HOT MILK - HOMELANDER

CURDLING COUTURE

Jane felt like she was caught in a whirlwind, events hurtling forward before she had time to process them.

Now, with one foot inside Vought's iron fortress, there was a faint glimmer of hope.

The gang's spirits were cautiously lifted, even if it was a modest step forward. Given their recent setbacks, a step in any direction without stumbling backwards felt worth celebrating.

Jane was a little excited, too. Not just for the sweet, vengeful dream of putting Black Noir's head on a stick, but she was curious about what it would feel like to use her abilities without shame—without being shamed.

Despite Billy's cynical assertion that the Seven did everything but save people, Jane couldn't fully believe it.

Surely, in the grand scheme, these supes must accomplish some measure of good, however self-serving their motives might be.

Saving lives, even for personal gain, held intrinsic value in her eyes

Deep down, despite the tragic loss of her parents at the hands of a beloved hero, Jane refused to believe that every supe was inherently evil.

Accepting such a premise would mean indicting herself, a notion she vehemently rejected.

Though flawed—often speaking without thought and burdened with a host of imperfections—Jane knew her moral compass pointed unwaveringly toward doing no intentional harm to others.

"You must be Jane Themis. I didn't expect you to look like this... I didn't get to see your audition tape—since there wasn't one. I'm Ashley." The woman's rapid-fire chatter pulled Jane from her swirling thoughts.

Ashley was like a whirlwind of stress, her words tumbling over one another with an almost manic energy.

Jane, who had more than her share of experience with lunatics, decided Ashley fit the bill perfectly.

Giving up on making sense of women's babbling, Jane focused instead on keeping her nerves in check.

Ashley led her to an office, knocking lightly before stepping inside. She gave Jane a wide, forced smile as she ushered her in.

Behind the desk sat a blonde woman, likely in her forties, who scrutinised Jane critically before removing her glasses. Her smile was so insincere that it would have been nicer to frown.

"Miss Themis," the woman said, standing up and moving to the couches, signalling Jane to follow. "Sit."

Jane was taken aback by the brusque command. There was no polite greeting, just an order barked out like she was a dog.

She sat, recalling Mother's Milk's mantra: "We are playing the long game. Keep your cool, and think before you talk. Make them like you."

"Before we can officially welcome you to the Seven, there are a few formalities to address,"said the woman, who still hadn't introduced herself.

By her demeanour, she was obviously someone in power. Jane glanced at the desk and saw the nameplate: Madelyn Stillwell.

Ashley handed Jane a hefty stack of papers. "The contract," she explained briskly. "Sign here"

Jane raised an eyebrow—it looked more like a tome than a contract.

"Shouldn't I read it first?" Jane asked, starting to skim the first page.

Stillwell's eyes narrowed, her gaze as icy as her demeanour. "Look, Themis. Consider yourself fortunate to even have this opportunity. We don't have time for hesitation. A long line of people sign without a second thought."