The Dark Side Whispers (Bruce Banner)

Chapter 1: Sympathy for the Devil

Blood. Dark red and rust-smelling. It marked the tiles and the walls and the case files. Danny Barton's jaw fell slack the moment her eyes landed on the lab assistant's body, sprawled across the floor. Her eyes were locked on the man's lifeless form, lying in the growing pool of his own blood. A slew of emotions swept through her: shock, disgust, fear.

Anger.

Staring down at her hands, bloodied and scarred, Danny started to grow even angrier. She was caught in a rage that she wasn't capable of controlling. Her eyes flickered to a figure in her peripheral; Dr. Titus Reddik stood smirking. Seeing nothing but red, Danny all but growled out, "What in the hell did you do to me!"

A sardonically narcissistic smirk appeared on Reddik's face. Something in his eyes glistened. "I cured your cancer, Ms. Barton," the doctor replied smugly. "Child, if anything, you should be thanking me!"

Danny bore daggers into him, feeling her blood boil; growls built up in her chest. In the back of her mind, she felt different. Throughout all the testing and the therapy – the most torturous days – Danny had felt a change. She always figured it just to be the drugs. Danny had passed out so many times from the pain of the doctor's hellish treatments and experiments that she wasn't sure if everything she thought she remembered was even real.

After all, doctors were supposed to help their patients, right?

Finally, Danny spoke to him again, the emotion clear in her words. "I would rather have six months left in my life than... than..." She trailed off from the eminent threat that danced behind her lips. What the hell is wrong with me?

An initial shock rang through Danny's entire body as a new voice came from the recesses of her mind: Kill him. It was a sharp and dark voice in her head. Kill him, it kept chanting.

Anger rolled past the lingering confusion. Danny's mind worked faster than it ever had; drawing conclusions to problems she's never had to factor. All other feelings and notions ran dry and desolate as the anger built up inside the very pit of her stomach.

Rage continued to grow in her heart as Reddik howled in laughter, realizing what was becoming of her. Danny watched his movements as she felt sweat begin to trail down her neck. In the back of her mind, she indulged herself in thinking of ways to get rid of his body and – I need to stop.

From the tests they had run earlier on in the week after waking from her coma, her body was teetering on the edge of exhaustion. After months of radiation and blood transfusions and off-the-record experiments, Danny was surprised she hadn't dropped dead already. The latest of the countless treatments – as the unjust doctor had called them; nearly drowning her alive in a tank of radioactive gamma residue – had nearly done her in.

The nightmare didn't stop there, as she was moved into a... She didn't even know what to call it. All Danny remembered were the needles and the nearly endless pain. "Your cancerous cells are depleting," Reddik had told her once. "Your bonded genes will start to regenerate your healthy cells; you'll be as good as cured in no time."

Kill him. All she felt was anger; an urge she was unable to bury. All that continued to cloud her mind were two words: Kill him. Danny ground her teeth together to the point that it hurt; the sharpness of the pain dissipated when she snarled.

Reddik suddenly froze stiff, fear clearly written across his features. "Oh, come on, child," the doctor challenged. "I saved your life. I made you. You can't possibly kill me." The realization that Danny wasn't going to listen to his words appeared to dawn on him. Her eyes locked on his dull ones as he reached for some sort of weapon in a nearby desk drawer.