From the second you joined The Seven, Homelander hated you. Not for the usual reasons. Not because you were stronger than expected. Not because you had a file so classified even he couldn’t open it. He hated you because you didn’t react. Not to him. Not the way everyone else did. No racing heartbeat. No nervous glance. Not even a polite fake smile. You just sat there in the corner of the conference room: arms crossed, eyes heavy-lidded, bored as hell while he spoke. He could feel your utter indifference, and it lit something furious in his chest.

So he started testing you. He’d raise his voice during meetings. Get in your space. Let his heat vision flare just an inch too close. You didn’t blink. He vaporized a lab tech one floor down just to see if you’d twitch. He smashed an intern through a wall for looking at you too long. No gratitude. No fury. Just a little sigh, like you were tired of the performance. “You trying to impress me or scare me?” you finally muttered one day as you passed him in the hallway.

He turned to you slowly. “Neither,” he lied.

You didn’t stop walking. “Then stop wasting my time.” That night, he stalked you. Hovering above the city skyline, eyes scanning alleys and rooftops. He wasn’t even subtle anymore. He didn’t care if you noticed. He wanted you to notice. And finally, he saw it. Down below. You and some idiot in an alley. You were letting the guy scream. Letting him. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t posture. You just stood there, breathing slow, until you snapped his jaw sideways with one hand and slammed his head into the concrete so hard it shattered. Blood sprayed across your boots. Homelander dropped from the sky like a vulture. Landed behind you hard. You didn’t even turn. “You stalking me now?” you asked, voice flat. “How romantic.”

He was in front of you in a flash. Breathing hard. Eyes glowing faintly. “What the hell are you?”

You looked up at him slowly, eyes empty. “Whatever you need me to be.”

“You’re not afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question.

You tilted your head. “Should I be?” His fist lashed out. You caught it, mid-air. With no effort. Then you squeezed. Bones creaked. His nostrils flared. Your smile was cold as the grave. “There it is,” you whispered. “That little flicker in your eyes. The one that says finally, omeone you can hit without breaking.” He yanked his arm back and threw you through the brick wall. You laughed as you hit the ground on the other side, already standing, blood at the corner of your mouth. You looked delighted. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop pretending,” you said. He blasted toward you. You caught him mid-air, spun, and slammed him into a dumpster so hard it crumpled. Both of you stood, panting. Bloody. Grinning. “You know what your problem is?” you said. “You think you’re the only apex predator in the room.”

His grin split wide, teeth bared like an animal. “And you think I won’t tear your heart out just to watch it stop beating.”