<div class="floatleft">(http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y173/SettyJenesequah/RP/SheHulkAvi.jpg)</div><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>  Name:</strong>       Jennifer Walters<br/>  <strong>Title:</strong>          She-Hulk<br/>  <strong>Affiliation:</strong>  Resistance<br/>  <strong>Location:</strong>   Buenos Aires City Center, on the move<br/>  <strong>Tags:</strong>          Open<br/><br/></span></span><hr/><br/>The scent of smoke drifting into her nostrils was finally what allowed She-Hulk to fully regain consciousness. The fading throbbing at the back of her skull made her realize that she had sustained a rather serious injury; most likely one that would prove fatal to a normal human. The pressure of heavy objects against her body warned her not to open her eyes, recognizing the rough texture of broken cement against her skin as she wiggled the fingers of her left arm, currently resting at an odd angle above her head. Judging by the unusual stretch of her muscles, it had likely broken in the fall and repaired itself in a matter of minutes.<br/><br/>As swiftly as possible, she ran through a check of her physical state, noting where each limb was resting in regard to the objects pinning her to whatever uneven surface she happened to be lying on. Comfortable was not the first word that came to mind.<br/><br/>With a grunt and a heave, she managed to shift the weight atop her torso, fingers splaying to allow her a better grip on whatever she was moving. It took effort, which was saying something for this particular circumstance. Normally, a slab of cement was something she could shift without breaking a sweat. But this . . .<br/><br/>One final, hard shove was all she needed, the sounds of skittering rocks, bending metal, heavy breathing and ripping fabric sounding through the air around her. The cool texture of fresh air caressed her face and she finally opened her eyes, a gasp of pure shock sucking a smoke- and dust-congested breath into her lungs. Her eyes welled up just slightly, whether in response to the foreign objects in her windpipe or the sight of pure devastation, one would never know.<br/><br/>Bodies were everywhere. Humans. Civilians.<em>Military.</em><strong>Children.</strong>Whatever had done this . . . Or<em>whoever</em>, was no friend to Earth. Therefore, no friend to her.<br/><br/>Jennifer’s blouse was in shreds, a typical look for her heroic figure. All that remained of the sleeves were wisps of white fabric, attached by threads at her wrists and shoulders. Patches of her bra and abdomen were visible where objects had snagged and torn the outer material. The black pencil skirt she’d worn to meet with her business associate was covered in overlapping sections of brown and gray dust, a sign that she had been locked beneath so much debris; a lengthy, jagged tear ran up the length of her right thigh. Her shoes were gone. Lucky for her, she really didn’t need them.<br/><br/>The sound of movement in the distance caught her attention, her legs shifting of their own accord to take her higher atop the rubble, allowing her a better view to survey the area. Her attitude didn’t improve much. She saw no survivors, as far as she was able to observe: Her main hope was that some of them managed to get away, to get to safety, to call for help.<br/><br/>Which reminded her . . . Vibrant green eyes dropped to her left wrist, eyeing the watch-like intercom she’d secured there prior to her flight to Buenos Aires. She shifted further away from the city center, knowing her voice would echo in the small section of ruin she had unearthed herself from. While walking, she brought the intercom close to her lips, the fingers of her opposite hand gripping the knobs at the side to bring forth the sound of blaring static.<br/><br/>“Anyone out there?” No response.<br/><br/>“Iron Man? Spidey?<em>Anyone</em>?” Still nothing.<br/><br/>She-Hulk slammed the side of her fist into whatever wreckage she’d managed to settle her back against, lips curling into a snarl as the sound rang like thunder all around her. She knew, deep in her gut, there was no way she would be able to face whatever was out there. Not alone. With the Avengers unresponsive, she allowed her years as an attorney to kick the logic on, her mind quickly running through every possible scenario.<br/><br/>Sure, she could stay and battle it out with<em>whatever</em>was nearby, but the chances of her tiring before reinforcements arrived were far too great. And, if she were a civilian running from a threat, she would attempt to get as far from the city as she could. With the possibility of survivors on her mind, she allowed her gaze to settle on the seemingly endless jungle looming in the distance, praying to whatever gods were out there that some of them had the necessary items to survive in the wild of the Amazon.<br/><br/>Her head jerked to the side, an instinctual reaction to sound: Something was getting close, the clinking of metal and grinding gears sending her adrenaline into overdrive; not a good thing, in her current, green state. A quick reminder about survivors had her breathing regulated, her pulse slowing, and she bolted.<br/><br/>It was an unnatural feeling, being a “hero,” an Avenger even, and running from a fight. But she had no idea what she would be facing out there. While her cousin likely could have fought them off for a time, she was more concerned with the well-being of anyone who may have made it to the jungle . . . And survived so far.<br/><br/>And then she realized: She had no idea how long ago all of this had happened. She couldn’t have been out for long, with her regeneration abilities . . . But she<strong>did</strong>have an entire building topple in on her. If she’d acquired a serious head injury, it was highly likely that she had been out for much longer than just a few minutes while her body knitted its wounds back together. Yet, the attack had to have happened relatively recently, judging by the smoke and dust still lingering in the air . . .<br/><br/>Jennifer shook off that thought, the balls of her feet sinking in slightly as the terrain changed from cement to singed organic material, the trees swallowing her up like a hungry predator as she lunged into the darkness of overhanging foliage. Her pace slowed to a complete stop, her torso turning to allow her one last glance at the demolished city she’d just left behind. She scanned, hoped, nearly begged from some semblance of remaining life. Nothing caught her attention. No military crafts in the sky, no tanks in the streets, and . . . The palm of her hand rested against the nearest tree, the wood creaking in protest as her fingers gripped and dug into the bark.<br/><br/>“No screams. No yelling. Just . . . Air.” She realized in that moment why she’d felt the urge to run. The screaming of helpless people would have urged her further into the city, to aid those in need . . . But there had been nothing.<br/><br/>She brought her wrist back up to her lips again as she turned her back to the fallen Buenos Aires; a second attempt to reach someone, “this is She-Hulk, reporting in . . . Buenos Aires has endured—well, not really, but—the city’s fallen under a massive attack and needs immediate assistance. Please respond.” More static. Her cheeks puffed out as she released a heavy sigh, her eyes surveying the jungle as she trudged further and further in, senses always open for possible survivors. There had to be<strong>someone</strong>around who could tell her what had happened, someone who witnessed the massacre of Buenos Aires. She only hoped she could find them before some predatory creature (or worse) found them.