As the roar of military helicopters grew louder and the floodlights illuminated his position, Stephen exhaled slowly. He cast a quick glance at the soldiers emerging cautiously from their vehicles, their weapons trained on the swirling portals above. The tension in the air was palpable, but Stephen remained calm, raising a hand to signal for them to stay back.
"I've got it under control," he said loudly, his voice carrying an air of authority. The soldiers hesitated but didn't advance further. The floodlights turned upward, focusing on the Hulk, still tumbling through the portals, his massive green body flailing angrily.
Stephen flicked his wrist, and the upper portal above the Hulk closed, leaving only the one below. With a grunt of effort, the Hulk landed heavily on the ground in front of him, cracking the pavement beneath his feet. He stumbled slightly, his massive hands bracing against the street as he shook his head, clearly disoriented from the repeated free-fall.
Stephen stood firm, the Cloak of Levitation draped over his shoulders like a silent sentinel. He waited patiently as the Hulk steadied himself, his chest heaving and his glowing green eyes narrowing as they fixed on Stephen.
The sorcerer lifted his hands slowly, palms open, in a gesture of peace. "Easy now," he said, his voice steady but calm. "You've had a rough night."
The Hulk growled low in his throat, his massive frame radiating irritation and pent-up aggression. Stephen observed him carefully, his mind racing as he tried to decide how to approach this.
The Hulk's nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth, clearly not in the mood for talking. When a low rumble escaped his throat, Stephen sighed inwardly. Right. This isn't the Dr. Hulk from my universe, he reminded himself. This is the version where Hulk and Banner are still separate—where reason takes a back seat to anger.
"Of course," Stephen muttered under his breath. "Nothing's ever easy."
The Hulk took a lumbering step toward him, his fists clenching as if readying for another fight. Stephen raised his hands higher, his tone soft but firm. "Hulk, I don't want to fight you. I'm here to help."
The Hulk's only response was a frustrated roar that echoed through the streets, sending a shiver through the watching soldiers. Stephen winced, realizing that any attempt at reasoning was futile. This Hulk wasn't capable of a rational conversation—not yet, anyway.
"Fine," Stephen said with a resigned sigh, his fingers beginning to trace glowing symbols in the air. "If you won't calm down, I'll help you calm down."
Before the Hulk could react, Stephen completed the spell, and a shimmering golden light surrounded the giant. The Hulk's movements slowed, his growls tapering off into low grunts as his eyelids grew heavy. His massive body swayed, and he sank to his knees before finally collapsing onto the ground with a thunderous thud.
The soldiers watching from a distance murmured amongst themselves, their weapons lowering slightly. Stephen paid them no mind as he crouched beside the unconscious Hulk, his gaze softening as he observed the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
"Sleep now," he murmured. "Let Banner take over."
The spell worked quickly, and within moments, Stephen sensed the shift. The hulking green form began to shrink, muscles receding and skin paling as the transformation reversed. Bruce Banner lay curled on the pavement, his glasses askew and his face slack with exhaustion.
Stephen exhaled in relief, standing and gesturing for the soldiers to stay back. "He's fine," he called out. "Just unconscious."
One of the soldiers approached cautiously, his hand resting on the holster at his side. "What about the other one?" he asked, his gaze flicking toward the still-spinning portal.
Stephen turned his attention to the abomination, who was still roaring and flailing as it tumbled endlessly. His expression hardened, and his hand twitched as he prepared another spell. "I'll deal with him next."
The Cloak of Levitation fluttered slightly, as if bracing itself for the confrontation ahead. Stephen stood before the spinning portal, the abomination's growls and roars rumbling like distant thunder. The monster's form twisted and jerked in the loop of the portals, but its rage didn't wane. If anything, it seemed even more determined to break free and fight.
Stephen tightened his grip on his hands, his mind racing as he considered his options. The Hulk had been simple enough—brute force subdued by a simple sleep spell. But this creature was different. He wasn't just a mindless beast; from what he read from his soul, he was angry, but it was anger sharpened by arrogance, an unshakable need to prove his dominance.
"Enough games," Stephen muttered, his voice cold as he closed the lower portal. The abomination dropped from the air and hit the ground with a resounding crash, creating a crater in the street. It rose with a snarl, glowing yellow eyes locking onto Stephen like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Finally ready to fight me?" the abomination growled, his voice guttural and filled with venom. "Or are you just another weakling hiding behind tricks?"
Stephen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, his Cloak of Levitation fluttering slightly in the breeze. His hands moved with practiced precision, tracing intricate golden symbols in the air as he prepared a spell.
"You're not the first to think brute strength is all that matters," Stephen said, his voice low and dangerous. "And you won't be the last. But I'm not here to fight you. I'm here to teach you something."
The abomination laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the night. "Teach me? You think you're a teacher now? I'm not a naïve soldier."
"No," Stephen replied calmly, his hands glowing brighter as he finished the spell. "You're something much worse: a stubborn fool who needs to be reminded just how small he is."
Before the abomination could react, Stephen thrust his hand forward, and a golden tendril of energy shot out, wrapping around the creature's chest. The abomination froze, his glowing eyes widening as his body went rigid. Slowly, his form began to separate, a translucent version of himself—a normal human looking soul—being pulled from his physical body.
"What is this?" the naked man roared, his voice trembling with both rage and fear as his astral form floated above his body. "What are you doing to me?"
Stephen's expression remained cold, unyielding. "Giving you some perspective."
With a sharp twist of his wrist, Stephen sent the abomination's soul hurtling into the infinite void of the astral plane. The creature's roar echoed faintly as his soul was dragged into the vast expanse of the universe, spinning through countless realms and dimensions. Darker planes passed by in flashes of shadow and flame, their horrors searing into his astral form.
"Look around you," Stephen said, his voice resonating through the void. "This is the universe. Infinite, chaotic, and far beyond your comprehension. You're nothing but a speck of sand in an endless desert."
The abomination's soul writhed, his arrogant facade crumbling as he glimpsed the sheer scale of the cosmos. Planes of fire, ice, darkness, and madness flickered before him, each one a testament to how small and insignificant his ambitions truly were.
As his soul continued its journey, Stephen knelt by the abomination's physical body, his hands glowing with a different spell. "And while you're busy reflecting," he muttered, "let's make sure you can't do this again."
His fingers danced over the abomination's body, weaving a spell of transformation and suppression. Slowly, the grotesque, monstrous features began to recede. The glowing green skin faded to pale flesh, the jagged spikes and claws shrinking back into human proportions. Within moments, the abomination was gone, replaced by Emil Blonsky—human once more.
Stephen's spell worked its way deep into Blonsky's very being, locking away the transformation permanently. The abomination would never resurface again, not unless someone with greater magic deliberately undid Stephen's work. And Stephen wasn't about to let that happen.
When he was satisfied, Stephen straightened and summoned the abomination's soul back from the void. It returned with a jarring snap, slamming back into Blonsky's body. The man gasped as he drooped to his knees, his chest heaving as his eyes darted around wildly.
As the soldiers cautiously approached, Blonsky pushed himself to his feet, his eyes fixed intently on Stephen. But it wasn't the same fear or confusion as before. There was something darker in his expression now—something unsettling.
"What... what did you do to me?" Blonsky croaked, his voice trembling but his eyes holding the same fervor.
"I showed you the truth," Stephen said coldly, his gaze hard as he stared down at the now-helpless man.
"Teach me," Blonsky rasped. His gaze was locked on Stephen, wide-eyed and almost reverent. "You've seen it. The universe. The truth. You can show me more. You can make me stronger."
Stephen's stomach twisted at the fanaticism in Blonsky's tone. He held up a hand, his voice sharp and unyielding. "No."
Blonsky took a staggering step forward, ignoring the soldiers who raised their weapons nervously. "You don't understand. I need this. I've seen what's out there now. I need to be ready."
"You don't need power," Stephen snapped, his weariness giving way to irritation. "What you need is perspective. You don't want to learn. You want to control, to dominate. That's not knowledge—that's arrogance. And I don't teach arrogance. Also, I made sure you'll never turn into that thing again. You're done hurting people."
Blonsky's hands trembled as he cautiously retreated. "You can't do this... You can't just take this away from me..."
Stephen's expression didn't waver. "I can, and I did. If you want to fight, you'll have to do it as a man. No more hiding behind power you can't control."
Blonsky froze, his face twisting in frustration and desperation. But before he could respond, a loud, commanding voice boomed from a megaphone above.
"Stand down, Blonsky!"
Stephen turned his gaze skyward and spotted a helicopter hovering nearby. Inside, a figure he vaguely recognized stood with a megaphone in hand: General Ross.
"I want answers!" Ross's voice echoed through the air. "Who are you, and what the hell just happened here?"
Stephen's patience was wearing thin. He was tired, he was hungry, and this entire situation had spiraled far beyond what he'd anticipated when he decided to take a walk through Harlem. He glanced at Blonsky, who was still staring at him with that unsettling look of devotion and frustration, then at the soldiers, who were too nervous to get closer.
He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't have time for this."
The Cloak of Levitation flared behind him as Stephen turned and strode toward the unconscious Banner, who was slumped against a crumbled section of wall. With a flick of his wrist, he opened a portal, the golden sparks swirling into a doorway leading directly back to Malibu.
"Hey!" Ross's voice rang out again, more insistent this time. "I'm not done with you!"
Stephen ignored him. With a simple gesture, Banner's unconscious form floated gently into the portal, followed by the cold takeout bag Stephen had left behind earlier. Before stepping through himself, he cast one last glance at Blonsky.
The man was still staring, his fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't make another move. The soldiers surrounding him hesitated, glancing between Blonsky and the portal, unsure whether to intervene or stay put.
Stephen's gaze hardened. "Find another path, Blonsky. The one you wanted to take only leads to ruin."
And with that, he stepped through the portal, the golden light snapping shut behind him. The streets of Harlem faded away, replaced by the quiet hum of Tony's Malibu workshop.
Banner was still unconscious on the couch where Stephen had set him, his breathing steady but slow. Stephen exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging as he placed the takeout bag on the counter.
"Finally," he muttered, pulling out the now-cold Thai food. "I deserve this."
Just as he sat down to eat, Tony appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and looking like he'd just woken up. His gaze flicked to Banner, then to Stephen, then to the takeout.
"Do I even want to ask?" Tony said, his voice laced with equal parts curiosity and amusement.
Stephen groaned, picking up his fork. "No. You really don't."
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