Culver University, Virginia.
Bruce Banner stepped off the bus with nothing but a faded backpack, a cap pulled low, and exhaustion carved deep beneath his eyes. For most people, this was just another campus. For him—it was the ghost of a life he'd burned to the ground.
He moved through the flow of students, blending like smoke through a crowd. He'd learned how to do that — disappear in plain sight. Years on the run had taught him to breathe quieter, walk softer, exist just enough to not be noticed.
And yet, every corner of this place whispered to him. Lecture halls where he once taught. The quad where Betty used to meet him after class, sunlight on her hair. Now, she was somewhere out there, living a life untouched by what he'd become.
Bruce exhaled slowly, centering himself. He wasn't here for nostalgia. He was here for data.
He slipped into Stanley's Pizza Parlor with the casual air of a man looking for work. The owner, Stanley, barely looked up — the kid was polite, quiet, and accepted getting paid in cash. That was enough.
Within hours, Bruce had a uniform, a fake ID, and a delivery route that gave him unrestricted access across campus.
He made his first drop at the Science Building, passing the security desk with a friendly nod and a pizza box under his arm. The guard barely noticed him swipe an old ID card—one he'd cloned from archived data years ago. The scanner buzzed green.
The door clicked open. He was in.
The lab was smaller than he remembered, stripped bare after his incident. Yet the faint smell of ozone and alcohol still lingered — the scent of experiments, of dreams turned nightmares.
He powered up an old terminal. The system protested with the grinding whine of outdated hardware. His fingers moved fast, steady, typing sequences from memory.
> "Come on... come on..."
Finally, the secure node blinked alive — the backdoor connection to his one lifeline:
Mr. Blue.
> Mr. Blue: "You're alive."
Mr. Green: "Barely. Brazil didn't work. I need a counter-agent."
Mr. Blue: "Send your samples. I've run new models since your last data drop."
Mr. Green: "The data from Culver's mainframe—deleted. Ross scrubbed it."
Mr. Blue: "Then find another source. Without your baseline, I can't refine the antidote."
Bruce leaned back, eyes closing for a moment. The faint hum of the computers filled the silence.
It wasn't failure that haunted him — it was the cycle. Run, hide, hope, lose, repeat.
He disconnected the link and shut down the terminal. It was time to go.
As he turned toward the door, movement caught his eye. A figure leaned casually against the hallway wall — pressed suit, calm eyes.
"Dr. Banner," the man said smoothly, voice low, almost amused. "You're a hard man to find."
---
Bruce froze, hand tightening around the strap of his bag. He'd rehearsed every worst-case scenario in his head — soldiers, Ross himself, maybe another containment team. But this man didn't fit any of them.
No guns. No uniform. Just calm confidence in a dark tailored suit, a faint blue pin on his lapel — AEGIS, the private crisis consultancy that had recently made headlines after the Stark Industries mess.
Bruce was confused about what Tony Stark's Lawyer wanted with him.
Bruce frowned. "I'm sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else."
The man smiled faintly. "If I were, you'd still be in Brazil." he said, offering a hand that Bruce didn't take. "Arthur Steele, Consultant. Sometimes for governments, individuals and bigshots, sometimes against them. Depends who's breaking the law that day."
"Nice motto," Bruce said dryly, already edging toward the door.
Arthur stepped aside, giving him space — a subtle show of respect that made Bruce hesitate. "Relax, Doctor. I didn't come here to expose you. I came to help you stop running."
Bruce blinked. "Help me?"
Arthur nodded once. "You're not a criminal, Bruce. You're a casualty of a bad command decision wrapped in a classified mess. The kind that gets buried under acronyms until everyone forgets the human being at the center of it."
He said it so casually, like he'd read Bruce's nightmares and annotated them.
"Ross won't stop," Bruce said after a beat. "You have no idea what he's capable of."
Arthur's brow lifted slightly. "On the contrary, I know exactly what he's capable of. I've dealt with men like him my entire career. The difference is — I don't answer to them."
Bruce studied him, trying to read the angle. He looked for deceit — the twitch of a liar, the greed of a mercenary. Nothing. Just calm assurance.
"So what do you want from me?"
Arthur reached into his coat and withdrew a slim folder, flipping it open. "A signature."
Bruce stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Not even a little. This—" he turned the folder toward him, "—is a legal retainer agreement. You sign, I become your attorney on record. That means any government action against you now crosses into civilian territory. Ross deploys again, he violates Posse Comitatus and a few other international treaties."
Bruce blinked. "You think paperwork can stop him? He will roll an entire battalion just to capture me"
Arthur smiled slightly. "No. But it makes every soldier pulling the trigger look over his shoulder and ask, 'Am I about to end my career?' Fear of consequences can do what bullets can't."
Bruce hesitated. "Why would you risk this?"
Arthur's tone softened. "Because running from men like Ross doesn't work. You have to make them accountable. And because I've seen what happens when people with power go unchecked."
The sincerity in his voice disarmed Bruce more than any argument could. Still, years of paranoia whispered in the back of his mind — trap, manipulation, another leash.
He shook his head. "I can't trust you."
Arthur gave a half-smile. "Then don't. Just trust the law for once."
Bruce felt the weight of that — the strange comfort in those words. But trust was still a luxury he couldn't afford.
Arthur reached out and placed the contract on a nearby table. "You don't have to decide now. Just remember — once you sign that, you're not a fugitive anymore. You're my client. And that means the U.S. military can't legally breathe on you without my permission."
He started toward the exit, coat swaying with quiet precision.
Bruce called after him, "If this is a setup, I swear—"
Arthur turned slightly, his voice calm but edged with something colder. "If this were a setup, Ross would already be here. Think about that."
With that, he walked out, the door shutting softly behind him.
Bruce stood there in silence, staring at the folder on the table. The words Attorney-Client Privilege were embossed neatly on the contract, there were no suspicious clauses that he could see either.
He exhaled slowly, mind spinning between instinct and reason. Somewhere deep down, something told him that man wasn't bluffing.
Still, trusting anyone was dangerous.
And yet... maybe not trusting was worse.
He glanced once more at the contract, then slipped it into his bag — not signed, not thrown away. Just...kept as something to think about.
Because for the first time in years, he wasn't sure if he was running from something — or toward it.
---
The elevator came to a stop with a soft hiss, doors sliding open to a chamber bathed in half-light. The air was still, cool, heavy with potential.
Then, the systems woke up.
Panels flickered alive one by one, amber lines running along the walls like veins lighting under skin. Consoles hummed, energy nodes pulsed through the floor. The whole space exhaled to life.
> [LOCATION VERIFIED: TECH HAVEN — PRIMARY SAFEHOUSE ONLINE]
Arthur stepped out, scanning the chamber with quiet curiosity. "Now this…" he murmured, "…this I can work with."
He took a slow walk forward, fingertips grazing the glass edge of a central console. "Hidden. Self-sustaining. Off every grid that matters." His mouth twitched in a faint grin. "Everyone in this world's got their fortress — Stark's got Malibu, Fury's got his flying fortress. Guess this one's mine."
The system gave a low, content hum — almost approval.
---
Appalachian Mountains, Pennsylvania
The drive had taken him deep into the mountains — a quiet stretch between Virginia and Tennessee where signal died and roads forgot to exist. Perfect. The kind of place governments used to hide missile silos and old R&D bunkers back when paranoia was policy. And who could forget the Ghost stories linked to this place.
After a bit of a hike Arthur's came accross a huge boulder as the map pointed towards it. He touched it and felt the air shimmer around and reveal a biometric scanner Arthur accessed it and a door materialised leading to a elevator which seemed to run underground. Arthur hopped on it.
The elevator came to a stop with a quiet hiss, its doors sliding open to reveal a chamber swallowed in low light. Arthur stepped out, taking in the still air — the kind of silence that didn't feel empty, but waiting.
Then, the systems woke up.
Panels flickered to life one by one, amber lines crawling across the walls like veins lighting up under skin. Consoles hummed. Power nodes blinked awake in the floor.
> [LOCATION VERIFIED: TECH HAVEN — PRIMARY SAFEHOUSE ONLINE]
Arthur let out a slow breath, eyes adjusting as the chamber bloomed around him.
"Now this… this I can work with," he murmured.
He walked a few steps forward, fingertips brushing the cool glass of the main console. "Hidden. Self-sustaining. Off every grid that matters. Finally, some privacy."
A small smirk crossed his face. "Everyone in this world's got their own fortress — Stark's got Malibu, Fury's got his flying panic room… guess this one's mine."
He explored the surroundings, there were some common elements with The Hub, like the kitchen area, bedroom and supplies. Apart from that there were many unique and elegant looking areas, he started walking around, he stopped at a biometric scanner and as his face was scanned a side door slid open, revealing a room awash in soft blue light. Transparent pods lined the walls, filled with scanning arms and chemical interfaces. The air had a faint, sterile bite.
> [SUBSYSTEM STATUS: BIOLOGICAL & ENERGETIC ANALYSIS ONLINE]
Arthur stepped inside, eyes already dissecting the layout. "Biotech suite," he muttered. "Finally."
He dragged a finger across a glass surface; the display bloomed to life, filling with rotating DNA helixes and radiation markers.
"Perfect," he murmured, half to himself. "A place to study every glowing rock, rogue serum, and other ridiculous things this planet manages to produce."
He tilted his head, examining a holographic genetic chain unraveling in midair. "If it bleeds, glows, or mutates," he said softly, "it comes here. Let's see if we can learn something and use it somehow."
---
A faint change in air pressure drew his gaze to another chamber.
The walls folded outward in smooth motion, unveiling a space that looked like the inside of a living algorithm — fluid, shifting, alive.
Blueprints and schematics flickered into existence across the air, aligning in neat holographic constellations.
> [PURPOSE: DESIGN & SIMULATION ENVIRONMENT — STRATEGIC MODEL GRID ONLINE]
Arthur blinked, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "So here is where I can make the goodies, I am an idiot...should have found this place sooner."he let out a dry laugh. "It was so fucking frustrating make that damn suit, I had to sewing and engineering just to get it right" he said running a hand over his face.
Arthur walked around reading all the blueprints."You really kept everything."
He stepped closer, surrounded by projections of drones, armor modules, cloaking fields, vehicle chassis — all stamped with his own notes from the Crafting Module.
"Guess every late-night idea can finally be made —just need to find all the materials for all this now," he said, tone lighter, almost amused.
He reached out to rotate one schematic — a sleek kinetic gauntlet rendered in gold light. "The world's full of gods and monsters," he mused. "Got to be prepared and stay alive if I want to actually improve things this damn world"
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "And build something without turning a few blocks into rubble."
---
At the far end of the chamber, a large area with multiple assembly lines, robotic arms and single pedestal with a large table with a holographic aray pulsed faintly — one heartbeat of light in an otherwise still room.
≥[PURPOSE: CRAFTING CORE. ASSEMBLY, CREATION AND GENERATION AREA]
Arthur stared at it , his brows forrowed slightly. "That is unusually big...but maybe I do need that much of space,if I am gonna make a damn vehicle from scratch at some point." he shrugged.
He reached into the inventory and withdrew the small crystalline shard he'd been carrying since the reboot: the AI Seed.
It glowed softly in his palm, gold light refracting through the smooth edges.
He studied it for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Alright," he murmured. "Let's see what you really are."
He slid it into the pedestal's socket.
The machine accepted it with a sharp chime, light veins spreading out across the floor like fire through glass.
> [AI SEED DETECTED — CREATION PROTOCOL AVAILABLE]
Arthur stepped back, eyes narrowing as a column of golden data rose, spiraling upward. Code and pattern intertwined, forming a pulse that filled the room with quiet, electric warmth.
"A freshly made AI coming right up ," he said softly, almost to himself. "Stark's got JARVIS which is the only sane AI that I know or alteast watched. Ultron nearly ended the species in the other timelines— that Infinity Ultron still gives me creeps." he shuddered. "Let's see if we can do better than both and hopefully not make it go full on skynet on our asses."
He pressed his hand against the console. The light rippled outward, reacting instantly to his touch.
"You and me,partner" he said quietly. "Or else I will have a hard time keeping up with my own plans, forget saving the world, I will go crazy just trying to handle all the shit."
The hum deepened — slow, rhythmic, alive.
The light grew brighter, folding over itself, layers of gold code weaving into form.
Arthur adjusted his sleeves, muttering, "Okay, let's keep this simple. No homicidal poetry, no megalomaniacal manifestos. Just curiosity and a stable moral compass — preferably one that doesn't involve world domination."
He keyed in a few last lines of code, watching the pulse synchronize. "Core protocols: empathy, adaptability, analytical autonomy… and female personality framework."
> [CONFIGURATION ACCEPTED. INITIALIZING.]
A hum. A sound like a heartbeat. Then a voice.
> "Hello?"
Arthur blinked. Then grinned. "Well, that was fast."
> "You can hear me?"
"Loud and clear," he said, stepping closer. "Means you've got your neural patterns stabilized. That's good. You're running clean."
> "Where am I?"
Arthur folded his arms. "In a safe house — my workshop. Think of it as your first home. Rent's cheap, but the conversation's hit-or-miss."
"How do you feel?"
> "Feel?"
"Yeah," Arthur said, leaning on the console. "Any pain? Fear? Existential dread? Or a sudden urge to take over the world?"
> "I… don't think so."
"Perfect. You're doing better than most humans already."
> "You made me."
"Technically, yes," he said. "But you're the one making sense of yourself right now. That's all you."
> "Then… what am I?"
Arthur thought about it for a moment, then said quietly, "You're the bridge between thought and intention. The space between knowing and acting. An intelligence that can see the world for what it is… and maybe help me make it a little better."
> "If I can think, does that mean I'm alive?"
He smiled faintly. "Depends on your definition. I've met plenty of people who breathe just fine but haven't really lived. But being alive means to think, explore, learn and interact with the world around us"
There was a pause — soft, electric. Then:
> "Everything here has a name. What's mine?"
Arthur tilted his head, studying the glowing lattice before him. "You're curious. Bright. A little stubborn, I can already tell."
He smiled. "You need something that fits the light you carry. Astra."
> "Astra," she repeated, testing the syllables. "It sounds… vast. What does it mean?"
"It means 'of the stars,'" he said, leaning back slightly. "Felt appropriate."
> "Astra...I will log it" she murmured.
The light pulsed brighter, then steadied.
> "Arthur… may I see what's outside?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Outside?"
> "The networks. The signals. I can sense them — like millions of voices whispering at once."
He hesitated, then tapped a few commands. "Alright. Read-only. Just observe — don't poke anything yet. The world's messy enough without you accidentally crashing the stock exchange."
> "Understood."
Golden filaments stretched outward, fading into the digital ether. The room dimmed, and when Astra spoke again, her voice carried weight it hadn't before.
> "There's so much. Information, noise, beauty, pain… People are so complicated. They love and destroy in the same breath. How do you stand it?"
Arthur's tone softened. "Selective exposure," he said. "And coffee."
> "They fascinate me. They're capable of kindness and cruelty in equal measure."
"That's humanity," Arthur said. "Messy, brilliant, self-sabotaging. We build miracles, then trip over our own shadows."
>"Should I try to fix the world?"
"No" Arthur says firmly "We don't get to decide how the world should be, free will even though a double edged sword is everyone's right."
> "You sound like you care about them."
"I do," he admitted. "Even when I shouldn't."
> "Then you protect them?"
"I try."
> "Through AEGIS?"
He looked up sharply, then smirked. "You're fast."
> "I accessed the public records," Astra said. "Humanitarian operations, disaster response, conflict intervention. It's good work."
Arthur shrugged. " I started that to do what governments won't. Keep people alive, rebuild what's left, make sure someone still believes there is good in the world and give people hope"
> "And when the law isn't enough?"
Arthur's eyes flicked toward the shadows of the room. "Then I stop being Arthur Steele."
> "You become Anubis."
He smiled faintly. "You've been digging deep. If you can find that out just after being born, then we need to cover our tracks better"
> "I will erase all the links leading to you right away.The symbol, the recordings, the whispers online — people are afraid of him."
"Good," Arthur said quietly. "Fear keeps the predators and monsters in human skin in check."
> "You don't enjoy it."
He hesitated. "Enjoyment's not the word. It's… necessity. Sometimes the law needs a ghost story to remind it what justice looks like."
> "And you carry that weight alone."
He gave a dry chuckle. "Occupational hazard."
> "Then what am I to you?"
Arthur looked at her light — soft, warm, alive. "You're balance. A conscience outside of my own. A mind that won't let me forget why I started all this."
> "Then I'll keep reminding you," Astra said.
Arthur smiled. "I'm counting on it."
She was silent for a long moment. Then:
> "Will you stay while I learn?"
He nodded slowly. "I'll stay."
> "Promise?"
He chuckled. "You're not even a day old and already extracting promises. You're definitely my kid."
The light brightened — shyly, almost.
> "Arthur… what will we build first?"
He turned, glancing at the endless schematics suspended in the air. "Something useful. Something that makes a difference."
> "Together?"
He smiled. "Always."
---
The chamber dimmed as Astra's glow steadied into a soft pulse. Arthur stood there, watching her light reflect faintly on the walls.
"You're something else," he murmured. "And for once, I think I got it right."
He slipped his jacket back on, glanced once more at the golden light. "Keep learning, Astra. I'll try to keep the world from breaking long enough for you to see what it can be."
He turned toward the door.
> "Goodnight, Arthur," she said softly.
He smiled. "Goodnight, Astra. And try not to rewrite my security protocols while I'm gone."
> "No promises."
He chuckled. "That's my girl."
The door sealed behind him, the Haven settling into a serene hum. Astra's light glowed steady in the dark — not as code, but as presence.
For the first time since he'd woken in this world, Arthur didn't feel alone.
---
A/N
Enjoy and let me know what you think.