Hulk-demic

Chapter 1 "a crazy time to be alive"

It was a crazy time to be alive, but at least they were alive. The past three weeks, confined to this damned bunker, Bruce didn't know how much more he could take. For Bruce, claustrophobia was setting in. For some of the others, paranoia.

He knew the number of steps from his little room to the commissary, to his lab. To the only window. They were 20 feet below ground, concrete slabs protected them from what was going on above. It didn't protect them from what was going on below.

52 steps brought him to the common dining area. A half-dozen soldiers, guns nearby, drinking coffee, smoking and joking. Bruce hated the cigarette smoke, but the General lifted the ban on smoking indoors when they all realized no one was going outside much any time soon. Bruce couldn't imagine how many more cigarettes they even had, but that was no concern of his. The smoking did guarantee that he would sit on the other side of the room, and he wondered if that was their point anyway.

This underground base was reduced to a skeleton crew. Less than 20 soldiers remained. This testing center was located in a discreet location, unknown to most. Nestled in a remote desert region of New Mexico, the nearest town was Kirbyville, and the General had to give up sending men out. 9 out of 10 never returned.

Bruce himself wasn't strictly speaking military, but he and General Ross had worked together for many years developing radioactive explosive devices. The Pentagon considered him the world's leading authority on the dangerous aspects of the radiation spectrum and Ross brought him in to lead this research base. Ross promised him his own lab, his own team of engineers. Although before Bruce would have considered himself a pacifist, Ross convinced him that in the years since the end of World War Two, the Russians were already ahead of the US in this type of military technology. Some childish sense of patriotism must have kicked in, as did the possibility of turning his theoretical work into practical applications. Of course, the Cold War seemed like a distant and quaint problem since their test three weeks earlier had gone wrong.

Betty came in, she obviously hadn't been sleeping. She stayed in a small suite of rooms with her father the General. Her room was 217 steps from his. With black circles under her eyes and black coffee in her hand, she joined him. For a minute, neither could speak, nor even look at each other. Finally he asked, "How's your father?"

"The General and Corporeal Smithers are working on the radio. This blackout is unbearable—They're planning something-"

"They're not going out again are they?" Her answer came in the form of an actual small tear spilling from one eye, as she imagined the worst possible outcome. Bruce slammed his fist down. The nearby grunts looked up, looked away. He reached to touch her cheek, stopped, stood up and walked out. Betty would follow, when she was ready.

Commissary to his labs, a full level down, a total of 250 steps. All his years working here, he never counted his steps before. The past 3 weeks, once he realized he couldn't leave, the distance between rooms was a comfort. A math problem he could solve. A math problem a 3-year-old could solve, but when faced with impossible problems, easy ones were welcome.

During the previous two years of work, Bruce's own staff included several engineers and a couple more lab techs. He also had his grad student Rick. The day after the explosion most panicked and left. With radios out, he never knew if any of them actually made it. He doubted it. He and some of his staff were part of one of General Ross's early excursions. Only he and Rick made it back. The rest, dead. Dr. Michaels had literally been torn to pieces right in front of him. An awful thunderclap had destroyed their jeep. A run through the desert with nothing less than his life at stake was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was physicist and a bookworm—General Ross had called him a milksop more than once over the years--but that day he was Jesse Owens. Bruce hadn't been outdoors since.

He reached his lab, where only Rick remained. Rick was a student, but he knew his physics, and he was all that remained of Bruce's staff. "I'm an orphan, and no one ever did anything for me before," Rick had told him one time, " 'cept you. That's why I'm staying with you." Ross had assigned a couple of privates to help him, and Betty came down every day to help as well. Rick was working with some of the equipment when Bruce entered. "Ross is sending some men out again" he immediately informed everyone. One of the privates who was there, a young lad they all called Sully, pepped up. "Who's he sending?"

"Not sure. Get the micrometer ready, I want to do some spectrum work." He turned directly to Sully. "Forget it Sully, you're not going, I've spent the past week training you to help me here, I can't lose you. Get the chamber ready..."

Rick asked, "Dr. Banner, what's Ross up to? Food run?"

"Not that, we have enough food here for several more months."

"Jeez I can't eat anymore of those instant pancakes. I need something good to eat!"

"Just get the lab set up for today's tests. I don't trust him. I'm going to go ask him."

300 steps later he was in the top area of the bunker, with General Ross. "Banner!" Ross barked, "shouldn't you be down in your lab?"

"Betty said you're running an operation. I need to know about every action like this, it could effect my research."

"You're civilian, this is a military maneuver. You need to know what I say you need to know. Answer me this Banner, is the chamber ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean really ready, not just 'in theory'?"

Banner thought a moment. Thinking always seemed to annoy Ross. "Don't be a milksop Banner, yes or no, is it ready?"

"Yes, it's ready. The containment chamber will hold one, no matter how strong it is."

"Well today's your lucky day Banner," Thunderbolt Ross beamed, "Today is the day I catch a hulk!"