The training floor sits deep within the tower.
Concrete reinforced with layered alloys. High ceilings. Impact-resistant walls scarred with old cracks and burn marks—silent proof of who had trained there before. The air smells faintly of metal, disinfectant, and ozone, as if the room itself remembers violence.
Ryan stands at the center of the mat.
Across from him, Queen Maeve rolls her shoulders once, loosening up. She's dressed simply—dark athletic gear, boots planted firmly against the floor. No cape. No theatrics. Just presence.
Ashley Barrett stands near the observation railing, tablet clutched in both hands, trying very hard to look like she belongs there. Her eyes flick constantly between Ryan and Maeve.
Up above, in the elevated seating area, Homelander watches.
Arms crossed. Smile lazy. Eyes sharp.
Ryan feels that gaze immediately.
' Ignore him, ' he tells himself.
Maeve studies Ryan for a moment, expression neutral but focused.
"Rules are simple," she says. "I won't kill you. You won't kill me. Everything else is fair."
Ashley flinches. "M-Maeve—"
Maeve raises a hand without looking away. "Relax. Edgar wants him trained, not coddled."
Ryan swallows and nods. "Understood."
Homelander chuckles softly from above. "Careful, kid. Maeve doesn't do 'gentle.'"
Ryan doesn't look up.
"Begin," Ashley says, voice cracking slightly.
Maeve moves first.
Fast.
Not super-speed fast—but refined, practiced speed. She closes the distance in two steps, her fist snapping toward Ryan's jaw. He reacts on instinct, bringing his forearm up just in time. The impact hurts. Not because of her strength alone, but because she hits right.
Ryan stumbles back half a step.
' She knows exactly where to strike. '
Maeve presses the advantage immediately—elbow, knee, low kick. Ryan blocks some, absorbs others. He tries to counter with raw strength, swinging wide, but Maeve slips inside his reach, twisting his arm and throwing him hard into the mat.
He skids across the floor, breath knocked from his lungs.
From the sidelines, Ashley gasps.
Ryan pushes himself up quickly, frustration flaring.
' I'm stronger. I know I am. '
He charges again, this time trying to use his weight, his power. Maeve meets him head-on—and redirects him effortlessly, using his momentum against him. He hits the ground again, harder.
Maeve exhales slowly. "Power without technique," she says, circling him, "is just noise."
Ryan grits his teeth.
' Think. Don't just react. '
He steadies his breathing, eyes tracking her movements. He notices the shift in her stance, the slight opening when she pivots her left foot.
There.
He lunges, aiming to get behind her—
—and suddenly the world jerks.
The floor vanishes beneath his feet.
The air compresses.
His vision blurs, then snaps back into focus.
Ryan freezes.
He's behind Maeve.
Close enough to see the tension in her shoulders. Close enough to smell sweat and leather.
The room goes silent.
Maeve's eyes widen as she twists around.
Ashley's tablet slips from her hands, clattering loudly against the floor.
Up above, Homelander straightens.
The smile is gone.
"What the—" Maeve breathes.
Ryan stares at his own hands, heart hammering violently.
I didn't jump.
I didn't fly.
I… moved.
Too fast.
Maeve takes a slow step back, reassessing him entirely now. "You didn't even know you could do that, did you?"
Ryan shakes his head, still stunned. "I—I just thought—"
Homelander laughs, sharp and sudden. "Well I'll be damned."
Ashley scrambles to pick up her tablet, hands shaking. "H-he just— that wasn't on the schedule—"
Maeve smirks faintly, though her eyes stay sharp. "Looks like we found something new."
Ryan exhales, adrenaline crashing through him.
Fear mixes with awe.
' Super speed. '
The realization settles heavy in his chest.
Homelander leans forward in his seat, eyes burning with something dangerously close to pride.
"That's my boy," he murmurs.
Ryan hears him.
Ryan moves again.
This time, he lets it happen.
He focuses—not on strength, not on anger—but on that strange, stretching sensation he felt moments ago. The world seems to slow at the edges when he does. Sounds smear together. Maeve's boots scraping the floor echo just a fraction too late.
He steps.
And suddenly he's there.
His fist connects with Maeve's side—not full force, instinctively held back—but the impact still thuds, deep and solid. Maeve grunts, sliding half a step across the mat.
Ashley gasps. Homelander lets out a low, impressed whistle.
Ryan doesn't stop.
He pivots, faster now, a kick snapping toward Maeve's ribs. She blocks, forearms braced, but the force pushes her back again. Ryan feels it—feels how speed multiplies power, how momentum stacks on itself.
This is it. This is how I keep up.
He darts in, out, left, right—testing distance, timing, reaction. A jab lands on her shoulder. A kick glances off her thigh. Another punch catches her guard and still rattles her stance.
Maeve smiles.
Not mockingly.
Proudly.
"Good," she mutters. "Now you're actually fighting."
She adapts.
Maeve lowers her center of gravity, stops chasing him, waits. The moment Ryan overcommits, she moves—not faster than him, but smarter. She anticipates, turns at the exact second he appears, her elbow slamming into his chest.
The air leaves his lungs in a sharp burst.
Before he can recover, she sweeps his legs out from under him. Ryan flips midair by reflex, landing on his hands—but Maeve is already there, grabbing his wrist and twisting, forcing him down.
Concrete cracks beneath them.
Ryan strains, muscles screaming, trying to brute-force his way out. Maeve holds him effortlessly.
"Speed's impressive," she says quietly, leaning close enough for only him to hear. "But experience wins fights."
She releases him and steps back.
Ryan pushes himself up slowly, breathing hard. Sweat drips down his brow. His heart is racing—not just from exertion, but from exhilaration.
He rushes her one last time, faster than before, chaining movements together instinctively. Punch, kick, feint—Maeve blocks, counters, redirects. Each hit he lands shakes her. Each mistake he makes costs him.
Finally, she catches him mid-motion and throws him clean across the mat.
Ryan hits the wall hard enough to spiderweb the concrete.
He slides down, groaning, but smiling despite himself.
Maeve exhales and straightens. "That's enough for today."
Ashley rushes forward. "A-are you okay ?!"
Ryan nods, pushing himself to sit. "Yeah. I'm… yeah."
Up in the seats, Homelander applauds slowly.
"That," he says, standing, "was beautiful."
Ryan doesn't look at him.
He looks at Maeve instead.
"I didn't win," Ryan says quietly.
Maeve shakes her head. "No. But you didn't lose either."
She meets his eyes, serious now.
"You'll be dangerous one day," she says. "If you keep learning."
Ryan swallows, chest still heaving.
' One day isn't enough. '
He clenches his fists, feeling the echo of speed still humming through his body.
Because for the first time since coming to the tower, he knows one thing for certain—
He's getting stronger.
And he's nowhere near done.