"What, you think that's interesting?" Dry humor to its core. Bruce sighed and ran fingers through his now short dark hair. "About thirteen years ago, I made a mistake during a scientific experiment, and I was mutated. This mutation was morphed into its own identity of a kind, set off by adrenaline. The Hulk, as he calls himself, is about eight feet tall, giant, green, strong to a level that I can't describe. He could pull a plane out of the air like it's nothing." He could do a lot more than that too, but the scope was always the difficult part. "I spent most of the time since on the run, trying to keep him from hurting others."

And it rarely worked. "For awhile, the Avengers were able to keep him in check, focus the rage in the right direction. But it doesn't work anymore." Not the last time he tried. Bruce frowned, crossing arms defensively against his chest. "He's not here though. I woke up here, and he's gone. We always feel each other, only one of us can be awake at a time." The Hulk was gone. Bruce had a lot of complicated feelings on the matter. "It's good though, he's too dangerous to be set loose here." That was an understatement.