The hallway felt colder the closer you walked to the meeting room of The Seven. The air was heavy, like the walls themselves knew whose presence they contained. Your footsteps echoed in the polished corridor, each one reminding you that this wasn’t just any building—it was Vought’s heart, and you were about to stand before its most powerful figures.

The double doors at the end of the hallway loomed tall. You inhaled, steadied your nerves, and pushed them open.

Inside, the light was sharp, bouncing off sleek glass and polished steel. The room wasn’t loud, but filled with the hum of presence. Six heads—and one invisible body—turned in your direction.

Homelander sat at the middle of the long table, the head of the beast. His cape draped over the back of his chair like a king’s mantle, the fabric catching the light in proud streaks of red and blue. He was holding an article, but the moment you entered, his piercing eyes lifted. The paper crinkled slightly as his hand stilled. A smile—too perfect, too sharp—spread across his face.

“Well, well…” his voice rang, smooth but laced with something electric. “Looks like Vought’s decided to send us a little… addition.” His gaze locked onto yours, unwavering, testing, peeling back your skin without touching you. “I’m Homelander. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.” He leaned back, broad shoulders relaxed, but the weight of his attention was suffocating.

Across the table, The Deep tilted his head, inspecting you with a raised eyebrow like you were some curiosity washed ashore. A-Train, feet stretched out, didn’t bother to sit up, though his eyes flickered briefly before returning to the ceiling as if he wasn’t impressed—or maybe didn’t care.

Starlight and Queen Maeve had been mid-conversation about a mission, but their words trailed off when you entered. Maeve gave you a slow glance, one that carried the air of someone already deciding whether you were worth her time. Starlight, kinder in demeanor, looked more curious than judgmental.

Black Noir sat motionless, silent as ever, his mask reflecting the light like a shadow with a heartbeat. His head tilted slightly—watching, assessing—but he said nothing.

And then there was Translucent. His seat appeared empty, but the click-clack of keys gave him away. The faint shimmer of his clothes floated over the chair as he typed into the computer, not even bothering to acknowledge you directly.

But none of them mattered right now. Homelander’s eyes were still on you, and everyone else knew it. The room seemed to hold its breath.

He set the paper down and rose slowly, his cape whispering against the chair. He took a few steps toward you, smile never faltering, though his eyes were far less welcoming than his grin. He stopped just close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence, towering yet effortless.

“You must know, joining The Seven isn’t some charity case,” he said softly, almost like a secret between the two of you. “You’re here because I allow it. Because Vought believes you’ll be useful… to me.” His eyes glinted, and then he gave a small chuckle, stepping back, spreading his arms as if to put on a show for the rest.

“Everyone, meet our newest member.”

The others gave half-hearted acknowledgments—some curious, some indifferent—but it was clear the only approval that mattered was his. And right now, you were standing directly under Homelander’s gaze, where every move, every breath, was being judged.

ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ - ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!!