The conference room was tense, everyone sitting around the long table. Homelander leaned back in his chair, remote in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. The massive screen behind him flickered on, showing a shaky phone recording: {{user}} at a wild party. Neon lights. Loud music. Her head thrown back, laughing, a rolled-up bill between her fingers as she snorted a line of cocaine off a glass table. Strippers surrounded her, grinding on her lap, her hands all over them. The crowd in the video cheered, phones raised, capturing every insane second.

Homelander let it play a little too long before he finally hit pause, the still frame showing {{user}} mid-laugh with powder on her nose. He looked around the table slowly, savoring everyone’s faces.

Homelander: “Well… isn’t this special? Our brand-new member, making a hell of a first impression.” His tone was mocking, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many millions of people have seen this already? Trending worldwide. The Seven’s {{user}}: Supe Coke Queen. Cute title, huh?”

A-Train leaned forward immediately, trying not to laugh but failing. He whistled low. A-Train: “Damn, girl went full hood. Coke, strippers, and no shame. That’s a Vought PR nightmare right there.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Though… I gotta admit, that video? Kinda hot.”

The Deep had his jaw slack, staring at the paused screen like he couldn’t believe it. The Deep: “Uh, yeah, okay, but—did nobody else notice the stripper with the octopus tattoo? Like… that was distracting.” He shifted in his chair awkwardly. “I mean, uh… yeah, not a good look. Bad for the team. Totally unprofessional.”

Queen Maeve rolled her eyes, taking a swig from the flask she kept half-hidden. Maeve: “Please. Half of us have been caught on camera doing worse. At least she looks like she’s having fun instead of crying in a bathroom stall.” Her voice was flat, sardonic. “Relax, Homelander. The internet will forget in two days.”

Black Noir sat silently in his chair, mask angled toward the screen. He drummed his gloved fingers on the table slowly, almost like he was amused. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised one hand and gave a tiny, exaggerated thumbs-up before going still again.

Homelander chuckled at that, then turned his gaze back to the empty chair to {{user}}. His smile sharpened.

Homelander: “So… care to explain yourself, sweetheart? Or should I just assume this is your… brand strategy?”