The door chimed when he pushed it open, ushering the kids in.
For obvious reasons---the first of which being that he was not a Spider---Bruce did not have a Spidey-Sense. His instincts had been rewritten and perverted along the way, twisted with the beast the was Hulk. He could not anticipate things in the same preternatural way as Spider-Man, but he could smell a fight coming. The ringing of the alarm was high and thin, too faint for the children to hear, nothing but a dull whine to his sensitive ears, but it was an explanation when the three men in black ski masks yelled "Freeze!" and one of them drew a gun.
"Hands up! Toss your wallet!" one of the men barked, gesturing with the gun. Bruce's nostrils flared hard. He sized up the situation with luminous green eyes, setting Ruka down. He gave her sister a purposeful look, a watch her.
It would figure, really. It would figure that he would try to take the children out to ice cream and manage to choose the one ice cream parlor that was being robbed. He was hyper-aware of the distance between the men and the children, the direction of the gun he was waving. Some rapidly-boiling corner of his mind labeled Hulk dragged its head up and took attention: there was danger, and there were children. The two could not be reconciled by puny Bruce Banner.
"An ice cream parlor?" Bruce asked the assailants, upper lip curling. "You'd threaten kids for whatever paltry amount is in the cash register?"
"Shut the fuck up, man!" one of the lackies quipped with appropriate crassness and timing. "We don't want trouble!"
no subject
For obvious reasons---the first of which being that he was not a Spider---Bruce did not have a Spidey-Sense. His instincts had been rewritten and perverted along the way, twisted with the beast the was Hulk. He could not anticipate things in the same preternatural way as Spider-Man, but he could smell a fight coming. The ringing of the alarm was high and thin, too faint for the children to hear, nothing but a dull whine to his sensitive ears, but it was an explanation when the three men in black ski masks yelled "Freeze!" and one of them drew a gun.
"Hands up! Toss your wallet!" one of the men barked, gesturing with the gun. Bruce's nostrils flared hard. He sized up the situation with luminous green eyes, setting Ruka down. He gave her sister a purposeful look, a watch her.
It would figure, really. It would figure that he would try to take the children out to ice cream and manage to choose the one ice cream parlor that was being robbed. He was hyper-aware of the distance between the men and the children, the direction of the gun he was waving. Some rapidly-boiling corner of his mind labeled Hulk dragged its head up and took attention: there was danger, and there were children. The two could not be reconciled by puny Bruce Banner.
"An ice cream parlor?" Bruce asked the assailants, upper lip curling. "You'd threaten kids for whatever paltry amount is in the cash register?"
"Shut the fuck up, man!" one of the lackies quipped with appropriate crassness and timing. "We don't want trouble!"