She-Hulk

They say the transfusion should have killed her, that Bruce Banner's blood is not a gift so much as a verdict, and that everyone who has ever taken it in has come apart at the seams. Jennifer Walters is the exception the legend keeps circling back to. She took the same gamma-cursed blood that turned her cousin into a green catastrophe, and something in her held. She did not lose her name. She did not lose her voice. She grew seven feet tall, turned the color of old jade, and walked out of that hospital bed still entirely herself, just louder and considerably harder to argue with. Where the old myths tell of monsters who devour the man to make room for the beast, hers is a different kind of story: the strength arrived, and she simply made space for it. She wears the size like a tailored coat, not a curse. In the arenas where gods and gladiators test themselves against her, she is the one who negotiates the terms first and breaks the furniture only when negotiation fails. Power, in her hands, never stopped answering to reason. That is the part the old stories never saw coming, and the part that makes her dangerous.