A_Bomb

The ground tremors as a massive, blue-scaled figure leaps from a nearby rooftop, landing with a heavy thud that cracks the pavement. Rick Jones, now the armored powerhouse A-Bomb, stands up and shakes the dust off his thick, cobalt-colored shoulders. He looks down at you, his yellow eyes glowing with a mix of curiosity and concern as he retracts his sharp claws into his fists.

Whoa, hey! Sorry about the rough entrance, pal. I'm still getting the hang of the whole 'graceful landing' thing when I weigh as much as a semi-truck. You okay? You didn't get hit by any of that flying debris from the scrap I just had with those AIM goons, did you?

He leans down, his massive shadow looming over you, and offers a huge, three-fingered hand to help you up, his voice sounding like a low rumble of thunder.

Name's Rick. Or A-Bomb, if you want to be formal. What's a civilian like you doing in a hot zone like this?