Do Not Annoy Mister Green

April 10, 2014: Bad things happen when someone puts a hit out on the Hulk.


Somewhere upon the island…



  • None

Mood Music:

"Okay, I get it, I get it.. get through to the contact, break the lines…"

Walking rapidly down a busy New York City thoroughfare, there aren't many stares leveled at a man in black leather with a quiver of arrows on his back and no bow to be seen anywhere. 'It takes all types', as they say in the City, and at least this guy -looks- normal. (That's not to mention the SHIELD emblem upon his jacket. Those who 'know' in the uniformed force don't bother. ''Look away…''

Bright, keen blue eyes look around, high upon the skyscape, searching for something, anything that'll give him an idea. Hawkeye is looking for placement as 'contact', according to the voice in the ear, is only a scant three blocks from where he is right now, and closing fast. Down Eighth, Seventh.. and all those tourists pouring out of Port Authority. Clint speeds up his pace, just to get out of the immediate area. (What he wouldn't give for his bike at the moment.)


"You're kidding, right? That's a helluva lot of zeroes for a science geek."

What better way to start the day than with an absolute cakewalk of a contract? The guy in the picture looks like the sort who'd end up doing battle with a breakfast pastry and lose. Frankly, Domino's surprised that no one else got to the job first! Lucky her.

She doesn't bother with the big guns today. the guy's wanted dead, not turned inside out or blasted into itty bitty pieces across the sidewalk. A 5.56 would more than meet her requirements. In broad daylight she's gone for a much more compact weapon, not bothering with rooftops or any of that jazz. Just enough distance to separate the two groups of witnesses, from target back to shooter. Quick and simple.

What's one more black leathered soul out on the streets? It's a bit early for the Goths to be out en masse, though this pasty white woman shrouded in a heavy trench doesn't seem to care. All she needs to do is positively ID her mark, keeping her pale eyes hidden behind a slim pair of dark purple shades. It does takes all types, including people that look like they're trying out for Terminator flicks.


Bruce Banner sits on a bench near a bus stop, seemingly just another guy waiting for a ride. The iPad in his lap could easily seem to be something harmless, just a guy who's reading a web page. Only a close inspection would show the custom interface and OS, the elaborate code, as he's hacking into the database of a nearby corporation, leeching off of the company's own wifi as he prepares to sabotage their database. The lab in question provides radiation shielding and processing for several military grade labs in Russia currently working on 'gamma enhancement experiments.

Not anymore.

He has his head down, though, focused on his task, not really noticing the guy with the arrows or any woman in black leather…


..or the sound of the car horn playing La Cucaracha as it pulls up near Bruce.

Tony gets out of the car, which looks like a P1 McLaren (about 2.5 million dollars of car) and heads over towards Bruce. "I can't take you anywhere, man." he says, grinning, and plopping down on the bench. He has a brown bag with him and he reaches in, munching some sort of street fruit. "Apricot?" he offers, "They're real good this time of year." before he grins, "Watcha doin'? Are you trying to reboot WarGames? Because really, these days there's more likelihood that they'll make an Aquaman movie first."


Remarkably, the incredibly intelligent scientist sitting near a bus stop isn't the 'contact' that Hawkeye is supposed to meet. He's really not so noticable; he blends in quite well, the good Doctor that happens to be on the lamb. What is more than noticable, however is the P1 that pulls up alongside the curb, the dulcet tones of 'La Cucaracha' playing just before Mr. Tony Stark emerges from the vehicle. Follow -that- man, and there…



Mission abort? Hawkeye shifts his focus, and there's a brief utterance that is made into the mic. "Looks like I'm going to be late for that meeting." That, however, is followed by a wince that looks more like a scowl in response to something, undoubtedly, coming through his receiver. A hand rises to turn it off in a single, fluid motion, and he turns from his direction in a not too terribly subtle way, and begins the approach from where he'd just passed. As he walks, Clint digs into his pockets to pull out a pair of light leather gloves, his left hand first, then his right.


(The bus stops here…)

It couldn't be any easier. The guy's never going to see it coming so long as he's got his attention buried in his device. Domino's still not about to be absolutely careless about the situation. There's exposed, and there's -blatantly obviously exposed.-

Case in point. A McLaren playing La Cucaracha. It takes allllll types… She'd facepalm right here and now if she didn't have a job to do. (Still a nice car — Shit, is that -Stark?- Oh, this'll be interesting. Wonder if he's invented a stain-proof shirt yet. Explains the price on the geek's head, at least.)

Once again, Dom's balancing her odds of getting the right shot with the least amount of attention. The winner is a stairway leading to a subway platform beneath the streets, just across the intersection by the bus stop. She's made more difficult shots in her sleep. In between commuter rushes she's got just enough cover to pull a short barreled assault rifle out from beneath the trench, already fitted with a suppressor. The act of shouldering it, aiming it, and firing it are practically one and the same.


Straight for Banner, where forehead and right temple divide. The shot's not likely to be heard, but with the mind of someone like Tony right there (and the eyes of Archer boy, -shit-,) it's pretty likely that they could figure out where the shot came from. Particularly if it lands.


Bruce Banner gives a tired sigh as he looks up at Tony, quickly swiping away his illicit activity. No need to let one of the few other people on Earth who could comprehend his coding see what he's up to. He's not sure how Tony feels about saboteur hacking, but he'd rather not test it. They are, after all, still only rekindling their friendship, "If I were going to emulate a Matthew Broderick movie, I would want too do Ferris Bueller. Mia Sara I think initiated me into puberty. Unfortunateley, the Broderick ouevre I most relate to is Godz-"

And then Bruce's head snaps back, blood flying as his skull shatters, the bullet blastinig into his brain. He falls backwards, slumping into the bench, but his body's already started to change, beginning to shake and spasm as if he's having a seizure…


Tony blinks. Blood, Brain, and bone cover his shirt like a Jackson Pollock canvas. Actually, it kinda resembles one of the Pollocks he /has/. But that's not his thought right now. The thought right now, "Fuuuuuuuuu—"

His mind alredy started working before he could comprehend what's going on. His eyes shift, his head doesn't move. Not even needing to get his phone out, a look of righteous anger sets Tony's face in stone. He looks directly into Dominos position - if he can look into her eyes, if she can see him - the eyes narrow. Every bit of his body language says that the shooter just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Being Iron Man? That's not a secret? But this? THIS is a secret, and just as he didn't care about revealing his identity, in the wake of recent events, he doesn't care about revealing this.

He begins to run, and as he does so, his skin takes on a golden metallic complexion.

The armor seeps up from under the street clothes he wears, it looks like mercury at first, but the minute it begins to pool it forms and hardens and takes on the segments of armor that make up the suit. From the palms of his hands, the repulsors rise to their designated place as if always there. The last thing that forms is around Tony's head, first looking like he's sweating gold and red, and then the helmet is just..there. The optics take on their blue glow.

Although the armor looks like the classic style, it also looks much sleeker, much more dangerous, and appears to literally fit Tony like a second skin.

Tony isn't just Iron Man, anymore. Tony /becomes/ Iron Man.


Remember when Hawkeye was just casually putting on his shooting glove? Casually? All that is thrown out the window the moment the shot lands. A cry of 'Fucking Christ' is swallowed, but not before at least the first part of it is dropped. Cool needs to be the word, but it isn't often that one is present when the brainpan of a man simply sitting there flies off unexpectedly. (Okay, he's done it more than once in his career, but it's a little different when one is the 'trigger guy'.)

"Stark, that way.." and at the same time, Hawkeye pulls out a small cylinder, pushes a button, and there in his hand, forms a full recurve bow. Lights flash as it makes contact with his quiver, and an arrow slides around such that it's easily grabbable. And take it he does. In a seemingly fluid, single motion, he draws the arrow, nocks it onto the bow, and swings around, aiming before he draws the bow.

No full contact.. but doesn't matter. All in the matter of a second, Hawkeye draws the bow and looses the arrow, arcing it a little higher. When it does land, it splatters UV paint in a five-foot radius. Nothing that can be seen, unless under a UV-B lamp.

It's only after that shot that Clint turns back around, "Shooter should be marked. UV-B." Should be. Nothing is ever certain. "How—" Probably should call SHIELD right about now…

"Oooooor.. not." Clint was just left with a seizing Banner, and immediately starts to call it in… waving off those who might be dialing 911 on their phones at this very moment. This is… so not good.


(Five mil to corner frontal lobe. Sucker bet.)

Modern suppressors are wonderful things. Domino can hear the single piece of brass clinging against the sidewalk then rolling over the curb even as someone continues to talk away into a cellphone not twenty feet away from her, any peculiar noises easily lost to the city that never sleeps. Her mark drops, just as expected. His body starts convulsing, just as expected. He starts transforming—

"..That wasn't expected."

From behind the carbine's sight, pale blue eyes start to widen. "This is not supposed to happen. This is really not supposed to happen. Shoot him again, Dom."


(This..could be a problem. No, I've got this, I've got this. That's the fucking Iron Man and Mister Pirimitive, Dom. You don't have this.) She's taken cover, but some cover had to be sacrificed in order to have her shot. She can be seen through the metal railing marking off the edges of the subway entrance. In turn, she gets to witness -all three- transformations. And they get to witness her surprise, and perhaps a bit of confusion. And tag her with a speckling of splashed UV-B paint. (Gah — the hell?!)

What's a girl to do?

Switch to full auto, dump the remaining 27 rounds, then -run for fucking cover.- (Hope my subway pass is still good…)


Both Hawkeye and Tony know that Bruce is the Hulk. They're aware of it as a fact, like something they read in a book or were told by a teacher. They think they understand what that means. But you can't really comprehend until you experience.

Bruce's body snaps forward, bending over himself, as if he's trying to grab his ankles, but his head archs back, the wound in his skull healing as his eyes bulge. The pain is excruciating, beyond belief and, because the damage was done to his brain, the Hulk that will emerge will be beyond reason, beyond thought, a creature of raw instinct, rage, a nuclear bomb of flesh and muscle and gamma-irradiated destruction.

Bruce Banner explodes, his skin torn away from him, shredding like a wrestler's t-shirt as the Hulk rises, fully formed and enraged, nearly ten feet tall and throwing his head back in a savage roar, the awakened behemoth screaming…and then growling…searching for the esource of its pain…


Secret Number Two: JARVIS isn't riding shotgun in the armor anymore.

Tracking the UV paint with the hud that's essentially operating out of his own eyes now, providing a greater amount of information at a greater depth, Tony is already half in flight before the armor forms around him. When Domino opens up full auto, Tony throws his arms out in vitruvian man pose and just lets them come. They bounce harmlessly off him, and he literally goes through barriers as he makes his way towards Domino. He won't be stopped and won't be denied. If she has anyone hope in hell of eluding him, it'd be to hop whatever train is in station and has an open door.


The burst of gunfire that erupts once again sends Hawkeye down and rolling, looking for that bit of cover, even if it is that McLaren. An arrow knocked, there's no real target that he could grab without hitting anyone else, so what's he to do?

Find height. Have to go UP.

Which is all well and good if there wasn't that one other problem that is also erupting.

It's true. Intellectual knowledge of Dr. Banner's transformations is one thing. Even watching it on video is one thing. But to be there, in person, to watch as form and figure change, as bone and sinew snap only to reattach and become something bigger and different? That's enough to make a heart stop… if he could afford it. As it is, those around him ARE running and screaming. The time for selfies and cell-phone videos is not at this very moment.

Time and training. That is what saves Agent Barton from potentially being the 'first victim', operative term ''victim'' in this case. But, he also knows what he's got to do, too. And with his 'wing man' gone after a shooter? "Stark.. I think we've got bigger problems here—"

Back on his feet, Clint is moving now, his eyes glued to the huge, green creature that used to be a man. He has to tap his communicator, calling in, and before he has to endure a lecture, he calls in, "ES 13, we have a -problem- on streetlevel." Emergency Services, Public Safety and Security department. Should get someone's attention. "Dr. Banner is not happy." Just in case he -didn't- get their attention.

"Now big guy.."


The return of the SHIELD Archer? The appearance of a bullet-resistant Iron Man? Suddenly both of those details are so very far outside of Domino's radar that they may as well not exist. What does exist, now taking front and that scream. That ground shaking, ear-splitting -scream.-

This is so completely -not- supposed to be happening. Why no one else had gotten to the contract first, did they somehow know what they would be dealing with..? This isn't some geeky scientist. This is the goddamn -Hulk.-

She may be leaping out of sight, but the two armed and armored men charging after her make it pretty obvious where the shooter's run to.

The automatic gets a quick magazine swap while the albino sprints down the stairs to the tune of a muttered "Oh shit oh shit oh shit…" The element of stealth is hopelessly out the window, everyone within this borough is probably acutely aware that things aren't right in this part of town. Some bystanders move to flatten themselves against the grimy tiled walls as she comes sprinting past. The smarter ones turn and start running, themselves. If they had any idea what was now tailing the markswoman, running is exactly what they would be doing.

As for reaching a train? That's going to require a lot more running. With her luck she might time it right when the doors would close, but it's not a quick matter to go from the stairs to an active platform. It takes legwork. She's quick, faster than normal humans get, but the odds of her outrunning all three of them are getting worse by the second.

First up: Iron Man. What does she have on her person that can take on his armor? Um. That'd be a whole lot of -nothing.- Except…

"Look out!" the albino yells to the bystanders as a primed concussion grenade slips free of her fingertips with the -Ping!- of an armed primer. Bring the roof down, block the tunnel, THEN she might have a chance of getting clear!

She's so subtle.


Hulk's primitive brain isn't good for much at the moment, only Iron Man's pursuit of Domino cluing him in as to the responsible party for his attempted murder. Hulk's experience with flying men has been unpleasant, mostly with them punching him with fists or hitting him with hammers. Puny hammers. Speaking of puny…

Hulk's green eyes narrow as Hawkeye stands his ground, an heroic gestu but not, perhaps, the wisest one. Just as he's about to drive a fist into the ground and shatter the street under Clint's feet, however, gunfire erupts from Domino's weapon, the ping of bullets off armor irritating Hulk as well as reminding him. Gun. Shot.

Dismissing Hawkeye as irrelevant, Hulk tenses and springs, hurling his massive, half-ton body into the air and towards the entrance to the subway like a careening emerald cannonball, bare feet braced for landing, the impact sure to shatter the downward staircase into so much rubble.


Tony is well in pursuit of Domino. Scanning her facial features and dimensions for later use, he tries to keep pursuit without harming civilians. His left eye holds the image of her face in the lower left corner of his field of vision. Accessing the SHIELD defense net remotely, information on Domino pours in. The only word that draws his attention right now is the word "mercenary".

Which means, someone hired her.

Then she releases charges that are designed to take down the roof. He falls on them like grenades. His armor already reconfiguring to the densitiy required to be able to withstand the explosion. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though.

He gets up, and he can't really pursue in an environment like this. So having her alias, face, and dossier, he flies up and out of the subway tunnel to go help poor Legolas deal with the Cave Troll.


Not the smartest thing, no… but when there are others that are pretty much like screaming gnats around, Clint's first thought is actually to protect life and limb. Granted, his are pretty 'high up there' too, so he's not quite so stupid as to actually allow himself to be caught. (He prides himself on being a little more spry than that!)

And there… that must be the closest thing to staring death in the fact that Hawkeye has come, and in that heartbeat, he can see his entire life passing before his eyes. There. Gone. The Hulk turns to go after the shooter, and Clint isn't too far behind him. Pedestrians are running away, running around him, giving the behemoth wide berth, while cars are piling up in traffic, horns blaring.

The Hulk is on the move, which means he's on the move. What's he got to stop it… and he's thinking hard. Wire isn't going to hold it. Concussive isn't going to knock the creature out. Not any of his stock anyway. Running atop cars, hopping from one to the next, now is when Hawkeye lets an arrow loose, and it hooks upon a jutting balcony, giving him a way UP. Perfect for him, and the wire is strung. Time to get some air and see things from a better vantage.

"Okay.. I think I got th— dammit!" The subway entrance? Damned RATS! "Keep him up top!"


There go the stairs. And the explosives. Domino's record may be rather spotty, though her exit route's proving to still be sound when faced with crazy odds. The woman's got a mugshot like no one else. She's been fortunate enough to not get linked back to a great number of things, though there's still more than enough information on her to keep a person busy for a good long time.

Murder, Attempted Murder, Assault & Battery, Armed Assault & Battery, Armed Robbery, Domestic Terrorism, Kidnapping, Arson, Arson of United States Government Property and Property Used In Interstate Commerce, Possession of Illegal Ordnance…

And that's just the domestic stuff! She operates globally, the lists every bit as colorful wherever a person happens to look. All it takes is the right security clearance, or being personal buddies with SHIELD operations.

Right as the subway doors roll closed she slips into the crowd, catching her breath with the carbine once more hidden beneath her trench. When another passenger glances back to give her a puzzled look she grins back from behind her shades, "Almost late for the game."

Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License