After smashing several missiles directly into the Hulk's face—point-blank range, right in the damn face—Tony slowed his flight mid air and glanced back over his shoulder to check the damage.
The result was… well, disappointing.
Extremely disappointing, actually.
The Hulk just stood there in the middle of the forest clearing, staring at him with this intense, burning gaze. And it wasn't filled with pain or fear or even shock. No, it was pure, concentrated irritation. Like the look someone gave an annoying mosquito that simply refused to die no matter how many times you swatted at it.
"…That's it?" Tony muttered to himself, genuinely baffled. "That's all I get? Not even a scratch?"
He adjusted his altitude, carefully flying just a bit closer—close enough to really provoke the big guy, but still barely outside his reach.
Just enough to be annoying.
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
The Hulk's face contorted with pure rage, fury surging visibly through his absolutely massive frame.
"RAAAAAAAGH!"
BOOM!
A tree—came hurtling past Tony's head, missing him by maybe three or four meters at most.
Holy shit.
Another tree followed immediately after.
And then another.
It was like playing dodge ball, except the balls were entire trees and the penalty for losing was death.
"JARVIS, that was way too close!" Tony snapped, jinxing left to avoid another massive projectile. "Let's increase the distance a little, yeah?"
"Sir," JARVIS replied in that perfectly calm, unruffled tone of his, "the current distance was calculated to be the optimal engagement range for this scenario. However…" A brief pause. "The Hulk's physical strength appears to be increasing."
"…What?"
Tony twisted midair, looking back again more carefully this time.
For just a moment, he thought maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe it was the angle, or the lighting, or something.
But no. There was absolutely no mistake about it.
The Hulk was bigger.
Not like, dramatically bigger or anything. He hadn't suddenly doubled in size. But it was noticeable—definitely noticeable. His muscles bulged more densely now, veins standing out like thick cables beneath that green skin of his.
"That's… that's not normal," Tony said slowly, his brain trying to process what he was seeing. "He wasn't this big like a minute ago. I'm sure of it."
Confusion started creeping in, mixing with a healthy dose of concern.
"How does that even work?" he muttered, more to himself than to JARVIS. "He's already ridiculously strong—how much stronger is he planning to get? The reports from Harlem never mentioned anything about him growing mid-fight. Did he unlock some kind of upgrade or something? Is there a leveling system I don't know about?"
Tony scowled behind his faceplate.
"That's completely unfair."
"JARVIS," he said quickly, his tone more serious now, "run an analysis. I need you to pinpoint the exact cause of the Hulk's sudden increase in strength. There has to be a trigger."
There was a brief pause as JARVIS processed data.
"Analysis complete," JARVIS replied. "It is estimated with 87% confidence that his strength increases incrementally in direct correlation with his anger levels. Notably, each measurable instance of physical growth corresponds with verbal provocation."
Another pause, somehow more deliberate.
"…And the primary source of said provocation," JARVIS continued in that same perfectly even tone, "appears to be you, sir."
"JARVIS, that's not—"
Clink.
Tony's retort was cut short as something small slammed into one of the suit's rear propulsion stabilizers with surprising force.
The impact itself wasn't particularly heavy—just a small stone, really—but it hit exactly the wrong spot at exactly the wrong angle.
The repulsor sputtered once.
Twice.
Then died completely.
Balance vanished in an instant.
"Wait—wait wait wait—!"
The ground rushed up toward him at an alarming speed.
Then everything went dark.
BOOM.
The suit crashed violently into the forest floor with a sickening crunch, sending dirt and debris exploding outward in all directions.
For a brief moment, there was just… nothing.
No HUD displaying vital information.
No power readings.
No sound except for his own ragged breathing.
Then the pain registered—muted and distant, but definitely there.
But hey, at least he wasn't dead. That was good. That was a definite plus.
Thankfully, the five hundred million dollars he'd poured into raw materials alone—not even counting R&D costs—had not gone to waste. The armor's internal shock absorption systems had done their job, absorbing most of the catastrophic impact and leaving Tony with only some minor bruising.
Could've been way worse.
"…JARVIS?" Tony groaned, his voice strained. "JARVIS, you there buddy?"
A second passed.
Then—
"Restarting systems," came that familiar, wonderful British accent.
The HUD flickered back to life, displays slowly coming back online one by one.
Tony exhaled shakily, relief flooding through his entire body like a wave.
"Holy shit…" he breathed out.
His heart had nearly stopped there for a second. Actually stopped.
He genuinely hadn't even considered the possibility of losing power while he was inside. The thought alone made his stomach churn uncomfortably now that he was thinking about it.
"If I'd been stuck like that for more than a few minutes…" he muttered, voice shaky, "…I'd have been literally cooked alive inside the suit from the heat before anyone even got a chance to open it."
"Oh. Fuck."
He'd completely forgotten something extremely important.
Just a few moments ago—less than a minute, really—he'd been firing missiles directly into the face of a giant green rage monster who was now significantly angrier than before.
And he'd just crashed.
Right in front of said rage monster.
Before Tony could even attempt to restart the repulsors and get the hell out of there—
A massive hand, easily the size of his entire torso, grabbed his right leg with crushing force.
"AAAAAAAA—!"
BANG!
BANG!
Spin—spin—spin—WHOOSH!
Tony's armored body was smashed into the ground repeatedly like some kind of metal rag doll, trees snapping like twigs and soil exploding with each brutal impact.
His brain rattled around inside his skull. The HUD flickered wildly. Warning alerts screamed in his ears.
Then, with one final violent motion, the Hulk hurled him away like a piece of discarded garbage.
Tony's body tumbled through the air, crashed through two more trees, and finally skidded to a stop somewhere in the underbrush.
Everything hurt.
Everything.
Normally—and Tony would've been happy to know if he'd been conscious—the Hulk would have completely crushed that tin can suit into scrap metal.
He would've torn it apart piece by piece, smashed it into paste, and probably jumped up and down on the remains for good measure.
But this time… he didn't.
For some reason he couldn't articulate—couldn't even really understand—he stopped.
Instead, this weird, inexplicable urge tugged at the back of his fractured mind.
He felt the need to move forward. Straight ahead. Just… go.
He didn't know why.
His thoughts couldn't form a proper reason for it. They never really formed proper reasons for anything, to be honest.
So he just… obeyed the feeling.
Started walking.
Then running.
This impulse wasn't really his own, though. Not naturally, anyway.
It was the lingering influence of Elric's suggestion from earlier—that gentle mental push he'd planted before the Hulk had even fully transformed.
Elric had tried to guide him toward a very precise destination, give him a specific target location. But the Hulk's mind couldn't fully grasp complex directions like that. Couldn't hold onto detailed instructions.
In the end, the command had simplified itself down to the absolute basics.
Go straight.
It should have worked perfectly.
It should have been more than enough.
Unfortunately, as Elric was about to discover, life very rarely followed anyone's carefully laid plans.
....
Elric sat inside a small, run-down roadside shop in the border town, quietly eating a cup of cold noodles.
The place wasn't much to look at—plastic tables, fluorescent lighting that buzzed annoyingly, the faint smell of cooking oil that had been reused one too many times. But the food was good and the location was perfect, entrance of the town.
He lifted another bite of noodles with his plastic fork, chewing thoughtfully.
The plastic fork paused midair as he glanced down at his watch.
"Aline," he said calmly, his tone completely level, "the Hulk should be reaching this location any moment now. We should start preparing. Have everything ready."
"Boss," her mechanical voice responded immediately in his earpiece, "urgent message incoming."
Elric's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"What is it?" he asked, setting the fork down carefully.
"It concerns Tony Stark."
Elric's frown deepened considerably.
"What about him?" he said flatly, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Did he do something unexpected? Whatever it is, leave him for now—we can deal with Stark later. Right now I need you to focus on the Hulk. If anything goes wrong here, civilians will die. Seven hundred of them."
There was a brief pause on the line.
Then—
"Boss," Alice said carefully, her tone shifting to something more cautious, "Tony Stark just engaged the Hulk directly."
"…Engaged?"
Elric's entire body went still.
"Calling it a proper fight would be a significant stretch," she continued quickly. "From what I'm tracking, it was brief and extremely one-sided. However, due to this unexpected interaction, the Hulk has changed his direction of travel."
Elric's eyes sharpened instantly, his casual demeanor evaporating.
"Where?" he demanded, voice tight. "Where is he heading now?"
"He is now heading northeast toward Xing Chu," Alice reported. "It's a nearby medium-sized town. Population approximately fifteen thousand."them.
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