Three months before Tony Stark's ill-fated Jericho missile demo in Afghanistan, the Marvel Universe was already simmering with secrets. Bruce Banner, the brilliant but tormented physicist, had been on the run for roughly five years since his catastrophic 2005 gamma experiment at Culver University. By now, he was deep in hiding—mostly in Brazil's favelas, working menial jobs, meditating to keep his heart rate low, and desperately searching for a cure with smuggled plants and encrypted emails to "Mr. Blue."
The Hulk was a whispered legend: green monster sightings dismissed as urban myths or military cover-ups. Banner kept his head down, avoiding anything that might spike his pulse.
Alex Dumbfort, meanwhile, had upgraded from pizza delivery to "Stark Industries Mobile Snack Consultant." Tony, amused by Alex's chaotic good fortune, had given him a company credit card and vague instructions: "Wander around, buy snacks, and if something explodes, try to fix it with soda or whatever." Alex took this literally. One day, bored in New York, he decided to road-trip for "inspiration." No map, no plan—just a vague memory of hearing about "some big green guy" in a tabloid while delivering to a comic shop. "Sounds like a cool mascot," he thought. He hopped on his scooter (now Stark-branded with a poorly drawn lightning bolt), loaded with energy drinks and chips, and headed south toward Virginia, figuring Culver University might have a good cafeteria.
He arrived at Culver's campus outskirts during a rare quiet afternoon. Banner, having slipped back into the States incognito to retrieve a forgotten data drive from an old lab contact (a risky move even for him), was skulking near the abandoned gamma research wing. He wore a hoodie, sunglasses, and kept his breathing steady. Alex, lost as usual, pulled up to what he thought was a visitor parking lot but was actually a restricted service entrance. His scooter backfired loudly—scaring a flock of birds into a frenzy.
Banner froze. Heart rate ticking up. "Not now," he muttered.
Alex, oblivious, wandered in through a half-open maintenance door (security had been lax since the incident years ago). He found himself in a dusty storage room full of old equipment: cracked monitors, dusty vials, and a prototype gamma spectrometer that had never been properly decommissioned. "Whoa, retro sci-fi stuff!" Alex exclaimed, poking at a big red button labeled "CALIBRATION – DO NOT TOUCH." He pressed it, thinking it was a vending machine reset.
The machine hummed to life. Residual gamma emitters, left over from Banner's original experiment, flickered on. A low-level pulse washed over the room—not enough to cause a full explosion, but enough to spike ambient radiation. Banner, nearby and already on edge from the backfire, felt the familiar tingle. His eyes widened. "No, no, no—"
Alex turned, spotting the hooded figure. "Hey, dude! You work here? Got any snacks? I'm starving." He offered a bag of chips.
Banner, pulse racing, backed away. "You... you shouldn't be here. Get out. Now."
Alex shrugged. "Chill, man. I just pressed a button. It's probably fine." But the spectrometer overloaded from the unexpected activation—Alex's poke had jarred a loose wire. Sparks flew, and a contained burst of gamma energy arced out, harmlessly dissipating into the air... except it clipped Banner just enough to push him over the edge.
The transformation began. Banner gritted his teeth, veins bulging green. "Run!" he roared, voice deepening.
Alex blinked. "Whoa, cool special effects! Are you like a cosplayer or—
HULK SMASH.
The Hulk erupted, roaring as he burst through the wall. Debris flew. Alex ducked instinctively—tripping over his own feet and rolling behind a console. The Hulk, in full rage mode, rampaged through the old lab, smashing equipment that could have traced back to Banner's past experiments. In the chaos, he accidentally pulverized a hidden server that held classified Army files on the original gamma project—files General Ross had been trying to recover for years. Evidence erased, potential leads to Banner's cure destroyed (ironically protecting his secret).
Security alarms wailed. Campus police rushed in, but the Hulk, spotting Alex cowering with chips scattered everywhere, paused. The little man wasn't a threat. He was... offering food? Hulk grunted, confused, then leaped away through the roof, vanishing into the woods.
Alex emerged from the rubble, covered in dust but unharmed. "That was awesome! Green dude needs anger management classes." He dusted himself off, picked up his scooter (miraculously intact), and rode away just as military choppers—tipped off by old sensors—descended.
General Ross arrived too late, fuming at the wreckage. "Banner was here. And someone triggered this mess." His men found only one witness description: a clueless guy on a scooter handing out snacks.
Back at Stark Tower days later, Alex burst in with a wild story. "Mr. Stark! I met the Jolly Green Giant! He smashed stuff, but I think he liked my chips!"
Tony, mid-sip of scotch, raised an eyebrow. "You... what?" He pulled up satellite footage (because of course he had access). There it was: Hulk's brief rampage, contained, no casualties, and the destruction oddly beneficial—wiping out lingering data that could have fueled Ross's vendetta.
Tony laughed. "Kid, you just accidentally saved a walking nuke from getting dissected by the Army. Again."
Alex grinned. "Cool. Does that mean free pizza for life?"
As the weeks ticked toward Tony's Afghanistan trip, Banner—having calmed down far away—felt strangely... lighter. The Hulk's outburst had destroyed the last traces tying him to Culver, buying him more time to hide and search for peace. And somewhere in the chaos, a half-eaten bag of chips lay in the ruins, a bizarre token of the day dumb luck met gamma rage.
In the Marvel Universe, heroes planned, villains schemed, and gods schemed bigger. But Alex? He just kept stumbling into success, one accidental encounter at a time. Next stop: who knows? Probably the bathroom again.