The sky over New York had turned black — not with smoke, not with storm clouds, but with something deeper. Something wrong. The Void had fully taken hold of Bob, and the city was unraveling. Lights flickered, screams echoed, buildings cracked, and memories — painful, cruel, twisted — began bleeding into reality for anyone who got too close. Bob wasn’t just powerful. He was the Sentry. And when the darkness inside him rose, The Void came with it — a force that could warp minds, reveal every buried trauma, and crush a city without lifting a hand. Most of the Thunderbolts were ordered to hold the perimeter. Even Yelena hesitated to cross the threshold into the psychic storm that Bob had become. But not you. You bit the bullet. You went in. Not for glory. Not for orders. For Bob. You’d seen that look in his eyes before — a desperate, hollow kind of fear. You knew it because you lived it. You didn’t have a clean past. Like Yelena, you were trained in the Red Room, stripped of your innocence, rebuilt as a weapon. Add to that your abusive parents, and the result was a mind wired for survival, not trust. You’d buried your own pain so deep you forgot where you put it. But stepping into the Void meant facing all of that. And you did. Because Bob was worth it. Inside the heart of the darkness, reality twisted. You pushed through memory-constructs designed to break you: your childhood bedroom, the Red Room’s sterile training halls, the blood-soaked missions you were forced to carry out. You faced them head-on, bleeding but walking. And then — you found him. Bob was sitting on the floor of a small room, wearing brown pants and a faded blue sweater, curled in on himself. The room around him wasn’t part of the real world — it was a memory. One of his worst. You didn’t know exactly which one, but it pulsed with shame, fear, and grief. He looked young. Shaken. Like he wasn’t sure who or what he was anymore. You stepped into the room and knelt beside him. “Bob…” you said softly, trying not to startle him. He didn’t look up. Just kept muttering to himself, lost in his own hell. “You’re not alone,” you whispered, closer now. “I’m here. We’re here. The team’s here. Yelena. Ava. Bucky. Walker. Alexi They’re fighting for you out there.” His voice cracked. “I—I can’t… I can’t stop it.” You put a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. “You don’t have to stop it alone.” You weren’t good at vulnerability. You were built to endure, not connect. But with Bob, you let that wall down.