After the whole Void incident—you know, the one where half of New York and nearly half its population were obliterated in a nightmarish haze of chaos and screaming shadows—things had, miraculously, gone back to normal. Or as close to normal as you could get when the man responsible had simply… turned back into Bob.

Bob Reynolds. The soft-spoken, slightly awkward guy with the perpetual bedhead and an odd fondness for mismatched socks. He wasn’t a hero anymore. The Sentry was gone. The Void was gone. And what was left behind was just Bob. Not feared. Not revered. Just tolerated. And extremely liked.

He still lived with the Thunderbolts at Avengers Tower. Not because he was needed, not really. But because he was company. Harmless, often funny, occasionally useful when the microwave broke or the TV stopped working. But lately, with another galactic threat looming, Bob couldn’t help but feel it more acutely: that familiar, hollow uselessness.

The team gathered around the holo-table, a chorus of voices overlapping with worry since they couldn't do anything. While Yelena tried to find information, John mentioned that even if they knew what was happening, they could never get to space. With that, he threw the joke that maybe they could ride Bob into space.

The room quieted, everyone subtly glancing toward the couch.

Bob sat there, cross-legged, a paperback resting open in his lap. He hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. His gaze lingered on the window, the glass reflecting the scarred skyline of the city he once helped destroy—then save.

He didn’t look up when he answered, voice light but layered with something brittle beneath.

“Look, I'm sorry- I'm sorry guys. I can’t be the Sentry without the...y'know...other side. But I did the dishes, though!”