Felicia's return finally gave Harry the chance to take a proper break. The few sports cars she had ordered for him had finally arrived, and after leaving her with some work cards and instructions, Harry began his long-awaited trip.
He set off alone, but the journey was anything but smooth. Ever since Tony Stark's disappearance in Afghanistan, the media had turned their attention to another young billionaire—Harry Osborn. His "happy journey" soon became a tiresome cat-and-mouse chase, dodging relentless reporters at every turn.
Still, the trip eventually came to an end. On the second night after Harry returned to the Osborn family estate, General Ross finally called.
...
Early morning at the Osborn ancestral home.
"Harry, you'd better not go. That green monster is too dangerous!" Felicia said, her cheeks flushed, her voice soft against the messy sheets.
Harry, already suited up in a sleek black armor, fastened the last buckle near his neck and turned to glance at her—her delicate figure half-wrapped in the quilt. With a light grin, he said, "Don't worry. I'm not going there for General Ross. I want what I'm after—and I'll get it with my own hands."
As he finished speaking, he pulled open the curtains. The sunlight poured in, casting a golden glow over his determined face.
"Well, I hope so," Felicia sighed, unable to hide the worry in her tone.
"Then, I'll leave the company to you," Harry said as he stepped onto his flying glider.
The next second, with a sharp roar, he shot out through the window, soaring straight into the morning sky.
Felicia watched him disappear into the clouds, then got out of bed with a helpless sigh.
"Oh, he's insane," she muttered, running a hand through her tousled hair as she looked around at the scattered clothes.
...
General Ross had told Harry the target was at Culver University in Virginia, where Bruce Banner had once taught.
New York and Virginia weren't close, even with the speed of Harry's glider. It took him a long flight before he finally arrived.
On the ground outside Culver University—
"General, radar's detected a small flying object above us," a soldier reported to General Ross, who was already preparing his troops.
"Good," Ross replied, a satisfied smile crossing his face. He turned to the soldiers and ordered, "All units, move in!"
"Yes, sir!"
The soldiers acted swiftly, spreading across the campus and setting up a perimeter blockade.
Harry descended smoothly on his glider, landing on the open lawn without so much as flinching at the dozen rifles trained on him.
"General Ross, your people aren't exactly welcoming," Harry said as his helmet dissolved, revealing his face. He raised an eyebrow at the nearest soldier, who immediately lowered his weapon after a gesture from Ross.
"Actually, this is pretty friendly," Ross said with a dry smile.
"Well, I'll keep that in mind," Harry muttered under his breath. In America, government agents pointing guns at you was practically standard procedure.
He guided the glider in a slow circle, surveying the area. It was a large field, open and grassy, with scattered sports equipment. In the distance stood a massive dormitory building, unmistakable from its collegiate architecture.
"General, this isn't exactly a good place for a fight. You sure we can't be a little more discreet?" Harry asked, half-joking, half-serious.
"I don't have the luxury of discretion," Ross said, his voice hard. "The target's smart—too smart—and extremely sensitive to danger. I've hunted him down several times, but every time I hesitated, he slipped through my fingers. This is the last chance to capture him. He hasn't realized the danger yet."
Ross turned toward a silent figure standing nearby. "How about it, Blonsky? How do you feel?"
"I've never felt better, General," Emil Blonsky said with a grim, eager smile.
"Good," Ross said, patting him on the shoulder. "When the Hulk appears, your job is to hold him down—keep him from running again. As long as you can do that, we'll take him home."
...
In a hallway window overlooking the campus—
A man and a woman were walking side by side. The man was thin, scholarly, the type who radiated quiet intellect. The woman beside him was youthful and radiant, her light brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried several thick textbooks in her arms, and her delicate features softened with every smile.
They were chatting softly when the man's eyes flicked toward the window—and suddenly froze. His expression shifted from warmth to alarm.
"What is it, Bruce?" the woman asked, instantly noticing his change in demeanor. She followed his gaze—and her breath caught.
"Soldiers...It's soldiers!" The books in her hands slipped and scattered across the floor. She clutched the man's arm, fear spreading across her face.
"Betty, Betty, listen to me," Bruce Banner said urgently, pulling her attention back to him. His voice was low and desperate. "I have to go. Don't follow me, and don't try to help. No matter what happens next, you have to stay away from me—do you understand?"
"Bruce..." Betty's eyes were wide, her voice trembling in confusion and panic.
"Listen to me!" Bruce snapped. "They're here for me! Stay away—please! I'll find you when I can."
...
Meanwhile, on the campus lawn, Harry was idly polishing one of Dr. Connors' upgraded plasma blades, waiting impatiently.
"General, he's spotted us," came the report from the monitoring team—a piece of news that made Ross's expression darken.
---
A/N: New Fanfic Is Out "Demon Slayer: Shinobu Is Mine!!!"
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