The streets of Harlem shook under the thunderous roar of destruction. Sirens wailed in the distance, screams echoed through the streets, and the sky above was lit by burning cars and shattered lamp posts.
Screams echoed through the streets as the beast tore through concrete, steel, and flesh alike.
The creature—once a man named Emil Blonsky—was no longer anything close to human. He had become the Abomination, a twisted, hulking nightmare of brute force and bloodlust.
He was no longer a soldier.
He was the Abomination.
He roared with manic joy as he hurled a car across the avenue, sending it crashing through a café storefront.
He stomped through the streets like a rabid beast, kicking cars into walls, ripping light poles from the ground, and throwing chunks of concrete like pebbles. Civilians scattered
Pedestrians ran in every direction like ants, too slow to escape the chaos and the chaos flooding the air like smoke.
And amidst it all, one figure walked—unhurried, calm, and focused.
Ethan Carter.
His footsteps were steady, echoing lightly on the cracked pavement. With each step he took, his appearance subtly changed. Gone was the casual hoodie and jeans from earlier. His clothing shimmered, morphing seamlessly into something far more dramatic.
A black long hooded coat now draped over his shoulders, flowing down to his ankles with regal weight. Underneath, a clean white T-shirt contrasted sharply, tucked neatly into form-fitting black pants. He looked like someone out of a comic book—and that was entirely by design.
Ethan dropped the telepathic veil that kept people from noticing him. The magic spell that blurred him from surveillance cameras faded away. If he wanted to be seen, if he wanted to make a statement—then let the world watch.
This was his debut.
As debris flew and danger surged around him, Ethan extended his senses. His telekinesis flared to life.
A piece of rebar shot toward a fleeing teenager's head—Ethan twitched a finger. The bar suddenly curved mid-air and embedded itself into a building wall, far from harm.
All around him, civilians continued fleeing in panic. But wherever Ethan walked, no one was harmed.
Another moment—a man stood frozen in terror as a flaming vehicle skidded toward him.
BOOM!
Ethan appeared between the car and the man in a blur with his right hand outstretched. With no visible strain, he stopped the two-ton steel frame in its tracks. His left hand stayed buried in his pocket.
The man gasped, trembling, and looked up at Ethan's glowing blue eyes.
"You alright?" Ethan asked, voice calm and strangely reassuring amidst the destruction.
The man blinked. "Y-you're… You're that guy from the news, aren't you?"
"Don't worry," Ethan said with a calm smile. He gently pushed the car aside and added, "I am here now."
He turned back toward the creature tearing Harlem apart—his expression shifting from kind to cold.
From a nearby distance, Didi helped pull a crying child from a collapsed stairwell. She cradled the boy gently, whispering to calm him. Her eyes flicked toward Ethan briefly while her lips curling into a proud smile.
But far ahead, the Abomination reveled in destruction.
Blonsky kicked a van into a row of parked cars, the explosion lighting up the night like a firework show. He laughed—low, guttural, filled with dark glee.
"No one can stop me!" he bellowed. "I can now make gods bleed!"
He spun around to smash a streetlight when a voice sliced through the smoke and fire like a whip.
"Looks like someone's having too much fun."
Blonsky stopped mid-motion, his oversized foot halfway into another car.
He turned—snarling—to see a tall, handsome man in a long black coat standing casually with his hands in his pockets.
His golden-blond hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and his posture screamed confidence—no, authority.
He looked more like a fashion model than a fighter, with his black coat flowing behind him and an expression that screamed boredom rather than fear.
Ethan tilted his head. "Is this your idea of control? Or is this just a temper tantrum in HD?"
Blonsky bared his teeth, and the air trembled as he growled, "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Ethan smirked. "The guy who's going to put your ugly ass down."
Blonsky roared and charged forward, concrete cracking under his massive feet. With a growl, he spun and tried to kick Ethan like he was swatting a fly.
But Ethan simply leaned back, letting the monstrous foot sail past him by an inch. The wind from the strike ruffled his coat.
"Wow," Ethan muttered. "All that muscle and no aim."
Blonsky let out a furious roar and began swinging wildly, his massive fists tearing through the air. Ethan danced around him like a ghost, always just out of reach, not even breaking a sweat.
Suddenly, he began to feel the blonde man's face familiar, and realization dawned across his features.
"I remember you now," Blonsky growled, eyes narrowing. "You're that guy from the news. The one who plays hero."
Ethan smiled while his eyes glowing faintly. "I play a lot of things. Hero's just one of them. unlike you—who plays monster and somehow still underperforms? You're all brawn and no brain. A toddler with a nuke for a rattle."
Blonsky sneered, veins bulging across his grotesque, mutated skin. "Big mouth for a dead man."
He lunged forward with a brutal kick, his massive foot aiming straight for Ethan's chest.
But Ethan was already gone.
He pivoted fluidly to the side, hands still in his pockets, coat fluttering with the motion. The kick missed entirely and smashed through a delivery truck, crumpling it like paper.
"And you've got a big everything," Ethan shot back casually, circling him. "Big body, big ego, and an even bigger list of failures. Remind me—how many times have you missed? Oh right, all of them."
Blonsky's eyes flared with rage. "Keep talking, pretty boy. I'll crush you."
Ethan laughed—slow, mocking, and loud enough to echo across the battered streets. His boots crunched glass as he stepped forward without fear with hands still remaining casually in his coat pockets.
"Crush me? Please," he said while ducking his head. "You couldn't even crush an old grandma with that size of yours. You look like you slipped and fell into a vat of roid-flavored donuts."
Blonsky's massive brow twitched.
Ethan grinned wider. "Seriously, you should eat less. I mean, look at you—you're more fat than muscle at this point. You look like a gym rat who gave up halfway through leg day and started mainlining cheeseburgers instead."
A vein popped in Blonsky's neck. "You little—!"
Ethan cut him off with a wave of his hand. "And those veins? Not intimidating. They just scream 'I inject things I can't pronounce and cry myself to sleep.'"
Blonsky roared and began swinging wildly.
But Ethan dodged—tilting his head here, swaying his body there. It was effortless. Almost like he was dancing.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You missed. But hey, ten points for effort."
But all of this wasn't just for show—Ethan was deliberately leading Blonsky deeper into an abandoned construction zone nearby. Fewer civilians with more open space. A perfect battleground.
Above them, in the sky a military helicopter hovered, rotors slicing the air like thunder.
Inside were Bruce Banner, Betty Ross, General Ross, and four heavily armed soldiers. Helmet cams from soldiers on the ground streamed footage directly to the screens inside the aircraft.
The Abomination was wreaking havoc—and there was a new player on the field.
"Jesus," one soldier muttered. "Is that really Blonsky?"
"Look what we made…" Bruce whispered grimly.
Ross stood silent, eyes narrowed as he watched the footage. "He's out of control."
Bruce stood tense, fists clenched as he stared at the screen. "No one can stop him… unless you let me out of here."
General Ross grunted.
"I'm the only one who can stop him," Bruce said. "You saw the footage. That guy down there—he's strong judging by the news, but Blonsky's getting stronger by the second."
Betty grabbed Bruce's arm. "You don't even know if you can change anymore. You took the cure. Bruce, please—what if you can't come back?"
Bruce turned to her gently. "I don't know if I can. But we have to try. We all helped create that thing—whether anyone wants to admit it or not."
Ross stared at him for a long moment.
Then he barked, "Turn the helicopter around. Take us down."
"No," Bruce shook his head. "Open the back. It's too dangerous to land."
The cargo door began to lower. Wind howled into the cabin.
Betty grabbed his hand in panic. "Bruce—wait—!"
He pulled her close and kissed her—soft, passionate, and desperate. Ross looked away in disgust.
"I love you," he whispered.
Then, without another word, Bruce turned and leapt out of the helicopter.
---
Back on the ground…
Blonsky slammed his fists into the earth, sending up a shockwave of dust and stone. Ethan stood calmly just a few feet away with his coat billowing.
"Why won't you fight me!?" Blonsky shouted, veins pulsing with rage. "You think you're better than me!?"
Ethan gave a lazy shrug. "I don't think I'm better. I know I am."
"You arrogant—!"
"I mean look at you. You got power, sure. But no control. You're like a kid who found daddy's shotgun."
The abomination let out a roar of fury, his massive fists slamming into the concrete below him, sending tremors rippling through the street. Debris flew into the air, and bystanders in the distance screamed and scattered.
Ethan's coat flapped wildly from the shockwave, but he didn't flinch.
In fact, he sighed. "Every time with the ground pounding. You guys ever try originality? Or does your entire move list come from an angry toddler with a tantrum?"
Blonsky's eye twitched.
That one stung.
Blonsky's sneer deepened as he bared his jagged teeth. "News says you're nothing much," he spat, the words venom-laced. "You think you're something special, but you're nothing compared to me."
The ground trembled beneath his monstrous weight as he began to charge—each thunderous step shaking loose chunks of concrete. The distance between them vanished in seconds. They were now in an open area, the civilians long gone, the street eerily silent save for the low growl building in the Abomination's throat.
"You think you can save others and be a hero?" he bellowed, spittle flying. "That's a wish, not reality."
Ethan stopped walking. Slowly, he turned around—calm, measured.
The coat hanging from his shoulders flared gently in the breeze as his golden-blonde hair danced beneath the rumble of gathering clouds.
His eyes locked on Blonsky's. Then his expression shifted—hardening with quiet conviction. "I don't save people because I want to play hero…" he said, voice low and steady.
"Okay—maybe a little bit. I mean, come on—who doesn't want to wear a cool coat and look awesome doing it?" He gave a small half-smirk. "But that's not the point."
The smile faded as a flicker of power sparked behind his eyes. "I save them because I can. Because I have the power to do so."
Blonsky roared and swung his massive arm with full force, intending to flatten Ethan in a single blow.
This time, Ethan didn't dodge. He caught it.
SLAM!
Ethan stood with his right hand raised, fingers locked around Blonsky's massive wrist.
His right hand—barehanded—gripped Blonsky's massive forearm with the screech of energy.
Blonsky's eyes widened in shock. "What—?"
Ethan's grip tightened. Lightning crackled up his arm like veins of white fire. His coat rippled as the air thickened with pressure.
For the first time—Blonsky froze.
Ethan looked him dead in the eye. "You picked the wrong city, the wrong day, and the wrong guy."
Dark clouds began to churn above, swirling with unnatural speed. The air thickened, electric and heavy, as thunder rumbled in the heavens like distant drums of war.
Blonsky's monstrous expression twisted in sudden discomfort. His massive hand, still trapped in Ethan's iron grip, trembled as he tried to pull away—but it wouldn't budge. It was like trying to move a mountain with a paperclip.
With a snarl of desperation, he cocked his other fist and swung—aiming straight for Ethan's head.
But Ethan moved faster.
A blur of black and crackling lightning surged as he ducked under the punch and countered with one of his own—a thunderous right hook that slammed straight into Blonsky's chest.
BOOM!
The hit echoed like a thunderclap. Blonsky's eyes bulged as his ribs compressed under the force, and his massive form was launched into the air like a missile—crashing down the street and plowing through an abandoned car like it was paper. Metal twisted. Glass exploded. The street cracked beneath the impact.
From a nearby rooftop, Didi crouched in silence with a curious grin on her face as she watched the spectacle unfold like a front-row seat to a top rated movie show.
Ethan didn't rush and walked slowly.
Step by step—calm, composed, and utterly lethal—he made his way down the shattered pavement toward the downed Abomination, lightning still dancing across his body in arcs of white-blue power.
With every step, the storm grew worse—winds picking up, thunder growling, clouds swirling overhead like the wrath of the gods.
Blonsky groaned, trying to push himself up, but he moved sluggishly. That one punch had made something very clear—He was outclassed.
"Playtime's over," he whispered, his voice lost beneath the rising wind.
He lifted his hand toward the sky and the clouds answered instantly.
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning tore across the heavens, lighting up the entire skyline as if a god had screamed. Winds howled down the street, tearing through debris and rattling rooftops.
The helicopter Ross and others are in, which had been circling above began to shake violently. Alarms blared inside the cockpit as the pilot struggled against the storm.
"Too much turbulence! We're going down!"
They landed—hard— not far from the fight.
From the rough-landed helicopter, the battered side door creaked open with a metallic groan.
Betty Ross was the first to emerge, brushing dust from her jacket and coughing slightly from the turbulence. Her sharp eyes scanned the destruction ahead.
Two soldiers followed, helping a visibly shaken General Ross step down from the chopper. He leaned slightly on one of them but kept his hardened gaze locked on the scene before him.
They had landed nearby—close enough to feel the tremors still settling in the ground beneath their boots.
Ross grunted. "Perfect. Now one more problem shows up."
Betty's eyes locked on Ethan's figure—calm, composed, standing tall with arcs of lightning dancing across his body.
And back in the heart of the storm, Ethan's body surged with power. Lightning crawled across his arms, wrapped around his shoulders, danced across his coat. His eyes shimmered white-blue with sparks of lightning.
He disappeared from sight in a flash of light.
And then—
THOOM!!
A Thunder Fist connected straight into Blonsky's gut, hitting with such force that the world paused for a second.
The ground cracked. Buildings shook. And Blonsky was sent flying upward—not sideways, up—flipping helplessly through the air like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane.
The shockwave that followed shattered windows a few blocks away.
Didi raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed. "Damn… that's a punch."
Ethan stood still, his fist still raised, sparks dancing along his knuckles. He looked up, watching Blonsky rise into the sky like he was weightless.
He exhaled and his posture relaxed.
The light around his body slowly dimmed. The crackling storm energy began to fade, retracting into his skin like a weapon being holstered.
He looked down at his hand, opening and closing his fist slowly. "Sigh… you're too weak," he muttered.
Seconds passed in silence.
Then—CRASH!
Blonsky's body slammed back into the earth like a meteor, creating a crater nearly ten feet deep. Pavement exploded. Dust billowed. The surrounding buildings shook under the impact. For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Blonsky didn't get up.
His body twitched once—then lay still.
Ethan walked toward the crater and looked down at the battered, broken form inside.
He tilted his head slightly, then chuckled. "One punch," he said with a grin, voice dripping with condescension. "You couldn't even take one punch from me."
He shook his head before stepping back. "Looks like a skill issue."
Ethan turned away from the smoking crater, brushing dust off his coat like he'd just finished a minor workout. The storm above was beginning to settle, the thunder fading into a distant murmur.
He took one step.
Then—
RRRAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!
The roar was deafening.
Low, guttural, and furious—a primal sound that vibrated through the concrete and rattled windows still left intact. It wasn't like Blonsky's roar. This one didn't try to sound tough.
It was tough.
Ethan froze mid-step before narrowing his eyes slightly. A slow grin formed on his face as he turned toward the source of the roar.
And there—emerging from the far end of the broken street—came a massive, green figure. Eight feet tall. Thick slabs of muscle rippling with every step. Eyes burning with unrestrained fury. Veins pulsing with gamma energy. He tore the tattered remnants of his shirt from his chest, letting them fall to the wind.
The Hulk had arrived.
Ethan chuckled before cracking his knuckles as lightning gently flared once more around his shoulders.
"Well, well…" he said, eyes glowing with excitement. "Now this is exciting."
A deep rumble of thunder echoed once again as the two persons locked eyes across the ruined battlefield.
....
Author's Note:
Hey everyone!
How's the chapter? 😄
This one was a blast to write—Ethan finally throwing hands and absolutely roasting Blonsky into retirement. That thunder fist moment? Chef's kiss. And just when you think it's over... boom—HULK enters the chat.
What did you think of the fight?
Did Ethan's roast go too hard—or not hard enough?
And how do you think things will go with the Hulk next chapter?
Drop your thoughts, theories, and ideas below!
I'd love to hear your feedback. Your reviews help me improve and keep the story fresh and exciting. If you have ideas for what Ethan should do next, crazy matchups, or power-ups you want to see, comment them below!
Thanks for reading—and brace yourselves…
HULK vs ETHAN is coming.
— Author 🔥⚡