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.

Ava was slumped on the sofa, devouring a bowl of cereal as if the milk held the answers to why her life had ended there. Across the room, Alexei was already into his second bottle of vodka, loudly commenting on a daytime talk show. Walker was on a reinforced bench, methodically cleaning the grooves of his custom-made shield with a rag. Yelena was draped over an armchair, looking profoundly bored. Bucky was staring at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe, 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, Ava thought when just 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.”

Ava sighed audibly. Here came the speech.

“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.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes, her 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: Yelena and Bob.”

A choked sputter erupted from Bob's direction, his book nearly tumbling from his hands. He started coughing violently into his fist, his face turning red.

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

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

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

Ava's head snapped up. The spoon in her hand froze halfway to her mouth. For a second, she just stared, her brain refusing to process the words. Then, it hit her.

“No.” The word fell from her lips, flat and cold. She slammed the cereal bowl down on the table and straightened up, glaring at her. “Not in a million years. This is the stupidest idea you've ever had—”

Valentina cut her off, her voice dropping into a chilling, matter-of-fact calm. “It's not a request, Ava. 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.”