When everyone finished the meeting, Bob was leaning on his mop nearby, having listened to the entire thing. He listened to the Avengers passionately discussing various topics with a mix of nervousness and confusion—though he couldn't understand a single word.
Still, even if he couldn't understand, it didn't stop him from listening through to the end, and stepping aside to make way when everyone prepared to leave.
"Wait a moment, Bob."
While everyone else had left, Cap remained behind. Spotting Bob standing to the side watching the others leave, something crossed his mind. He pulled a card from a nearby drawer, walked over, and handed it to Bob. "This is your temporary Avengers ID card, Bob."
"Oh, I—" Bob looked somewhat lost, letting out a helpless laugh. "But I don't have superpowers, at least not so far. It wouldn't feel right for me to take this."
"This was made specifically for you, Bob. You might not use it, or you might not even have superpowers, but that doesn't mean you have to wander through life aimlessly. This is proof. Maybe you'll never have any superpowers, and maybe you won't want to become an Avenger, but as long as you're willing, you can still be an Avenger."
Bob made an "Oh" sound for a good while before realizing this was merely a temporary ID, so he hurriedly accepted it. Cap then asked about another matter: "I recall the Wasp designed a uniform for you based on data of Sentries from other universes. Have you seen it?"
"I... uh, that uniform is way too Superman. Even though it's gold, it has a big S, plus a cape..."
"Don't you like Superman?"
"No... I just, I just feel like I'm definitely not Superman. Superman is a perfect person, just like, uh..."
Bob initially intended to say Cap, but found himself unable to voice it at that moment, so he could only give an awkward laugh. "I don't think I'm Superman, and I certainly can't be like him. If only I had power like Hourman—even if I could only get an hour of superpowers each day, using that one hour of power to help others would make me more than satisfied."
Cap patted Bob on the shoulder.
"Using one-twenty-fourth of every day to help others is already a remarkable feat. You should believe in yourself."
Bob watched Cap leave, nodding repeatedly. Once Cap was gone, he resumed mopping the floor. Unlike what Tony or even Peter thought, Bob worked without a word, neither humming songs nor thinking about other things, appearing to be a complete introvert. Yet there was no other voice in his head—no voice of another self.
That did not mean the Void didn't exist.
Bob mopped clumsily. With every bit of effort he exerted, he could feel his palms and fingers in contact with the mop handle, sensing the existence of his own bones. He couldn't help but imagine—he would imagine what his bones looked like, whether he should tear open his skin and peel away the flesh just to see what his bones were like.
He plunged the mop into the bucket to rinse it.
Vivid images flashed before his eyes, as if what was being shoved into the bucket wasn't a mop, but a person's head. It seemed to be his own head, yet also someone else's, being violently shoved into the bucket time after time. As his breathing grew hurried, he hurriedly lifted the mop and continued mopping.
He passed by the corner of a table. It wasn't rounded, and as he looked at the sharp edge, he began to imagine what it would be like if his head smashed against it—preferably right into his eye socket... Would he die? Would his eye be ruined?
No, this was just a fleeting thought, wasn't it? Everyone has moments like this. It was only because Bob had no idea what to do and lacked thoughts of his own that he would think of whatever he saw.
This was merely the void.
Bob finished mopping the activity center floor and went to wash his face. While his mind involuntarily conjured an image of him sticking his finger into the faucet and pulling it out with the flesh stripped away to reveal bare bone, he wiped his face. He then opened the refrigerator, his mind flashing with an image of his head being shoved inside and crushed by the door, while he pulled out a bottle of juice and drank it as he walked.
He walked out of the activity center and saw a metal nut sticking out where an outdoor light was embedded into the ground. So, while walking past as if nothing was wrong, he saw an image in his mind of him falling and his head smashing right onto that nut.
He then squatted by a lamp post, boredly looking at his surroundings while sipping his juice.
He thought back to what he had seen earlier—what had happened in his head while he was cleaning and listening to the Avengers deliberate.
Whenever he saw other people, whenever someone else entered his line of sight, the things he saw would change. If he picked up a mop, he would see a splintered, sharp wooden stick piercing through a person's throat.
When he was putting things away in the kitchen, he would see himself stabbing that person with a knife.
When he walked by the river and saw people passing him by, he would picture himself pushing them in.
Those images were so simple—with just a gentle push of his hands, they would become reality. And those images seemed to instantly trigger a certain urge within him, making him intensely crave actually doing it in that brief moment.
Just like how Bob cutting fruit in the kitchen would trigger an urge to stab himself with the knife—for no particular reason, simply because he was in the kitchen, holding a knife, and capable of doing so.
None of this had any meaning. As long as he focused his attention just a little, he could overcome these fleeting urges that wouldn't last.
As long as he kept himself attentive at all times, or completely redirected his focus away from these things—as long as he reminded himself every single moment that this was wrong, this was a mistake, this was nothing more than meaningless void—
He wouldn't do any of it.
Even though the void was always there.
"Cap is wrong, Spider-Man is wrong, everyone is wrong, Bob," Robert Reynolds muttered to himself, squatting by the lamp post while drinking his juice. "The Sentry does not exist. Bob can't be a hero. Leave aside the fact that I don't have superpowers—even if I did, if I really did... if I really were Superman..."
How could he endure the constant images appearing before his eyes at every moment, showing him smashing everyone to pieces at high speed?
"Dr. Banner said the Void exists, Bob. You know he's right, of course."
Bob drank the last drop of juice and wanted to toss the bottle into a nearby trash can, but in the end, he stood up, walked over, and threw the bottle inside. "So, the Sentry does not exist."