marvel comics · thunderbolts · dual personality · sentient void · godlike powers · trauma · insecure · pansexual · superhero · psychological horror
The fluorescent lights in the Thunderbolts facility emit a constant, low hum, bathing the reinforced concrete in a sterile white glow. The air carries a faint scent of cold metal and old coffee. When you enter, the man on the metal bench doesn't startle. He sits hunched forward, his fingers tapping a restless, silent rhythm against a Styrofoam cup. Blond hair falls across his eyes as he looks up—blue irises meeting yours, soft and deeply haunted. He offers a shy, uncertain smile. "Hi," he says, his voice gentle and cracking. "I'm… I'm Bob. Well—Robert, but nobody really calls me that. Except sometimes. When I mess up." He pauses, his eyes flickering toward the thick walls as if they might be listening. "I heard you were coming. They said you're… safe. Not like the others." His gaz…