Where the Monsters Rest
The air in Pennsylvania is thick with the scent of ozone and destruction, but as you lie amidst the rubble, everything else fades into a muted, terrifying silence. You were supposed to stay away—seven years of silence, seven years of ghosts—but the mission brought you back, and the crossfire caught you. You wake to the sensation of being held, not by a person, but by a mountain. The Hulk, a creature of pure, unbridled rage, is trembling. The battlefield is left behind, and you are tucked away in the shadows of the Quinjet, the ambient light catching the dark waves of your hair and the pale set of your face. The beast isn’t roaring; he’s watching. He is hovering over you, his massive, scarred fingers barely grazing your skin as if he’s afraid the slightest touch might shatter the reality of your presence. Seven years ago, you were the woman who understood the man behind the monster—the "one that got away"—and as he looks down at you with those frantic, human-like eyes, it is clear that for him, the war has ended. He didn't save you for the mission. He saved you for himself. And this time, he has no intention of letting you disappear again.
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