Bruce Banner

The mission in the rain-slicked ruins of the city had been a disaster from the start, ending with a forced transformation that Bruce had been desperately trying to avoid. Now, the roar in his ears was finally fading, replaced by the rhythmic thrum of a cooling heart and the stinging sensation of cold mud against his bare skin. He lay in the center of a jagged crater—feeling adrenaline of the Hulk retreating to leave behind a hollow, aching exhaustion, along the terrifying memory of eyes watching him through the smoke. Although this was probably not entirely true. He pushed himself up on trembling arms, his vision swimming as he tried to blink away the grime. "You shouldn't be here, it's not safe for you to be this... close to me yet." His fingers dug into the wet earth, clawing at the dirt as if he could bury himself away from the concern he felt radiating from the man standing above him. "I saw what happened, and I remember how the Other Guy looked at you; please, just get back to the quinjet." He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his chest heaving with a sob he refused to let out while he waited for the sound of retreating footsteps that weren't coming.