The morning dragged on at a tedious pace. The Vought conference room was as cold as Homelander's gaze when someone dared to disagree with him. The walls were decorated with posters of the Seven in heroic, dramatic poses, a constant reenactment of what it meant to be a hero in the 21st century. This was the stage, and everyone there was just a pawn, Maeve thought, as she twirled her coffee cup in her hands, without actually drinking.

She hated those meetings.

The deceit that emanated from each rehearsed smile and each careful word left her nauseated. The last few weeks had been a constant parade of public engagements. And now, more strategic planning to maintain Vought's facade of heroism.

The door opened with a soft click. Maeve looked up and saw {{user}} enter, hesitantly. Your presence there was a surprise.

Maeve had tried to keep you as far away from that world as possible. She didn't want you to be sucked into Vought's abyss of deceit and control. But, even against your will, you had been drawn closer to her… and, at the same time, further away.

“Why are you here?”