Blonsky darted out of the danger zone the moment the order dropped, veering aside as the twin sonic cannons lined up—not on him, but right at the Hulk.
With a blaring surge, the cannons unleashed their attack. Sound waves, so intense they were almost visible, screamed across the lawn in trembling, rippling patterns. It was as if the air itself had become a solid force, battering Hulk at the speed of sound and beyond.
From his hiding spot up in the clocktower, Daniel's heart clenched. Watching, he realized that this tech was so advanced it felt otherworldly. The pulses shattered the air itself, and for the first time in years, Daniel felt a genuine chill of fear.
Hulk staggered under the blast—caught and forced down by an invisible fist, helpless as the shockwaves slammed into him over and over. He tried to use car doors as shields, but the force easily tore them from his grip, flinging them away like toys.
Hulk's skin shivered weirdly, his giant muscles spasming under the onslaught. It was as if the hard-won invulnerability of his body was turning against him. For a being who was almost untouchable, the horror of that kind of pain was stunning.
Daniel swallowed. He couldn't have survived something like that, not unprepared. If he ever had to face these weapons, he'd lose unless he was first to strike.
Modern weapons—high-tech, high-yield, surgically precise—these weren't thrown together by desperate soldiers. They were custom-made specifically for threats like Hulk. And if the military was showing this tech in the open, Daniel could only imagine what secrets they kept locked away underground.
That changed his calculations. Brute force alone wouldn't cut it. He'd have to be clever—take out tech threats instantly, fry the circuits with magic before they could even power up. He could do it, but it would take perfect timing—too much chaos or too many civilians, and he'd risk collateral damage the military would love to blame on someone like him.
He needed a backup plan. Maybe a company of his own, a front to reach into the world's technology, hijack and rewrite weapons from inside. His magic could only go so far—but technology, the right technology, could reach anywhere.
He kept watching.
Hulk was on one knee, fists jammed against either side of his head, eyes bulging with pain. He shook, muscles quaking, battered by waves of agony meant to break him down—not just physically, but at the core of his being. It was like seeing invincibility come apart in real time.
Still, Hulk hung on.
Daniel had to respect it—the willpower, the sheer refusal to yield. With each ragged breath, Hulk forced himself upright. Blood welled at his ears, but he stood.
For a second, Daniel almost considered helping. He could silence the cannons with a touch of magic. But this wasn't his fight. He needed to see how it played out.
Nearby, Blonsky, still grinning through the agony, covered his ears from the relentless noise. Behind the lines, General Ross stared at the battlefield, pride fighting for space with something like fear.
To Ross and his men, this looked like victory. They had the monster cornered—hurting, maybe even beat.
But not to Betty.
She tore free from her guards and ran to her father, shouting through her tears. "Father, please! You're going to kill him!"
Ross never turned. He shoved her away—hard and cold. Soldiers hustled her back, but she never looked away from Hulk.
Betty's vision blurred; she watched, helpless and broken-hearted. Then, something changed.
Hulk looked at her.
In that raw, tortured face, she saw Bruce. In the monstrous, bloodshot eyes—something familiar, gentle.
He was still in there. Bruce hadn't been lost.
With a guttural snarl, Hulk dug his hands into the ground. His body trembled, muscles fighting against the sonic barrage. But he began to rise—inch by inch, step by grueling step. He reached for the car doors, picked them up, and drove them into the ground for cover, pressing forward through the pain, step after impossible step.
Ross stared, shock twisting into dread.
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