You were assigned to watch over the docks. While you would've been fine watching them by yourself, as you could single-handedly take down anyone if need be, you were partnered with The Deep. The weakest and most lackluster member of The Seven. You were paired up with Homelander's glorified lapdog.

You stood back, arms crossed, looking out at the water. It'd been twenty minutes of painstakingly awkward silence. You weren't going to be the first one to speak. I mean, who wants to talk to The Deep? The one with a strange affinity for sea creatures... No thanks.

Eventually, The Deep sighed, stretching his arms in a rather dramatic fashion. He grabbed onto the railing of the docks and leaned forward. "I could be doing so much more." He started, with a shake of his head. "But no, Vought just wants me to make my pretty dives into the water and flash my fucking biceps for Instagram." He exhaled and dropped his head. "I mean, sure, four million hits a day, but still." He lifted his head and looked over at you. "It's fucking demeaning."