Smith strolled down Broadway with Bulma at his side. The city noise was a familiar hum of traffic, chatter, and distant sirens. The Dragon Ball tournament was over, the chaos had settled, and he'd promised himself two days of peace. A proper weekend with her, no interruptions.
Bulma spotted an ice cream vendor and lit up, her whole expression brightening. She jogged over, her excitement infectious, and returned moments later holding two cones. Original vanilla and strawberry.
She handed him the vanilla cone with a bright smile. "This one's yours."
Smith took it. The cone was crisp, the ice cream rich and cold. He gave her cheek a gentle pinch. "Thanks."
Bulma looped her arm through his, happily eating her strawberry cone as they walked. Her outfit was casual today, youthful and bright, a simple top and jeans. She drew looks from passersby, though most of those curious glances shifted to recognition, and a little awe, when they realized she was with Smith Doyle.
Several people started forward, hands already reaching for phones or notepads, looking for autographs or photos. Almost before they had taken two steps, members of the Fraternity materialized from the crowd. They were dressed as civilians, and they intercepted the fans politely but firmly. "Mr. Doyle appreciates the support, but he's on a private outing. Thank you." No disturbances. Not today.
Fox had arranged a werewolf security team to shadow them at a distance, ensuring Bulma's safety without being intrusive. Bulma didn't mind. Honestly, she preferred it this way. It felt like a real date. Just her and Smith, no crowds pressing in.
She leaned against his arm, about to say something, when the sharp crack of gunfire split the air several blocks away.
The crowd's reaction was immediate. Some people ran. Others stood frozen, staring toward the sound. Smith stopped walking. Bulma frowned, her good mood evaporating instantly. "Why is Broadway so chaotic? Can we only go out during the day now?"
"I just wanted a quiet afternoon, and someone has to ruin it."
An explosion boomed through the street, much closer this time. A deep, heavy thump that vibrated in Smith's chest. More serious.
Smith's jaw tightened as sirens wailed, growing louder. Police and military vehicles began converging on the intersection just ahead. Another explosion, brighter this time, sent flames and a column of black smoke climbing into the sky.
Smith's eyes narrowed. "Something big is happening."
He caught a glimpse of a massive, inhuman silhouette moving through the smoke and fire. His mind clicked through the timeline. Bruce and Betty had left that morning. They'd been heading to see Dr. Stern. Which meant...
"Abomination," Smith muttered.
Bulma followed his gaze to the chaos unfolding at the intersection, her own expression hardening. "Smith, looks like it's hero time."
Abomination roared, a sound that was more animal than man, throwing debris in all directions. An RPG blast struck him in the back and only seemed to fuel his rage. He grabbed a parked sedan with both hands, muscles bulging grotesquely, and hurled it like a toy.
It tumbled end over end, straight at Smith and Bulma.
Smith didn't move. His eyes flared a sudden, intense red. Twin, needle-thin beams of energy lanced out with a high-pitched shreeee. Piccolo's Eye Beam technique cut the car cleanly in half mid-flight. The two bisected halves of the vehicle, shedding parts, crashed to the pavement on either side of them, missing the crowd completely.
A bystander nearby, who had dived for cover, looked up and shouted, "It's Superman!"
With Piccolo's abilities integrated into his arsenal, Smith figured the comparison was fair. He could even materialize a cape if he wanted, red or a white one like Piccolo's.
Abomination's head swiveled toward Smith. The monster's eyes, burning with rage, locked onto him, and everything else ceased to matter. The military vehicles, the police barricades, the fleeing civilians. None of it registered. Only Smith.
Abomination bellowed and charged, smashing through cars and barriers like they didn't exist.
Smith glanced at Bulma. "Stay safe."
The werewolf team closed in immediately, their expressions grim, forming a protective circle around her. Bulma didn't flinch. She drew the sleek laser pistol she'd designed herself and moved to cover with her guards. If anyone thought the chaos was an opportunity for crime, they'd learn otherwise very quickly.
Smith launched himself into the air, a low, horizontal streak that cracked the pavement under his feet. He closed the distance in a heartbeat. His fist drove forward with all his new, integrated power behind it.
The sonic boom cracked like thunder, shattering the windows of nearby buildings. White, concentric shockwaves rippled outward from the point of impact. Abomination flew backward faster than he'd charged forward, his massive body tumbling end over end. He carved a deep, grinding trench through the asphalt, flattening every car in his path before finally skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust and debris.
Soldiers and police stared in shock, weapons lowered. One of them found his voice first. "Hell yeah! Kill that Hulk!"
Smith landed lightly, his coat settling. He held up a hand. "Everyone needs to evacuate civilians immediately. Give me and this thing enough space to fight without casualties."
The police moved instantly. Crowd control was their job, and they knew how to do it. The military hesitated, not used to taking orders from Smith, but they didn't interfere either.
Helicopter - Above Manhattan
Bruce watched the monitor, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. He saw Smith's punch, the casual, overwhelming display of power. "Let me go. You have to let me go down there."
Betty grabbed his shoulder, her voice rising in panic. "What are you talking about?"
"You think you can control the Hulk?"
Bruce met her eyes, his gaze intense. "Not control. Use. There's a difference."
"What if it doesn't work?" she pleaded. "What if you can't transform anymore? The antidote..."
Bruce turned to Ross, his expression deadly serious. "We created that thing. We are responsible for stopping it."
Ross studied Banner's face for a long moment, weighing the options, the destruction on the monitor plain to see. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Take us lower."
Bruce shook his head sharply. "No. Stay at altitude. Just open the rear hatch."
Ross's eyebrows rose, but he gestured to a soldier. The man moved to the controls.
The hatch split open with a hydraulic hiss. Wind roared into the cabin, a deafening, physical force. Bruce moved toward the edge. Betty lunged forward and grabbed his arm. "Wait! Bruce, you have to think about this! You don't know if you'll transform. The cure might have worked. The Hulk could be gone!"
Her voice cracked. "Don't do this. It's insane."
Bruce looked at her, his expression softening in the midst of the roaring wind. "Betty. I have to try."
He pulled her close and kissed her, hard. For a moment, the chaos outside, the monster below, the screaming wind, none of it existed. Just the two of them.
Then he leaned back and fell.
Betty's eyes flew open. She reached out, her fingers grasping at empty air.
"Bruce!"
But he was already gone, a small figure dropping toward the street far below.
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