Bruce Banner had been working diligently in a company, trying to keep a low profile, when Jose approached him. Jose, a friendly and charismatic worker, had been one of the few people to get to know Bruce in the few days since he'd started working there.
"Hey Bruce, we've got a delivery to make in another city. The boss wants you to come along," Jose said with a smile.
Bruce was puzzled. It had been less than a week since he started working for the company, and now he was being asked to participate in an important task? "Sure, I'll come. I just need a few minutes to prepare," he replied hesitantly.
Jose clapped him on the back and laughed. "No problem, amigo! I'll wait for you outside."
As they set off in the truck, the sun shone brightly in the sky, casting a warm glow on the surrounding landscape. Jose sang cheerfully as he drove, while Bruce listened with a helpless smile, trying to shake off the nagging feeling that something was off.
The further they traveled, the more Bruce realized they weren't heading in the right direction. He confronted Jose, but the man just grinned and explained that the boss had instructed them to pick up an additional package from a warehouse. Bruce's suspicions grew, but he nodded in agreement, not wanting to create conflict.
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When they finally arrived at the warehouse, it looked abandoned and rundown. "Why would the boss keep important stuff in a place like this?" Bruce questioned, his unease growing.
Jose shrugged nonchalantly, his ever-present smile intact. "Come on, let's get the package and get out of here."
Bruce couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. As they entered the warehouse, Jose suddenly vanished, leaving Bruce alone in the dark, cavernous space. Panic set in, and Bruce couldn't help but think that he'd been set up, that perhaps the military had finally tracked him down.
His eyes darted around the gloomy warehouse, searching for any sign of a threat. He was unaware, however, of the ten pairs of eyes that glowed ominously in the darkness above him. Faint figures clung to the ceiling, upside down, like ravenous spiders observing their prey. The sight was as eerie as it was impressive, a testament to their skill and agility.
"Target in visual, awaiting commands," one of the figures whispered, their voice barely audible in the vast space.
Another voice, cold and lethal, responded, "Attack."
Like cheetahs, the shadowy figures propelled themselves from their perches, their movements synchronized as they descended toward the ground. Each landed with the grace and silence of a deadly predator, their eyes never leaving their target. The air crackled with tension as Bruce sensed their presence, his heart pounding in his chest.
They circled him, their movements fluid and precise, showcasing their prowess as elite warriors. It was clear that they had been trained to be the best of the best, and they were here for one purpose: to fight the HULK.