September 2000. New Mexico.

The man known as the Incredible Hulk furrowed his brow and clenched his hand into a fist. He was so eager for the results of this test that he started to get frustrated. He used meditation to calm himself down, for fear that he might lash out and punch something vital to the experiment. His associate, Dr. Linda Carter, finished powering down the machines. The 60-year old cancer specialist worked the controls with fluid ease. This was far from their first experiment. Simultaneously, Dr. Bruce Banner's console lit up with data.

"How's our patient coming, doctor?" he asked.

"It looks like she's still asleep," she replied, looking in on their test mouse, Lucy.

"My readings confirm that," Banner said. "Detonation is confirmed. Radiation levels at normal. Uh-oh."

Without saying another word, he stood up, leaned his hand at the nearest wall, and took deep breaths. Dr. Carter walked around banks of machines in the center of the room and viewed the same readings.

"Glandular activity is up 50-percent," she noted.

"It was 24-percent a few seconds ago," Banner said distantly.

"Vital signs are erratic."

"Euthanize her."

"Doctor?"

"We don't want another Chester on our hands."

"Even given the remote chance that Lucy will mutate into a monster, we should gather as much data as we--"

"Do as you are instructed, doctor," he said curtly, then stormed out of the lab.

He walked briskly through the halls of what was formerly known as Gamma Base without any real destination in mind. It had been a victory at first, convincing the government to convert the old army base into a medical research facility. Now, however, he imagined the disapproving stares of Gen. "Thunderbolt" Ross at every turn. His dead father-in-law haunted the place like a ghost. "Phone call for you, Bruce," Rick Jones announced over the intercom for all to hear.

Even at 55, Rick was proving to be as nonconforming as a personal secretary as he was as a sidekick. Of course, Bruce had always found that one of his most endearing quality and smirked as he thought about it. He did not take more than two steps towards Rick's desk when something materialized in the air before him. By its orange and scaly skin, bulbous and yellow eyes, diminuitive stature, and helmeted uniform, he could tell it was a toad-man from outer space.

"One called Hulk," the toad-man croaked, "we come for you. Since you defeated our kind in battle --" Banner waved his hand back and forth through the toad-man, breaking up the image and confirming his suspicion that it was some sort of holographic projection. "Stop that!" the holographic toad-man ordered. "Since then, it has become a rite of succession for a new king to challenge you to combat. We will take you to our home world to answer the challenge of King Bubulfigga!"

"I'd love to," Banner said, assuming there was some audio-receiving feature to this hologram, "but I can't. I'm under contract with the skrulls."

"The skrulls?"

"That's right. I'm only supposed to fight for them now. Of course, if you want me to come with you and then sort this out with the skrulls later..." The toad-man suddenly looked ill. "We...will work this out first," he said. Then he made a cutting motion with his fingers to one side and the transmission ended.

"Where have you been?" Rick asked.

"Talking to a toad-man," Bruce replied. "They are so stupid."

"Tell me later. I've got Washington on hold. Senator Bingaman wants to talk to you."

Bruce picked up the phone and took the line off of hold. "Hello? This is Bruce Banner speaking. Yes, I'll wait." He took the phone from his ear. "Now I'm the one on hold," he told Rick with some exasperation in his voice.

"What did the toad-men want?" Rick rolled his wheelchair out from under his desk and moved closer to chat.

"A fight. What else does anyone want from the Hulk? I'd be fed up by now, but I find it fascinating how people -- even alien races -- keep crossing my path over and over."

"Yeah, that reminds me. I saw Princess Python, from the Circus of Crime, on the local news last night."

"In trouble?"

"Nah. She says she's gone straight. Opened an exotic massage parlor."

"Exotic massage?"

"Yeah. For a hundred bucks she has a big snake slither across your back. Now it's a fad."

"No kidding." He checked the phone again. "Yes, I'm here. Sen. Bingaman, what can I do for you? My office already sent you that paperwork...oh, I see. Layman's terms. All right, what we're doing is destroying cancerous tumors with gamma bombs. Microscopic ones. The explosion destroys the tumor. The radiation is no more dangerous than chemotherapy. What is different here is that gamma radiation has been shown to cause repressed or dormant characteristics to become dominant. In this case, the dormant characteristic is good health. We're looking at a new kind of cancer operation that speeds recovery and makes the patient more resistant to remission. No, the theories aren't my own. I'm just working on their practical application. You'll find a photocopy of an article from JAMA written by Reed Richards himself proposing the idea in with the other papers we sent. No. No, it's much too soon for a press conference. We're still in the early stages of testing on lab mice. All right, we'll keep your office posted. Thank you, Senator. Good-bye." Bruce sighed. "Have you taken your lunch break yet, Rick?"

"Nope."

"Good. You can take an early one with me." Bruce walked along slowly to the old mess hall, allowing Rick to keep up. "After being hunted by the government for so many years, it's hard trusting them again," Bruce said. "Do you think Bingaman is keeping tabs on me for ulterior motives besides us operating on federal grant money?"

"Hard to say, boss. This wouldn't be the first time you've been cured only to go rampaging again later."

"I won't pretend my 'bad Hulk' characteristics are gone, but I've learned to surpress them now, just like an ordinary person surpresses his baser urges." Their conversation was drowned out by an alarm that sounded. Red lights flashed from the exits. "Head back to the office," Bruce shouted over the noise, "I'll look into this." Rick watched him go. "It's not me you have to convince," he said, though no one could hear him.

The purple-hued, humanoid, but featureless robot marched unerringly towards what had once been the command center for Gamma Base. It was programmed to anticipate tanks, planes, and all manner of exotic, top-secret weapons. Instead, it detected no more than 50 people on the base, and no sign of heavy ordinance. As it neared the building, its gamma detector spiked, indicating the Hulk was near. Weapon systems automatically came online and commenced acquiring a target.

It fired a burst of concussion bombs, demolishing an entire wall of the building. It could now see the Hulk clearly on its sensors. Only an interior wall separated them. The falling debris briefly disengaged its target lock. During the half-second it took to re-engage, it watched the Hulk press a button on a small, handheld electronic device. Moments later, the Hulk was standing over the now-inert robot, with two security guards right behind him. He gave it a kick with his foot just hard enough to produce a satisfying rattle sound.

"What is it?" the guard named John asked, pushing back his cap and scratching his head.

"Since this device worked," Banner replied, "I'd say it's one of the Leader's old robots. He seems to have left a lot of them lying around as contingencies. Every few years one of them activates and tries to enact some old plot of his. I guess this one was to take over Gamma Base."

He stared at the robot for just a moment longer, than addressed both men behind him. "See if anyone was hurt and inform me of any injuries. And see to it that the debris is cleaned up." With that, he left.

"That sure was something," the guard named Robert said to John.

"Yeah, but what I can't get over is how the fight ended without the Hulk throwing so much as a punch," John commented. "What's with that?"

Rick Jones had nearly returned to his desk when the explosion occurred. He thought about turning his wheelchair around and investigating, but quickly decided against it. It was probably some new supervillain trying to make a rep for himself by taking on the Hulk. Rick wondered if there was an initiation rite for new supervillains -- survive against the Hulk and you passed.

Only, in the last few years, he'd noticed Bruce was winning by narrower margins. Six months ago a new Metal Master lasted a few minutes with Bruce. He was just a kid, barely in his twenties, and probably didn't even know there had been a Metal Master back in '62. Two months ago there was someone new calling himself the Human Top who actually gave Bruce a good workout. Bruce would shrug off each fight, refusing to talk about them afterwards. People were passing Rick in the hall. Some of the grad students from Alberquerque were just running away now. They probably hid under the tables in the cafeteria first, then figured out you don't "duck and cover" when a Hulk battle starts.

A few security guards ran the other way. Good kids. Rick had picked them out. The oldest one, Erik, had once been a roadie for Rick the last time he took a band on the road. The youngest one, Tom, was the son of one of the original Teen Brigade members. The other one was a girl who'd e-mailed her application to him with a pic attached. She was a redhead, and Rick had a weakness for redheads ever since Marlo. Rick sighed as thoughts of Marlo involuntarily drifted through his mind. Sometime later, he was interrupted from his memories by someone's voice. "Rick, are you okay?" Doc Sampson asked. Rick snapped out of it.

He looked up at Doc, who was sporting snappier threads these days than his old red t-shirt and wearing his green hair short. "Hey, Leonard!" Rick said. "Did you just get here?" Sampson nodded.

"I saw the explosion as I was being flown here by helicopter. The fight seems to be long-since over now, though, and I can't find Bruce anywhere."

"He made an appointment with you?" Rick said, raising an eyebrow. "A few days ago. He said it wasn't anything urgent, but when the strongest guy on the planet asks to see his psychiatrist, how do you say no?"

"I'll try a few extensions..." Rick said, absent-mindedly. He knew Sampson was joking, but he still didn't like this.

"Come in," Bruce said, as Doc Sampson knocked on the door to his office. Bruce had discarded his XXL-sized lab coat and was lounging about in a polo shirt and slacks. Music was playing. "Tchaikovsky?" Sampson asked. "Another tortured soul," Bruce responded. "I also have Mozart I could put on..."

"This is fine." Sampson hung up his sportcoat and found a seat. "How are things?"

"All things considered? An alien race wants me to fight their champion again, I'm still cleaning up after the Leader after all these years, and the experiments aren't progressing as fast as I'd like."

"The cancer treatments?"

"Yes."

"It's bothering you that you haven't beaten cancer yet?"

"It's not like I'm expecting to go, 'Hulk smash,' and it will just go away. But -- I invented the gamma bomb, indestructible armor, a time-machine gun -- curing a disease should be a breeze for me. I thought we'd be doing human testing by now, and we're still on mice!"

"You did notice that the three things you named were all destructive or combat-oriented?"

"Yes, I know. I know. Even when I'm inventing I'm lashing out. But does that mean I'm incapable of putting my gifts towards healing?"

"No, of course not. We already know from past sessions that you have a deep need to leave a legacy of good behind for the world. Do you see this, curing cancer, as the culimination of your legacy?"

"...Yes. But it's not as simple as that."

"Oh?"

"You see, ...I'm running out of time..."

The rest of the building was slowly being evacuated. Rick Jones was one of the last people to leave, as he'd been on the phone with the insurance company for the last hour. Their rates were astronomical, having the "infamous" Hulk working there, and this didn't help any. One of the security guards, John, was waiting patiently to talk to him.

"What can I do for you, John?" Rick asked, scratching his ear where the phone was.

"I'm ready to do a last check on all the rooms to make sure everyone's out, but I know Dr. Banner and Dr. Sampson are still in Banner's office. How do I tell them that they have to leave?"

"You don't. Come on, I'll go with you."

"Do you need any help?"

"No -- no, I'm fine," Rick said, keeping his tone from sounding defensive. It was true that he was not long out of physical therapy, but that just made him all the more determined not to accept any help. They checked room by room, finding no one until they had nearly finished the east wing. There, in what should have been an unused laboratory, they found someone. It was the redhead guard. "

What are you doing in here, Monica?" John asked. "This area is restricted." She turned around slowly. Rick had a bad feeling. She was holding a beaker of some brownish liquid. "Put that down, Monica," Rick said. She didn't. She began to walk towards them with it. Rick felt something was really wrong now. He pulled the pistol out of John's holster before John could react and he pointed it at Monica. "Put that down," he repeated, but to no avail. She tossed the beaker. Rick fired. His shot missed the beaker. John failed to dodge the beaker.

"Ew...what is this stuff?" John asked. The brown liquid smelled like raw sewage and seeped quickly through his clothes.

"The end of the Hulk," Monica said.

"The Corporation sends its regards." John screamed. Rick glanced over and was horrified to see John's flesh appeared to be melting. He turned to Monica, keeping the gun trained on her, but hesitated too long as she turned back to the counter, snatched up a second beaker, and poured the contents over her head.

"Why haven't you told Rick this?" Sampson asked.

"I ...don't know," Banner replied. "Rick's been like family to me for so long. Since Betty ...died, there's really only my cousin Jennifer and Rick left. If I told him..."

"Rick has always been a supportive friend," Sampson pointed out. "And forgiving."

"About his partial paralysis?"

"Yes....I can't forgive myself for that. It seems like I've been fighting forever against someone or another. For almost four decades now they've just lined up before me on an almost monthly basis. I just got so used to hitting and hitting and..."

"One day Rick was in the way."

"Yeah. Something like that." After a long pause, Sampson added, "I really don't see how telling him would drive him away. If anything, I think he would be immediately supportive, and what you really need right now is support."

"No, it's Rick who does. He's the one --" He stopped because they could both hear a crashing sound coming from far down the empty corridors of the building.

"Is the debris from the explosion being cleared already?" Sampson asked.

"Or maybe the Leader's robot has somehow reactivated. Let's check," Banner said, picking up the remote deactivator he'd used on it earlier from his desk.

Rick Jones couldn't get his wheelchair to move fast enough, so he tipped it over and crawled as fast as his arms could carry him under a desk in the next room. He waited, listened, and was relieved to hear the two muck-monsters were moving away from the room he was in. Apparently, "duck and cover" wasn't such a bad tactic after all. He had to warn Bruce somehow. Or...was that his voice now?

"It had to be coming from around here somewhere -- Holy --!" Bruce yelled, surprised by the sight of two shambling, brownish-green muck-monsters coming towards him. "Leonard, get behind me," he said as he moved between them. There was something unmistakably familiar about them -- they both looked like the Glob.

One of them swung at Bruce, and he raised his forearms to block it. The impact was staggering. He flew backwards into Sampson, the impact knocking the breath out of him. Stupid! He knew he wasn't as strong as he used to be, but instinctively tried to save Sampson. Sampson quickly assessed the situation.

"Step back, Bruce," he said. "I'll try to handle them." As he stepped forward, he found both monsters were in close quarters with him. He swung a hard right into the closer one's face and found it was soft and gooey. Worse, it was sticky and not letting go of his hand. Rather than struggle to break free, he jabbed six more quick blows to the creature's face before his hand was thoroughly stuck and that seemed to momentarily stun it.

Meanwhile, the other one had flanked him and rained gooey punches onto Sampson's shoulder with frightening strength. If his hand was not stuck to the first one's face, he would have fallen to his knees from the impact. Groaning from the pain, Sampson lashed out with his free left hand hard enough to hold it fast to the other monster. Then, pushing with all his might, he shoved all three of them through a nearby wall. Bruce Banner was going to rush back in and help his friend when he heard Rick calling to him. He turned around and saw Rick's half-bald head sticking out from behind a desk.

"Bruce, quick, in here! There's something I have to tell you."

"Now isn't a good time, Rick..." Bruce said as he jogged into the room.

"The two Globs out there -- they're really John and Monica from the security team! Monica was a mole working for the Corporation and she subjected them both to some chemical that turned them into ...that!"

"Hmm, chemicals, eh? If this just happened, there's a chance that their bodies haven't been completely assimilated. Come on -- no, keep low. Hopefully Sampson can hold them off until I get back."

Bruce ran past the combat zone to where it had all started -- the chemistry lab. Chemistry wasn't his strongest suite, but he was confident that he could find the materials he needed. A few minutes later, he had two gallon jugs filled and carried them towards the sound of fighting. The fight had gone through four rooms and two corridors before he found Sampson and the two Globs and, as he had hoped, Sampson had caused so much destruction for a purpose. He had succeeded in knocking the pair of them through enough walls that they were coated thickly in plaster and insulation.

Bereft of their adhesiveness, they no longer had any advantage over Doc Sampson. Yet, two to one, they were still holding their own.

"It's about time you got here," Sampson half-joked. He was badly bruised and his clothes were torn. "What are those?"

"Something that will clean up these 'Pseudo-Globs,'" Bruce said as he threw one and then the other jug at the monsters. The plastic containers broke open, spilling contents that looked like lotion all over them. Both pseudo-Globs moaned as the muck that covered their bodies began to shed loose. "What was that? Acid?"

"No, a defoliant. Once I knew the transformation had happened so quickly, I reasoned that most of this material was covering them, but not really them. So I whipped up some heavy-duty soap to separate them from what's mutating them. We need water...let's see..." Banner reached into a damaged wall nearby, found a water pipe, and broke it open.

He aimed the stream of water at the combatants, transforming the Globs this time into heaps of soapy lather. The Globs were still fighting stiffly with Sampson, but large pieces of their bulk were flaking off with every blow Sampson landed. Banner lent a hand, finally leaping into the melee with his fists swinging. The fight did not last much longer. The Globs were now recognizable as John and Monica again, though their bodies were swollen with muscle and their skin looked like it had been flayed off. One and then the other crashed to the floor, unconscious from the beatings they took.

"So, the 'globs' were those chemicals from the beakers?" Rick asked later.

"Right. I haven't had a chance to do a detailed analysis yet," Bruce explained, "but it seems the chemicals reacted with their clothes, hair, and skin, making them swell into, well, like a sticky shell. Inside, the chemical was continuing to mutate the body, but needed more time as it worked its way through the more complex organs."

"Eww -- but I think I follow that. What I really don't get is why the Corporation was after you?"

"Yes, I wasn't aware that I'd crossed paths with them in years. Perhaps the Metal Master or Human Top worked for them? Or maybe they wanted to lay their hands on the ol' Gamma Base. Monica was in no condition to tell us, so we may never know."

"I can't believe what you did to her..."

"No? She was a spy, an attempted murderer, and worked for a crime cartel. She couldn't go back to a normal life looking as deformed as she was, and her super-strength from the mutation made her a prime candidate for a new supervillain."

"So you turned her over to the toad-men?"

"They wanted a Hulk, and I've gone through so many transformations in the last 40 years, one more didn't seem implausible to them. Well...I should be getting back to work..."

"Feeling anymore confident about your experiments?"

"Yes, yes I am. I think this episode has reminded me that I'm not just a fighter or a survivor, I'm a problem-solver. And I'll solve this one too."

"I'm awfully glad to hear that...especially since...aw, I just want you to know that I'm here for ya, big guy."

"Thanks."

"I mean..."

"Rick, there's something you should know."

"You don't have to say it, Bruce. I figured it out awhile ago....You've got cancer."

"What? No..."

"Huh?"

"What made you -- oh, because I'm working on...? Oh....No, I took up the fight against cancer just because I thought it was a fight I could win before I...run out of time."

"Now I'm confused. You just said you don't have cancer...?"

"Right. I'm grateful not to have cancer, believe me, but my condition has about the same end result. See...the power of the Hulk didn't just appear out of nowhere for all these years. This body is a gamma-charged battery, but every battery runs down eventually. That's why I've been getting gradually weaker over the years, despite various 'recharges.'"

"That sucks -- can't you just change yourself back to ...your old self?"

"Puny Banner? No, I'm afraid I've studied my condition very thoroughly. My old form wouldn't be able to survive any longer."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Pretty much what I've been doing so far. Keep going, make sure I leave a legacy behind me -- something positive this time, and try to keep those around me from harm. And, from now on, keep no secrets from my best friends."

"Hey, that's what we're for."