I was mad as hell so I began to run...

[gammapulsed]

Bruce really, really, really wishes he wasn't doing this. Like, seriously. If he could be anywhere esle, doing anything else, it would be an improvement over this. Even being dragged along by Janet to Brooks Brothers and Armani Exchange and all sorts of other stores all over New York with Tony and Clint laughing uproariously in the background would

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[paterelohim]

"Hm?" Chuck turns around to look at him with some sympathy, idly taking a long drink from his flask. This guy (man, Chuck needs to get out more) generally seems about as nervous and nerdy as He himself, which... honestly, is pretty comforting. Someone else surviving this place without being a super-saiyan badass, awesome.

Except apparently he has a plan, which is more than Chuck's done all weekend (because getting nommed doesn't count). "Uh, okay. Shoot."

[gammapulsed]

There's a small twitch of distaste at the sight of that flask and the man holding it. Even aside from his own very deep-seated, very personal issues with alcohol in general, there's more than a niggling voice that wonders why anyone in their right mind would drink in a situation like this? It just seems ridiculously irresponsible and- But he compartmentalizes that irksome away for later.

"Well, like I was saying, it's. It'll pretty much require you all, uh. Hitting me a few times. Preferably as hard as you can."

[mrsarcastic003]

Tim's eyebrows go up in curiosity. Mr. Harrison--who looks a lot like a pair of eyes on a long stick--thinks he has an idea to take down these monsters? Tim has been pacing the wall on his crutches for a few hours every day trying to work out a plan of attack, but most of what he's come up with has involved Kon or Clark.

And they aren't here.

Still, it's possible that Stick-Man-Nerd-Thing might have come up with something. Appearances, after all, can be very deceiving. He doubts he looks especially threatening either.

"Yes, Mr. Harrison?"

[gammapulsed]

Bruce grimaces slightly at Chuck's pull action there before shaking his head and shoves down the knee-jerk reaction to smack the flask out of this guy's hand and. Focus on what he came here to do. Yes.

"Well. It's kind of a long story that would probably take too much time to explain just now, but. The short version is I have a solution that I'm about ninety-five percent sure will work." The other five percent involves the Hulk taking out the fort and everyone inside it along with or instead of the other monsters. But he's keeping that possibility to himself as it's not exactly conducive to either trust or confidence. "The only thing is, and. I know this is going to sound a little crazy, even before I say it, but, er. In order for it to work, you'd have to try and beat me up."

Aside from the time factor that's going on, and the fact that he just doesn't want to talk about this at all: how exactly do you say that an adrenaline reaction causes your body to mutate and change into an eight foot monster with anger management issues? Or

[mrsarcastic003]

Tim blinks. Hard. "You want me to what?" It's not that he can't put a serious beat-down on Mr. Harrison, but...

Pair of eyes. On a stick.

He doesn't like the idea of beating the crap out of someone that looks like he could be Ives all grown up. Provided Ives gets to grow up.

[gammapulsed]

Sighing, Bruce rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Like I said, I know it sounds crazy, but. Trust me on this. I can help, I think, it just requires me getting." There's a pause as he remembers, oh yeah, Tim is on those crutches. Still. Way to forget that, Banner. Immediately backtracking, he tries not to flail too much in apology. "I mean, it doesn't have to be you or anything, it's not a specific personal thing, anyone can do it, really. It's more of a general you than a you you. ...You know?"

[antinobility]

Wiegraf looks a bit tired as he turns to look at Bruce -- since he landed here (wherever here even is), he hasn't done much in the way of sleeping. (He doesn't look nearly as tired as he actually feels, all things considered, but between the war and the revolution, he's had his fair share of practice at running on empty. A man learns to hide things after a while.)

"We've nothing to lose from listening." And maybe a lot to gain, although he's a bit skeptical. The man doesn't look much like a warrior.

Then again, the Beoulve boy hadn't looked like anything worth worrying about, either. You can never really be sure.

"What have you a mind to do?"

[gammapulsed]

"Uh. Thank you, sir." Bruce nods in acknowledgment before clapping-slash-wringing his hands together. "Yeah, the minding thing, that is what I was planning is. Basically, you ah. Have to hit me. Most likely a few times until a certain stage is reached, then. I go over the side, and. That's about it."

It's hard to believe this is a good idea given how reluctant Bruce is being about it.

[notalighieri]

AT first, Dante doesn't botehr with the awkward voice calling fro attention. He recognizes the voice as belong to Mr. Pacifist-In-A-Tree and doubts whatever is the issue has to do with him. But who knew; Turns out he was wrong.

Help out, huh? The white-haired half-devil turns around, one eyebrow raised. After a moment's pause he strolls down with long strides and cocks his head to the side, regarding Bruce with amusement and curiosity. "Ooh~? What you have in mind, dude?"

[gammapulsed]

"Oh! Er. Hi again. Sort of." Another small awkward wave before Bruce shoves his hands back in his pockets. "Well, the, er. Plan sort of is that a bunch of you. ...Start hitting me. And after that, you go and just. You know. Throw me out there. And that's pretty much it."

A master strategist, he ain't.

[gammapulsed]

An hour or so later, the vast majority of the animals laying siege to the barracks.... Aren't. Those that didn't run back from whence they came are laying in piles around the clearing. Some are in one piece, others... Not quite so much. Standing above it all is more than half a ton of muscle and sinew and tendon. Hulk is breathing heavily, teeth still bared and a growl still vaguely rumbling in its chest. Its hand is bloody from the corpse of whatever-it-is that its holding and, until a few moments ago, was using to beat off the last of them.

The growl intensifies slightly as it turns back to look up at the barracks wall, at the tiny people standing up there and staring down at it. One giant step toward the structure as it drops the gooey remains at its feet, and it clenches its fist in preparation of more smashing.

...Wait. It stops, a look of confusion replacing the rage. Something. Like an echo of a feeling of don't. It shakes its head, raising the bloody hand to scratch at its hair. They're not hurting it anyway, so. Why bother

[tenoroftheskies]

Tempest steps from nowhere to stand over him. She's been watching - watching the siege, watching what happens inside the barracks through the eyes of the tiger she gifted to Peter. She's been waiting for an opportunity to speak to this man again - what was simple curiosity is now almost greed. She's fascinated.

At her side stalks a broad-backed clockwork animal that looks like a cross between a cougar and an armadillo. Tempest sits Bruce up, unfastening her stola and wrapping it around him like a kind of blanket. She picks him up with far more ease than someone so slight should be able to manage, and lays him across the clockwork creature's broad, flat back.

"You take poor care of yourself, Master Banner," Tempest murmurs.

[gammapulsed]

Bruce is far, far, far too out of it to notice his benefactress, much less to fight her off. The only acknowledgment he gives is a quiet groan as he curls up inside the makeshift blanket. His shivering subsides a bit, but given it's only half due to chill, every now and again his muscles twitch again. It's been a while since he stretched them like this, and like anyone who heads back to the gym for a three hour workout after avoiding such things for this long, he's going to really start feeling it whenever he wakes up from his post-Hulk fugue.

...Well. He'll be feeling it slightly more than usual, that is. These things are never exactly pleasant to deal with afterward.

[notalighieri]

On opposite side of the field to the Hulk, Dante had been fighting alongside the strange monster. He couldn't let the man fight alone after beating the crap out of him now could he. And he needed it; perhaps a bit more than he wanted to admit