Marvel owns, I do not (darn it!). Just playing in their sandbox, making no monetary profit. Fully intend to share comments, hugs and flames with anyone who wants to sue.

Hostile Takeover

Hulks roar is deafening. It is a cry of outrage, betrayal and pain.

"Widow is down!" Hawk comes over the comm., overseeing the battlefield somewhere from above as always. His voice sounds too professional and devoid of emotion. "I repeat, Widow is down, status unknown."

They fight in the middle of Manhattan, in the middle of what once was a street but is now a canyon of bleeding spires and dust. The public has fled, but the Avengers know there are bodies under the rubble and wounded no-one can reach in the overturned cars.

They fight tight and bitter and filled with rage.

They fight one of their own.

Hulk stands protectively over Widow, who has taken a blast to her left upper body that has knocked her out. The firefly zooms in again, a streak of glittering gold and red, his image fractured by the broken glass on the ground. When in flight, only Thor is really a match for the Iron Man, but Thor is not here. The speeding streak avoids Steve's shield and Clint's arrows with elegance and ease.

"Ironman- Stand Down!" Captain America orders, eyes narrowed, ramrod straight, knowing without hope his command will not be obeyed- but he had to try. His throw had been off, unconsciously not wanting to attack with deadly force. He has to get over himself and his next throw he knows, must be, -will- be true.

They fight one of their own.

"God fucking dammit!" Tony bursts over the comm. "JARVIS is NOT in control! I'M NOT IN CONTROL AND MY REPULSORS ARE NOW SET TO KILL!" Tony sounds desperate, afraid and angry. They know he he's doing whatever he can to regain his armour- they know he is failing.

And Hulk has been shot, the skin over his face and chest terribly burned, smoking at places and he hurts! Not the wounds- He's so angry he can't feel them anymore. It is the tight knot in his stomach- the block that tears his throat apart when he screams his rage. He does not understand.

He is fighting his own!

Hulk jumps up and almost plucks the Metal Man from the in-blue sky and mockingly the Ironclad Avenger turns on his back and zooms away, in complete disregard of the lives he took, the hurt he has done.

The Hulk roars and jumps, not caring wherever he will land and follows, kicking himself through the sky. Everything is harsh to his overloaded senses. Too much colour, too loud the sounds. Dust in his eyes and nose, the wind above the city cold on his strained muscles and his burns ache, the pain fuelling his rage.

A higher jump, bones rattling when falling down- There are people screaming like they are always screaming, running away, eyes wide with horror and rejection.

Jump again- a grab for an ankle, the palms of his hands burn from the repulsors at the soles of the suit's feet- Fury, blood boiling green. The burns on his hands burn into his very core, destroying all but the purity of rage. Banner is long gone, even The Hulk is gone. Nothing left but the absolute -need- to tear!

With the next jump- he has him.

The impact upon the Brooklyn Bridge shakes them both and hulk falls to one knee. A red car pelts into his back and he tumbles, while the vehicle spins over his head and comes down hard on its wheels, breaking it's axles, throwing the driver against the window in a tangle of wavy blonde hair and blood. The following car tries to avoid him, the driver swerves into the right hand lane and rams the car next to it into the side. Hulk stands now, holding Ironman up at one leg, the repulsor on the other foot blasts against his stomach and sends him flying after the speeding traffic behind him that is leaving the bridge empty. He does -not- let go. The sparks behind his eyes are not even green anymore and the pain is excruciating. No more thought. In front of him another car comes sailing and he simply stands and bats it away to the side where the car gets caught in the bridge's wires. A tremor runs through the tarmac, but Hulk does not notice it. He lifts the metal puppet and rams it down, rams it down, unheeding the terrible pile up, the screaming and the two explosions that follow in short order. Hulk lets go of the leg and roars and screams and beats a two fisted blow at the chestplate, denting it from front to back, punching his enemy through the road. The Metal Man raises his hands, perhaps to shoot the embedded repulsors- perhaps in surrender. Hulk cares not. He sees nothing, there -is- nothing! His fist cracks the light in the chest. It blinks and a memory intrudes on the rage.

(Falling falling falling catching screaming howling the life-giving light blinks on again.)

He grabs the neck- grabs the flailing legs- and pulls! Metals screeches and twists and tears with an awful, awful sound- hot fluids spill and splatter his face- and he crunches and stamps and smashes!

(Laughter and a little peace. Acceptance and kindness. A place to sleep.)

The helmet rolls away.

(The visor came up and there was a smiling face and a 'Good job, Jade jaws!' and a pat on his arm. A small man, tiny, even in his armour, with dark glittering, crinkling eyes looking up at him. Fearless.)

The helmet stops rolling. The Hulk stares at it. The visor does not come up. He throws away the gauntlet he's still holding. The rage is failing him, no longer blotting out the world and the pain and he roars and he roars and he screeches and falls to his knees, keening.

The light in the dented chestplate is broken. Black. His howls cannot make it stutter to life, not this time.

The little green men will come now- and the shouting men and the angry men. And they will bring fire and small pain followed by sleep and a cage for the Other, the One he should protect. For once though, the Hulk does not care. He won't run. He folds in on himself, closing his eyes to the wrecked tarmac, the torn armour the still in-blue sky. The fires and the smoke and the screaming of trapped wounded. He hides his face in his empty arms and rocks, moves, gently to and fro, to and fro, while the traffic on the other side of the bridge dissipates too. He is holding nothing, holding on to nothing and he does not want to see what the world demanded him to do.

In the back of the Quinyet, strapped into the side seat, Natasha is rapid fire cursing in five languages at the unfortunate S.H.I.E.L.D. medic who dared utter the suggestion she remove her uniform so he could assess her back and find out how many of her ribs are bruised or even broken. She all but punched him out of her way. But her breath is laboured and the Captain and Hawk exchange worried looks.

"Nat-" Steve is next to her, ready to offer support but wisely not touching her. She is too pale and there is sweat on her brow. But she says "Nothing´s broken. Don't start."

The Captain straps himself in, even if it is but a short flight. "I have never seen Bruce this angry."

She turns to him, one brow raised. "That was not Bruce." Widow rummages through the bag she brought with her when they went in and fishes out her tablet. Steve nods, bites the inside of his lip and fumbles a bit with the leather straps of his shield. He looks up at Clint's back. "Report?"

Hawkeye, while piloting, is following communications. "Guys- they have spotted the Big Green on- Fuck! They are on Brooklyn Bridge and it's a disaster area! He's tackled Ironman-" For a moment Clint goes silent, fingers tapping his earpiece, listening to the rapidly spewed reports.

"They've lost Ironman now-"

"Chyort voz'mi! " curses Natasha.

Steve makes a grimace. "He has flown off again?"

"Negative- the archer frowns, trying to make sense of the S.H.I.E.L.D. ground operators. "No- they seem to have lost him altogether."

The Captain peers over Natasha's arm at her tablet. It is the live footage a news helicopter is shooting, rows of empty cars leading up to where the Hulk has been spotted- people haphazardly abandoning their vehicles, running in panic. Police officers hastily throwing up roadblocks, helping and taking care of the fleeing people, stopping fools who want to go look.

One idiot on a bike jumps the barrier, swerves trough the rows of cars and pushes himself to where the fight has been, crossing the stretch of bridge left empty at break-neck speed, while the camera pans in. The news presenter garbles something about being ushered away by the military and the screen goes blank, then back to the studio where speculations fly about the Avengers apparent break-up.

Natasha cocks her head at the Captain. "Was that -your- motorcycle?"

"Son of a gun!" says Steve.

The Hulk barely looks up when an engine stops a few yards away. No helmet, or any other kind of protection. Just a pale crème business suit, the ever present sunglasses and a loosely flapping silk tie.

"Oh man- what the hell- How am I supposed to find out who hacked my suits from this refuse!"

"Tony?"

The Hulk looks up, eyes wider than the engineer has ever seen them. Tony gives an easy smile, picks up the empty helmet and walks up to the green giant, turning the shell over in his hands and peering inside. Hulk shifts. He burns. His arms burn, his chest hurts! His breath is shallow and he clenches and unclenches his fists. He wants to shout, to roar!

But he can't.

Tony's attention is totally focussed on the helm. "Yeah- yeah- good work stopping the suit by the way, big buddy."

The Hulk rises and takes an unsteady step towards the tiny man.

Tony realises something is off when cranes his neck and looks the Hulk in the face, while pushing his sunglasses to his forehead. The ragemonster is pale behind the healing and scabbing burns.

"He- he now big buddy- what's up? Is there something wrong? Are you hurt? I, mean- I can see that you're not exactly ship-shape here and god you stink, like burned bacon or something, but you know- without the bacon, and you look like you are fainting and now that would be just weird so- And what the heck?!"

The Hulk swipes the helmet from Tony's hands, peers in with one eye closed.

"Oi! Gimme that! I need that!" Tony actually jumps for it.

"Empty?" Hulk asks, still that startled wide eyed expression on the broad face.

"Yeah," Tony nods, panting a bit, hands at his sides, feet wide and royally pissed off. "If I ever get my hands on the bastard who hacked it- he all but snarls.

Hulk's expression changes into undiluted rage. "Empty!" he roars, while throwing the helmet in near orbit and grabbing for the defenceless Tony- who realises too late that when he explained the hacking of his suits to the Avengers, he did so- to Bruce.

Soldiers follow two Avengers making their way past burned out husks and still smoking upturned vehicles. Natasha is a bit slower than usual, but poised as ever. The Captain knows he should not get distracted, but twice already he has used his shield as a wrench to open stuck doors of crashed cars. Behind them, firemen and police officers help get people to safety and EMT's to those who are too hurt to move on their own. Hawkeye is taking the highroad, running and sliding over the cables and supports of the bridge.

"Cap- do you read? Come in- over."

"Captain America here. What is the situation Hawkeye?"

"The Hulk is here, looking a bit singed and weirdly not doing a thing. He's just sitting there. I can see Ironman.."

"He's there? What is his status!"

"Not so shiny- Scattered over a rather large area in fact- the threat has been neutralised."

Widow broke in. "And Stark? He should be there."

She could almost hear Clint's frown. "Negative, Widow. Cap's bike is here, but there is no trace of Stark. Can't see him near the cars-"

"What's with the cars? Wounded?" Steve hoped Tony was there to do more than just retrieve his suit.

"Yeah- but I don't see Stark helping- still no visual at all- and guys- something is definitely wrong with the Big Guy."

"What is he doing now Hawk?"

"That's the point- still nothing."

The other side of the road is teaming with soldiers training their guns at the broad green back of the quivering lump of Hulk when the Captain and Black Widow finally emerge from the smoke, rescue workers still in tow. Military choppers and some sleek black S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters are hanging above and beside the bridge. Natasha seems to be in constant rapport with them via her Bluetooth. Hawkeye has descended from the supports and is perching on the hood of a red car that looks as if it has been thrown up and down again, hard. There is somebody inside, but at the Captain's questioning look, Clint just gives a headshake.

"Neck is broken, scull fractured- she did not have chance. Probably died instantly." The Captain pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "By the way-" Clint continues, "I think I've just found Stark." And he points at the still unmoving lump of Hulk. Something small is wiggling its way from in-between the large, muscular arms. A man's hand, definitely alive and quite impatient.

Natasha is visibly tired and Clint pats the empty space next to him. Silently, she walks up and settles herself. His head a bit to the side the archer asks: "Is he bigger than he used to be?"

Impassive as ever, Widow calls up some data on her tablet and nods. "Yes- his file states that the angrier the Hulk gets, the stronger and bigger he is apt to become. I suppose 'angrier' should be replaced with 'emotional' though."

The hand by now has grown into an under-arm-with-hand. The Captain creeps forward, mindful not to make sudden movements. "Tony- are you alright in there?"

The arm rises and the hand makes a thumbs up. The Hulk looks up at Steve and growls in warning, low and sorrowful. The whites of his eyes seem red and there are tear tracks running down his face. Cap calmly steps backwards to the others.

Tony's free hand pats the Hulk's arm and the three Avengers hear his muffled voice speaking in the gentle tone one usually takes with distraught children.

Slowly The Hulk unfolds and Tony, a little rumpled but alright, peers out, although he is making no move to leave the giant's lap. He only adjusts himself a bit so he can face the others better and does not protest the large hands when they enfold his torso and pull him back. He smiles a bit sadly up at the Hulk, and there is a cold, hard look in his eyes.

"Hulkie here thought he had killed me. He did not understand."

Cap straitens up at that. "He thought you were in the suit!"

Widow shivers. "He thought you were in the suit- and he still destroyed the suit."

Tony's eyes trail towards the bloodied head visible through the window next to Hawk.

"I don't give a damn." and he lifts a hand to stall all arguments. "Look at the result of this theft. Look at what happened and just- think- what might have happened with my suit in the wrong hands had he hesitated. Regardless whether I was in it or not. Hulk did the right thing."

Natasha looks with narrowed eyes at the green giant. "He could kill any of us, given the right circumstances."

Tony, suddenly very tired, leans back against the giant still wrapped around him.

"Hulk was not wrong."

Clint, having –been- on the wrong end of this equation, nods silently. The Captain closes his eyes for a moment, feeling every one of his ninety-plus years.

The Widow concedes. "I might have shot you myself."

Tony barks a laugh that startles Hulk a bit. "Good to know you can do the 'right' thing, sweetheart." and their wry smiles break the tension.

Steve makes a wave over his chest. "You took the-er- off line?"

Tony nods. "Yeah- removed the reactors from the other suits, had JARVIS power them down completely. Warned Rhodey to power down War Machine and NOT use it until I gave him an 'all clear'. We're lucky that whomever took the Mark IIV did not just activate them all against us. Probably could not handle controlling more than one at the same time. Right now the suits are just useless lugs of fancy circuitry, all of them." A muscle in his jaw works and his shoulders grow stiff. Hulk understands and Tony's anger seems to rouse him.

"Tony want smash!"

"You bet I want smash, big buddy!- Nat- S.H.I.E.L.D. come up with something already?"

The Widow leans back next to Clint's perch, legs stretched in front of her, and taps her tablet again. "In so many words, no- JARVIS by the way, disagrees."

"Confirmed." The cultured British voice sounds clipped and almost short tempered from the tablet. "I have traced the signal that activated the Mark IIV suit back to a supposedly abandoned Hammer facility. Do you wish for the details, Sirs?"

Steve rolls his shoulders. "Can you er- 'download' those directly into our Quinyet please? We need to find this 'hacker' as soon as possible- with Thor up in Asgard and both Tony and Nat taken out of commission we are at serious disadvantage."

"Hé!" the engineer and the spy protest in unison.

"Preliminary scans seem to indicate your first notion, Sir, that the codes required to break into my systems were obtained via a S.H.I.E.L.D. security leak. However, S.H.I.E.L.D. does not seem to be very co-operative or willing in sharing this particular data with you."

Clint narrows his eyes at that and whistles. "This is bad." Natasha besides him looks pained for the first time that day.

The Hulk grins, but the 'smile' is grim and dangerous. He gets it now. Somebody stole the Metal Man, the empty shell that was not friend. It just was. Like Clint's bow and the Captain's shield. Hulk destroyed a weapon and the people he fights with still want to be friends. They are weary, and cautious, but they still want him and they do not look away. And they are goanna smash the thief! But Tony without the armour is very squishy, and tiny. Hulk does not want to face losing him again today.

"Tony no go!" Hulk growls, strengthening his hold on the man.

Tony starts to cough and flail- "Hulk- please!- need-to-breathe!"

"Hulk tired." Hulk says. He does not want to deal anymore. The Other does that for them, usually. Feeling, when the pain is different and cannot be solved with rage and roars and smashing stuff. Feeling guilty about it. Hulk does not do guilt. He just wants to sleep for a while and let Bruce figure out today. Bruce will know and Hulk is ready to hand the reigns to the other resident of this body again.

Hulk pushes Tony from his lap with mock disgust and Tony lands with a yelp at Caps feet, who grins and holds out a hand to help him stand.

"By the way Tony-" The Captain nods at the motorcycle with a thin smile, "I think you can agree with the sentiment so please, do not touch my stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." Tony grunts, takes the offered hand, lets himself be pulled to his feet and brushes some imaginary dust from his lapels.

All the Avengers pick themselves up. They have to make way for the rescue workers to do their work, who dare not come near the dead woman until the Hulk has been proven safe. The armed forces surrounding the Avengers are not reassuring. So the Captain puts on his best stage-smile and waves at the soldiers at the other side of the bridge until he sees them stand down.

"Let's move out people. Care for a ride, Nat?"

The Widow eyes the 'vintage' bike with a pout and nods as if she is doing the Captain a favour. Clint takes to the suspension cables again and swings himself up like the acrobat he once was, making his own way back to the Quinyet.

Tony watches them go. "Oh yeah- well that's nice- that's okay- fine. What do -I- do now dammit! Walk back? Okay- why won't I? I'll just -walk- then. I can do that, I can walk."

The Hulk rolls his eyes, grabs the disgruntled billionaire by the collar, swings him up and just jumps away while the man gives a rather undignified high pitched yelp.

The Captain can't help but smile at the antics of his teammates, revs the engine, feels the Widow settle behind him and carefully steers the bike past the crashed cars, mindful of the rescue workers. He wants to stay, really. He hears some kid crying and a man calling for help and he feels Natasha's arms tighten around him a moment in comfort.

But there is a criminal on the loose, the true responsible one for all this carnage. A person that has hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers and subsequentially with stolen data into Tony's systems, succeeding in taking over one of their own. Not unlike Loki did to Hawkeye. Tony, in spite of his bravado, will probably have a hard time coming to grips with that. S.H.I.E.L.D. is proving less trustworthy by the day and quite frankly, Steve is sick of being manipulated by anyone. For the first time he noticed even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top assassins might be having some difficulty with their boss occasionally and weirdly enough, this Steve finds heart-warming.

They are one very powerful team member short in Thor. The Hulk is exhausted, if not physically then emotionally. Something Steve would not have thought possible before this wretched afternoon. Tony is too vulnerable without his suit to physically enter into battle, so for any fight he's out. Widow holds on to him just a bit too tight now and he feels her trembling. She should really be seeing a medic by now and he won't send her into battle again either- he just won't. Let her keep an eye on Stark and guard him, and keep them both out of trouble. Clint is just tired. Steve is not tired, but he finds himself exhausted from the sight of the victims their efforts have cost New York.

Regardless, the Avengers will reassemble at their jet and move out. They have a job to do.

"Chyort voz'mi! " means something like "Damn it!" or "Oh shit!" In Russian. If Google can be trusted.