12 A friendly Spar

Something was wrong with Homelande…

more wrong than the 'wrong' that was Homelander and it made her uneasy.

Homelander had always been unpredictable. 'Kind of' she thought. When you were around him you just weren't sure when he would react with violence especially if you were in private.

But the last two days have been weird.

The new initiative, giving Starlight free hand on the Heroes, him taking seriously the Vought office work, his actual plan for Soldier Boy, hell the only think she could understand was him wanting to 'break' the other heroes.

That made sense. That was classic Homelander, he didn't give a shit about anyone and he hated to be questioned.

'Does he know about, Butcher and Soldier Boy?' she asked herself. 'No, if he did he would have pushed the conversation on it.'

The knot of anxiety in her chest was growing. He was up to something and she needed to find out.

She hated how he had controlled her for what he did to her…to everyone.

She couldn't help but spite him so she took her time getting to the training room.

When she got there she was surprised to find him Homelander there, topples, in a stance, punching the air and dodging imaginary strikes.

But even more surprising was his new accessory.

"Are you wearing a pink hair bandana?" she asked mockingly making a reference to the plastic accessory holding his hair back.

"Ha, ha. Come on get it out of your system." He said. "It's Ashley's…the mini-me. I'm almost out of hair product, didn't want to waste it on this."

"Now, need to warm up?" he said as he stood relaxed, chest out in front of her.

Maeve just chuckled and shook her head.

"Sure"

"How about you punch me as hard as you can to start off? I won't fight back."

Maeve just looked at him.

"You're joking right?" she asked not believing him. 'What are you playing at?' she thought.

"Come on. I know you want to punch me. After everything I've done. For Elena? I know you want to." He said sheepishly.

That triggered her rage.

"What's your fucking problem? What is this some fucked up way to try to absolve you?" She asked angrily. Whatever game he was playing she was not going to let him get to her.

"Oh please." He said dismissively. "You think I can't feel the tension between us? There's something up your ass as much as there is mine. So let's have it, punch me as strong as you can. I know you want to. I won't block I won't fight back. Then we can have an actual spar."

He said and put his hands up in surrender.

"Come one time's ticking here. I have a meeting after this to prepare for the meeting after the next meeting." Homelander said his tone oozing with exasperation.

'Fine if this is what he wants' she will make him regret it she thought.

She grounded he stance, twisted the hips and launched a straight right connecting right with his perfect nose.

The strength of her punch launched Homelander of his feet bouncing him on the floor.

'That did make me feel better' She's been wanting to do that forever.

"AHH FUCK! That hurt like a mother fucker!" she heard him say as he got up. His hands checking his nose and face.

"Am I bleeding?" He asked her. He wasn't. "No of course not." He answered his own question. "Still that fucking hurt." He said scrunching his face.

"Now you got that out of your system? Can we have a spar?" he asked.

"Well if you want to continue, staying to course. I can do this all day." She said with a smirk.

"Cute. But no." He dropped into a boxing stance.

She did as well.

Maeve saw Homelander take the initiative throwing right jabs.

She dodged and jabbed left in response.

'Was he always south paw?' she couldn't help but think. 'He wasn't…was he?'

Her thoughts were broke as she blocked a left roundhouse kick to her head. She launched her right leg up only to have his hand block it.

She saw her opportunity as he leaned in to block and hit a straight left only his right hand moved up faster blocking her punch upwards and throwing her balance off.

She saw him step in her guard, she couldn't dodge. His left hand, open palm, made contact right above her stomach.

'Thud!'

She hit the floor hard, gasping for breath.

"Are you alright? That shouldn't have been that hard." His tone disappointed.

She took his hand and lifted herself back up.

"I'm fine."

"Again." He commanded. Maeve felt herself fall back in a stance. Homelander did the same.

They started much as before, jabs to test the distance and reaction.

Roundhouse kicks blocked and returned in kind. She stepped in jabbed with her left the followed with a straight right hitting his guard.

She felt him absorb her punch then saw him weave to the right almost waist level and spring out with a hook at her mid-section.

Her quick reflexes allowed her to crunch and block. She felt herself rattle from the strength.

'Since when does he fight so technical?'

He allowed her a second to recover then burst back in action like a lion on the hunt.

They circled each other exchanging kicks and blows, feints and traps.

As the brutal dance continued the tempo increased, the next blow a little bit faster a little bit harder.

'He can go faster but he's matching me. Why?'

The exchange continued.

She was him sport a wicked grin and increased his speed. Caught up in the dance she matched, adrenaline fueling her movements, sheen of sweat building.

Their movements now bordered on blurry.

She didn't think she just acted. To think was to make a mistake. She hadn't pushed herself like this in years.

'Since the last time…'

That was a mistake. A stray thought was all it took.

A mistake.

In slow motion, unable to react to his speed, she saw Homelander step in her guard again.

His powerful left hit her above the stomach the same spot as the first time. She felt his punch burrow into her, lifting her off the ground.

As her insides crunched and eyes bulged in pain she only barely registered the right hook speeding at her head.

As she hit the mat and darkness took her she vaguely heard through fuzzy vision.

"Medic…team…now!"