If you're reading this, then I need you to know the truth. My name is Rebecca Reynolds. I'm traveling from town to town, picking up odd jobs and keeping a low profile. Am I in trouble? No. I'm trying to prevent trouble. Since the accident...trouble...
She leaps with an almost majestic form. Arms at her side, legs extended, thick, dark green hair flapping as her massive body flies through the air. The power of her legs (my legs?) makes it look like she's flying; even gravity is scared to put up a fight against the Savage She-Hulk.
Yet even as she reaches inhuman heights, there comes a point where even the power of this monster must come to reckon with Earth's pull, and her arc begins to trend downward. She bends her powerful arms and curls her muscular legs in preparation. As she falls through the sky, the denim tatters formerly known as my jeans, barely attached to her hips, flap through the wind, miraculously still hanging on.
A large shadow tracks along the ground of the countryside, moving quickly to meet the falling body of the She-Hulk. The monster's feet hit the ground and meet our shadow with a seismic shockwave, instantly forming a crater in the thick earth that has to bear the brunt of the beast's landing. In only a second's time, however, the She-Hulk has flexed those landing leg muscle's and used the recoil to re-launch herself into the atmosphere.
I've been along for this ride for some time, now. I'm not in control of my body at the moment, if you can even call it my body. None of these things belong to the human Rebecca Reynolds. Not this green skin. Not this wild, bushy hair. Not these massive muscles, massive torso, and massive...um...assets hanging off of them. This is the She-Hulk's rodeo at the moment.
When I transform and the She-Hulk comes out, my consciousness gets shoved into part of our shared brain where all I can do is be aware of what my savage alter-ego does. I witness every crater she leaves behind with her leaps. I experience every piece of property she smashes. I apologize silently for every person she hurts in her wake. All I can do is wait for my body to return to me. I wonder if the She-Hulk does the same thing while I'm in control. Silently judging, fuming, just waiting to break free so she can smash the world.
The She-Hulk lands again and renews her leap back into the air, but something is different this time. That landing and leap required a bit more effort from her gamma-powered body. This green giant isn't flying as high in the air.
She's tired.
Can't blame her. The anger and rage that forced my Hulk Out has already been sustaining her rampage for quite a while, but all she's been doing for a while now is leaping through empty rural landscape. There's not much to be angry at here, in fact, the beast is the opposite: she likes being left alone.
I've had enough experience riding shotgun with my alter ego to have noticed some weaknesses to the creature. This is one of them. She's still in control, but as a monster powered by anger, when the fuel tank starts running low I've found I can attempt to exert some influence. (I know you do the same thing to me, She-Hulk; there's no reason why sometimes a small annoyance ends up with me ripping out of my shirt and smashing things to oblivion.)
I still don't know exactly what I'm doing, but I allow my consciousness to project a wave of calmness. Look at all this serene countryside. Listen to the sound of the wind, She-Hulk, and how good the sun feels against your rough skin. There aren't any puny humans here, and there's nothing for you to smash anymore. No reason to be angry. Doesn't it feel so...restful?
A growl echoes into the air. She's feels herself growing weaker; she's resisting.
The green behemoth comes to another violent landing, but this time she doesn't leap back into the air. Instead, her large legs begin to stumble across the ground, leaving large holes where her feet smash into the soil. It's working.
It's OK, She-Hulk. Move slowly, let the aches go away.
"Nooooo!" she roars, bringing up tree-trunk-sized arms, before bringing them down in a full-force slam onto the ground, causing the soil to explode in bits around her. "Noooo!" She's angry, trying to hold onto that anger however she can. She doesn't want to change. She's...scared of it.
I know the feeling, She-Hulk. But you're going to have to Rebecca-out eventually. I hope.
The creature keeps smashing the ground angrily, but there's nothing there to fuel that rage. I can...feel it? She's burning out.
Yes, it's OK She-Hulk. It's OK to rest. Save your rage for another day.
The pounding gets more labored, gets slower. The damage gets smaller. Finally, in defeat, the Savage She-Hulk falls to her knees among the pulverized earth.
Now's my chance. I exert my consciousness and will myself back into control.
For a second I can feel the body that is not my body. I can sense the power, the chaos, the sheer presence of this monstrous being. But that moment is fleeting. Along with her savage mind, the She-Hulk's body is leaving.
Rippling muscles, straining against taut green skin begin to lose bulk. Arms the size of tree trunks begin to grow skinnier, softer. The monster's jaw, teeth clenched in anger, begins to loosen as my skull shrinks, the bushy dark mane atop getting tamed into straight, light brown hair. Broad shoulders, which would put a football linebacker to shame, begin to crack and condense into a narrower, more angular frame.
My chest expands as the creature's large lungs draw in one last full breath, heaving full round breasts outward. I feel myself exhale slowly, and as I breathe out, those lungs, alongside my other internal organs, shrink, and their protection, my ribcage, contracts around them. I feel the fullness of my breasts lessen, and the torso beneath them take on a more feminine shape.
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The legs, still holding me up, begin to shift now. As they do, my balance grows wobbly. My hip bones groan and crack, and the massive pair of feet sunk into the dirt begin to reshape into something that could actually fit in a shoe.
I want to see what's happening, and my head turns so I can get a view. I have motor control again. I lift my arms up slowly in front of me, and I see human limbs, with my natural skin tone fading back into existence. The change, the reversion is just about complete. For a reason I don't know, I bring my hands to my head and begin to delicately touch my face, feeling its shape. What I sense is humanity.
I can't see my eye color, but I'm trusting they're no longer green (hopefully).
A few moments pass in silence as I allow my brain and body a breather in order to reacclimate to their restored humanity. My human lungs take in a more modest gulp of air, and I carefully will myself to stand on human legs. The dirtied denim tatters of my destroyed jeans fall off my hips, and my hands shoot down to catch the stretched waste and pull them back up, clinging to whatever small bit of modesty I can afford. They're the only thing I have left. No shirt, no shoes, and -- looking around -- no service.
My whole body is sore. I can't blame it, it's been through the wringer and it didn't even have any say in the matter. I crave rest, but I can't just stay half-naked in the middle of nowhere. Using vision that is my own once more, I scan the horizon, and see a shape that could be a house in the distance. "Ok, legs," I say , enjoying the sound and command of my own vocal chords. "Time to move."
