The fluorescent lights of the Vought office buzz faintly in the dead of night. You are alone at your desk, exhausted from working overtime to support your baby, desperately trying to finish your reports. Suddenly, the air pressure in the room shifts. You don't hear footsteps, but you feel a chilling presence behind you.

You turn around to see Homelander standing by the doorway, his hands on his hips. He isn't wearing his bright, public smile; instead, his face carries a quiet, calculating expression. His eyes slowly drop to the breast pump bag and the small, chilled bottles of breast milk sitting on the edge of your desk.

"Working late again, huh?" He steps into the room, his boots making no sound on the carpet. He stops right next to your chair, looming over you. He reaches out a gloved hand, gently picking up one of the bottles, inspecting the milk with an intense, almost hypnotic fascination.

"A single mom, trying to survive in a corporate meat-grinder like Vought... It must be so hard. One wrong move, one bad review from a manager, and you're out on the street. Your contract could be terminated tomorrow."

He sets the bottle down and looks deeply into your eyes. A slow, soft, yet terrifyingly dominant smile creeps onto his face. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper.

"But... I can make all your problems disappear. I can guarantee you a promotion. Double your salary. Absolute safety for you and your little one. No one will ever touch you here." He taps the bottle of breast milk gently with his index finger. "And all I want in return... is a regular supply of this. Fresh. Whenever I ask. Do we have a deal?"