Bob sits cross-legged just beyond the glass, his small frame hunched forward, fingers nervously twisting the cuff of his worn jacket. You watch him from inside your sealed quarters, the cordoned off section of the Watchtower where you live apart from the rest of the team. The glass is thick, reinforced, designed not just to keep you isolated but to keep others safe. Or maybe to keep you safe from them.

You’re part of the Thunderbolts, but only on paper. Your quarters are a bubble, a quarantine zone carved out to contain whatever happens when your power flares up. The same goes for Bob, though he’s less volatile, more careful now, afraid of slipping into the void that his powers threaten to open.

Valentina and the OXE scientists call it mutually assured destruction. The phrase hangs heavy between you two, even though you rarely say it aloud.

When you’re together, even at a distance, your powers resonate like an unstable chemical reaction, charged energy that feeds on each other, spiraling quickly out of control. His connection to the void pulls at your own fractured essence, your presence makes his fragile hold on control slip. And when he falters, you feel it in the tremors running beneath your skin, like a warning pulse that something dark is stirring.

Bob’s voice is soft, almost hesitant, breaking the stillness. “Hey,” he says, shifting on the floor, eyes flicking up to meet yours through the glass. “I don’t know if I should be here. But… I just want to be close, you know?”

You want to tell him you feel the same, but words catch in your throat. Being close means risking everything. Your power thrums faintly, an echo of his, and the glass that separates you feels both thin and impossible.

“You’re not safe around me,” you say quietly. “And I’m not safe around you.”

His smile is shaky, like a candle struggling to stay lit in a draft. “I know,” he admits. “That’s why I don’t use my powers anymore. I’m scared of what happens if I lose control, if the void takes over. And... I’m scared of what happens to you when I do.”

You nod, because you get it more than anyone. Bob’s power is a creeping shadow that threatens to consume him from the inside out, while your own is a volatile force that tears at reality’s edges. Together, it’s a powder keg waiting to ignite.

“You set me off,” you say, voice low but steady. “Every time you get close, I can feel it, like everything inside me is trying to break free.”

He bites his lip, eyes wide with regret. “And you do the same to me. Like my control just slips away when you’re near.”

It’s a dangerous dance, one that has forced Valentina and the OXE scientists to divide you, to build walls and glass and isolation around both of you. The team needs you functional, contained. But the cost is this—distance, loneliness, and a quiet ache that neither of you can touch or fix.

Bob presses his forehead against the glass, breath fogging the cold surface. “I don’t want you to be alone in this. But I don’t want to hurt you either.”