The word hung in the air for a moment, as if Vincent was supposed to discern the whole story from that.
“You don’t get along with him?”
“Right. I do not.”
“I’ll leave it at that, then, and find out about him later.”
“That’s a good idea.”
The elevator opened, and Stef dashed off to Ryan’s office. Vincent, despite his gut feeling warning him to flee, punched the button to the combat floor. He hummed quietly, and thought about ice cream headaches for some reason, when the doors opened, and Vincent saw the biggest wall of flesh he’d ever seen.
“Huh. I thought Red Hulk would be in New York.”
Vincent heard a grunt and the next thing he knew, he and some broken glass were freefalling outside the building. He tried to require a parachute, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the medical centre.
“… the fuck.”
“Good afternoon, sir. Are you aware that you have a Red Hulk on the combat floor that’s flinging recruits out windows?”
Vincent’s legs gave out and he landed on a cushion that was probably required by the medical Agent.
“Yes. We are aware. How are you feeling?”
“Like I was just thrown out of a building. High adrenaline, heart pumping, psychological effects. No physical damage so far as I’m aware.”
“Good. Are there any organs you’d like to donate to medical science?”
“Yes, but you can’t have them until I’m done with them.”
“A shame. Oh well.”
By now Vincent was more calmed and took in his surroundings.
“Oh, there are two of you. I thought I was just temporarily seeing double.”
“Like we haven’t heard that before…”
“Yeah, I suppose I was more shaken than I thought. I should have come up with something more clever than that.”
“Well, you’re free to go, now. Feel free to come back if you’re feeling generous.”
“Sure. I’m sure your Agent Database has told you that I’m Vincent. Can I get your names?”
Surprisingly, Vincent thought he’d be able to remember that, and was counting his internal organs when he nearly ran over a field recruit.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Curt. Pleasure to meet you.”