The Hulk, suspended midair with nowhere to evade, crossed his forearms to shield his face. The round struck with a deep, concussive crack. The impact broke his forward momentum, twisting his body off-balance as gravity reclaimed him.
James didn't fire blindly. He knew they weren't far enough from the city yet. If the Hulk crashed onto the nearby rooftops, the structures wouldn't hold—one impact like that could take the entire floor down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The green titan smashed down onto the highway leaving the city behind. Traffic had thinned to nothing by that hour; one enormous, roaring man-sized bruise of muscle was enough to clear an area. James angled himself so the Hulk would chase along the road and he could keep probing—hit, retreat, repeat.
Dropping his altitude, James fed Dreadfire Shots into the fight, keeping aggro on him the entire time. On the ground the Hulk flexed like a living wrecking ball and James's shots started to sketch the air. They streaked out of the city, two beings pacing each other until the skyline vanished in the rearview. No civilians and no buildings to break.
"Cortana, Prepare the Arcshot Rifle and open my visor. We're going full blast." James ordered.
The suit answered with its usual calm precision. The Umbra Sentinel Mk II—Nocturne—unfolded the red pack on its right shoulder. The long-limbed sniper assembly telescoped into place; the helmet split and opened like a hawk's eye. James's pulse starts to quicken. Through the scope the Hulk was a slow-moving massive target.
The discharge was not a slug; it uncoiled like condensed light. A teardrop of energy trailed a corona bright enough to paint the air. The round punched the night and fractured sound like a meteor. In stretched time the Hulk took the first hit, losing his balance and momentum. James squeezed again—two, three—and each impact slammed into the green mass with pinpoint precision. The beast staggered; but did not go down.
"[Target biometrics indicate elevated adrenaline and localized inflammation. weapons penetration: negligible.]" Cortana fed him the facts. "[Your rounds are displacing tissue and knocking him off-balance, but not reaching the threshold to collapse the musculoskeletal mass. Energy density below critical.]"
James didn't like the word negligible. He compensated with tenacity—three shots, a change of angle, then three more—until the Hulk's rage fueled even more and accelerated.
A voice chittered through his earpiece. "Sir, we picked up the suspects. Where are you now? Do you require support?"
"Interrogate them," James said without pausing. "Get me names, motives. Block local coverage and lock Dr. Banner's address from discovery. Notify Police liaison, but keep it off public channels. I'll take it from here."
He kept firing. Each hit landed clean; each hit taught him where his tough raw educated mass of muscles began and the soft penetrable muscles ended. It taught him a problem he already suspected: his kit lacked the punch. The Nexus Arms Systems were elegant, fast, and precise. But they were not designed to cleave gamma-fused meat and bone.
"[Current Arsenal cannot neutralize this target with its output. You can keep displacing, but you will not cause severe damage. Recommend withdrawal and remote tracking.]" Cortana's voice was steady. It did not offer comfort.
"Pull back the sniper assembly. Let's lead him farther out, away from infrastructure and people," he told Cortana and himself. He could use his new Glorious Executioner, but he did not want Banner dead. He would not test that line.
The Hulk's jumps grew larger, angrier. James attacked on the apex of each leap, preventing full distance and redirecting momentum into the open plain. Eventually he broke away from his line of sight, flying far up for the Hulk to find him.
Losing sight of his target, he eventually cooled off, hunched and wandered like a frustrated animal, then laid on a beach by the sea and began to shrink. Muscle eased back into man.
"[Tracking active. Neural dampening in progress. Banner reverting to human.]" Cortana observed. "[I've cross-referenced the attempted provocation. Two locations of suspicious transactions: Banner's residence and the drop point. One recurring identifier connects both. Requesting citywide grid sweep for subject movements.]"
"It seems that he is very confident and thinks that it is impossible for us to discover him. Then let's go back and get the car first."
Luck was on James's side. Cortana found a single lead that stitched the two scenes together.
Back at the car, Nocturne retracted back into his storage space. James drove with casual calm toward the hotel Cortana flagged. The lead had walked into a restaurant and sat down to enjoy his dinner.
Inside the dining room the man was laughing into a glass of wine, entirely unconcerned. James took his time. He could have stormed the table and broken bones with a flick of his wrist. That would be dramatic. That would also be stupid.
James walked into the restaurant and went straight to the lead. "Welcome Sir, A table for one?" A waiter from the hotel restaurant greeted him.
"No, I'm looking for a friend. Look... there he is," James said politely. Then he strode over and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He sat down opposite the man retrieving a pistol with a laser pointer from his storage space, he brought it under the table as he pointed it on the man's third leg.
"Put the cutlery down. Hands on the table. One move and I shoot." James said
"Who hired you?" he asked. "If you didn't take the money, you wouldn't be eating so well tonight,"
The man smiled like a man who'd rehearsed innocence. "Sir? I don't know what you mean. Are you looking for someone?"
The man kept smiling, but his knuckles blanched around the fork.
"If it's not you, then I'm looking for the wrong person. And you saw my face, so I won't ask. I'll just kill you. Now I'll say it for the last time. Who hired you to come here?" He smiled which gave James a dilemma. Did he have to kill the wrong person?