The Avengers Assemble by Thomas Macri Page A

them.
    One of the agents’ flashlight beams landed on something covered by a thin veil of ice crystals. It looked like a symbol of some sort—a star, circles. There was something familiar about the patterns, but the agent couldn’t determine what exactly. He wiped the ice from the object. Whatever he’d found, it should yield some clues to the ship’s purpose.
    â€œLieutenant!” the agent called.
    The other approached quickly from behind.
    â€œWhat is it?” the agent asked the lieutenant.
    The lieutenant stared down in dumbfounded amazement. It was an unmistakable emblem—a bold white star set over blue metal—not just any metal, vibranium. And it was ringed with red and white circles. A shield—one that belonged to a hero that some discounted as a myth, a hoax.
    â€œBASE!” the lieutenant called into his monitor. “Give me a line to the colonel”
    â€œIt’s three a.m. for him, sir,” the base responded.
    â€œI don’t care what time it is,” the lieutenant said. “This one’s waited long enough.”

CHAPTER TWENTY
    SINCE HIS BATTLE with the Abomination, Bruce had been moving from town to town and country to country, so as not to be tracked down. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for him. He also knew Ross wanted to capture him, force the Hulk out, then dissect it to study and replicate it. But Bruce was the only one who understood just how dangerous and unpredictable the Hulk’s power was. He’d been living with it inside him for years now and had spent most of his time finding ways to keep the Hulk locked up. For long stretches, he’d been successful. But on the occasions when someone had been able to track him down, things went terribly wrong.
    Bruce was becoming encouraged by the fact that he’d finally gotten the Hulk under some sort control and that he could bring some of himself into the Hulk. He did this when he protected Betty and General Ross from the Abomination, and even when he attacked the Abomination itself—he knew what he was doing, knew what was at stake. And for all the injuries the Hulk caused—and Bruce felt partly responsible for each and every one of them—he’d saved scores of other people who might have perished if the Abomination hadn’t been stopped.
    What Bruce did not feel great about was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s understanding of what the Hulk was. As he tried to explain on so many occasions, the Hulk was not the kind of thing that could ever be captured, controlled, or studied. S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to disagree. Keeping himself out of their hands not only protected Bruce himself, but also anyone who would get in the Hulk’s way once he’d become enraged.
    As a result, he returned to his wandering ways, just as he’d done years ago when he was hiding out in Brazil, where he worked in a bottling plant, or squatting in Mexico as a beggar. Whenever he could do so, he helped whoever needed it along the way. He currently found himself in Calcutta. Bruce had made a life for himself here, and there was really no end to the number of people in need. This kept Bruce in the city longer than most places.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
    STEVE ROGERS WOKE in unfamiliar surroundings. He felt refreshed. His head was clear and he was full of energy, but he couldn’t figure out where he was or how he’d gotten here.
    The institutional-looking room was spare. The steel-frame cot that Steve slept on looked like government issue. The mint-green walls were bare. At the far corner of the room, a radio played a baseball game. The Brooklyn Dodgers. Something was wrong.
    Steve looked over toward the window from his bed. The sun was shining and a pleasant breeze was blowing in. By the angle of the sunlight it appeared to be late morning.
    Judging by the soaring brick towers, he could tell he was in Manhattan. He was dressed in a T-shirt emblazoned with the insignia of the SSR—the Special