Bruce tried to calm his racing heart as the soldiers continued to search around the massive office. The room was dimly lit, with a single flickering fluorescent light casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the smell of old paper and dust. Filing cabinets lined one wall, their drawers slightly ajar, papers spilling out haphazardly. A large wooden desk sat in the center of the room, covered in stacks of yellowed documents and a few scattered pens. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, blocking out the outside world.
Bruce crouched beneath the desk, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to remain silent. He could hear the soldiers' voices growing closer, their footsteps echoing ominously in the confined space.
"Check behind the desk," one of the soldiers commanded, his voice low and serious.
Bruce's pulse quickened. He knew he was running out of time. The anger and fear were bubbling up inside him, the Hulk clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He clenched his fists, trying to maintain control, but it was a losing battle.
One of the soldiers stopped in front of the desk. With one swift motion, he flipped the desk over, sending papers and pens flying. Bruce was exposed, his eyes wide with panic. The rest of the soldiers came running, their weapons aimed directly at him.
"Don't move!" one of them shouted, his voice filled with authority.
The soldiers were armed with M4 carbines, their barrels trained on Bruce. The M4s, with their distinctive collapsible stocks and Picatinny rails, were equipped with various attachments, including red dot sights and tactical lights. The soldiers' faces were set in grim determination, their eyes locked on their target.
Bruce's heart pounded in his chest as he looked up at the soldiers. He could feel the Hulk stirring within him, the anger and fear threatening to bubble over. He knew he had to stay calm, but the sense of danger and desperation was overwhelming.
"Hands where we can see them!" another soldier barked, his finger hovering over the trigger.
Bruce slowly raised his hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension in the room, the soldiers' eyes watching his every move. The flickering light cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the sense of unease.
The squad leader grabbed the walkie-talkie on his lapel and pressed a button. "Sir, we located the target," he said, his voice steady and professional as he waited for a response.
There was a brief crackle of static before General Ross's voice came through, cold and commanding. "Good work. Now bring the son of a bitch down here. Now."
The squad leader nodded, his eyes never leaving Bruce. "You heard the General. Let's move," he ordered, his voice firm and authoritative.
The soldiers moved closer, their weapons still trained on Bruce. He could hear their footsteps crunching on the debris-strewn floor, the sound echoing in the confined space. The sense of danger and desperation was overwhelming, but he forced himself to stay still, hoping they wouldn't provoke the Hulk.
Bruce's heart was beating faster than ever as he looked at the squad leader and pleaded, "Look, you don't understand. Something very bad is about to happen here. Please, for your own damn safety, just let me go." His voice was desperate, almost breaking, as he tried to convey the urgency of the situation.
The squad leader just looked at Bruce, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he pushed Bruce forward out the door, the rest of the squad following closely behind. Bruce stumbled slightly, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way out. The soldiers' grip on him was firm, their weapons still trained on him as they led him down the steps.
As they descended, Bruce could see General Ross waiting at the bottom, a victorious smirk on his face. Ross stood tall, his dark green military uniform adorned with various medals and insignias. His grayish-black hair was neatly combed, and his thick mustache twitched slightly as he watched Bruce being brought down.
"Well, well, Dr. Banner," Ross said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "It looks like the chase is finally over."
Bruce's heart pounded in his chest, the sense of danger and desperation overwhelming. He could feel the Hulk clawing at the edges of his consciousness, the anger and fear threatening to take over. He knew he had to stay calm, but it was a losing battle.
Ross walked up to Bruce and delivered a hard slap across his face. The impact was jarring, and Bruce's head snapped to the side. Ross nodded at his soldiers, and they immediately moved to take Bruce's backpack off of him.
"I've been chasing your ass for two years," Ross said, his voice cold and uncaring. "I'll give you credit—you made it a challenge. But this little game of cat and mouse is over, Bruce." He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm putting you in a fucking cage, and I'm gonna see what makes you tick."
Ross turned around and made his way out the door of the plant, his footsteps echoing ominously in the vast, empty space. Two soldiers grabbed Bruce's shoulders and tried to push him forward towards the door, but he wasn't budging. His eyes were closed, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to keep the Hulk at bay.
"Move!" the soldier yelled again, this time knocking Bruce to the ground with a forceful shove.
Bruce fell to his knees, his heart beating faster and faster until it felt like it might burst from his chest. The room seemed to close in around him, the shadows growing darker and more oppressive. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sound echoing in the confined space. The soldiers stood over him, their weapons trained on him, their faces set in grim determination.
Suddenly, his heart stopped. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their fingers tightening on their triggers. Bruce's body trembled, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep the transformation at bay.
When Bruce opened his eyes, they were no longer his normal dark blue but an eerie, glowing light green. The soldiers stepped back in shock, their weapons still trained on him, but their confidence wavering.