The Science of Monsters

Scarlett sat with her knees supporting her elbows that held up her head on the park bench beneath the shade tree in the middle of the room. Bruce sat next to her in the same place Fury once occupied. He wiped her face with a hanky that Coulson kindly dampened in the men’s room. She wouldn’t look at him. His heart felt like a bolder as he placed the cotton hanky between his leg and hers. He took a deep breath while preparing himself to be frank with Scarlett, but shock filled his entire body when she took his hand.

“I know.” She whispered, her eyes focused on the ground. She played with a holographic pebble. “You have to go. My only friend in ten years has to leave me sitting in this room.” She squeezed his hand. “I understand, Bruce.”

“Fury won’t take no for an answer,” he retorted as he lowered his own gaze.

“I met him. He doesn’t like that word. No.”

“Scarlett, I made them promise me two things.” Bruce squeezed her hand now. She turned her gaze toward his knee. He raised his head and watched her carefully.

“What did they promise?” She sniffled before wiping her nose on the sleeve of her fee hand.

“They won’t bother you, Scarlett. Shield usually keeps their word.”

“No, they don’t.” Coulson mumbled. Neither Scarlett nor Bruce paid any attention.

Scarlett picked up the damp cloth and wiped her face again before spitting. She wiped her tongue with the cloth before accepting the water Coulson passed her. A stolen glance left her bewildered as Coulson sat with his hands tucked between his knees, his eyes glazed over, and his head slightly bowed. Coulson never looked more lost in the short amount of time she’d known him, and it killed her to imagine what Bruce’s facial features would say.

“I don’t have a home?” Scarlett asked rather than stated. She couldn’t return to her hideaway paradise that smelled of new and rusted metal and motor oil. The dim lights of the warehouse wouldn’t be her reality anymore. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“I have a friend,” Bruce started. Coulson coughed loudly.

“She won’t go there, Banner.” Coulson turned his glazed eyes toward Bruce.

Scarlett took a deep breath as she made herself sit straight, carefully focusing on the floor. She pulled her hand away from Bruce. “Go where?”

Bruce patted the place her elbow occupied as he breathed. “Stark.”

Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists. No! She wouldn’t go to that man! The man that was supposed to help Maya fix her psychotic science experiment. The man they wanted to fix her. “I’m not broken,” Scarlett growled. Her eyes met Coulson’s. Understanding flooded her body.

“When they find him-“

“NO, Bruce!” She shook her head.

Coulson stood, walked toward her, then kneeled. He placed the palms of his hands on her cheeks. “Listen to me.” His dark holes for eyes bore into her spacey blue eyes. “They will cut you open here. Everything that you are will have to be fixed here. If you go with Stark, it won’t be as harsh.” Coulson removed his hands. “Stark can take the heat out of you because that’s what you want, or—if you let him—he can find a way to stabilize it.”

“I’m not broken,” Scarlett sobbed.

“Neither was Pepper Potts.” He pulled my eyes back to his. “But I was.”

“Please.” Tears flowed freely down Scarlett’s face. Coulson offered her a clean hanky; she wiped her face again. She didn’t want to be forced into another decision. This choice—the same choice—was being forced on her again. “Don’t let them do-“

A warm hand gently pulled her face away from Coulson. She closed her once sparkling blue eyes to keep from seeing what she thought was there. The fear, the disappointment, the regret. It was his burden to bear. If he wanted that life—a life of bottled experiences and a woman who feared his rage—then he could easily make this decision.

“Look at me,” Bruce whispered. She shook her head as much as possible in his grip. He squeezed her jaw gently while repeating himself with a little more force. A new tear floated down her cheek as she opened her eyes. “I don’t want to do this to you, Scarlett. Hell, I don’t want to do this to myself.” Bruce wiped the tear away with his thumb. “If I don’t go, they’ll hurt you; if I go and leave you here, they’ll hurt you.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the war raging behind his. Those warm chocolate eyes that cared for her so gently were dark and angry. She shook her jaw from his grip. “Where is Stark?”

“In surgery,” Coulson stated while watching his phone. “He’s having the shrapnel removed from his heart.”

“But-“ Bruce stopped as Coulson glared.

“It’s what Pepper wanted.”

“He’ll still take her in, right?” Scarlett saw the light of hope fading even more from those warm eyes. It killed her to watch him. His tortured face, weak posture. Bruce Banner had been broken.

“He will.” Coulson turned his gaze to Scarlett. “Stark wants you because he couldn’t salvage any of the Extremis virus from Pepper’s blood cells.”

The lights flashed in the room. Either they were preparing a night setting—which would cause more panic—or that was their way of saying ‘time is up.’ Panic shot through Scarlett. She pleaded with Coulson not to leave her alone. Bruce might have to leave, but Coulson didn’t. Not that very second.

“That’s your cue, Big Guy.” Coulson patted Bruce on the shoulder.

Bruce glared. “Don’t call me that!”

Bruce pulled Scarlett into a tight hug. He had to go, even though he knew so little about what he was living behind. Scarlett pulled away slightly before she did the one thing she’d been wanting to do since she found herself in his company. She pressed her scalding plump lips to the coolness of his pale mouth. Stunned, Bruce didn’t react for the first moment, but his lips found the strength to move with hers after a moment. Noting existed except for Bruce and Scarlett in their world of glorious happiness. The world was as light as a feather as she kissed him and he returned her sweetness. Coulson turned his back while coughing, but that didn’t stop Bruce. For once, he let himself kiss a woman he knew he would never be with.

“If you don’t stop,” Coulson hissed. Scarlett reluctantly pulled away. Her face flushed, not from the heat within her, but from the lingering feeling of his lips on hers.

“Goodbye, Bruce.” She whispered before turning her back to him. The more her blue eyes focused on him the more his feet became bricks, but when she turned away—as if he didn’t exist anymore—the weight of the world crash on Bruce’s shoulders.

He took two steps toward Scarlett. His mind reeled with his options. He couldn’t turn Fury down, but he couldn’t leave her there. Not like this. Tony wouldn’t understand her. He’d hurt her just like every other woman he ever had. Tony Stark would tear Scarlett’s fragile self-esteem to bits without thinking twice.

“Banner,” Coulson barked. Bruce took another step; Scarlett didn’t move.

“Just go!” Scarlett sobbed. Bruce shook his head.

“Don’t do this, Banner.” A new voice entered the room. Scarlett’s ears recognized the sound as the man with the arrows, Clint.

She turned to face Bruce. The war raged stronger as he watched her, awaiting any sort of answer. “Please,” she begged. “Just go, Bruce. Don’t let them hurt you more.”

Bruce’s hands mirrored the quiver in his voice as he screamed, “NO!”

Four gunshots echoed simultaneously through the room. Scarlett’s scream shut all the other sounds away from Bruce’s ears. She rushed toward him while he reached for her. Two men in black ninja suits held her as he collapsed to his knees. Four more men in the same suits dragged Bruce to the sliding doors.

Once Bruce was gone Scarlett collapsed on the floor. The men dropped her as the sounds of crunching metal filled the room. Scarlett thought the sound was caused by melting beams in the room from boiling heat of her grief. The sliding doors opened leaving her alone and scalding, with no escape this time.


Bruce woke up laying in a lumpy bed covered with an itchy comforter. He glanced around at the hideous 70’s styled wall paper and an analog TV with half broken rabbit ears covered in tin foil poking over the top. His head ached as if someone had beat him in the skull with a Louisville slugger. He groaned loudly.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Coulson sipped on his gas station coffee—he still thought it was left over motor oil heated in the microwave—before he folded the newspaper.

“So, favor number two had to be done, huh?” Bruce sat up throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed the trashcan for security, but it wasn’t needed.

“Unfortunately.” Coulson nodded. “You want an aspirin?”

“Yes, please,” Bruce choked out. “What the hell did you hit me with?”

“Four tranqs.” Coulson smiled before coming out of the bathroom while opening a bottle. Be dumped two pills in Bruce’s hand. “Enough to knock out a herd of elephants.”

“I slept for..?”

“A week.” Coulson sat down, sipped his oil again. “Welcome to Texas, Big Guy.”