Hulk by Peter David (e reader manga TXT) 📕

and surveyed his surroundings. He was standing at a steep intersection, with steps leading down to it from the hill above.

At least fifty people on the sidewalks or crossing the street froze when they saw the monster emerge from the sewers. It was like a moment on the African veld, when a herd of antelope are momentarily paralyzed upon seeing a lion rise up, fierce and terrible, from the high grass. For long seconds, nobody moved. Both parties—the people of San Francisco and the Hulk—looked equally surprised to see each other.

And then the Hulk let out a roar that shook windows and rattled doors within a three-block radius. The bellow snapped the spell, and as one the people tore away from him in all directions. This proved to be a major inconvenience for the combined forces of the military and the SFPD, all of whom were struggling toward the scene like salmon swimming upstream. All the shouts of “One side!” and “This is a police matter!” went unheeded as people seemed far more interested in distancing themselves from the scene than obeying orders.

Several soldiers glanced at one another and, operating with a single thought, unleashed a short burst of automatic fire into the air. They weren’t worried about upsetting people; there was already panic in the streets. The unexpected burst of noise did, however, cause the sea of bodies to part, and the cops and soldiers were able to plow their way through.

Several SWAT trucks barreled forward, converging from all directions, and the drivers of those vehicles didn’t give a damn about anything that might be in the way. They entered the terror-filled area and barely slowed, leaving it to the pedestrians to move. This the pedestrians did, albeit with effort and much hurling of profanity

. . . kill them smash them smash them all . . .

while meanwhile the skies overhead came alive with a fleet of helicopters, bristling with armament. The F-22s were speeding toward the scene. They were intended as a last resort, to be used only if the ground forces were annihilated by the Angry Man. But when the hundreds of National Guardsmen and soldiers and policemen arrived on the scene, and the SWAT teams took up stations on buildings overlooking the Hulk’s position, all ready to unleash whatever firepower they were packing, the Hulk didn’t appear at all intimidated. The F-22s roared past overhead and he tilted back his head and howled his challenge. A Black Hawk helicopter arced past as well, looking for a place to set down.

When a terrorist attack brought down skyscrapers in the midst of the greatest city in the world, many commented that witnessing it was like watching a big-budget action movie come to life—minus the comfort of knowing it was all pretend. For everyone on the scene the day the Hulk came to San Francisco, it was like witnessing a monster movie come to life. And again the citizenry lacked the comfort of knowing that at the end, the lights would come up and everything would be normal. Staring into the face of such unparalleled rage, every person there knew beyond question that the very concept of “normality” had undergone a stunning and permanent change.

Nobody was nearer than two hundred feet, so that a gigantic circle radiated out with the Hulk at the center. He bellowed defiantly, shook his fists once again, as if daring someone to get within range. No one was suicidal enough to take him up on it.

He roared once more, and it resounded off the streets and the buildings. Then there was the sound of several hundred hammers being cocked and rounds being chambered, and one other sound which caught the Hulk’s attention.

A simple, steady klik-klak of a woman’s high-heeled shoes.

It was so completely out of place in the moment that the Hulk couldn’t help but notice it. He growled, but it sounded more like a question than any sort of threatening noise. Somewhere in the distance, the voice of Thunderbolt Ross was heard coming from a blaring radio, ordering, “All units, hold your fire,” but the Hulk paid it no mind.

His mind was filled with thoughts of destruction, but her scent penetrated the haze of anger, and the images and thoughts and sensations associated with her came into direct conflict with the drive to destroy.

. . . smash . . . want to . . . want . . .

. . . Betty . . . ?

One careful step at a time, making no sudden moves, Betty Ross approached him. She knew every person watching was convinced that the moment she drew within range, the creature would pound her into paste, and it seemed unlikely that all the firepower in the world would be able to act fast enough to prevent it. But if she was aware of the mortal danger she was putting herself in—and she most definitely had to be—she didn’t let it show at all. She kept her chin up, her gaze level.

And to the shock of everyone—with the possible exception of Betty herself—the Hulk dropped to his knees and let out a cry of pain and shame. He sounded like a mortified child caught at being naughty.

She came closer still, came within arm’s length, and the Hulk, a creature who could have broken her with one twist of a huge paw, winced, flinched back. But she came to him, touched him, caressed his face, and made gentle “shushing” noises, as if she were reassuring a terrified infant, telling it that everything was going to be all right.

. . . Betty . . . oh, God . . . Betty . . .

The Hulk’s body began to contract. Fluids emerged from every pore as the monster shrank before the eyes of the onlookers, and there were gasps, followed by a stunned silence, as the Hulk dissolved into the form of a slim and utterly harmless human being. Only the noise of the choppers and circling planes shattered