Bob stared wide-eyed at the flashing headlights barreling toward him.
The truck roared down the street like an unstoppable beast, and in that split second, time seemed to slow.
His thoughts scattered like dust in the wind, and a strange calm washed over him as his life unraveled before his eyes.
He saw it all, his dull apartment, the cluttered shelves full of comic books, the lonely Friday nights with cheap instant noodles and glowing screens.
He remembered his childhood, the countless hours spent pretending to be a superhero in the backyard, his arms outstretched as he ran around imagining he was soaring through the sky.
His life had been anything but extraordinary.
Ordinary felt like a compliment. It was bland, repetitive, painfully forgettable.
No grand moments, no hero's journey, just nine-to-five drudgery, occasional awkward conversations, and the lingering emptiness of never being enough.
But deep inside, he had always wished for more. Power. Adventure. Meaning.
He wanted to be like the heroes in his comics—noble, mighty, admired.
His favorite? Superman, of course.
The man who could do anything, fly across galaxies, punch meteors, save the world, and still be kind.
Bob longed for that.
To fly, maybe even fall in love. Was that so much to ask?
And now, it was all ending.
The truck hit him head-on.
The impact was violent, merciless.
His body crumpled like paper, tossed across the pavement like a ragdoll.
There wasn't even time to feel pain.
One moment he existed, and the next, he didn't.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly, he gasped.
A sharp breath filled lungs that shouldn't have worked.
His eyes fluttered open, squinting against an unfamiliar brightness.
He was… awake?
Bob sat up with a jolt, heart thudding wildly. Confused and disoriented, he glanced around.
The room he was in was metallic, sleek, and humming with quiet energy.
He turned his head and saw a massive glass window stretched before him, revealing the boundless void of space.
"Where… where the hell am I?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
The room looked like something out of a sci-fi film, a command cabin, clean and high-tech.
Control panels blinked with colored lights, and strange alien symbols flashed across monitors.
Stars glimmered just beyond the glass, impossibly close, as if he were floating through the cosmos itself.
His pulse raced. Was this a dream? A coma fantasy? Heaven? Hell?
"No... this is a spaceship. I'm on a goddamn spaceship," he muttered.
He staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly as he moved toward the glass.
That's when he saw it, his reflection.
And his breath caught in his throat.
"What the hell?" he whispered, stepping closer to the glass.
The man in the reflection looked nothing like himself.
His face was sharper, more defined.
His body was muscular, powerful, bulging with strength.
And the suit… a skintight golden suit with a glowing 'S' insignia across the chest.
A long blue cape draped from his shoulders.
He blinked in disbelief.
"Wait a second… this suit… I know this suit…"
A chill ran down his spine as realization dawned.
"This is… the Sentry's suit." His voice cracked. "This… this is Sentry."
He stared at himself for a long moment, stunned.
Then, almost without thinking, he imagined himself flying, just like he used to when he was a kid.
And to his shock, he began to rise.
His feet lifted off the floor.
Slowly at first… then faster.
"I'm flying… holy crap, I'm actually flying!" he shouted, grinning wide.
He twirled mid-air, his heart pounding not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"I've become the Sentry!" he laughed, eyes glowing with childlike wonder. "I don't know how… or why… but I'm not complaining."
For the first time in his life… Bob didn't feel ordinary.
"Bob! What are you doing?!"
The sharp, high-pitched voice echoed through the cabin like a whip crack, yanking Bob out of his moment of awe.
He stopped mid-flight, his body still suspended in the air for a second before gravity pulled him gently back to the metallic floor with a faint thud.
Startled, his eyes darted toward the source of the voice.
Standing at the arched metallic doorway was a woman, her arms crossed sternly across her chest, one brow raised, her lips pursed in a mix of frustration and concern.
Bob recognized her immediately.
Short blonde hair framed her sharp, expressive features.
She wore a tight, black tactical dress that clung to her every curve, designed as much for mobility as it was for intimidation, and maybe even seduction.
Her entire presence radiated authority and elegance, with just a hint of danger.
"Yelena…" he murmured under his breath, barely believing what he was seeing.
The infamous Yelena Belova.
Former Black Widow.
Now apparently a spacefaring agent? His mind spun with confusion.
Was this really her? Why was she here? And more importantly, why was she acting like they knew each other?
"Yes, it's me. What's wrong with you?" she said, stepping further into the cabin.
Her tone had softened slightly, concern flashing in her steely gray eyes. "Why the hell were you floating around like an excited teenager?"
Bob blinked, quickly scrambling for a response. "I… uh… I was just… excited. That's all. New suit, new mission, you know?" he said, forcing a smile.
His voice cracked slightly, and he mentally kicked himself for sounding so awkward.
Yelena raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly not convinced.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice lowering.
She approached him slowly, then reached out and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.
The warmth of her touch contrasted sharply with the cold steel of the room.
Her expression was calm but watchful, as if she were scanning him for cracks.
Bob met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, he saw it, real worry.
Genuine concern behind those trained assassin eyes.
And then it hit him.
Of course she was worried.
He wasn't just some soldier on her team, he was the Sentry.
Or rather, he had become the Sentry.
And that meant the Void, the chaotic, apocalyptic alter ego that had driven entire civilizations into ruin, was always a lurking possibility.
She knows, Bob thought.
She's not just worried I might get hurt. She's worried I might snap.
He inhaled deeply, trying to center himself.
His body still felt foreign, too powerful, too unstable.
But he couldn't let her see his panic.
Not yet.
"I'm alright," he finally said, nodding with a soft smile. "I promise."
Yelena stared at him a second longer before stepping back and nodding. "Good," she said simply. "Because we're almost there."
"There?"
"Planet Xerox," she replied. "We're dropping into low orbit in a few minutes. You'll go ahead of us and do recon. Standard protocol. Get in, scan the area, and return. Do not engage the rebels. That's an order."
Her voice had returned to its firm, commanding tone.
The concern faded beneath layers of discipline and professionalism.
Bob hesitated. The word "rebels" lingered in his ears, but he pushed the thought aside and simply nodded.
"Understood," he said.
Without another word, Yelena turned and started walking down the corridor, her boots clanking softly against the metal floor.
Bob followed her closely, his golden cape brushing against the walls.
They reached the deployment bay at the back of the ship.
Giant mechanical arms whirred to life, adjusting the pressurized clamps as a pair of blast doors sealed them into the chamber.
Yelena tapped her earpiece. "Dreykov, open the gates."
A heavy rumble followed.
The massive metallic hangar doors groaned open, revealing the endless black of open space dotted with distant stars and the glowing silhouette of Planet Xerox below.
Blue storms swirled across its surface, and the outline of a ruined city could just be made out along its northern hemisphere.
Yelena turned to Bob one last time. "Go. Now."
He nodded, clenching his fists tightly, suppressing the tremble in his chest.
He had no idea what he was jumping into, no idea how this universe worked, or what the extent of his powers really was.
His hands were sweating despite the vacuum-proof suit.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
This was insane.
"I hope I don't die," he whispered under his breath.
Then he leapt.
He launched himself into the void, body streaking like a comet toward the alien world.
The cold vacuum hit him like a wall, but he didn't freeze.
Instead, the golden energy inside him surged to life, protecting him, lifting him.
"Please don't die. Please don't die…"
The words repeated in his head like a broken prayer.
Because deep down, despite the powers and the suit, he wasn't sure if he was really the Sentry.