2012-11-21 Great Minds

The room in which Bruce wakes is not his quarters at STAR Labs. It's not anywhere he remembers staying over the years. It's not even as accommodating as a safe room in a mental institution. The white walls, floor, and ceiling are seamless. There's light, but it's ambient, from nowhere and everywhere at once. There's not even a door that Bruce can see, no vents, nothing. The air is cold and smells sterile. It's entirely silent in here, so much so that Bruce's breathing sounds loud.
The headache always comes first when Bruce regains consciousness after a transformation. Throbbing. Pulsing. Pounding. It intensifies when he opens his eyes, and even more when he sits up gingerly. While he's normally nude after changing back, someone has seen fit to dress him in white pants and a t-shirt, cotton, ill-fitting, and thoroughly disposable. No socks or shoes. The slab he's laid out on is cold. Everything is cold. Especially the floor, enough that it elicits a wince as he makes an unsteady attempt to stand. "Huh," he muses aloud. "This isn't going to turn out well."
"A man of science should never leap to conclusions." The voice that fills the air around Bruce is male and slightly accented. Japanese. "To do so is to obscure potentials. I am disappointed."
The room around Bruce melts into a more pleasant scene, a tea house with doors open to a well-tended garden. There are cushions for kneeling set on either side of a low table in the center of the room. A soft wind makes chimes ring in the distance.
Whoever is in charge, they have access to some fairly good imaging technology. 
"Perhaps the change of scene will improve your perspective." One of the screens at the far end of the room slides back to admit a tall man in a good suit, unusual in that his black hair is very long and he wears dark glasses that obscure his eyes. "I would like for you to be in as communicative a mood as possible. Perhaps even willing to engage in some scientific discussion for my edification." 
A long, heavily weighted moment passes as Bruce considers the new arrival. One eyebrow arches high, an expression that's simultaneously skeptical and appreciative. "Nice tech." 
 
He paces in a slow circle around the tea table, his attention focused entirely on it. Then he considers his surroundings for a few seconds. Finally, he returns his attention to the well-dressed man. "What if I decide that I'm not feeling communicative?"
 
"I have time." The man stops just inside the door and stands there with his hands clasped behind his back. He's a big man, very tall and broad, and something about his stance gives him an air of implacability, as though he could really stand there indefinitely. "You can hardly be less communicative this way than you are in your other state. So I am already satisfied. Would you prefer a different setting? I considered a laboratory but I was reluctant to press the matter."
"If it's all simulated, one environment is as good as another." Now Bruce narrows his eyes and tilts his head a fraction to the side. It's a remarkably predatory expression for someone so slight of stature. 
 
It doesn't last long. Several seconds of eye contact pass, then he nods and relaxes. His arms cross over his chest while he studies his counterpart at length. As he does, a small smile tugs at the corners of Bruce's mouth. "Okay, I'll bite. Who are you and what do you want?"
 
"My acquaintances refer to me as Gorgon." The man bows slightly in greeting. "A nod to the mythological creature due to the unfortunate nature of my mutation. If I could, I would have selected something more useful and less disruptive." He gives Bruce a small smile. "I'm certain that you feel the same. I think that we have similar goals, Dr. Banner. A deeper understanding of your gamma-induced mutation. Greater control of the creature you can become. A better future for yourself and the world at large."
"Uh huh." That eyebrow's twitching, bringing back a skeptical edge to Bruce's expression. His clipped, precise speech isn't particularly welcoming, either. "Not the first time I've heard that particular pitch, Mr. Gorgon. I suppose you want to do this for purely philanthropic reasons, too. Deeper understanding. A better future. That all sounds lovely in a very ambiguous sort of way. Doesn't answer my questions, though. Who. Are. You? And what do you want?"
 
"I'm one of the few people in this world who's at least as intelligent as yourself, Dr. Banner, that's who I am. Does that help? I'm interested in how you became what you are--aren't you? Philanthropy is a facade. Altruism doesn't truly exist. I do wish to help you, that much is true. So is my desire for a better world." Gorgon crosses the room to look out the open doors. The breeze that smells of cherry blossoms stirs his hair. 
"I'm also your captor, of course, but you already know that it's in your best interests to be safely apart from the world until you can control the beast within you. Perhaps in time, you'll consider this protection and not imprisonment. I hope that we can work together. I've had some time to get to know your alter-ego. Now I'd like to get to know you and your work."
Bruce sets his feet, wiggling his toes seeking firmer purchase. His shoulders square and he sets his jaw, not defiantly or angrily, but with a sort of determined resignation. "I don't like being a captive, Mr. Gorgon. You haven't told me anything, you have me locked up, and I want to get the hell out of here. Wherever 'here' is." 
 
Briefly, the young doctor's lips press into a thin, thoughtful line. "What if I decide to let you talk to the other guy? He's even less communicative than I am."
 
"I've had a number of 'conversations' with the 'Hulk' already. Interesting that you don't remember." Gorgon smiles briefly. "We're mobile, Dr. Banner. To give you a location now would be meaningless since it would be gone in a heartbeat. I understand that you don't enjoy feeling as though you're captive, but I'm offering you genuine freedom. Understanding of your self. Self-control." 
Gorgon raises a hand. "Please don't think I'm in a rush to win you over. This resistance is natural and, in fact, healthy. I would be suspicious of an intelligent man who acquiesced too quickly. You're being honest with me, and I appreciate that. I have been honest with you, far more forthcoming than some would be. I would like for us to be colleagues in time, as our intellect suggests we should be. We could accomplish great things."
"Right now I'm trying to figure out what makes you any different from the US Army. The CIA. The Serbians, the Algerians, the South African mercenary groups, and all the rest of the people who've made the same offer." Bruce doesn't look particularly surprised or swayed, but he is starting to get a little irritated. His tone is still light and airy, but he's back to snipping off his words. "When are you people going to get it? I don't want to be a weapon. I don't want to help you make weapons. What else could you possibly want from me?"
 
"Your cooperation. Nothing more." Gorgon doesn't look concerned or irritated in the least. "To win that prize, I will help you unravel the problem of what you have become. A man who needs help as desperately as you do, Dr. Banner, one who feels compelled to imprison himself for the safety of others, can see nothing else. And why should you? If we are to work together, why should we not first solve your problems? Then, together, we can turn our attention to the rest."
Banner lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. "I doubt it's as simple as that, Mr. Gorgon. It never is. I'll think about it while I'm enjoying your very fancy prison, though. If you decide you want to tell what what this is really about, you know where to find me." 
 
That said, Bruce turns back to the small table and drops down into a comfortable, cross-legged position on one of the cushions. "Would you care for some tea before you go?"
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