Will I regret this? Probably. 

But I guess there's no clearer way to announce that second slots are allowed.

[hider=Just A Lil' Guy][CENTER][COLOR=a7d5da][B]C H A R A C T E R   C O N C E P T   P R O P O S A L[/B][/COLOR]

[color=738e65][b]"Go ahead. Try and piss me off."[/b][/color][h3][sup][sub]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/ViI4QXv.png[/img]
[color=7d9c6e][b] David Bruce Banner [/b][color=b8e0a4]♦[/color][b] MIA Nuclear Physicist [/b][color=b8e0a4]♦[/color][b] Formerly Albaquerque, New Mexico[/b][/color][/sub][/sup][/h3][/CENTER]
[COLOR=7d9c6e][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3] O R I G I N S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR]
[INDENT][INDENT][color=b8e0a4]There was always something wrong with [b]Bruce Banner[/b]. Following frequent bouts stemming from alcoholism, his father Brian would meticulously belittle him and his mother and make the family's lives a living hell. By the time he was seven, Bruce would often shield Rebecca from Brian's increasingly violent outbursts, becoming unhealthily attached to the only source of stability he'd ever known. But at a short frame and severely underdeveloped due to malnutrition and stress, Bruce never stood a chance against Brian's fists and array of hurled household objects. It wasn't until he was twelve years old that he'd finally had enough of the daily trauma, and snuck a firearm from a classmate's father while visiting the house. It was loaded, and Bruce was fully prepared to pull the trigger on Brian without so much as a second's hesitation.

Then Rebecca found it. While she had every reason to be horrified that her son would go to such a length to finally be rid of their shared tormentor, her reaction was much different. One of calm serenity - of a way out. Weeks later, Rebecca saw her opportunity and sent Bruce off to stay with relatives for the night, having saved enough money for him to see a movie. Even made the excuse that the reason she wasn't going was because Brian had given her a black eye - a lie that, at any other time, would have been true anyway. Whenever Bruce returned home, police were outside and had Rebecca in cuffs. A pool of blood and clear signs of a massive struggle were visible from the kitchen. Brian Banner was murdered by his tortured wife - all breathed a sigh of relief. But despite it being the end of one problem, a much deeper problem had made itself apparent: before this, Rebecca had long suffered from paranoid schizophrenia that had manifested as a low-level Dissociative Personality Disorder. And it was genetic. 

The revelation guided Bruce throughout the rest of his youth, pushing him to keep others at an arm's length as he entered school studies to become a geneticist - to find a way to cure his mother and prevent himself from suffering a cruel twist of fate. There were methods of treatment available, and Banner even insisted on entering intensive therapy early. But the nightmares began to pop up more frequently and the mood swings made themselves apparent when he'd begin viciously arguing with his high school teachers and eventually, college lecturers. He'd even garnered a nickname for himself - Bruce "The Hulk" Banner, with the joke being that if he didn't get his way, he'd become not unlike a big unwieldy boat in a storm. It was only through falling for one of his many therapists - [b]Dr. Betty Ross[/b], the fiancee of Dr. Lenoard Sampson - that Bruce managed to quell his often volatile reputation. The two began an affair that would last off and on for years, completely without Leonard's knowledge. An affair that only ended when Bruce got his degree and established himself in the field of science, eventually bound for New Mexico under a top secret radiation research assignment codenamed "[b]Project Worldbreaker[/b]".

The events that transpired would break the world more than anyone ever knew. And gives a new meaning to the phrase "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."[/color][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=7d9c6e][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]S A M P L E   P O S T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][hider=Home][quote]"Sorry, Len, I'm just a bit rattled. Had to deal with Mr. Kerns again. You know how that goes..."

Elizabeth Ross pinned the cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she exited the car. A bag of a few meager groceries in one hand, and some Chinese takeout in the other, she nonchalantly marched up the driveway to the modest house she shared with her husband. Before she even reached the front door, she noticed a stack of letters sitting on the porch. Frustrated, she sighed to herself softly enough not to rouse Leonard's suspicion. The truth is that she had been anticipating this exact sight for weeks, given that neither she nor Leonard were around the house enough to collect the mail during the daytime. They were both workaholics and managed to keep all intimacy regulated to these evening phone calls, when he was amid a heavy caseload and she was just getting home. It was an uneventful life, but she had grown used to it. She silently hoped they both had, considering he never complained. 

[i]"That's the, what, hypochondriac? The one that told you he was convinced he..."[/i]

"Had eleven different tumors and they were [i]all[/i] terminal? Yep. That's the one."

[i]"Ouch. Sorry you had to sit through that again."[/i]

"The real problem is that he had me refer him to see a specialist, but she tells me that he didn't show up for the CT. And that she's been in contact with his radiologist, who's dealt with him before. His results have always been negative. The man's healthier than you and me and he still can't calm down about it."

[i]"Maybe there's something else beneath the surface. A traumatic medical history when he was a kid..."[/i]

"Maybe he just won't rest until he's developed a few of them."

Betty paused, sighing out of frustration as she opened the door, the stack of letters shoved beneath her otherwise occupied arm. 

"Sorry. That was testy."

[i]"Testy, sure, but not entirely inaccurate. Sure you don't want to refer him over? Let me put him through the ol' highly-reliable Samson review?"[/i]

"No. Dammit, it's not even about him. Len, I'm just so... exhausted. It feels like it never ends over there. The office is great and the pay is the best I've ever had, but the clients... I swear, they're gonna be the death of me."
 
Placing everything on the kitchen counter, Betty placed her hands against it and leaned. The stress of the day washed over her and slowly made it's way out, now that she was in a calmer environment.

[i]"Why don't you consider some vacation time? You know how much I've been begging you to go to Bermuda. And a buddy of mine tells me that the fishing up there is grand, this season. You'd get a hell of alot of sun, I'd get about three hundred types of oysters..."[/i]

She smiled to herself. Not at his corny proposition, but just at the mere thought of getting away to somewhere that wasn't... here. A different place that didn't carry these memories. These ghosts, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

"Mm. I'm not saying no, Dr. Samson..."

[i]"But you're not saying yes, which is the clear sign of a woman who's reached her wit's end."[/i]

Removing her jacket and slipping out of her very tight shoes, she hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I... don't know. I'd have to think about it. Let me get back to you after I've had a very long, very hot and extremely bubbly bath."

[i]"Nice. I can't think of a better way to ratchet up the water bill."[/i]

Betty smirked. "You know, you could join me if you hurried..."

[i]"Tempting, but I'm afraid my schedule is about three times as long as yours. If we're gonna even consider this, I need to wrack up the PTO."[/i]

A crash.

Betty jolted upward, eyes widened, her heart pounding for what seemed like an eternity. Something had fallen over in the bedroom across the hall. Something made of glass, it sounded like to her, meaning that it was either one of the photos by the bed or one of the couple's mounted plaques by the dresser. Her hand trembling, unable to process whatever Lenoard was saying on the other end of the line as he droned on while oblivious to what was happening, Dr. Ross slowly pulled open the drawer beside the oven and quickly pulled out a large kitchen knife. 

"Len. Someone's here."

[i]"Hah. Good one. Yeah, bet it's your hypochondriac friend looking to verify another diagnosis..."[/i]

"Len. For god's sake, I'm not joking."

There was a pause.

[i]"What?"[/i]

"Someone's in the house. Right now. I heard something fall."

[i]"That's... honey, that can't be. We have an alarm system installed, the windows and doors are locked electronically, there's no..."[/i]

"Len. Shut up. Shut the fuck up and call the police."

[i]"Call the... Betty? Betty, what are you doing? If you think someone's in there, get out of there! Get out of there right now and run!"[/i]

She placed the phone face-down on the counter, her eyes never leaving the door to the bedroom for a millisecond. Even as she heard her husband's pleas to get out of the house grow louder and more frantic, she began to ignore them. The fear was taking over, and her heart was now exploding in her ears louder than it ever had. Raising the knife infront of her as she slowly approached, Dr. Ross felt herself detached from the situation as quickly as possible. A sort of mental exercise to allow herself the ability to act first against this intruder and question everything second.

"Len? S-Sorry, you're breaking up. Say that... say that again?"

It was a pitiful lie meant to keep whoever was inside from guessing that she suspected anything. But it was the only lie she could muster up. There was even a part of her that began to think that something could have just fallen over of its own accord, that a slight breeze from the air conditioner had knocked over a frame. That she was being irrational and that there had never been anyone there at all.

Then she saw something move. Between the crack of the door as it hung slightly open, a shadow distinctly crossed the path where light would have otherwise protruded. Betty's heartbeat launched directly in her throat, and her breathing ceased. She stood motionless, the knife nearly falling out of her grasp.

There was someone here, alright. And she was all alone with them.

"Wh... Who's..."

Taking a deep breath, she strengthened her grip on the blade handle and began to frantically rush toward the door, her deep sense of panic be damned. This was [i]her[/i] home and she was not about to be taken surprise in it. Not after the month she'd had, not after everything she'd gone through in the last year. It wasn't going to end like this, and whoever had broken in was about to get a rude awakening if they thought otherwise.

"STOP!"

Bursting through the bedroom door, shoulder first, Betty raised the knife into the air and closed her eyes. She tried to open them, but she was utterly too petrified at first. But she could hear it. The breathing that emanated from the other side of the room. It wasn't labored, but something about it was off. Like her would-be attacker was trying to register what they were looking at with her abrupt arrival. Shaking, her eyelids gently began to peel themselves apart...

It was a man. Hidden entirely in shadow, a man had somehow found his way into the bedroom. He was large, with an intimidating build. Betty could barely manage to pull herself together as she realized that her little kitchen knife might wound, but probably wouldn't kill this person if she had to attack.

Betty grit her teeth, her heart now firmly beating in her throat. 

Her palms sweating. 

Her mind screamed.

This was it. Now or never, she had to fight.

"Don't you move."

The man paused. Then, he stood up, revealing that he had been partly lying on the floor.

He was... tall. And he was growing even taller.

Betty's mouth went agape as he demonstrated a height that defied a conventional human. His muscles practically pulsated out of his skin. His skin was a pigment she had never seen in her life, a sort of gray... and a sort of green.

It took her a second to even realize that the entire southern wall of the room had been entirely knocked away, a dusty pile of rubble lying atop the soiled carpet. This man hadn't just broken in - he'd smashed his way through the house like a bulldozer. It was the only possible reason that no alarm had gone off. There were no entrances breached. 

He'd made his own.

"I... I'm... I'm warning..."

Without warning, he stepped forward. A grunt emerged from within him.  His face was suddenly fully in view, clear from the shadows.

Betty's heart stopped altogether. She recognized him.

"Oh my god."

He stood over her. Looked down at her. His expression turned from neutral to... rage.

[sup]"Bruce?"[/sup]

Before she could scream at the top of her lungs and feel the nightmare finally end, she saw a massive palm reach out to her and grab hold. Crushing. Blinding. Without a hint of humanity living within his grasp. She felt her bones begin to crumble beneath the massive surge of pressure, and without so much as a word, she surrendered to it. Because at this point, there was no point in fighting - he had her and he wouldn't let go.

This was how Betty Ross now believed she would die.[/quote][/hider][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=7d9c6e][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]P O S T   C A T A L O G:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.[/i][/indent][/indent][/hider]