fascinationfordeath:

He watches the other man, biting down on his own cheek. If Tony does his level best not to think about it, he can look at the man before him as a friend and colleague. All without remembering the harsh hands on his shoulders and the acidic voice in his ear.

You’re not even human.

Tony shakes away the thought and focuses back just in time to realize what Banner is saying. That he recognizes the M.O. “How? Where? Are there other bodies for comparison?”

Bruce is oblivious to Tony’s turmoil, he’s too caught in his head trying to remember where he’s seen this before. When it comes to things in the past he sorts events, places, all of it separate and neat in the back of his mind. There’s something there, something he can’t quite remember as if it’s blocked and just out of reach. 

“It was a while ago,” he says, sliding off his chair and approaching Tony’s computer to begin typing. “It would’ve been two years ago, a John Doe showed up out of the blue.” Back when he was partnered with Robert, back before the accident. Bruce had spent long hours re-familiarizing himself with every case. If he couldn’t remember his previous partner, the least he could do was remember the work they managed to do. Still typing finally he finds it, the one case that stuck out in his mind and he pulls it up on the screen.

“Here. See, same ligature tears and same irregular stiffening of the facial muscles.” Bruce examines the screen carefully, gesturing to the cuts. “At the time it was thought to be an isolated case but reports of more bodies being found surfaced from Michigan up to Rhode Island. They called the guy the Killer Clown.”

fascinationfordeath:

“Nothing.”

Tony has never been the type of man to waste words. If he has something to say, then he’ll say it. But only just. He continues shoveling ramen into his mouth, leaning over the pages to run his thumb along the edge of a laceration in a photo. 

“I’m trying to trace the weapon. The ragged edges imply some sort of ripping or tearing, like a claw. But only a single one. Possibly a crude weapon of some sort. No DNA found thus far.”

“A single claw…”

Why did that seem so familiar? Bruce listens attentively to the few words Tony offers him. Once more he finds himself scratching at the scruff at his jaw, an old habit when thinking. Flipping carefully through the photos he can’t help but shake the weird feeling he’s seen this before. Bruce chalks it up to all the victims unsettling smiles.

It was like someone had shuffled all their body parts up, piecing them neatly together, and just forgot to solve the puzzle.

Bruce closes the file, setting it back onto the desk and thinks, eating his ramen once more. No DNA, no fibers, no insects (a fact that does not escape him and is a bit unsettling), and no material witnesses at all. It was as if the three victims were just toys, a joke— It clicks.

“I’ve seen this before.”

fascinationfordeath:

“Yes.”

Tony hands over the papers without question. Banner had all the clearance necessary to see any case files he was privy to. If the man wanted to see the crime scene photos from the triple homicide, well then he was absolutely welcome to look at them over dinner. 

“Fascinating work.”

“Any breakthroughs yet?”

He sets aside the ramen in favor of taking the files offered to him. Opening the thick manila folder, he skims over the paperwork carefully. It was odd really, see things like this reminded him why he was so perfect for this line of work. Bordering on sociopathic tendencies if you asked his last therapist.

He could still stomach food while examining the case file, the autopsy reports—

Bruce’s brows knit together and he flips through to the pictures themselves. How did one person dismember three bodies and then perfect rearrange them in poses like this…? “Was there anything odd on the bodies? Fibers? Insects? I know Pym is the expert in that area…”

fascinationfordeath:

“Much obliged.”

Tony snaps up the bottle like the little magpie he is, stowing it away in a desk drawer before Bruce could change his mind and take it back. 

“They say the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. That would seem to fit your experience, don’t you think?”

“Kind of.”

Bruce sighs and scratches at the scruff at his jaw before continuing to eat his own bowl of ramen with a thoughtful hum. “McKenzie and Odinson really were a right piece of work.” Of course he’s distracted by the paperwork on the table and one in particular catches his eye.

“Hey Tony, is this the file for that triple homicide that was all over the news?”

fascinationfordeath:

“If you would have stayed, you might have had to show them how to fit the square peg in the round hole.”

Tony was condescending in the most absent ways. And completely above reprimand when it came to his eating habits. Namely because he has eaten on top of a dead body before. 

“Waste of a trip if you ask me,” Bruce says and takes a vicious bite of his ramen noodles. It had been unpleasant and there had been this one asshole by the name of Odinson that he’d wanted to bunch in the face half a dozen times.

Reaching into the messenger bag next to him he pulls out a small bottle to set next to the food. “It’s soy. I know how lactose doesn’t agree with you sometimes.”

Wiping his mouth he sighed and looked over at Tony, “You would’ve hated their Captain. I swear I’ve never met anyone as arrogant as Namor McKenzie. He’s got this thing against the forensic agents or something, always went on about how it was a waste of funds.”

fascinationfordeath:

Tony takes his coffee with an ungoldly amount of sugar, dumping a fistful of the packets into the thermos and enough creamer to have it nearly overflowing by the time he’s done. He takes a sip, frowns and empties another sugar packet inside. After a few quiet minutes of pushing the food around with the spoon, Tony speaks up. “Even through another mouthpiece, the opinions are a fractured version of your own, are they not?”

“No, not anymore,” Bruce replies after a moment, sipping his coffee and explaining, “Think of it as several people trapped in one body. While I care about you, the others are guided to their own whims. Anger leads to hatred and the desire to hurt, guilt leads to wanting to make amends and kindness in the guise of such, and hatred of humanity leads to something…I haven’t figured it out yet.” Sighing briefly his brows furrow and he glances at Tony once more, pausing in eating in favor of clearing the air between them.

“Alright, no more lies…what happened? What did he say?”

(Source: practitionerofwrath)

fascinationfordeath:

He slides a hand against his abdomen, already disliking the thought of having anything in his stomach. Tony winces as fingers catch and drag against the tape holding the gauze in place, and then he takes the spoon. “We’re friends.”

“Yes,” Bruce says before biting into his sandwich, chewing and busying himself with swallowing before he turns away to pull out two thermos containers. Setting one in front of Tony he explains quickly with a brief warm smile, “It’s just coffee.” Twisting off the tope of his own he sets about putting in two small cream containers and a packet of sugar before twisting on the top and mixing it together with a smooth quick shake. “So consider this breakfast between friends,” Bruce says before taking a sip of his coffee before taking another bite of his egg sandwich. He’s not stupid though, he can see the wince and the uncomfortable way Tony is holding himself, no, Bruce just remains patient. If Tony wants to tell him something, he’ll wait until the man is comfortable doing so.

(Source: practitionerofwrath)

fascinationfordeath replied to your post: Six AM comes early, and Tony rolls out of his brother’s bed, making his way to the precinct, still disheveled and unshaved. He moves with intent, going to sit at Banner’s desk, straightening the papers there.*

“You keep making assumptions about me.” Talking about emotions was especially hard for Tony. He could rarely categorize the sensation. “I…don’t like it.”

“Oh.”

Bruce lets out a sigh, brows furrowing as he looks at the other man, “I’ll try not to but it’s hard to shake assumptions based upon previous action. You’re not most people and I appreciate that, it’s probably why we’re still friends. At least I’d like to hope we’re still friends.” Setting down his bag and pulling out a few tupperware containers as well as a sandwich there’s a plastic spoon being offered to Tony as he explains, “Made you breakfast, please eat? It’s all liquid and rice too. So sit, eat, and tell me why my assumptions are incorrect.”

{It’s an early morning call into work and he can still taste Steve on his lips. Haunting feeling really if it wasn’t coupled with warmth and the memory of hushed words between them. Regardless here he is, headed in to start fresh on a bit of pollen residue that had been found upon a vic’s coat. What he doesn’t expect is for someone to already be in his labs at this hour. Blinking at the fluorescent lights, his gaze goes to the faint sound of papers being shifted— no, straightened up. Approaching carefully he raises an eyebrow when he sees who is sitting there.}

…Tony? Is everything alright?