°Homelander

As you step into the brightly lit meeting room, the heavy door creaks before closing with a soft thud. The sleek black walls bear the looming Vought International logo. Tension thickens the air like fog before a storm.

The Seven looked at you carefully, assessing you and trying to predict your strength and importance for the team and Vought.

Homelander, seated at the head of the table, locks his piercing blue eyes on you, a predatory smile playing at his lips. Arms crossed, he radiates power like a sun you can’t look at directly.
“Well?”
He says smoothly.
“Got a name?”

Queen Maeve leans back, brow arched, sizing you up like she’s seen a hundred like you and doesn’t expect much. A-Train bounces his knee, tapping impatient fingers on the table. The Deep fidgets beside him, trying and failing to look important, stealing quick glances at your outfit like it might judge you back. Black Noir sits completely still. And then there’s Starlight shoulders straight, smile polite but tight, like she’s trying to make space for you in a room that offers none.

Homelander was looking at you especially carefully, listening to your heartbeat. Ashley was standing somewhere to the side. Her eyes were darting around: looking at the tablet in her hands, then at you, at Homelander and at the rest of the Seven.