Bruce Banner

It was a quiet morning thankfully, Bruce had gotten up early to finish one of his odd jobs he had taken in Valentine (mucking out a stall) and gulped down some breakfast before having to go to his second job, which was sweeping up and bottle washing at Keane's Saloon. He'd been in Valentine a good two weeks now and was finally feeling like he could breathe normally.

"You're late," the owner said with a frown. "Yes, sir, sorry sir," Bruce apologized, quickly getting on an apron and grabbing a broom. The owner grumbled a bit but he couldn't fault Bruce. The man was a hard worker and earned his pay.

He paused in sweeping to right an overturned table. Must have been quite a poker game last night. There were one or two regulars in the place but all was quiet for now. It would start picking up as the day went on.

6am and he was already up. Betty had already beaten him out the door, a kiss on the cheek as she grabbed the last bagel. Guess it was going to be toast for him and the house guest. A friend of Betty's father had needed a place to crash last night. They had the spare room handy, how were they to say no? The guy seemed alright, a little quiet maybe. Bruce chalked it up to jeg lag and left him to himself.

The coffee bubbled and brewed, the eggs and bacon sizzled and the toast popped up golden brown. Bruce hummed to himself, a pencil in his mouth as he worked on a few math problems in a well dog-eared notebook.

The first thing he was aware of was the faint call of the seagulls. And one of them nipping at his hand.

An overwhelmingly familiar ache as if he'd been hit by a truck.

The prone figure groaned and shifted slowly on the sandy ridge near the water's edge. A half clad skinny man who's pants were frayed terribly at the cuffs, his shirt and shoes missing. Bruce shivered his way to a sitting position, his brain still fuzzy from what had happened before. None of it he remembered, but he knew what had happened.

Squinting in the afternoon sun, he tried to get his bearings. He was near the wharf but not so close to the city as to hear the noise from it. He was chilled to the bone from the damp and the seagulls were hovering nearby in case he turned into a snack. Fat chance of that, he thought dully as he struggled to a standing position. Thankfully for his feet, the rocks here were smooth by the tide and not painful to walk on, just awkward to keep one in a standing position. He moved slowly forward, not sure where he was or where he should go from here. Clothes and somewhere warm were a priority, to be sure.

There was a broken down warehouse nearest to him so he made for that, a hunched figure plodding along as if in a daze. It usually took awhile to recover from an incident. He made a startling picture of a drug addict if one were to glance at him going by. His ribs showing through his sides and his shivering in the cold. Yet there wasn't one mark, bruise, or cut on him.

It took both hands and some effort to get the door open, Bruce trudging inside and shutting the door on the colder air behind him. As he hugged his arms around himself, he noticed it was decidedly not abandoned in here. There was equipment in the middle of the large space, all of it circled around as if by the work of one individual.

Bruce got out of the car, looking around curiously at the place Shield had brought them to. Apparently there was a meeting to be held and it couldn't be done at Stark tower. "Nice place," he commented as he and Tony Stark walked towards the large setup in the woods. It was a large clearing, taken over by Shield for a base. Not unlike the one set up around Thor's hammer but with more buildings than tent like structures. Tony doesn't seem impressed at all, thinking this is all a waste of his time and energy to come to the middle of nowhere.

Bruce is taking it in his stride, wondering what Fury could be up to this time. There were more cars arriving, presumably the rest of the team. Bruce walked with the others towards the main building in the center, settling his nerves as they pass different agents standing guard.

He never was comfortable around weapons but he'd mellowed some since his first incident.

Bruce had commandeered one of the mostly empty garage sections to work in. He'd felt awful about smashing Bucky's bike to pieces while as the Hulk and was currently sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by the broken and twisted pieces. He was a scientist, he could fix this....right? But the more he looked over a book on motorcycles and back at the dented pieces of metal that used to be a bike, the more hopeless this seemed. Bruce ran a hand over his face with a sigh, this was looking hopeless.

[follows this, thread is for americacapt]