Chapter 2: The Titan's Gambit
The agony was absolute, but its reign was brief. As quickly as it had seized him, the torrent of pain receded, leaving in its wake a profound and terrifying new reality. Talon's perspective of the world had fundamentally shifted. He was now looking down at the scene. The shattered street, the stunned soldiers, the slumped form of the Abomination—all of it was smaller. He flexed his hands, now massive, three-fingered fists of green, scaly hide and raw power. He was a giant, a mirror image of the very monster he had just touched.
A low, guttural laugh rumbled in his chest. It worked.
"Ding. Congratulations to the host on the first successful gene extraction. Awarding Newcomer Gift Package."
The system's voice was a cool balm in his roaring mind. With a thought, he accessed it. His mental interface visualized a package, and within it, a single, pulsating vial of light labeled Evolutionary Catalyst.
His heart—a powerful, slow-thumping drum in his new chest—surged with anticipation. An evolution of the Abomination's raw, brutish power? This was the key to not just surviving, but dominating.
System, use the Evolutionary Catalyst on the Abomination gene!
"Ding. Commencing evolution of Abomination genetic template."
The change was less violent but more profound than the first. It wasn't a tearing apart, but a reforging. He felt his structure compact and refine. The lanky, monstrous proportions of the Abomination smoothed into a physique of classical, monumental strength. His height increased, pushing him to a solid three meters, and his mass nearly doubled, his density becoming incredible. His green, mottled skin hardened and shifted to a dark, weathered bronze, like a ancient statue brought to life. He was no longer a monster; he was a Titan.
"Ding. Evolution successful. Congratulations to the host for obtaining the Titan Gene."
Power. Not the chaotic, rage-fueled power of the Hulk or the painful, malformed strength of the Abomination. This was deep, settled, and absolute. It felt like the bedrock of the world itself was flowing through his veins. For the first time since arriving in this nightmare, Talon Reeve felt a sliver of true control.
"You..." a weak, rasping voice came from his feet. The Abomination, Emil Blonsky, was staring up at him, his bestial eyes wide with a mixture of pain and sheer, unadulterated shock. "What... what are you?"
"I am the next step," Talon's voice boomed, deeper and more resonant than before, like stones grinding together. It carried an authority that silenced the background chaos.
It was only then that he noticed the silence. The crowd of soldiers and agents had frozen, their weapons—once trained on the defeated Abomination—were now swinging shakily towards him. General Ross stood, his jaw slack, his face a mask of utter confusion. The carefully controlled situation had just birthed a new, unknown variable.
A sharp, feminine gasp cut the air. Betty Ross had her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide. Talon followed her gaze, and then looked down at himself. His massive new form was... entirely exposed. The shreds of his old clothing were long gone.
Well, that's a complication, he thought with a surge of grim amusement.
A young soldier, recovering his wits faster than his comrades, scrambled to a nearby debris pile and pulled out a large, folded sheet of green, heavy-duty canvas—the kind used to cover military equipment. "Sir!" he called out, tossing the roll. "Use this!"
Talon caught it with a hand that could crush steel, his new fingers surprisingly deft. He unfurled the canvas and wrapped it around his waist, fashioning a crude but effective loincloth. As he tied it off, he heard a chorus of disappointed sighs from several women in the crowd. The absurdity of the moment wasn't lost on him. Even as a bronze giant, some things remained universal.
His attention was pulled back to the man in charge. General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, his composure returning, stepped forward, his eyes narrowed like a hawk's. "Identify yourself!" he barked, every inch the military commander.
"You can call me Talon," the giant's voice rumbled. "And I can give you what you want. I can help you capture the Hulk."
Ross's eyes glittered with a familiar, hungry light. Talon knew the man's reputation—a patriot who would bargain with the devil himself for a weapon. "And what is your price?"
"Information. Tell me where he is." The Hulk was fast and elusive. Without the military's tracking resources, finding him would be like finding a specific leaf in a forest. Talon needed the Hulk's genes. The Abomination's power was immense, but it was... crude. The Hulk's potential was limitless, and more importantly, it might hold the key to controlling this transformation, to becoming human again. This giant form was power, but it was also a cage.
"You try to betray me, son," Ross growled, "and my entire arsenal will turn you to scrap."
"Noted," Talon replied, his tone flat and unimpressed. The threat felt trivial against the power of the Titan.
Ross snatched a radio from his aide. "This is Ross! I need a location on the target, now!"
A crackled voice responded instantly. "Sir, target is in the secured perimeter, moving northeast toward the Forest Park preserve. We're maintaining drone surveillance."
"Dispatch two birds to my location, one heavy-lift. Now!" Ross ordered.
Within minutes, the whump-whump-whump of rotors announced the arrival of two helicopters. One was a standard Black Hawk, the other a hulking Chinook, its rear ramp already lowering for him.
As Talon moved to board, a sound of straining muscle and cracking concrete made him turn. The Abomination was pushing himself to his feet, his regenerative abilities having already closed his worst wounds. The raw hatred in his eyes was now directed at Talon.
"I'm coming," Blonsky snarled. "The green beast is mine."
Ross glared at his failed creation. "You follow my orders this time, Blonsky. One more step out of line, and I'll authorize a tactical nuke on your position. Are we clear?"
The Abomination gave a jerky, mocking salute. "Crystal, General."
The two giants boarded the heavy-lift helicopter, the metal frame groaning under their combined weight. The cabin was spacious, but their presence filled it. For a long moment, the only sound was the thunderous roar of the engines. Talon stared out at the fleeing city lights.
"How strong are you?" the Abomination finally asked, his voice a low, jealous rumble.
Talon turned his bronze head, his gaze impassive. "I used your form as a foundation and evolved it. My strength is an order of magnitude greater than yours." It wasn't a boast, merely a statement of fact.
"Ten times..." Blonsky breathed, the number hanging in the air like a physical blow. The desire in his eyes was palpable, a addict staring at the ultimate fix. "Can you do that for me? Evolve me?"
"No," Talon said, the single word final and absolute. He would not create a rival. He would not share this power.
The Abomination's massive fists clenched, the sound of his knuckles popping like gunshots. His breathing became a ragged, furious storm. The air in the cabin grew thick with the promise of violence.
Talon shifted his weight, the entire helicopter tilting slightly with the movement. He fixed the Abomination with a stare that promised utter annihilation. "The only thing you will get from challenging me is a swift and final death. Control yourself."
The beast-man held his gaze for a long, tense moment before finally snarling and looking away, fuming in his seat.
"Sir Talon, Sir Bronsky," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, strained with nerves. "The target has taken refuge in a cave system at the base of the ravine below. You are cleared to engage."
Without a word, Talon stood and walked to the open ramp. The wind tore at his canvas kilt. He looked down at the dark, wooded landscape hundreds of feet below and jumped.
The ground rushed up to meet him. He landed in a three-point stance, the impact cratering the earth and sending a shockwave through the quiet forest. A second later, the Abomination landed nearby with a similarly destructive crash.
They found the cave entrance—a dark, gaping maw in the side of a cliff. The Abomination, ever the provocateur, stomped forward, filled his lungs, and bellowed into the darkness.
"HULK! COME OUT AND DIE!"
The response was immediate. A roar of pure, undiluted rage erupted from the cave, a sound that shook the very trees. Then, a green cannonball of muscle and fury shot out, tackling the Abomination and sending them both tumbling through the woods in a maelstrom of shattered trees and flying turf.
The Hulk emerged from the scuffle first, his eyes burning with rage. He saw Talon, a new challenger, and charged without hesitation.
Time seemed to slow. Talon's combat instincts, honed from a lifetime of martial arts, merged seamlessly with the Titan's immense physicality. He didn't meet the charge with a brute-force punch. As the Hulk's fist, capable of leveling a tank, sailed toward his face, Talon shifted his weight. He moved his head a bare few inches, letting the fist whistle past his temple. In the same fluid motion, his own bronze hands shot up, seizing the Hulk's massive forearm. Pivoting his hips, he turned his back to the Hulk, pulled down hard, and used the monster's own momentum against him.
It was a perfect, colossal Ippon Seoi Nage—a judo shoulder throw, executed on a scale never before seen.
The Hulk was lifted clean off his feet. For a breathtaking moment, the green giant was suspended in the air above the bronze Titan before being slammed down into the ground with a catastrophic BOOM that echoed through the entire forest.
The earth trembled. The Hulk lay in a new, Hulk-shaped crater, stunned. The Titan stood over him, not even breathing heavily.
The hunt had begun.