Marvel: The Enlightened One#96+97: A Life for a Life, Either You Hand It Over, or I’m Coming to Get It Myself

Nick Fury’s words hung in the air.

Bruce froze.

The next second, his gaze snapped back to the headstone.

Betty’s photograph seemed to smile back at him.

A brilliant, radiant smile.

...

An hour later, Bruce Banner came back to the apartment. He emerged from the bedroom carrying a cardboard box full of Betty's things, walked downstairs, and entered the living room.

He carefully took their wedding photograph down from the wall, leaned it against the baseboard, and then sank to the floor, staring at it.

He was lost in the memory.

Just then, his phone chimed.

Ping.

Bruce pulled it from his pocket. It was an email from Nick Fury. He opened it, glanced at the attached medical report from a S.H.I.E.L.D facility, then, without a word, dialed Fury’s number.

The call connected instantly.

“Bru—”

“Were you part of her plan, or did you help her create it, Nick?”

“Huh?”

Nick Fury was stunned by his question. His heart skipped a beat.

Bruce’s eyes remained fixed on the wedding photo.

“Betty knew that the man who killed General Ross was the same man who killed the Hulk. I assume you were the one who told her that.”

“What?”

“I’m not an idiot, Nick.”

Bruce’s voice was eerily calm as he stared at the smiling face of his wife in the photograph. “My IQ might not be the highest, but it’s definitely higher than yours. Though right now, I wish it wasn’t.”

Nick Fury didn’t answer right away. For a few seconds, the only sound on the line was the sound of his own heavy breathing.

“I don’t understand, Bruce, you...”

“Betty couldn’t get pregnant. Or at least, I couldn’t get her pregnant.”

“??”

“I was exposed to massive amounts of gamma radiation.”

Bruce took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the photo. “I’m curious, Nick. Betty wanted me to become the Hulk again to avenge her father. But you... why did you fake a pregnancy report? Did Betty ask you to?”

In that instant, on the other end of the line, Nick Fury let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yes.”

“You’re lying, Nick.”

“...”

Bruce’s voice was quiet. “I spent years on the run from General Ross. I can tell when someone is lying, even over the phone, just from the sound of their voice. And you, Nick, are lying.”

“I—”

“But your intelligence really isn’t all that great. Betty had already refused your suggestion, but you did it anyway. I’m curious, why?”

As Bruce spoke, he picked up a second phone, found the last video Betty had ever recorded, and pressed play.

The video had been recorded on the morning of her death. Betty was sitting on the sofa, her expression calm as she looked into the camera.

“Bruce, when you see this, I’ll already be dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I wanted to forget everything, to start a new life with you.”

“I really did.”

“But I can’t. My father may not have been a good man in the eyes of many, but he was the best father in the world to me.”

“In all the years we were apart, I never forgot the time we spent together.”

“And I can never forget the way he died.”

“...”

“When I finally decided what I had to do, Nick Fury found out. He offered me a better way.”

“A pregnancy... It was supposed to be my trump card after I made my move, to ensure you would avenge me.”

“But I refused.”

“I could have used our love to bind you to my revenge.”

“But I will never use a lie to demand it.”

“...”

“He’s here...”

“Finally, Bruce, no matter what you decide, please remember that I love you. At the very least, in that moment when we walked into City Hall, I married you because I loved you.”

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

“Forever yours, Betty.”

The video ended.

...

Bruce listened to the heavy breathing on the other end of the line. “You didn’t expect her to leave me a message, did you, Nick?”

He didn’t.

Nick Fury’s mind was racing.

But—

“He’s too dangerous.”

“We need someone who can stop him if he does something unpredictable.”

“Natasha and Barton can’t do it.”

“Neither can Captain America.”

“Tony Stark has already decided to remove the arc reactor from his chest. He’s done being Iron Man.”

“And Thor hasn’t been seen since he returned to Asgard.”

“Right now, only you, Bruce, only you, by reawakening the Hulk, can stop this from happening.”

“So yes, I’m sorry for Betty’s death.”

“But you need to step up, Bruce.”

Nick Fury explained, his voice low and firm. The core of his message was simple.

Hawk is too dangerous and must be controlled. And you, Bruce Banner, are the best weapon we have to control him.

Bruce listened to Fury, who, even after his plan had been exposed, felt no remorse, only a self-righteous justification. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“You are a true hypocrite, Nick Fury.”

“Bru—”

“You’re just afraid that one day, Hawk will find out that you were the one who gave General Ross his location. You’re afraid that when he finds out, he’ll stomp your head into the ground, just like he did to Ross.”

“You’re scared.”

“So you tried to use Betty’s grief to execute your own plan.”

“But you never expected her to refuse your offer.”

“And after she died, you didn’t show up right away. You were waiting, watching to see if I would seek revenge on my own.”

“But I didn’t. And you couldn’t wait any longer.”

“So you showed up, with your fake report and your bullshit story.”

“For the greater good?”

“You’re a real piece of work, Nick Fury...”

Bruce Banner tore away Fury’s last shred of dignity without a hint of mercy, exposing him for the ass he truly was. “But I guess this is just who you are. Just like last year, when I agreed to help you fight Loki, and you had a cage waiting for me.”

On the other end of the line, Nick Fury’s expression didn’t change. “Bruce, I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“You should be.”

Bruce wasn’t about to indulge him. He snorted. “The only reason you haven’t hung up yet, Nick, is because you’re afraid I’m going to tell Maria Hill what you did. Don’t worry. I won’t. You can hang up in a fit of rage now.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the line went dead.

Just as he’d said.

His IQ might not be the highest, but it was definitely higher than Nick Fury’s.

Bruce looked at the dead phone and shook his head. He didn’t give it another thought.

He had no intention of telling Maria Hill. It wasn't necessary, and it didn't matter anyway—because his heart was already dead.

Bruce sat on the floor in the darkness and played Betty’s video again. The truth was, on the day she died, he had already figured out what she was doing.

What he hadn’t known was that she had recorded it all, confessed everything.

In the video, Betty, knowing she was about to die, was calm. She spoke of their past together and of the future they could have had.

Three meals a day, a family of five, the park downstairs, growing old together.

She spoke with such sincerity, and such regret. Just as she’d said in the video, she loved Bruce, and she loved her father.

Because she loved her father, she'd chosen to become a martyr. And because she loved Bruce, she'd chosen to tell him the truth, to leave the final decision up to him.

And Bruce had made his choice.

He hadn’t been sure at first. But after seeing her video, he knew what he had to do.

“You know...”

“When I told you the Hulk was dead, I wasn’t lying.”

“He is dead. But I think I can bring him back.”

“But it will cost me.”

“My life for the Hulk’s life.”

“A life for a life.”

“Betty, I never liked the Hulk. I really didn’t. He destroyed my life.”

“But none of that matters anymore.”

“You’re gone. There’s no reason for me to keep living.”

“So.”

“I will give my life to bring him back.”

“Wait for me in Hell.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

In the darkness of the empty apartment, Bruce Banner looked at the image of his wife on his phone and whispered his final vow.

<><><><><><><><>

On the vast African savanna, a convertible jeep sped across the plains.

Inside, Hawk held the steering wheel with one hand and a phone with the other, glancing occasionally at the cheetah keeping pace with the vehicle in the rearview mirror. On the other end of the line was Gwen, who was still touring the campus at Berkeley.

Today was Gwen’s fifteenth day in California.

It was also Hawk’s first day in Africa.

Don’t ask why it took him so long.

Fifteen days ago, he had arrived at the airport in Paris, ready for his connecting flight to Africa. He was just about to board when he got the news: rebels had taken control of the airport.

It was a sad story.

What was even sadder was that it happened three more times.

Since Hawk had chosen airports that were close to Wakanda, his rebooked flights were, naturally, to other nearby countries. But as if inspired by the first group, the anti-government rebels in three other small African nations had eagerly joined the party.

The four small countries bordering Wakanda were instantly plunged into chaos.

The African server’s matchmaking system was working its magic.

But—

In the end, Hawk had made it to Africa.

There were a few bumps in the road, but the final result was what mattered.

As for the process?

Just a few minor inconveniences.

“GRRAAAAHH!!!”

The cheetah chasing the jeep let out a roar and, with a powerful leap, landed in the back of the vehicle.

“...” Hawk, who had just finished his call with Gwen, turned and casually slapped the cheetah across the head, sending it flying out of the jeep.

The cheetah let out a pathetic yelp.

Hawk glanced in the rearview mirror. The stunned cheetah was shaking its head, looking dazed but otherwise unharmed. He smiled faintly, then hit the gas, speeding toward his destination:

Wakanda.

...

To call Wakanda a country was a bit of a misnomer. It was more of a tribal nation, composed of several different tribes.

At least, that’s how the outside world saw it.

The current king of Wakanda was T’Chaka, the chieftain of the Golden Tribe. The Golden Tribe was the core of Wakanda, and almost every king in its history had come from their ranks.

This was all public information, easily found online.

But very few people in the world paid any attention to such a small country. Aside from the occasional news report when King T’Chaka went to the UN to plead for foreign aid, in the eyes of the world, Wakanda was no different from any other invisible African nation.

And so, Wakanda played its part, periodically begging for aid at the UN General Assembly while secretly hoarding vast quantities of Vibranium, developing in the shadows.

Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were playing the long game—building their strength in secret before revealing their true power to the world.

Until today...

SCREECH!

Hawk slammed on the brakes. The jeep’s tires skidded across the savanna, coming to a halt in front of a small settlement of about thirty tents.

This was the Merchant Tribe, the public face of Wakanda, a front designed to maintain the illusion of a primitive, third-world nation. In reality, they were responsible for the nation's trade, economy, and foreign affairs.

Hawk got out of the jeep. He immediately saw it in the distance—a massive, primeval forest.

But—

When Hawk opened his senses, that’s not what he saw.

He saw a massive golden dome, like an inverted bowl, covering the entire forest, an area larger than three of the neighboring African countries combined.

Just as he'd thought.

Wakanda was hidden within.

...

Hawk pulled his focus back to the men emerging from the settlement.

They were thin, with the clear signs of malnutrition, and they carried crude wooden spears.

Their appearance, their clothes, their weapons—it all screamed primitive. The only one who looked slightly better off was the elder leading them, whose clothes were a little more intact.

The elder, holding a colorful staff that likely symbolized his status, led his wary, spear-wielding tribesmen to Hawk.

After composing himself, the elder smiled and spoke in fluent English. “Outsider, welcome to Wakanda. Are you here to trade with us?”

As members of the Merchant Tribe, their primary role was to manage the flow of goods between the various Wakandan tribes. They also served as Wakanda’s first line of defense, pretending to be poor, starving villagers to interact with the outside world, trading cattle and sheep with the few outsiders who ventured this far.

He assumed Hawk was just another trader.

And he was right. Hawk was here to make a deal.

He smiled back at the elder. "I am."

“A merchant from Shanin was here yesterday and bought over a hundred of our cattle. We only have about fifty left. How many do you need?”

“One ton.”

Hawk’s smile didn’t waver as he stated the quantity he required.

The elder’s expression froze.

Seeing his confusion, Hawk smiled again and added, “Of Vibranium. One ton.”

“...”

The elder’s vacant expression snapped into focus. His heart pounded in his chest, but he just looked at Hawk with a blank, confused look. “Vibranium? What is that?”

It was a convincing performance. A simple tribesman from the African savanna would have no reason to know what Vibranium was.

His men mirrored his confusion.

Hawk had no time for this. He pulled out his phone, checked the time, and then looked at the elder. “It’s four PM. I’ll give you one night. By seven AM tomorrow, either you bring me the Vibranium, or I’m coming in to get it myself. What happens then will be on you.”

With that, he turned his back on them, got back in his jeep, reclined the driver's seat, and lay back, closing his eyes to conserve his energy for the battle to come.

Outside the jeep, the elder’s hand tightened on his staff.

The other Wakandans looked through the window at Hawk, who seemed to be asleep, and then at each other.

One of them lowered his voice, but before he could speak, the elder shot him a sharp look that silenced him instantly.

A few moments later, the elder led his men back into one of the tents.

A few of the other villagers, as if seeing an outsider for the first time, stood at a distance, looking at the jeep with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

You had to admit. They were good actors.

It had fooled the entire world, even convincing the five permanent members of the UN Security Council that Wakanda was a failing state, securing substantial relief aid each year.

But, they weren't dealing with the UN.

They were dealing with Hawk.

And he saw right through them.

...

Night fell.

A bonfire was lit in the center of the settlement. The Wakandans gathered around it, singing and laughing as if celebrating some local festival.

But even as they celebrated, they kept glancing out of the corners of their eyes at the silent jeep parked just outside their settlement.

As they talked, a few of them seemed to forget to switch back to their native language and continued to whisper in English.

“Is he still in the car?”

“Yes.”

"Speak Wakandan."

“It’s fine. He’s too far away to hear us.”

“He’s still lying down?”

“Yes. He hasn’t moved since he got back in the car this afternoon.”

“What about the elder?”

“He’s gone home.”

“Good. We’ll wait for orders. Keep watching him.”

“Alright.”

Their whispered conversation ended, and the men seamlessly blended back into the impromptu, all-night bonfire party.

In the jeep, Hawk, who had heard every word, just smiled. He dismissed them from his mind and sank his consciousness into his Cosmo.

...

The next morning, Hawk pushed open the jeep’s door, got out, and stretched. He pulled out his phone, checked the time, then found an open space and began his daily ten-thousand-punch routine.

From inside one of the nearby tents, two Wakandans watched him through a small slit in the fabric.

A little while later, footsteps approached.

It was Lunn, the elder from yesterday.

Having returned home under the cover of darkness to report the situation, he was now back, this time with a dozen more Wakandans.

Just as Lunn was about to lead his men out to drive Hawk away—another jeep appeared in the distance.

Is that his backup??

The elder thought, and he motioned for his men to wait.

Hawk also saw the jeep approaching.

And he saw who was driving.

Bruce Banner.