The House of Commons
Robert Bruce Banner sat calmly as a maelstrom raged about him. He'd come here today as a gesture of goodwill, a public showing to one and all that the fearsome Hulk was a changed being... but many of the men and women before him were finding his words difficult to swallow.
A ruddy-faced man in an ill-fitting suit was shouting above the rest. "What assurances do we have that he's not going to lose control again?! How many times has he done this same 'miracle' -- transforming the Hulk from an agent of destruction into a hero, only to end up rampaging through the major cities of the world again and again?!"
Bruce couldn't resist a smile at that. He'd come to this meeting in his 'Hulked-out' form, intentionally showing them just how massive he truly was. But he also wanted to stress how different he was from the old monster they knew so well. He wore a specially-tailored suit and tie, with glasses perched on his broad nose. He held up a hand to silence the man at his side, a gift of sorts from the Prime Minister's office. The man -- Arthur Primrose -- was meant to run inteerference for him, but Bruce didn't think it was necessary. Despite the fact that these guys argued and shouted like a bunch of preschoolers in America, he knew their kind. They were politicians. "If that does happen again -- which I strongly doubt -- I promise to make good on all reparations."
The man who had spoken out so shrilly tugged at his coat. "Oh, please. Like you have the resources to pay for that sort of thing. You are capable of destruction on a widespread level, Mr. Banner... Not only that, but your money would never pay for the lives of those poor innocents who could be caught in the crossfire."
Bruce removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. "I've taken the liberty of establishing the Hulk Fund. It's a proactive attempt to allay your fears. I've made a binding agreement with the British government that my current and future creations will have all their proceeds attributed to this fund. Should I ever lose control again, monies will be withdrawn from this and used to--"
"Are you creating weapons for us?" someone asked.
Bruce strained to see who had asked the question, but wasn't sure. He knew why it was being asked, though... the papers had been full of reports about the 'Martian Menace.' Despite the best attempts at keeping knowledge of the looming war from the public, it had been leaked. Now everyone knew that the Martians were laying waste to the world outside the Black Mass Barrier. "I've sworn to avoid that sort of research. I made a promise to a very important person... and I'd like to honor that." The Hulk pushed his glasses back into place. "And that's all I have time for today. Be assured, however, that I want to make amends for all the pain I've caused in the past. The raising of the Barrier gave me a chance for a new start. I plan to make good on it."
The broad-shouldered hero turned away from the shouting crowd, heading towards the exit with casual ease. He tuned out their words, confident that he knew their tenor. Some of them were denouncing him for not supporting the war effort more fully. Others were deriding him as a fraud.
It was always the same, whether in the States or in Great Britain.
Bruce Banner was always ultimately on his own.
Carl Marx had always hated his name. His parents had thought it 'cute' or some nonsense, but Carl thought it be a bloody pitiful thing to do, condemning their child to a lifetime of "you're kidding... that's really your name?"
So Carl had pushed himself harder than most, eager to do something that would take away the ridicule. Surprisingly, it had worked.
To an extent, anyway.
In the hallowed halls of the Weird Happenings Organization, Carl Marx was a well-respected figure. It was true that he dressed a bit foppishly, but he was hardly the only one who did that... especially these days. Overall, most agreed that if you needed something done right, you called in Carl Marx.
And there was no truth to the rumor that his strongest supporters were called Marxists.
At the moment, Marx was standing in the center of his personal laboratory, a sprawling chamber that housed some of the best and brightest young minds in the Organization. Many of them flocked to Carl's side in hopes that some of his luster would rub off on them... particularly the handsome young men. Everyone knew that Carl was a bit partial to those.
"Tell me again... Where was this found?" he asked, puffing away on his pipe. No one was allowed to smoke in the W.H.O. facility, but Carl had disabled the sprinkler system in his lab. He enjoyed having the clout to break the rules and get away with it.
His primary assistant, a hard bodied Swede named James, moved closer to the large wax-like structure. It was rectangular in shape and some eight feet in height. Through its orange-red exterior, the silhouette of a woman brandishing some sort of long staff could be seen. "Northern Ireland. A bloke on his morning run found it, sticking up out of the muck. It was half-covered but he thought he saw a person inside and alerted the authorities. One of our field agents arrived on the scene and immediate declare the whole affair a Class-A incident."
"Hmm," Carl replied. He looked at the encased figure, seemingly unimpressed by such things. "A Class-A? A bit over the top, I'd say. Which one was it?"
"Brookins."
"Ah. That old sod. Well, too late now...." Carl turned away and waved a hand dismissively. "Cut it open."
James couldn't hide his surprise. "Sir? Are you certain...? I mean, we haven't even finished out study--"
"The person inside is hardly going to be harmed, James. She's dead. We've picked up no life signs whatsoever. So we need to get to work. Besides, every moment we spend on this case delays us from Project Overhulk. That's where our real priorities lie." Carl stepped into his private office, still murmuring to himself. "Honestly, I don't see why this ended up here at all. Seems like the kind of work that cow Jenkins should be doing, not us."
James sighed, but didn't argue. That would be both pointless and a bad career move. He gestured towards the figure. "You heard him, lads. Let's cut 'er open."
Leeds
"It's a lovely little place, don't you think? And only a few minutes away from Granary Wharf. You and the misses will love it."
Bruce smiled at the real estate agent but said nothing in response. He was in his human form at the moment, far less imposing than he'd been while at Parliament only a few hours earlier. Dressed in a tweed jacket, white shirt and slacks, Bruce looked like any other university professor looking for a vacation house.
Bruce moved over to Molly's side, enjoying the way the sunlight streamed in through the windows and illuminated the highlights in her reddish-brown hair. She was beautiful... so different from Betty, but similar as well. Both of them were of medium height and build, though Molly's face was a bit rounder and fuller. Her eyes were shining now, filled with an inner glow that melted Bruce's heart. "What do you think, Bruce?"
"I like it if you do."
A bit of indecision crossed her features. "Do you think we're moving too quickly, though?"
"No... Not really. I like being with you and you like being with me. This is just another step in our relationship."
"I've never lived with a man before...."
"First time for everything." Bruce touched her cheek. "We can go back to Lyonesse and think it over some more if you want. I don't mind waiting."
"It's not that I have doubts about us," she explained. "It's just that... It's such a big step."
"I have two other couples interested in the property..." prompted the salesman.
Bruce shot him a look that made the man step back. Molly smiled a bit at that... Bruce could be so gentle that it was hard to imagine him as the Hulk, but there were times when you could see a flicker of anger pass over his face and she could easily imagine that broad green features of his other self. Since her own transformation from human to... whatever she was now... she'd become much more sympathetic to the changes that routinely overcame her lover. "It's okay, Bruce. Let's take it. I want to live here. With you."
W.H.O. Headquarters
James felt his heart skip a beat. The girl was breathtaking, in an exotic sort of way. She was young -- twenties, he guessed -- with a long, flowing red mohawk. Her features were flawless, despite the fact that she was obviously the product of an undernourished environment. The staff she had been clutching so tightly in her left hand now lay beside her on the examining table, its polished surface smooth to the touch. "How the hell did she end up inside that bloody thing?" he whispered.
"That I don't know... but she is quite an attractive bird, isn't she?"
James looked around in surprise. A well-dressed man with blond hair was standing nearby, smiling in the most ingratiating way possible. "Do you have permission to be here?" James asked, looking about for security.
"Calm down, my friend. I'm only here to remove a time-consuming task off your hands." The stranger placed a hand on James' shoulder. "The woman before you is a visitor from another time and place. Her name is Janis Jones. You might have heard of her grandfather -- Rick Jones? Failed musician, failed supeerhero, failed talk show host? He's pretty much a failure all around, but he had the good fortune to breed with a stunning little number named Marlo... and, hence, we have Janis. Or will. It's all rather confusing." Again the man smiled and James found himself smiling along with him. "Where's your superior, Mr. Marx?"
"In his office, I believe. Do you want me to get him, Mr....?"
"Paris. And no, I don't require him at present. I was just wondering how his Overhulk project was going."
James relaxed. If this person knew about the project, then he must be okay. Only people in this division or high up in W.H.O. knew about this. "It's close to completion. We expect the prototype to be ready for testing within the week."
Paris made a face showing his disapproval and noticed that James seemed a bit surprised. "Sorry. I'm just so anxious. I was hoping it would be sooner."
"Oh. Yeah. Us, too."
Paris patted James again. "Why don't you go and check on Dr. Marx? I'll take care of Janis for you, like I said. Oh... and one more thing. Forget you ever met me."
James found himself standing outside Marx's office door, his head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. He swayed slightly and leaned against the wall for support.
"James?" Carl asked from inside. He was standing next to a silver-gray robot which was attached to a Gamma Ray Generator. "Are you unwell?"
"No. I'm fine. I just... I think I forgot what I came here to say, that's all."
"You're working too hard, James. Why not come over tonight and I'll give you a backrub?"
Janis opened her eyes, seeing the world begin to swim into focus. She was on her back, the sound of jet engines thick in her ears. "Where the flark am I?"
A pretty young woman with dark hair and freckles leaned over her. "You're headed to the Mount. My name's Atalanta."
"Where's Studly?" Janis asked, looking about wildly. She'd traveled to this era in hopes of preventing the transformation of the Hulk into the power-mad Maestro, who had wreaked havoc in her own timeline. Instead, she'd ended up in an alternate world... one so much like her own that it was scary.
"If you mean the Hulk," Paris said, stepping forward as Janis sat up and gripped her power staff. "He's in England at present. Of equal importance, however, is how you ended up inside the Barrier."
"The Barrier...? Oh. Yeah. I remember that. I was tailing Studly... He'd come to Europe seeking help in controlling his transformations. Next thing I know everything's going crazy. A bunch of demons were loose in London, causing everybody to go all flatscan. So I went to help out. Some bird in a black dress trapped me in that shell...."
Paris exchanged a glance with Atalanta. Obviously Janis had run afoul of some sort of demoness that night when the Barrier had gone up. An intriguing turn of events... and one that might prove most useful in the long run. "Ms. Jones, I represent a secret organization of beings dedicated to--"
Janis jerked her staff around and pointed its tip straight at his face. "Shut the flark up. I know who you are. Studly told me about you. He said you were a sanctimonious ass."
Atalanta smirked. "That certainly sounds like our Paris."
He spared his teammate a withering glance. "Regardless of what Banner thinks of me, I can assure you that our intentions are honorable."
Janis cocked her head to the side. "And they are...?"
Paris smiled with undisguised glee. "Our associate Delphi has made one thing quite clear: for the good of humanity, the Hulk must be destroyed."
Bruce Banner dreamed.
He was standing in the Crossroads again, a strange netherplace that was barely illuminated. It was mostly pure, overwhelming darkness that threatened to blot out all attempts at rational thought... and at the center of it all stood a signpost made of human hands, each pointing off in a different direction.
He'd been here most recently during one of his therapy sessions. He'd come here to make peace with his inner demons, confronting each of the different personalities that lurked within him... the Joe Fixit persona, the savage Hulk, the Professor and even the Devil Hulk. He'd worked out a strange compromise relationship with all but the Devil for a time, but then he'd begun losing control of himself again... it had taken the magic of the Barrier to 'repair' him, giving him control of the merge. He'd chosen to give control of the Hulk over to the Professor, who was most closely like Banner himself. On some days, he even thought they were the same.
He moved forward, his bare feet feeling cold and bruised. He was wearing only tattered purple pants in this dream and it felt surreal to be like this again, as he had been so many times before when the savage hulk would leave him alone, half-naked, in a strange place.
"Funny seein' you here again, doc. Thought you'd left for good."
Bruce stopped in his tracks, watching as a gray-skinned variant of the Hulk emerged from around the signpost. He wore a zoot suit and hat, looking like a mean little gangster crossed with a monster from myth. "Joe? What do you want?"
Joe Fixit smiled smugly. "Better question is what do you want? I've seen you shacking up with that pretty little dame of yours. Not on the par of Betty, but not bad--"
"Don't mention her name."
Fixit nodded, a flicker of pain passing over his own features. "I loved her, too, y'know. We all did."
Bruce looked away. "I want to wake up."
"Don't we all? But this is real life, doc... And you might have made one hell of a mistake."
"What do you mean?"
"You and the Prof. have a good deal goin'. You let him out as the Hulk and he gives you a bit of his confidence when you're Banner. But I don't think you can trust 'im." Fixit stepped closer, his eyes never wavering from Bruce's. "Ask yourself this, pal... Which Hulk do you think it was that became the Maestro? The savage one? Please. Devil? Nope. Me? C'mon... that kind of act ain't quite my style. But the Professor... he's the one who could plan all that. Rationalize it. He's the one you have to worry about."
Bruce blinked in surprise. He'd never really thought about it, but it was true... everything about the Maestro, from his appearance to his demeanor, suggested the Professor Hulk was the source from which he'd grown. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Call it intuition." Joe winked at him before turning away. "Just keep an eye out...."
Bruce sat up in bed, his heart pounding. He felt his breath coming in quick heaves and he knew that the change was near upon him... for the first time in ages, he was about to change against his will. He snatched up part of the covers in his hand and tried to remain calm, but it was so damned hard... so damned hard to --
"Bruce?"
His heart rate slowed, but he kept his eyes kept tightly shut. "You're not here," he said into the darkness. He knew the voice didn't come from Molly, who was still on Lyonesse. Though he'd decided to sleep in their house in Leeds tonight, she still had moving to do... And besides, that voice was too familiar for him to mistake it for anyone else. "You're dead."
"Just be careful. Okay?"
Bruce swallowed hard, forcing himself not to open his eyes. He wasn't sure what scared him more... the thought of seeing his dead wife standing before him, or not seeing her there at all. "I'm going crazy, aren't I? It's something that the Leader did to me*... It must be."
(*See Pendragons # 50)
There was no answer and Bruce felt his shoulders sag. He lay back in bed, thinking that he could almost imagine Betty lying beside him, her hands on his chest and her head nestled against him.
"I miss you," he whispered.
"I know," she replied. "And I'm waiting for you."
The Overhulk robot stood motionless in the still and quiet office. The Gamma Generator continued to supply it with power, charging up the energy cells that would eventually allow it to harness strength on the same level as the Incredible Hulk. It was the culmination of many months' work for Marx and his staff... and it would ultimately serve as Britain's secret weapon against all its many enemies. A small group of Overhulks could wipe out Latveria's forces in a day. They would provide adequate defense against the aliens when the Barrier finally fell, as well.
And, of course, they would serve as a deterrent to the Hulk himself.
All of that was predicated on the accepted belief that the Overhulk prototype would work as planned and that it would obey its programming.
It was quite a pity that they were about to be proven very, very wrong.
The robot's eye sensors flared to life as its positronic matrix stirred from an unexpected contact. The robot pulled itself free of the various cables that held it in place, moving smoothly across the floor of the lab. There was a consciousness present in the machine now, a lifeforce that had once been a man... but was now nothing more than a lingering memory. A ghost of futures past.
The vocal units within the robot did a poor job of capturing this entity's impressive baritone, but they still rang out loud and clear. "I'm back," he stated, quite plainly and boldly.
The Maestro had returned.
Next Issue: Our opening storyline continues! More Pantheon! More Maestro! And the Hulk actually smashes something!
Author's Notes
I never liked the Hulk.
Well, that's not quite true. Growing up, I enjoyed seeing 'ol Green Skin guest star in other heroes' books a-plenty. Nothing got my fanboy heart beating quite as fast as seeing Hero X trying to stop the Hulk from running straight through their town. But the Hulk's own book? Borrrrrring. How many times can you write "Hulk Smash" before it loses its impact? Or, more to the point, how many times can you read it?
And then came Peter David. David made me a Hulk fan. I loved the constant twists and turns that the Hulk's life took; the quirky sense of humor that pervaded his adventures; and the wonderful, sexy spark that he gave to Betty Ross Banner. When the series was rebooted after David's exit, all the heart and soul seemed to be gone... but Paul Jenkins restored some of it with his uneven but enjoyable run. He paid homage to my favorite periods of Hulk history and I appreciated it.
Then came Bruce Jones.
Some people love it, some people hate it. I'm somewhere in between, but basically I just don't like it's "my" Hulk. It's the old Hulk Smash done with a bit of modern flair.
This series is set in my Pendragons Universe, in which a mystic barrier has surrounded most of Europe. This barrier has caused technology to become somewhat unstable and has brought the many creatures of "myth" back to life. With magic running rampant through the land, many things are different... including the Hulk. In Pendragons # 41, we learned that Bruce Banner now controlled his transformations and remained in full control of the Hulk's body when he did so. Since joining England's premier hero team, Bruce has moved into a romantic relationship with his teammate Molly Fitzgerald (aka Shamrock/Celtic Phoenix) and battled his old foe, the Leader.
So we're off. Look for new adventures with new foes and some surprising (but familiar) faces. You've seen the returns of Janis, the Pantheon and the Maestro in this issue, but you don't have to worry about me pulling in every old Hulk character I can think of. The Pantheon has always been active throughout Europe, Janis being on Bruce's trail is hardly a stretch and the Maestro was inhabiting the physical shell known as the Destroyer in his last Hulk appearance (I'm not counting the Captain Marvel one for obvious reasons, if you've read that story), so it's not a big deal for his consciousness to be here. The Maestro and the Leader are the Hulk's two biggest foes and my favorites, so I brought them along. Hope you don't mind.
Keep In Touch,
Barry
