NOTE: This takes place concurrently to the events of The Defenders #16

The lithe, pink-skinned, naked woman rested her horned head on the broad, crimson chest of her companion. Her leg was draped over his, and her demonic tail snaked towards his crotch. The bed they were on was more or less devastated, as was the hotel room they were in.

Mephista rolled onto the Hulk’s body, her own figure still quivering from their workout. “That. Was. Epic!”

The Hulk grinned. “I know.”

She nuzzled against his neck, running her tongue along it. “So did you get that moment of clarity I promised?”

The Hulk nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”

Mephista planted some light kisses on his chest, looking up at him. “No more amnesia?”

He shook his head. “I remember everything.”

Some time ago…

General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross walked down the corridor of the Hulkbuster base. By his side was a younger man with black hair, also dressed in uniform. His markings identified his rank as that of a major. They came to a closed door and Ross punched a code into the keypad. The pad slid up, revealing a panel for handprint recognition. And then, a retinal scan before access was granted.

The room was large and round, with a wide, indented portion in the center. Two men approached Ross and the major. Both dressed in suits and one was physically imposing with brown skin and dark sunglasses hiding his gaze. The other was fair skinned, bald and with an all-knowing smirk on his face.

“General, good to see you again,” said the man with the sunglasses. The two men shook hands.

“Agent Pratt,” said Ross. He gestured to the major. “May I present to you Major William Matthew Talbot.”

“Major.”

“Agent.” Talbot and Pratt shook. Talbot glanced at the bald man. “And this is…?”

“Yandroth,” said the bald man.

Ross glared at him. “The alien.”

“I prefer to refer to myself as a techno-mage, General. And need I remind you, your people came to me,” said Yandroth.

“Agent Pratt, I have to raise my objections once more to this procedure,” said Ross.

“Your objections have been noted, General. But my superiors outrank you. Control has made their decision,” said Pratt.

“Need I remind you, Agent, that I was one of the founding members of Control?”

“And we thank you for your fine years of service, General,” said Pratt. “But that was then. I answer to the Council and the Council alone. And you no longer have a seat on that body.”

“You smug sonnuva bitch,” growled Ross. “You think you can just toss in an x-factor like this an’ see what comes out?”

“I’m sorry, General, please remind me…” began Pratt, “…how did your most-recent attempt to capture Banner play out? The RA2 gas, the Cage with its nuclear device, the vintage Sentinels, that genetic freak you called the Leader?”

“Major Talbot has not been debriefed on that operation,” said Ross. “So watch your tongue, Pratt.”

“Ah yes, I suppose he hasn’t. Might be a different situation otherwise.” Pratt addressed Talbot. “By the way, Major, my condolences on the loss of your uncle.”

“My Uncle Glenn has been dead for quite some time, Agent Pratt. But thank you nonetheless,” said Talbot.

Pratt smiled and threw one more glance back at Ross. “Has he really? My mistake. How time flies.”

Talbot could hear a guttural rumble from Ross, but ignored it. “What exactly is Yandroth going to do to me?”

Yandroth stood to the side, apparently staring off into space. Ross, Pratt and Talbot waited for a response and it took a moment before Yandroth snapped out of his trance.

“Yandroth!” snapped Talbot.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware the urinating competition had come to a close,” said Yandroth. “Evidently, Major Talbot wants to focus on the actual reason we are here, and I am inclined to agree. Please remove your shirt and jacket, Major.”

Talbot did as he was told, removing the top portion of his uniform. He stepped into the center of the room, and clear walls rose around him, locking him inside. Yandroth began his explanation of the process, and Talbot was still able to hear him, even through the glass.

“We begin with a combination of gamma radiation and cosmic radiation,” said Yandroth. “In addition, to provide Major Talbot with the edge over Banner, his musculature will be enforced by Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, Kraken’s chains will prevent his skin from being opened, and the Ribbons of Nihilism will prevent his identity from being discerned by even the most supernatural methods.”

“The hell did he just say?” asked Ross.

“We’re trying a different path this time, General—a combination of magic and science,” said Pratt.

“Perhaps to your primitive mind, Agent,” said Yandroth. “But in reality, magic is just science that has yet to be explained. Are we ready?”

Talbot nodded. “Get on with it.”

“Very well. Let’s begin,” said Yandroth.

Talbot could hear the hum of machinery. A blinding light filled the chamber, and the machinery kicked up. The temperature of the chamber he was in grew hotter and hotter. He could feel his body becoming heavier.

He fell to the knees with a louder thump than he thought possible. Talbot clamped down on his teeth. His skin felt like it was on fire. And it was tightening. He screamed, tearing at his flesh with his own fingernails. It came off in sheets, like a serpent shedding its skin. Talbot stared at his skin and saw red where he had scratched.

But not blood.

His skin was red.

The light began to subside and Talbot felt like the room was shrinking. Everything got smaller and smaller. But it was actually him. He was growing.

How did he get here? What happened to him? Why was he in this place? And who was this tiny man in the sunglasses who stared up at him from outside the glass? Why was he smiling?

The man with the sunglasses said simply, “we’ve got our Hulk.”

Hulk. That was his name. That’s who he was.

But there was something else. Another Hulk. He knew about him, knew the name Banner. Knew he had to find him. Get out.

The Hulk pounded on the cell. The puny humans who surrounded him backed away. The man in the uniform with the white mustache, spoke.

“He’s going to break the glass!”

“He can’t break the glass,” said the man in the sunglasses.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said the bald man.

The Hulk’s fist went through the glass, causing a shower of shattered particles. He burst forth from the chamber and looked at the men who stood there. Then he looked to the ceiling and jumped, punching a hole to the surface.

“They followed me to New England and Ross came personally. Ordered me to stand down. And…I did. Next thing I knew, they tossed me in the Raft,” said the Hulk. “Thing I don’t get is how the hell did Yandroth do all that t’ me?”

“A number of souls were given up in the process,” said Mephista. “To appease them. It’s how I knew about you.”

“And why did you help me remember? What do you get outta all this?”

Mephista smiled, her tail stroking him below. “I get to piss off my dad.”

The Hulk chuckled at the revelation. “Well, I’m happy to oblige.”

Before they could begin again, the motel room seemed to drop from reality. It was surrounded on all sides by monks in red robes and warriors in blue armor. The Hulk and Mephista stood from the bed, facing off against them.

“The Crimson Monks of Cyttorak were lied to!” spoke one of the monks. “The great Cyttorak was promised worship and offerings in exchange for use of his powers!”

“So too, were the Azure Jailers of Kraken lied to!” spoke one of the warriors. “You will surrender to us, or face judgment! What say you?”

The crimson behemoth smirked and cracked his knuckles.

“How does ‘Hulk smash’ sound?”

Mephista grinned. “I’m so hot for you right now.”

PUNY GODS

By Ed Ainsworth and Dino Pollard

Homebase

Agent Pratt, naked from the waist up, held an ornate dagger in his hand and sliced open his free palm with it, cringing as he did so. He set down the knife and rubbed his index and middle fingers in the blood that seeped forth.

Kneeling down over the cold, metal floor, he used the blood as ink to draw a crude sigil. As he drew the sigil, he uttered phrases in a language he did not fully comprehend. He backed away from the sigil, resting on his knees, his arms extended to the sides and continued chanting.

The sigil sparked and lighted with flames. A towering inferno reached the ceiling. As the flames subsided, a figure stood before the agent, clad from neck to toe in red, with a matching cape. His eyes burned with the fires of Hell and he looked upon Pratt as if he were an insect.

“Who dares summon the Lord of Lies?”

“I do,” said Pratt.

Mephisto hunched over, moving closer to Pratt like a serpent. “Ahh…the trained monkey of human power-brokers. Insignificant specks who seek to oppress those who are like gods.”

“We have a problem,” said Pratt. “The Hulk…our Hulk…he’s off the leash.”

“Of course he is. Were you really so foolish as to think you could control such primeval forces?”

“We had a deal,” said Pratt.

“And I have lived up to my end.”

“How’s that work? Seems to me like the Hulk running wild isn’t what we agreed to.”

“You and Yandroth requested my help in gathering powerful forces to aide in the creation of a Hulk under your command to defeat Banner. And in return, I would obtain the soul of Talbot.”

“Exactly. Talbot’s no longer under our control and he hasn’t defeated Banner. So you reneged.”

Mephisto grinned. “Did I? Shall we examine that claim, Agent Pratt? Talbot was under your control—when Ross ordered him to stand down, he did so. You never specified how long Talbot must remain under your control.”

“What about Banner? Talbot didn’t kill him.”

Mephisto raised a finger in objection. “Ahh…but not for lack of effort. He pursued Banner with a single-minded viciousness. Ergo, I have reneged on nothing. Talbot’s soul is still not in my possession, but I am patient. Perhaps you should learn the meaning of patience yourself?”

Pratt shook his head. “It’s not enough. I need him back here.”

“To do that, you need power.” Mephisto circled Pratt, leaning his head over the man’s shoulder and hissing into it. “But power comes with its price, does it not?”

“What price?” asked Pratt.

“You see, I too have an issue with this Hulk you have created,” said Mephisto. “He is courting my daughter, and that I cannot have.”

“So you give me power, I contain the Hulk and your daughter’s free and clear,” said Pratt.

“Oh, if only it were that simple.”

Mephisto reached his arm out. He snapped his fingers and a flaming contract appeared dangling from his hand. “You need only agree to my terms, and the power will be yours.”

“Where do I sign?”

The Azure Jailers threw heavy, blue chains around the Hulk, trying to restrain him. But he pulled on them, swinging the chains with the Jailers still clutching the ends, and sent them colliding into their brethren. The Cyttorakian monks threw off their robes, but maintained hoods to conceal their faces. They drew swords with blades seemingly made of crimson gemstone and moved to strike.

The Hulk wrapped a massive hand around one of them, crushing the monk’s head. The others leaped around, trying to find a weak spot. But not even their enchanted swords could do more than scratch his hide. Golden blood was spilled, but not enough to slow him down.

As the Hulk’s rage increased, his body began to radiate heat. This, however, was not enough to slow the Jailers or the Monks. They continued to come in droves, and the Hulk continued to smash his way through them. He bellowed as he tore their weapons from them…by tearing their arms from their bodies.

Mephista, for the most part, just stood on the sides and watched as her champion tore through his opponents. Her lust for him grew with each foe he destroyed.

The Hulk clapped his hands together, sending shockwaves that threw the Monks and the Jailers flying. Before they could stand, the Hulk pounced on them, raising both fists and flattening a Monk. He grabbed a Jailer and tore him in two with barely any effort exerted.

His eyes burned with a combination of radioactive and mystic energy. And it wasn’t long before the Monks and the Jailers lay in pieces and blood pooled around the remains of the motel room.

The world shifted around them, and they were back where they started. The bodies of the Monks and Jailers had vanished, as if they were never there. But the Hulk had no moment to enjoy his victory. He heard a chuckle from nearby.

The Hulk spun and saw a massive figure holding Mephista in his powerful grip. The bald behemoth smiled down at him. “Remember me, Talbot?”

“Pratt,” said the Hulk. “Let her go.”

“We had a deal, Talbot! You were supposed to go after Banner! Not take his place in the Defenders!” Pratt threw Mephista to the side. “I’m here to take you back!”

“Yeah, you an’ what army?” asked the Hulk.

Pratt charged for the Hulk, driving his fist into Talbot’s chest. The force caught the Hulk by surprised and he was thrown back from the motel grounds onto the middle of the interstate, bouncing when he struck before skidding along the road and coming to a stop at the median.

Pratt landed in front of him, sending tremors through the road that caused cars to swerve off-path. Horns honked and tires squealed as the drivers attempted to avoid the two superhumans. Pratt turned as he heard the bellow of a semi-truck. He raised his arm and brought his fist down on the cab. The truck’s cargo hold flipped into the air and Pratt caught it, bringing it down on the Hulk.

The Hulk tore through the container, grabbing Pratt by the neck and repeatedly punching him in the face. He kicked Pratt in the groin and then flipped the monster over the median onto the opposing traffic.

The Hulk leaped, falling down feet-first and nearly burying Pratt in a giant crater. An SUV swerved, slamming into the railing. The Hulk gave the passengers a chance to escape before he tore the SUV in half and pounded his fists into it, turning them into giant gloves. He slammed the car-shielded fists into Pratt, until the pieces of metal flew off, leaving only the Hulk’s fists.

Pratt struggled to get up once the Hulk finished his assault. He saw the Hulk with his back to him and Pratt smiled. This was the chance he needed. He ran for him, but the Hulk spun at the last minute, tearing the guardrail from the side of the road. He slammed it into Pratt and then wrapped the guardrail around him.

The Hulk kicked Pratt off the highway and into the forest on the other side. He pounced once more, continuing to drive his fists into his foe. “You really think you could stand up to me, Pratt? Don’t you get it? THE HULK IS THE STRONGEST ONE THERE IS!”

He raised Pratt above his head, clutching Pratt’s arms in one hand and his legs in the other. And he pulled. Pratt pleaded with him. “TALBOT, NO! DON’T—”

The Hulk roared in victory as he tore Pratt into two separate pieces, discarding them into the forest. He paused, allowing himself to cool off, let the adrenaline rush pass. He felt a soft hand on his back and the Hulk nearly turned to pummel who it was. But then he saw it was Mephista.

“Can we do it on his corpse?” she asked.

“I think not, my daughter.”

Flames appeared all around and the Hulk spun in circles. “Who’s there?”

“Daddy’s home,” said Mephista.

“Indeed he is,” said Mephisto, appearing from a flaming portal. He wagged his finger and clicked his tongue at Mephista. “You impetuous child. How dare you defy me like this!”

Mephista just smiled. “Oh yeah? And just what do you think you’re—”

Mephisto waved his hand and his daughter vanished from this plane of existence. “Don’t concern yourself, I simply sent her to her room.”

He slowly circled the Hulk, examining him carefully. “Yandroth did some truly excellent work with the gifts I gave him. Truly excellent work.”

“And what do you want?” asked the Hulk.

“Nothing,” said Mephisto with a smile. “I just want you to know that I’ll be waiting.”

The demon cackled as his slowly disappeared in flames. The Hulk just shrugged. His little interlude had come to an end, and it was time to return to Strange and the Sanctum Sanctorum. The Hulk leaped into the air, sailing miles at a time.

A few hours after he departed, the corpse of Agent Pratt began to twitch. Pratt pulled his torso towards his lower body. He brought the two together and they began to stitch themselves back up, reforming without nary a scratch to be seen.

“Round one to you, Talbot.”