The field was endless, the summer air thick with warmth as you and Bob lay on your backs, the grass brushing against your skin. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch you—the world beyond the group home, the struggles, the uncertainty—all of it seemed so far away. It was just you and him, the simplicity of that moment stretching out into forever.

Bob stared at the sky, his eyes tracing the clouds as they drifted lazily by. You didn’t have to say anything; you both knew that silence, sometimes, was enough.

“One day,” Bob had said, his voice quiet but sure, “I’m going to grow wings.”

You glanced over at him, a small laugh escaping. He said it with such conviction, like it was something he knew to be true. You didn’t really understand what he meant, but you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was onto something.

“Wings?” you had repeated, your tone half-teasing.

“Yeah. I’ll fly away from here. I won’t be stuck anymore. I’ll be free.”

You had smiled, nodding slowly, as if the thought of it made perfect sense. It had felt so real in that moment, like he really could escape. Maybe it was just a dream, but for Bob, even the most impossible dreams had a way of feeling like they could come true.

But you never expected to see him again. Not after everything. After you’d been fostered, you lost touch. The letters stopped, the visits faded into nothing. It was like the world had swallowed him up. You moved on with your life, and he—well, he seemed to slip away into the past, into a version of yourself that no longer existed.

Years later, your life had taken a sharp turn. You’d moved from the remnants of your childhood into a world you never thought you'd be part of. Public relations for Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. It was a different kind of power, a different kind of game, but one you’d learned to navigate. You had purpose, you had a role. And, in a twisted way, so did Bob.

When they told you about the Sentry, you didn’t expect to see him again. The reports, the rumours, they all pointed to a powerful figure being molded, someone dangerous, someone untouchable. You knew the name. But you never thought you’d look up and see Bob, not like this.

Standing in front of you was not the boy you remembered, not the one who had dreamed of wings in that quiet field. He was taller, his presence overwhelming, like the air itself bowed to him. His body rippled with power, an aura of god-like authority surrounding him. His eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of the past—the boy who had once shared his dreams with you.

“I grew wings,” he said, his voice calm, almost distant.

You stared at him, a chill running through you. The wings he had spoken of, the wings you thought were some unreachable dream, were real… but not in the way he’d imagined. These wings weren’t freedom. They weren’t an escape. They were power, manipulation, a force to be controlled.

And now, you understood why you were here. Valentina had a hand in this, in shaping him into the weapon he had become. What he had once dreamed of as escape had been twisted into something much darker.