the Hulk was within seconds of completely freeing himself. Odds were that the first one he’d go for would be the guy with the handheld laser drill.

“Pull back,” he ordered, and he didn’t have to say it twice. The men retreated around the corner, the last bits of the foam went flying, and the Hulk thundered after them. He shook the walls and floor with each footstep.

Even as he retreated, Talbot heard large door locks beginning to disengage, the loud
ka-klak
of the metal releases echoing up and down the hallways. That damned Ross had found a way to override the lock down commands. Within seconds the doors would be rising and standard army troops would come flying in like locusts. Talbot would never hear the end of it, never.

Unless he stopped the monster first.

If he couldn’t get samples from the living monster, he’d do what he could once the Hulk was dead. He just hoped that it wouldn’t revert back to Bruce Banner before he could obtain the mutated tissue he needed.

One of the Atheon guards dashed past him, and Talbot grabbed the rifle right out of his hands. He knew it was packing APM2 .30-06-caliber armor-piercing bullets. Nothing short of Type IV body armor would repel one of those, and if there was one thing he could say definitively about the Hulk, it was that he wasn’t wearing body armor. As for the guard, he seemed all too eager to give it up. It was just one less thing to slow him down.

Talbot spun to face the Hulk, standing his ground. Despite the fact that the monster towered over him, Talbot only saw him as the pathetic, whining scientist who he’d so easily brutalized earlier. Monster and man eyed each other for a moment, and Talbot thought it might be his imagination, but the Hulk seemed to recognize him as more than just an enemy.

. . . hurt . . . hurt us . . . me . . . hurt us . . . hurt him . . . more . . . hurt him MORE . . .

Talbot gasped and stepped back as the Hulk lurched toward him . . . and
grew
. As if reaching well more than eight feet in height hadn’t been enough, the Hulk’s mass increased even more, and seconds later he was filling up the entire corridor. He was half again as tall, and just as wide, so huge that he’d actually managed to wedge himself in there. He looked around in frustration, grunted, and flexed his muscles until the walls of the corridor started to creak to accommodate him.

Talbot, temporarily transfixed, watched in awe. He heard the pounding boots of the approaching troops, and all he could think was that it was damned considerate of the Hulk to have made himself an even bigger target than he was before.

“So long, big boy,” said Talbot, and he unleashed a hail of powerful automatic fire. The Hulk didn’t stagger because he was wedged into place, but his face contorted in pain as the bullets made contact, and for a heartbeat Talbot thought he had won.

It turned out to be one of the last heartbeats Glen Talbot experienced, because the air was then filled with the sound of metallic pinging as the bullets bounced off the Hulk. Having nowhere else to go, they ricocheted around, and a good number of them riddled Talbot. He crumpled to the ground, clutching at his chest. Feeling something soft and disgusting, he tried to shove it back in, whatever it was. And then he went into shock, and he died.

The remaining troops, witnessing it all, turned tail and ran for it.

Ross witnessed it as well.

He saw Talbot struck, and time slowed down. As Talbot fell, Thunderbolt Ross saw a young, eager-beaver officer who was determined to go places and set the world on fire. He saw the up-and-comer he’d made a personal project of because he knew that this was a young man who was going places. And he saw a young man consumed by money and cynicism and power.

In his way, Talbot had been just as corrupted by power as anyone carrying the name of Banner; he just did a better job of covering it up.

All this went through Ross’s mind, and then he saw Talbot hit the floor and flop around like a dying seal. At which point the trained military mind of Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross wrote off Talbot, case closed, time to move on. Because with all the evil and deceit that Glen Talbot had accomplished, he had at least managed one positive thing: He had let Ross know with his dying act that the Hulk was a creature against whom conventional weapons simply weren’t going to work. And he had a troop of eager young men who were anxious to go monster hunting, charging into battle, all of whom were going to die the instant they opened fire.

“Pull them back,” Ross said woodenly, ignoring the fact that he was standing in front of a microphone. “Lieber, pull them back.”

“All Laramie units, this is C2,” Lieber promptly said into the comm unit. “Pull back. Do not engage subject Bruce Banner; repeat, do not engage.”

Run run they run smash ones who run smash them smash smash . . .

Colonel McKean of the Sixth Laramie unit led the retreat as, per orders, the men fell back. They hadn’t yet seen what it was they were supposed to attack, but they heard the roars reverberating down the corridors, and McKean had to think they had just dodged a serious bullet. He would never know how literally correct he was.

They dropped back past the metal barricade doors, the ones that C and C had worked so hard to open, and the instant they were clear, the doors slammed shut again. McKean quickly touched base with the other Laramie units as well as with Bravo, getting a ground-level assessment of the situation. Then, confirming his findings with C and C, he said briskly into his microphone headset, “C two, this is Laramie 06, Laramie units pulling back. Subject inside Sector Yolk, Level Four.”