Dangerous Soda

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Rocinha Favela is one of the largest slums in South America. Home to hundreds of thousands of people, it is known as the City of God.

Law and order are nonexistent here. Gang warfare is constant, crime is rampant, and police officers are killed by thugs every single day.

The entire favela is constructed from thousands of houses of all sizes. From a distance, it looks spectacular, but the interior, with its countless alleys and forks, is like a giant labyrinth.

A white man wearing a hat walks down the street. He wears a white shirt and carries a backpack. He looks around as he walks, appearing extremely cautious, as if afraid of being discovered by someone.

Bruce Banner, a physics genius wanted by the U.S. military, also bears another identity: the terrifying Hulk.

Since escaping the United States, Bruce has been on the run across the globe. After pitting his wits against the Hulkbuster team, he has finally fled to this place.

A criminal's paradise, the passionate and fiery Rio de Janeiro. Although it is dangerous and chaotic, this very complexity makes it the perfect place for him to hide.

One hundred and fifty-eight days have passed since his last transformation. During this time, he has studied how to control his emotions every day.

He bought himself a pulse watch to monitor his heart rate at all times. Lately, he has taken a liking to yoga; it keeps him calm and helps him feel at peace.

Beyond all this, he also has to work at a factory. Of course, he has to work—otherwise, how would he afford to sleep on the streets?

He works as a laborer in a bottling plant. The factory environment is filthy and dilapidated, reeking of a thick, foul stench.

Bruce rubs his nose. There is no helping it; the conditions here are actually quite good. This kind of squalid environment is better for concealing his tracks. After all, how could the military ever imagine he would be working in a place like this?

Bruce is a scientist, after all, an expert in physics. Had he not been contaminated by gamma radiation, he would surely be living a wonderful life in the United States, long since married to Betty and living happily...

Why? Because his father-in-law is a U.S. General, after all.

But fate is unpredictable. Who could have foreseen that he would turn into such a monster, become a fugitive from the military, and be forced to hide in this godforsaken place?

"Come over here, I need your help with something!" the factory boss says in Portuguese.

Bruce rushes over, only to find that the switch on a conveyor belt is broken. Bruce is a physics genius; he sees at a glance that the switch has short-circuited.

Wait, he only realizes it after putting on his glasses.

He fixes the switch in a few quick moves. The factory boss looks impressed and says, "You're a smart man; you shouldn't be a temp. You've been here for five months now—let me make you a permanent employee?"

It isn't that the boss doesn't want to hire him; it's that Bruce doesn't want to be hired. He knows that at any moment, General Ross and his men might track him down, forcing him to flee again. A permanent position is useless and would only cause more trouble.

Just as Bruce is about to say something, he accidentally cuts his hand. Blood flows out, and a drop falls from above, heading toward a pile of empty bottles on the conveyor belt.

The air above these empty bottles is shimmering with heat, making it impossible to see exactly where the drop landed. Seeing this, Bruce's expression changes instantly.

"Shut it down! Quickly, turn off the conveyor!"

Bruce runs forward, looking frantic. Under the boss's orders, a worker quickly shuts off the belt. Bruce searches everywhere; he knows he absolutely cannot let his blood be exposed.

His blood is dangerous, possessing terrifying gamma radiation. This power is enough to drive a person insane.

Furthermore, he knows that if his blood is exposed, his location will surely be exposed as well!

Just as Bruce is at his wit's end, he spots the drop of blood on the surface of the conveyor belt.

He finally lets out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood away with a cloth. He cleans the blood from his finger and then uses glue to seal the wound directly.

Although this method is crude and simple, it is highly effective, stopping the bleeding instantly.

"It's fine now, no problem!" Bruce says, waving his hand at the factory boss.

The factory boss looks bewildered. This man is smart, but his words and actions are so bizarre. Could he actually be a lunatic?

It was just a drop of blood; was there any need to be so concerned? He acted as if his blood were poison.

Bruce returns to work, and the boss walks away. However, neither of them notices that on the rim of an empty bottle not far away, a speck of blood-red is smeared.

In reality, two drops of blood had fallen from Bruce's wound. They had initially merged, then separated in the air—one landing on the conveyor belt, and the other falling into this empty bottle.

This empty bottle is about to be filled with soda, sealed, packed, and exported to the distant United States.

Bruce never imagined that because of this tiny mistake, he would expose his identity once again!

A week later, a strange incident occurs in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA.

A retired old man buys a case of Guarana Soda. This soda, native to Brazil in South America, is very popular among Americans. The old man is one of its loyal fans.

As usual, feeling thirsty, he opens a bottle of Guarana Soda. But after just one sip, he feels something is wrong. Why does this soda taste like alcohol? A fiery, stinging sensation sweeps through his entire body.

How could the old man have known that the bottle he drank was mixed with the blood of Bruce Banner—the blood of the Hulk? This blood hides the power of gamma rays, which will mutate his body and throw his mind into chaos.

Soon, headlines appear about an eighty-year-old man smashing cars with his bare hands and swinging utility poles.

Local police arrive immediately, attempting to subdue the rampaging old man. But the man, empowered by the Hulk's blood, has become immensely strong; no officer is a match for him.

In the end, the police have no choice but to use tranquilizer guns to take him down and bring him to the hospital for treatment.

"Let me go!" The old man is strapped down with restraints. His eyes glow with a green light, as if a terrifying beast is slumbering within him. "I want to get out! Let me go!"

Although he exerts all his strength, the restraints are far sturdier than he imagined.

Just then, the ward door is pushed open, and a doctor and a nurse walk in.

"How is the patient?" the doctor asks.

The nurse replies, "It seems to be food poisoning, but his condition has improved quite a bit."

The doctor frowns. "Are you kidding me? What kind of food poisoning causes this?"

"He was rambling earlier," the nurse continues. "He kept shouting things like 'I am Stan Lee,' 'I am the Father of Marvel,' 'Let me go or I'll write you out of existence,' and so on."

"The Father of Marvel?" The doctor shakes his head helplessly. "It seems he doesn't have food poisoning—he's just crazy!"

(Some chapters have been censored. To read the next chapter, please join the group: 294647447)

A tribute to the old man~