Dr. Banner, I Want To Play a Game

"W-Where am I? What happened?" Bruce thought as he opened his eyes. The room was small and badly lit, the only exit was blocked by a very heavy looking metal door and the only thing making him company was a table with a TV set and an assortment of surgical equipments.

Confused and feeling a headache, Bruce tries to hold his head only to find it attached to a sinister looking device: a rusty helmet with three metal spikes ready to pierce through his skull. Any other man would have panicked with such revelation, but Bruce Banner had a lot of experience in controlling his emotions. Cautiously, Bruce analyzes the mechanism and discovers a metal wire connected to a little weight on the wall. Before he can investigate further, the TV set blinks to life.

As he turns his head, Bruce comes face to face with a disturbing smiling clown doll in a tuxedo. It triggers a sensation of déjà vu, something Bruce saw before. Before he passed out to wake up on this place.

"Hello, Dr. Banner", the clown says, "Or would you prefer if I call you Mr. Bennet? Mr. Byrne? Mr. Benson, perhaps? All of them the same man. A government fugitive with a crime record of stolen medical supplies. How long have you been running away from your responsabilities? From your guilt? How many people have you lied to? How many lives have you ruined with your lies? You say you're sorry, but do you really feel the pain of those you have disappointed? Today, I offer you a chance. A chance to look inside. The device on your head is programmed to pierce into your so highly estimated brain when the chronometer counts down to zero. The key to your salvation is inside you. But the question is: Where, exactly?"

At this moment , Bruce realizes, for the first time, that his body is covered in stitches. His arms, legs, chest, all covered with little segments of surgical stitches. The clown continues. "You've been spending your entire life alone, introspective, with only your thoughts to make your company. It's time to see how well you know yourself. Live or die, Doctor. Make your choice." And like that, the screen blacked out.

Feeling a little bit uneasy, Bruce tries to digest all the information he has received. The mechanism in his head is gonna kill him when the chronometer "What chronometer?" hits zero, unless he finds a way out. "The answer is inside me", Bruce thinks while looking all over his body, when he finds a lock close to his neck "The key to my salvation… A key! Of course!"

Inside me.

"But, where exactly?" the paraphrased memory of the mocking clown, inviting him to a deadly guessing game against time echoes in his mind. Where? Could it be in his arm, near his wrist? In his chest, near his heart? Or in his legs? Knowing that he should start somewhere, Bruce tries to undo one of the stitches near his knee with his bare hands.

Pain.

"Wait. What am I thinking?" Bruce thought he could never forgot. Never forgot what could, no, what would happen if he stressed himself like that. That that… thing would rise again and take control of him. That it would cause destruction again. Pain again.

Pain.

But he almost forgot. And even if… it… wasn't inside him, waiting to be awaken, all his effort would be in vain. Those stitches were very well tied together. He would never be able to open one or any other of the wounds to search for the key with his bare hands, especially not in a time limit.

Time limit. He doesn't even know how many time he has left. Maybe he should give up. Maybe it's better that way. No more running, No more fear, No more Hulk.

No more… Betty?

Betty. Could very well be the only reason Bruce would want to stay alive. How much he longed to have her in his arms again. To kiss her again. He was planning to, as soon as that major military experiment with gamma radiation was finished, take her to a trip and propose. But, then, the Hulk happened.

The Hulk. The reason he ran away. The reason he is wanted. The reason he has been stealing chemical and medical supplies out of hospitals and labs. To find a cure. To have peace again. To have control again. To have Betty again.

To have his life again.

With new found determination, Bruce turned his head to the table with the surgical tools he had, until now, forgotten. "Maybe there's still time?" With that thought, Bruce rushed to the table just to be pulled back. The wire. Was that its purpose? To prevent him from getting to the table? What kind of sick game was that? Bruce didn't care. He had to reach the table doesn't matter how. With one last pull the wire disconnected itself from the headpiece.

Tick-tick-tick

"What is that?", Bruce asked surprised by the sudden ticking noise next to his ear, before realization struck him "The chronometer!" Desperate, Bruce ran to the table, grabbed the first scalpel he saw and started cutting the stitches. All of them.

Tick-tick-tick

Bruce no longer cared about the pain or the blood that drip from his open wounds, as he inserted his fingers inside each one looking for the key. With each new fruitless search his desperation rises, as he searches the same wounds again, never knowing which ones he already searched.

Tick-tick-tick

The pain is unbearable. Bruce can feel that he is losing control. He can feel that the beast will rise again. He tries to fight it, but his mind can't concentrate in the search and his self-control at the same time. Not now. "Not now!" It's hopeless. It's coming.

The counter had reached zero.

It's already too late.

The metal spikes press towards Bruce's skull just to bend in different directions, like they were made of cardboard. The mechanism itself breaks on a thousand pieces, as the monstrous figure that was once Bruce Banner lets a inhuman howl of rage. The giant green aberration that the world has named The Hulk stands on the room looking at his still open, but rapid healing wounds. A small spark of Bruce's mind that still resides in the creature's mind remembers the last events.

"TINY CLOWN MADE PUNY BANNER HURT HULK! HULK SMASH TINY CLOWN!"

And faster than one could register, the creature smashes the TV set, breaking the table and burst through the heavy metal door like it wasn't there.

"What the hell is that?" said Lawrence Gordon, the last heir of the Jigsaw legacy. He couldn't believe what he was watching on the security monitors: a green hulking creature breaking through the traps like it was nothing. The creature rampages through the installation, breaking every wall of every room, looking for something. Looking for… him.

Panicking, Gordon tries to run as fast as his limping leg allows him, to reach an exit, before that… that… abomination finds him. No such luck. With a deafening explosion, the wall in front of him vanishes in a smoke of debris. In its place stands the Hulk, with an expression of indescribable rage stamped on his face.

"S-stay back!" Gordon said, almost muttering, but the creature didn't even seemed to notice him, instead going straight to a table on the corner of the room where a clown themed puppet sat lifelessly.

"TINY CLOWN THINKS HE CAN HURT HULK? NO ONE CAN HURT HULK! HULK STRONGEST ONE THERE IS!"

The creature started punching the puppet into a pulp until it was undistinguishable from the dirty on the floor and, soon after, he was wrecking the room into a burst of unspeakable fury. Tables, monitors and all sorts of equipment were flying around the room as they were tossed by the abominable monster. When the beast stopped its carnival of destruction and turned his attention back to Gordon, Gordon knew he would have to change his pants.

"YOU! PUNY HUMAN!"

"Y-yes?" Gordon said in a weak voice, his face turned white, but the creature didn't answer back. It was looking at Gordon's prothesis, that replaced his right foot. A confused look appeared on the creature's face as he looked back to Gordon's pale face.

"Tiny clown… Hurt you too?" Even when speaking calmly, it's voice was as loud as a thunder.

"Uh.. Yes." Technically, Gordon wasn't lying. He did lose his foot because of Jigsaw.

"TINY CLOWN WON'T HURT ANYONE! BECAUSE HULK SMASHED TINY CLOWN!" With that said, the creature turned to the wall and started breaking through it. "HULK MAKE EXIT FOR HULK AND PUNY HUMAN!"

Leaving a mountain of debris and an astounded Lawrence Gordon behind him, the creature reached the outside world and disappeared in the night.

Bruce was happy. It sounds crazy, yes, but he was happy. He was feeling "What's the word?" revitalized "Yeah, that's the word". It was a nightmare, yes, he had no idea how he got there, what happened, who captured him or why, but that didn't matter. What matter is: He is alive and that makes Bruce happy. That experience, as horrible as it was, opened his eyes. He would never give up. Never again. Not until he gets his life (and Betty) back.

It took some time, but Gordon managed to find a new hideout to plan the next tests. What was John thinking when he put Banner on his "To Do List"? Didn't he knew that Banner was the Hulk? Or did he knew, but used the information as a last test to Lawrence? "You have faced your interior monsters and survived. But can you face a real monster?" he could already imagine John saying. John was a genius, but he could really be a nutjob sometimes.

Lawrence flipped again through the files of potencial test subjects that John left him before he died. Now, here's an interesting one! Ironic, even. A lame doctor, just like Lawrence himself, who also seems to have had an affair with one of his nurses.

Now, Lawrence Gordon can only hope that this Donald Blake fellow won't be as troublesome as Bruce Banner.

The End

Author's Notes: Holy Cow, this one turned out A LOT more serious than I planned. You see, this was supposed to be a comedy piece! I thought "Hey, what if Jigsaw tested Bruce Banner without knowing he was the Hulk and then Bruce turned into the Hulk and made Jigsaw crap himself? That would be hilarious!" Oh well, guess I got carried away.

Also, if you don't know who Don Blake is, I ain't telling you.