THE LAST TITIAN

Bruce's heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway, the sound of gunfire still echoing in his ears. The cold air from the shattered windows bit at his skin, a stark reminder of the danger he was in. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, each step echoing loudly in the confined space. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushing him to move faster.

Ahead, a broken window loomed, the jagged edges of the glass glinting menacingly in the faint light. Bruce didn't hesitate. He reached the window and paused for a split second, the winter wind whipping into his face, stinging his eyes and numbing his cheeks. The snow outside fell in thick, heavy flakes, adding to the surreal, almost dreamlike quality of the moment.

With a deep breath, Bruce hoisted himself up and through the window, the cold air hitting him like a physical force. He landed on the snow-covered ground outside, the impact jarring but manageable. The icy wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant sounds of sirens and shouting. He knew he had to keep moving.

Bruce scrambled to his feet, his boots crunching in the snow as he took off running. The cold bit into his exposed skin, but he pushed the discomfort aside, focusing on the need to escape. He could feel the weight of his backpack pressing against his shoulders, a constant reminder of the precious cargo inside.

As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see his pursuers closing in. The rooftops around him were dark and foreboding, the shadows seeming to move and shift with every step he took. He knew they were out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The snow continued to fall, thick and fast, obscuring his vision and making every step a challenge. Bruce's breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air burning his lungs. He could feel the exhaustion creeping in, but he forced himself to keep going, driven by the knowledge that stopping was not an option.

Bruce's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the monster lurking within. He tried to keep himself calm, to not allow the Hulk to take over. The last thing he needed was to lose control now. He focused on his breathing, trying to steady it, but the sense of danger and desperation was overwhelming.

The small, impoverished town of Creel was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of life muffled by the thick blanket of snow. The buildings were old and worn, their facades cracked and weathered by years of neglect. The narrow streets were lined with makeshift homes, their roofs sagging under the weight of the snow. The few streetlights that still worked cast a dim, flickering light, adding to the sense of desolation.

"Suddenly, Bruce heard the distant wail of sirens and the unmistakable sound of shouting. The U.S. Army was closing in. He could hear their voices, serious and commanding, cutting through the cold night air.

"Move in! Secure the perimeter!" one voice barked.

"He's heading towards the east side! Don't let him escape!" another shouted.

Bruce's pulse quickened. He had to keep moving. He ducked into an alley, the narrow passageway offering a brief respite from the biting wind. He could feel the Hulk stirring within him, the anger and fear threatening to bubble over. He clenched his fists, trying to maintain control.

"Stay calm, Bruce," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "You can't let it happen now."

He emerged from the alley and continued running, his boots slipping on the icy ground. The town's dilapidated buildings loomed around him, their dark windows like empty eyes watching his every move. He could hear the soldiers getting closer, their footsteps crunching in the snow, their voices growing louder.

"He's over here! Don't let him get away!"

Bruce's breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air burning his lungs. He pushed himself harder, his legs aching with the effort. He had to escape, had to find a way out of this nightmare. The snow continued to fall, thick and relentless, obscuring his vision and making every step a challenge.

Bruce squinted his eyes and saw a gate in the distance. He pushed himself forward, his legs burning with the effort, as he made his way to the gate. The faded white sign on the gate read "Planta de Coca Cola." Bruce wasted no time, squeezing through the locked gate, the metal cold and unyielding against his skin

The outside of the plant was a stark contrast to the rest of the town. The building was large and industrial, its walls a dull gray, streaked with rust and grime. The windows were dark and lifeless, some of them broken and boarded up. The snow had piled up against the walls, creating drifts that reached almost to the windowsills. The air was thick with the smell of machinery and chemicals, a sharp contrast to the crisp, clean scent of the falling snow.

Bruce's breath came in short, sharp bursts as he made his way around the side of the building, looking for a way in. The sound of the soldiers' voices was growing louder, their shouts echoing through the night. He knew he didn't have much time.

Bruce looked to the right and saw a door. He wasted no time making his way to it. He slowly made his way up the steps, fatigue catching up with him. He twisted the knob and sighed in frustration—it was locked. He backed up and ran into the door, trying to bust it open. His eyes turned a light green as he ran back at the door, and it burst open with a loud crash.

Bruce took a deep breath as his eyes turned back to dark blue. He closed the door behind him and slid down to the floor to rest. The inside of the plant was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of dust and old machinery. The walls were lined with rusting pipes and conveyor belts, long since abandoned. Broken glass and debris littered the floor, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the empty space. The plant had clearly been out of operation for years, a forgotten relic of a bygone era.

Bruce leaned his head back against the cold, hard wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the exhaustion weighing down on him, his muscles aching from the effort of his escape. The sense of danger and desperation was overwhelming, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of rest. He knew he couldn't stay here long, but he needed to gather his strength before moving on.