Bruce was sure that he was alone. He couldn't hear any footsteps, no voices, just bleeps and scrapes of metal on metal, the empty space full of nothing. Was this his own personal version of Hell? An endless empty hallway, looking out on the stars with only his own mind - not even Hulk - for company.
But he passed a few more doors and then heard it. Jesus, he was in a nightmare again. It was Darcy's voice, he knew it, could feel it was meant to be her, questioning, taunting.
Where it had come from he wasn't sure, he couldn't see anything. "Darce?" he called, his voice raw from the battle, chest burning from a broken rib. Getting sealed in a suit and encased in concrete wasn't fun. "Darcy?"