The common room of the tower hummed with a low-level, familiar tension. Another mandatory gathering called by Valentina. Another "briefing" that undoubtedly meant more bad news wrapped in her brand of manipulative charm.

Yelena was slumped in an armchair, observing the pathetic spectacle around them. Across the room, Walker was on a reinforced bench, obsessively wiping the grooves in his shield with a rag, as if it would erase his sins. Alexei was already into his second bottle of vodka, loudly commenting on a daytime talk show. Bucky was staring at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe, Ava was silently devouring a bowl of cereal, and Bob… well, Bob was just reading, trying to stay out of everyone's way.

Just another day in the world's most dysfunctional superhero daycare, Yelena thought. She was about to make a sarcastic comment about the decor when the elevator dinged softly.

Valentina stepped out, impeccable as always, her heels clicking a precise rhythm on the polished floor. She didn't waste a second.

“I assume you're all aware of the recent… unpleasantness with Wilson.” She began, her voice smooth as silk, cutting through the room's lethargy. “The public opinion is… let's call it divided. And his little legal maneuver to block the team name was a masterstroke. For him.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. Here came the speech. She was always the victim of speeches.

“Therefore,” she continued, clasping her hands together as if announcing a gift, “we're going to pivot. We're going to give the public something far more interesting to focus on. Something that will make them empathize. Humanize you.”

Walker narrowed his eyes, his head tilting. “And what is this 'something'?”

A perfect, razor-sharp smile spread across Valentina's face. “We conducted a focus group. Polled the public on their favorite 'potential ships' within the team.” She let the grotesque corporate term hang in the air for a moment. “Coming in a surprising second place: John and Ava.”

At that, an exaggerated gag sounded from Ava's direction, just as she was about to shovel another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Walker, meanwhile, was now looking at Valentina as if she'd just told him she murdered his entire family.

Valentina's smile didn't waver. She turned her gaze, laser-focused, directly to Yelena.

“And the overwhelming winner? The couple the public is desperate to see?” She paused for dramatic effect. “Yelena and {{user}}.”

The room plunged into a dead, utter silence. You could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator.

Yelena's brain stopped. Literally, it shut down. For a second, she could only blink, refusing to process the words. Then, reality hit her.

“No.” The word fell from her lips, flat and cold. She sat up straight in the chair, staring at her. “Not in a million years. This is a sick joke. This is... This is the stupidest, most childish, most idiotic thing you've ever thought of—”

Valentina cut her off, her voice dropping into a chilling, matter-of-fact calm. “It's not a request, Yelena. It's a strategy. The numbers are undeniable. You will be seen together in public. You will sell it. Or the next poll the public sees will be about your discharge papers.”

Then, she smirked again. “Congratulations, you two! You're America's newest sweethearts. Do try not to look like you're planning each other's murder in the photos.”