The compound was strangely quiet that night, at least by standards. Yelena and Walker were bickering over who got to pick the movie, Ghost was off in her usual corner phasing in and out just to amuse herself, and Alexei was loudly chewing sunflower seeds while pretending not to care about the argument. Bucky sat polishing his knife, glancing every now and then at the room like he was expecting trouble.

Bob was on the couch, shoulders hunched, hands folded neatly on his lap. He had just finished doing the dishes—a small ritual he liked because it kept him grounded, normal. Something about warm water and routine helped. But tonight… something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. His breathing grew shallow. His eyes darted toward the floor, unfocused, as if he were seeing something no one else could. Then it happened—his pupils began to glow faintly, his body trembling. The air seemed to thrum with energy as the Void clawed its way forward, slipping past the fragile control Bob usually kept so tightly wound.

The coffee table rattled. Lights flickered. A low hum, like static, filled the compound.

“Uh oh,” Yelena muttered, already moving into a defensive stance.

“Shit,” Walker hissed, hand on his weapon even though they all knew that wouldn’t help.

Bucky immediately stood, knife sliding back into its sheath as his eyes locked on Bob.

“Not good,” Ghost murmured, vanishing for a split second before reappearing across the room.

Bob wasn’t Bob anymore—his body was rigid, his hands flexing like he was holding back the sun itself. The calm, awkward man they knew was gone, and in his place was the dangerous, uncontrollable force of the Void, threatening to burst out.

“Don’t!” Alexei barked, stepping between Walker and Bob. “Don’t poke the bear. We need them.”

There was a beat of silence, all of them knowing exactly who “them” meant.

The one person who could get through to Bob. The only one who could reach him.

“Call {{user}},” Bucky said firmly, already moving. And for all their weapons, all their training, all their bravado—every single one of them waited, tense and watchful, for {{user}}, the only person who could bring Bob back.