Hulk by Peter David (e reader manga TXT) 📕

he’s right there, in my head . . . my soul. I just . . . hate . . . hate . . . smash . . . destroy him . . . crush . . . squeeze, blood oozing between fingers, crush, mash, destroy, smash everything, smash it all . . .

Betty regarded him uneasily. “Let me make a call,” she said. She left the room. He looked after her, a grim smile replacing his tears.

. . . SMASH IT ALLLLL . . .

Overlooking the immersion cell from the glassed-in lab, one of the technicians, whose name was Wein, called out in genuine excitement as he studied the flashing monitors. “We’re getting a lot of neural activity! Incredible. He’s generating enormous amounts of . . .”

And Glen Talbot pushed Wein aside and said, “Let me see!” He leaned in, studied the readouts in approval. “Bingo! That must be some jumbo nightmare he’s having.”

That was when they heard the roar from within the tank, muted but audible, the liquid resonating with the cries from within. The tank, impossibly, bucked in its moorings, and pulsed, and rippled, and at that instant Talbot realized his catastrophic mistake. A fundamental error, something that a third-grade science student would have known about. But he’d missed it, the technicians had missed it, everyone in the damned multibillion facility had missed it.

“Liquid displacement,” he whispered. When Banner’s body morphed and shifted and grew into the muscled and monstrous form known as the incredible Hulk, it took up space that had previously been occupied by the fluid within the tank. But the liquid was still there, and the violent growth of Banner’s body demanded an equally violent displacement of the fluid to somewhere else, like water blasting out of a pool when someone cannonballs into it. However, the tank was filled almost to capacity as it was; with the sudden arrival of the Hulk, there was nowhere for the liquid to go except out . . .

. . . which it did.

Seams buckled and broke and fluid blew out in all directions, and then there was another roar, and a huge green hand worked its way between the seams. Rivets popped, metal twisted and broke, and suddenly the tank cracked open like a piñata. The metal shrieked, the sound blending with the screams of the onlookers, and bent backward, and as the liquid cascaded every which way, the Hulk rose in the middle, wet and dripping and bellowing a roar that could have been made by an angry T rex sinking into a tar pit. The only difference was that the Hulk’s life wasn’t in danger.

That couldn’t, however, be said of the lives of anyone who was watching.

. . . wet . . . dripping . . . where . . . where . . . no matter where . . . smash . . . kill . . .

Wein, who was standing next to Talbot, didn’t panic, because he was far too much of a professional for that. It was, however, requiring every ounce of self-control he possessed not to. And if he’d had the slightest inkling of what he was facing, he likely would have soiled himself.

As it was, his voice was rock steady as he asked, “Should I incinerate?”

Talbot had recovered himself after his initial reaction and said with such disdain that one would have thought the incineration query to be the single dumbest question ever voiced, “No! I can’t do anything with ashes.” He hit the intercom. “All right, put him to sleep.”

The Hulk roared and pounded against the walls of the immersion cell as gas flowed from the walls, enveloping him.

The mind of Bruce Banner was buried deep, as deep as the memories of his childhood had been. The rampaging, bestial mind of the Hulk was in full control, but even so there was just enough of Banner’s awareness to allow an actual coherent thought to play across the Hulk’s mind

. . . gas . . . hold breath . . .

and without understanding why, but not caring particularly, the Hulk took a quick and deep breath, filling up his lungs an instant before the gas rose to the level of his nostrils.

In the observation lab, Talbot leaned forward, waiting for the Hulk to slump over unconscious. But the Hulk didn’t respond as expected. Instead he flailed at it as if it were just a nasty irritant, and in his flailing, his arm crashed through the wall.

“Oh, my God,” Talbot whispered, thinking that—with one arm through the wall—it was only a matter of moments before the rest of the Hulk followed.

The Hulk burst into the adjacent hallway, and some of the personnel ran screaming while others, armed soldiers, yanked out their weapons and prepared to fire. Their intentions quickly became moot, however, for the gas poured out into the hallway. Although it didn’t do anything to the Hulk beyond making his eyes water, it did manage to knock everyone else unconscious. The Hulk glanced around in annoyance, then made his way down the hall, not having any destination in mind other than to be elsewhere.

Back in the lab, Talbot swallowed deeply as he saw the swirl of gas in the lab, the large hole, and the complete absence of the Hulk. Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Nonlethals only. I must get a sample of him. Hit him with the foam.”

General Ross sprinted down the hallway as he heard alarms going off everywhere. His aide, Lieber, was half his age, but was still unable to keep up with him as Ross pounded into Command and Control. C and C was a madhouse, with everyone shouting information to one another, their voices all tinged with disbelief.

“Sir!” shouted Lieber, pointing at one of the interior monitors. Ross looked up and saw, in the flickering black-and-white image, a roaring behemoth facing a group of specially trained Atheon security personnel. That wasn’t