Hulk by Peter David (e reader manga TXT) 📕

Ross had never developed any technique for saying, “Good-bye.” To him, when a conversation was over, there was no reason to prolong it with pointless niceties.

“Why can’t I have a nice, normal father?” she wondered aloud.

In the darkened home of Bruce Banner’s father, the three dogs circled, silent and nervous. Containers of various sizes, marked with assorted warning stickers—all of them stolen from the lab of Dr. Bruce Krenzler—littered the room. David Banner picked up a cage from under a table. There was high-pitched squeaking as the large gray rat within the cage objected to being handled.

Banner placed the cage inside another clear container in the middle of the room, and dropped one of the nanomed canisters inside. It hadn’t been easy obtaining it; it hadn’t been easy getting any of the things he’d stolen. It had taken patience and cunning, but it had been worth it, particularly if it was going to provide him with what he needed.

Stepping away from the cage and the container, Banner went into the hallway, stood around the corner, and flipped a light switch. The room was immediately alive with the hum of radiation from the makeshift and far-smaller-scale gamma cannon that he had created. In terms of potency and sophistication, it was more a gamma water pistol.

Furthermore, there was every chance that Banner himself would receive a dose from free-floating rads, since he didn’t have the tools available to him to create the sort of Plexiglas safe area that such devices usually required. But Banner couldn’t have cared less about some incidental cellular damage. He had issues of far greater import to concern himself with.

The rat’s cage began to spark and, at that moment, the nanomed canister broke open. He could hear it shatter, could hear the rat squealing in alarm, and, possibly, pain. He glanced over at the mirror set up at the far end of the room and saw, reflected in it, a cloud enveloping the rat, and a few more sparks from the metal of the cage. He hadn’t realized there’d be that much discharge. It was a foolish oversight; he could conceivably burn the house down. Not that the house itself was any great shakes, but his research materials were irreplaceable. It was something he was going to have to be more attentive to in future endeavors.

He checked his watch, satisfied himself that the requisite amount of time had passed, and shut down the juice. Gingerly he turned the corner back into the room and looked at the cage.

It was quite a sight to see. There was the rat, covered with open sores and burns and slime, all of which were to be expected from the dose of gamma radiation it had received. But it was also three times as big as it had been before. Whereas there had been plenty of room within the cage, now the infuriated creature was cramped within, tearing at it and shaking it violently.

David Banner grinned. And then he started to laugh, louder and louder, and the fearsome dogs actually cringed away from him.

Then the laughter stopped and he stared with malevolent joy at the canines.

“Hello, boys,” he said, and if the dogs had had any brains at all, they would have run as fast as their legs could take them, or perhaps turned upon their master and torn him to shreds. Instead they nuzzled up against him as he stroked their heads absently while staring at the creature in the cage and smiling broadly.

mutagenic traces . . .

but of what?

Betty Ross and Dr. Chandler walked slowly down the hallway of the infirmary. Chandler was shaking her head, and her puzzlement was quite evident.

“He seems fine now,” she said. “I’m afraid, since I can’t quite find anything else the matter, that I’m going to have to let him discharge himself.”

Betty wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Naturally, that should have been good news. Bruce was going to be okay. Somehow, whether it was nanomeds or luck or a miracle from above, Bruce had dodged a radioactive bullet. The problem was it was too good to be true. And it was part of Betty’s nature to be skeptical of that which seemed too good to be true.

“Well, I have a blood test or two I’d like to run on him, even if he’s being released,” Betty said.

Chandler looked skeptical. “Dr. Krenzler seemed rather adamant about leaving the infirmary as soon as possible, and we really don’t have any standing or reason to keep him against his will or subject him to more tests. I can’t say he’ll want to cooperate.”

“Oh, I think I can say that,” said Betty, and she smiled. “I’m very persuasive.”

Bruce winced slightly as Betty withdrew the hypodermic she’d used to take blood from him. The tube had filled up quickly. “Here,” she said gesturing at his arm. “Press down.” She put a Band-Aid on him, stepped back, and looked him over. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Sure,” said Bruce, trying to look nonchalant about the pain in his arm. “How are you?”

It seemed to Bruce that she was hesitant about something. He had intended it as merely a casual question, but it was obvious to look at her that a less-than-casual response was on her mind. “I got a message from my father. He’s coming to see me,” she said finally.

Oh, good! Let’s get him together with my alleged father! I’m sure they’ll get along just great! Maybe they’ll get a house by the sea together and swap stories about how to rear happy, healthy, well-adjusted children!

He kept his face neutral, albeit with effort. “Your father? When?”

“He lands in an hour. Funny thing was”—she frowned, obviously puzzled—“he called me.”

Bruce wasn’t entirely sure why, but he considered that to be somewhat alarming. It might well have been that he was a bit on edge when it came to the advent of fathers and father figures, particularly after last night’s encounter—an experience he still thought