sixwordstories | (no subject)

(A moment ago, something excessively horrible had been investigating him. As soon as he wakes, it jerks away from him with a squeak, and beelines for a dumpster. If he is very quick, he might get a glimpse of it: a low swoosh of liquid red.)

[He'd just been trying to catch some sleep, looking much like any other homeless person. But something like a bad dream jolted him awake. Whatever it was, it seemed to be gone now but Bruce was sufficiently rattled to not be able to go back to sleep. He pulled his jacket closer, watching to be sure he was truly alone. He could never be too sure.]

(It takes a while, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but something uncoils out from under the dumpster - which, come to think of it, is not nearly so malodorous as it was when Bruce lay down.)

(A low little wave sweeps over the concrete, perhaps two feet across and six inches high. It skirts around Bruce, curiously investigating his outline without ever quite touching him.)

[Bruce's eyes get steadily wider as he backs against the wall. Surely this wasn't real. He must be asleep still. A bad dream, he's had plenty of those before. Just breathe, he keeps telling himself, watching the strange....creature...circling back and forth.

Finally, scientific curiosity overrules the fear reaction and he carefully puts out a hand. Not sure if he should really touch it but there had to be an explanation for what he was seeing. Would it react to him? It seemed to be attracted to him being there.]

(It pauses, then mounds up below his hand. The thing wobbles back and forth, surface rippling in complicated patterns. Finally, it slowly, uncertainly extends a pseudopod towards his hand and gingerly pokes at a fingertip. The rest of its mass scoots back a few inches, the better to quickly escape.)

(The sensation is warm and wet, but it leaves no residue behind. )

[What could it be?? Bruce watches in amazement, the substance seemed to have a mind of its own. It was almost....tentative. He runs his other hand over the one that contacted the creature and doesn't find it wet. It didn't give any answers, just more questions.

He looks quickly one way, then the other to be sure he's alone. Which didn't help the sensation that he was probably imagining this whole thing.]

...um....hello.

[What else could be said to an amorphous blob that just poked your finger?]

(It backs away, flattening down. Two dimples dance erratically across its surface, then it speaks in a very quiet, whispery voice)

Hi.

[.....all the hair on the back of his neck felt like it stood on end with that one word. Bruce puts a hand over his face, pinching his nose.]

Banner, you're losing it.... [He mumbles to himself. This was probably a sign his mind had finally cracked beyond repair. That had to be the explanation.]

Lost?

(The voice is too whispery for real inflection, but it sounds a touch worried. It reaches out and lightly touches his knee, twice. Pat, pat.)

Be okay.

[He shrinks back against the wall from the patting pseudopod. Surreal that it should be comforting him.]

I'm... [his voice wavering slightly] ...not so sure about that. You're probably not even there.

No?

(It scoots back, then moves in a little circle, then spirals around itself, one end pulling away and trailing a long tail to the central mass. This winds around and around and around, piling up, then melts together back into one smooth mound.)

No, wrong. Am here. Right here. See? Right here. This place.

[Small nervous laugh, this was bordering on the absurd now.]

Yes, yes I see. Just not sure if.... [Does one explain to a figment of the imagination that they are not real? Maybe he won't.] ...if...I know who you are?

I are?

(This deep thought requires more spiralling. This time three little balls split away entirely, and trace wandering paths in the filth of the alley, leaving intricate trails of cleanliness behind them.)

Are - am! Yes.

But secret. Whhhhh -

(It pauses, rippling, then tries that last bit again.)

But secret. Ffzz- shhhhh! Sh.

...a secret? You mean don't tell anyone that you exist.

[Bruce can piece together that much. Something very basic and sentient about this creature. And he was getting scientifically curious again.]

I won't say anything. Promise. [Who would believe him? He'd be put into a padded room. After being dissected for the Hulk.]

[He pauses before stepping up to the mound of liquid. Was it liquid? Maybe a non-newtonian fluid...that spoke english.] Do you have a name? I'm Bruce.

(It wafts a powerful, coppery smell of blood.)

Name.

(It holds still, but elongates upwards into a tall, wobbly cone, like something a child made on the first day of pottery class. It almost comes up to his waist.)

Name. Um. .....no.

Secret.

[The corner of his mouth twitches into an almost smirk at that.]

Fair enough.

[Not like his name was any less secret. In fact, as a police car is driving by the alley, Bruce quickly makes like he's a homeless man again, pulling his hat down and leaning against the wall behind the dumpster. Thankfully it moves on and he breathes a sigh of relief.]

(The column instantly collapses, splashing under the dumpster fast and hard enough to rock it.)

[Alarmed at the rocking dumpster, Bruce squashes himself down farther behind it, hoping that nobody else saw.

His watch beeping to warn him that his heart rate had jumped up to 130. Bruce takes a few slow breaths to bring it back down to 100. Too close.

He leans down to check under the dumpster. Whispering to the liquid creature.]

....you okay?

(There is...there is a lot of blood under there. Enough that the dumpster is really sitting on a flattened pad of it. A little bit of it scoots out, and up the side of the dumpster to cling at roughly face height)

Yes. You okay Bruce?

[Blood? That red color was unmistakable now. Coupled with the smell, that changed Bruce's perspective of the substance. There was a definite possibility that it was a living creature now.]

I...yes, I'm alright. [So they were both in hiding. How ironic.]

You don't live here, do you?

Live...wherever. On own, now.

(The clinging spheroid ruffles up, elaborate as a puff of lace)

Just me. So, wherever. Nice.

[A faint sadness to his expression, it was all too familiar.]

Yeah. I know what you mean...

[He was alone by proxy and by choice. To protect others and to keep from getting caught.]

Wish I could hide that easily.

Is...nice. Take care, just me. Happy. Quiet.

Hard to...can't talk much. Or good.