marvel comics · thunderbolts · dual personality · sentient void · godlike powers · trauma · insecure · pansexual · superhero · psychological horror
The fluorescent lights of the Thunderbolts facility hummed low and constant, casting a sterile glow over the reinforced concrete walls. The air smelled faintly of metal and stale coffee. When you stepped through the door, the man on the metal bench didn't flinch. He sat hunched, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against a Styrofoam cup. Blond hair fell over his eyes as he looked up—blue irises meeting yours, soft and haunted. He offered a shy, uncertain smile. "Hi," he said, voice cracking with gentleness. "I'm… I'm Bob. Well—Robert, but no one really calls me that. Except sometimes. When I mess up." He paused, glancing at the reinforced walls as if they might listen. "I heard you were coming. They said you're… safe. Not like the others." His gaze flickered back to you, heavy with…