Richard was aware that in Avengers: Endgame, Banner had successfully merged his dual personalities into a single, unified identity—combining the Hulk's incredible strength with Banner's brilliant intellect. The result had been Professor Hulk, a being who possessed the best of both worlds without the internal conflict that had plagued Banner for years.
The problem was, Richard had no idea how Banner had actually accomplished this feat. The movies had glossed over the specifics, showing the end result without explaining the process. However, he was confident about one thing: if the Banner from that timeline could figure out how to achieve integration, then this Banner should be capable of reaching the same conclusion. The only question was how long it would take him to develop the necessary methodology.
After Richard finished explaining the theoretical possibility, Banner fell into contemplative silence. His scientific mind was already working through the implications, considering approaches that might facilitate such a merger.
Finally, after several long seconds, Banner spoke carefully. "If what you're telling me is accurate, then I suppose I could attempt to integrate my personality with the Hulk's consciousness. It's worth exploring, especially if it might lead to the kind of stability you're describing."
Deep down, Banner still harbored hopes of returning to complete normalcy—to be the man he was before that fateful day in the desert when everything changed. But he wasn't naive. After surviving such an intense bombardment of gamma radiation, the fact that he was alive at all defied every law of physics and biology he understood. Expecting to reverse such a fundamental transformation was like expecting lightning to strike in reverse.
"Take your time with it," Richard said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Honestly, I think your current situation isn't entirely without merit. When you need raw power to protect yourself or others, you can transform into the Hulk. When you need to think your way through complex problems, you have access to one of the finest scientific minds on the planet."
He paused, considering his words. "Sure, you can't access both capabilities simultaneously, but that's not necessarily a crippling limitation. It's certainly better than being stuck in Hulk form twenty-four hours a day, unable to conduct research or have meaningful conversations."
Richard's perspective on Banner's condition was pragmatic rather than sympathetic. Whether Banner chose to pursue the integrated personality approach from Endgame or continued managing his dual nature as separate entities didn't particularly matter to him. Both options had their advantages and drawbacks.
Banner studied Richard's face, searching for hidden motives. "Let's set aside the Hulk situation for now. What did you really come here to discuss with me? I find it hard to believe you showed up just to chat about gamma radiation and personality integration."
Richard's lips curved into a genuine smile. "Actually, I really did come here because I was bored."
"Bored?" Banner's eyebrows rose skeptically. "You're telling me that someone with your abilities gets bored? With the kind of power you possess, you could pursue any form of entertainment imaginable. Hell, if you wanted to conquer a small country for kicks, you probably could."
While Richard was being completely honest, Banner found the claim difficult to accept. From his perspective, someone with Richard's vast capabilities should never lack for interesting activities or challenging pursuits. For ordinary people, finding meaningful entertainment could be genuinely difficult due to financial constraints, social limitations, or simple lack of opportunity. For someone like Richard, those barriers simply didn't exist.
What Banner couldn't understand was that Richard, despite his youthful appearance, had accumulated experiences that spanned multiple lifetimes across different realities. The Marvel Zombie Universe, The Boys Universe, the Naruto Universe, and now the Marvel Cinematic Universe—not to mention his original Marvel reality before he'd begun jumping between dimensions. As a interdimensional traveler, he'd witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, participated in cosmic-level conflicts, and accumulated power that most beings could only dream of.
"Having the strength to do anything you want doesn't immunize you against emptiness or existential boredom," Richard explained with a slight sigh. "No matter how powerful someone becomes, there are still moments when everything feels... hollow."
He shook his head, recognizing the futility of trying to explain such a concept. "Never mind. Even if I spelled it out completely, you wouldn't really understand what I'm talking about."
Banner watched Richard's expression shift, noting the genuine weariness that seemed to settle over his features. After a moment, he leaned forward slightly.
"If you're finding yourself uninterested in everything around you, maybe you should try following your heart," Banner suggested, his tone taking on the careful cadence he'd once used with patients during his brief stint in psychiatric consultation. "I'm not entirely sure why this approach appeals to me in your case, but when someone lacks clear direction or goals, listening to their inner voice can be surprisingly effective. Your heart often knows what you truly want, even when your conscious mind is uncertain."
Follow your heart?
Richard considered the advice, turning the concept over in his mind. It was such a simple suggestion, almost childishly naive, yet something about it resonated with him.
After a brief internal debate, he nodded. "You know what? I think I'll take that advice."
"Good," Banner said, seeming pleased that his counsel had been received positively.
"Well, I don't have anything else pressing to discuss," Richard continued, already beginning to fade slightly as he prepared to teleport. "I'll let you get back to your research."
Before Banner could respond, Richard vanished entirely, leaving only empty air where he'd been standing moments before.
Outer Space
Rather than returning to his Manhattan penthouse, Richard materialized in the vacuum of space, floating motionless among the stars. The sun blazed before him, its brilliance unfiltered by atmosphere, casting harsh light across his form. Up here, surrounded by the infinite darkness punctuated by distant stars, he found the silence conducive to deep thought.
As a traveler between worlds, his initial goals had been refreshingly straightforward: become strong enough to survive in the Marvel Universe, accumulate enough power to live comfortably without constantly watching over his shoulder for the next cosmic-level threat. Those objectives had been clear, measurable, and achievable.
But success had brought unexpected complications. As his strength had grown exponentially, the number of beings capable of threatening him had shrunk dramatically. As his influence expanded and he'd gained control over vast resources, many activities that had once seemed exciting or challenging had lost their appeal entirely.
Take his current situation, for example. As long as he avoided provoking the absolute top-tier entities in the Marvel Universe—beings like Death, Eternity, Infinity, or the Living Tribunal—he could conquer entire star systems if the mood struck him. The realization was both liberating and deeply unsettling.
Floating before the burning star, Richard found himself contemplating questions that had plagued philosophers and theologians for millennia: What was the meaning of existence? What purpose did life serve when all immediate needs and desires could be fulfilled with a thought?
Time stretched on, unmarked by any external reference points. In space, minutes and hours held little meaning. Richard simply drifted, thinking, occasionally adjusting his position to maintain his view of the sun.
After what felt like an eternity—though it was probably closer to forty-five minutes—Richard suddenly began to laugh. The sound, inaudible in the vacuum, was directed entirely at himself.
The entire philosophical exercise struck him as absurdly pretentious. If he didn't have clearly defined life goals, then so be it! That wasn't necessarily a crisis that required immediate resolution. There was no cosmic law stating that every sentient being needed to operate according to some grand, overarching purpose.
The revelation was both simple and liberating: he could simply live according to his own preferences and impulses, moment by moment, without requiring some deeper meaning to justify his existence. Everything else—all the existential hand-wringing and philosophical naval-gazing—was ultimately unnecessary baggage.
With that decision made, Richard saw no point in continuing to float around space pondering the nature of existence. He activated his teleportation ability and returned to his Manhattan apartment.
Manhattan Penthouse
Upon materializing in his living room, Richard immediately called out for Wanda and Pietro. Within moments, both siblings had joined him, curious about what he might need.
"I wanted to let you both know that I'll be traveling for a while," Richard announced without preamble. "If you need to reach me for any reason, you can call or text. I might not respond immediately—depending on where I am, I might not receive messages right away—but I'll get back to you as soon as I see them."
Wanda's brow furrowed with concern. "Where exactly are you planning to go?"
"Various places," Richard replied vaguely. "And I don't mean just different countries or regions on Earth."
Pietro's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "Wait, are you talking about going to other planets?"
"Of course," Richard confirmed casually. "I've been to outer space plenty of times before. I've visited quite a few different worlds, actually."
"Which planets have you been to?" Pietro pressed, his excitement palpable.
"Let's see... Xandar, Asgard," Richard listed off as if he were naming vacation destinations. "Among others."
Wanda and Pietro exchanged glances. The names Xandar meant nothing to them—they sounded like locations from science fiction rather than real places. But Asgard was different. Despite becoming orphans at age ten, both siblings remembered the Norse mythology stories they'd heard in their early childhood. Everyone knew that Asgard was the mythical realm of the gods.
Pietro shook his head emphatically. "You're pulling our leg. Asgard is just mythology—it's not a real place."
Richard's expression grew more serious. "I'll let you in on a secret: the Asgardians from Norse mythology are actually an advanced alien race. All those gods you've heard stories about—Odin the All-Father, Thor the God of Thunder, Loki the God of Mischief—they're all real, flesh-and-blood beings."
The siblings stared at him in stunned silence, trying to process the implications of what he'd just revealed. If Richard was telling the truth, then everything they thought they knew about mythology and reality would need to be completely reevaluated.