On the 99th floor of Vought International.
The Deep knocked on the door to Queen Maeve’s office.
“You?” Queen Maeve opened the door, glanced at The Deep, and sneered.
“What do you want, Deep?”
Although Maeve hadn’t invited him in, The Deep strolled right inside without waiting for permission.
Unlike the rest of The Seven, who had spent fortunes turning their offices into lavish personal residences combining work and living space, Maeve’s office stripped away all unnecessary luxuries, transforming the space into a high-end training facility.
She had torn down every non-structural wall, leaving only a few foundational support pillars.
The walls were painted a simple, clean white, and the floor was covered in heavy padding.
The room contained all kinds of exercise equipment alongside four sparring partners.
The clashing noises heard outside just moments ago had come from Maeve taking on all four martial arts masters at once.
Vought International provided everything for The Seven—food, housing, clothing, transport—yet they never provided training facilities.
It was a mutual understanding between the corporation and the Supes.
Both sides believed that their superpowers were more than enough to handle any problem, and that training was nothing more than looking for unnecessary pain.
Only Maeve thought otherwise.
Since Vought wouldn’t build her one, she had built her own.
Aside from her daily scheduled appearances, Maeve spent virtually all her time in this gym, honing her combat skills.
She deeply resented The Deep barging in without an invitation.
“Get the hell out,” she barked bluntly.
The Deep merely closed the door behind him and smiled.
“Come on, Maeve.
Don’t tell me you don’t want to beat the shit out of me.”
“Hmm?” Maeve raised an eyebrow, a spark of interest igniting in her eyes.
“I’ll be your punching bag,” The Deep continued.
“That way, you can actually go all out.”
His words hit Maeve right where it mattered.
Sparring with normal humans was better than nothing, but only barely.
She constantly had to hold back her strength; otherwise, a single punch would reduce all four trainers to blood and paste.
“Since when are you so generous?” Maeve asked, making no effort to hide her disgust.
Prejudice in the human heart was a mountain hard to move.
“I’m not,” he admitted.
His answer was exactly what Maeve had expected, which actually reassured her.
“Out with it.
What do you want?
But if you dare ask for anything creepy, I won’t hesitate to crush your fish balls into powder.”
*Is my reputation really that bad?
In your eyes, am I incapable of thinking about anything besides what’s in my pants?*
The Deep gave a helpless sigh.
“I’ll be your sparring bag, but in return, Maeve, you have to teach me all your fighting techniques.
I want to get stronger.”
This time, his response caught Maeve completely off guard.
“A leopard changing its spots?
The Deep actually wants to get stronger?”
*Maeve, you fucking bitch!*
*If I could beat you right now, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine.*
“Cut the crap.
Do we have a deal or not?
If yes, let’s start now.
You get to unleash your full power, and you get to beat the hell out of me.”
A smirk curled up the corner of Maeve’s mouth.
She ran her tongue over her lips.
“Deep…
you’ve actually managed to pique my interest.”
“Deal.
As long as you don’t die from my punches, I’ll teach you everything I know about combat.”
*Holy fuck!* The Deep shuddered.
*Maeve, you’re actually serious?*
The Deep turned to the four trainers in the room and gestured impatiently.
“Get out.”
The four looked sheepishly at Maeve.
Maeve waved them away, and they quickly exited, leaving the entire open space to the two of them.
Stepping into the center of the gym, The Deep took a deep breath, tensed every muscle in his body, and took up a defensive stance.
He had come here specifically to take a beating.
He wanted to test just how durable his A-rank physical body truly was.
Maeve smirked.
“Ready?”
The Deep gave an “OK” hand sign.
Opposite him, Maeve sank into a punching stance.
In the next split second, she vanished into thin air.
*BOOM!*
A deafening impact echoed through the room.
The Deep felt as if his stomach were exploding.
*Gag!*
Gastric acid sprayed out of his mouth.
The force catapulted him high into the air.
*CRASH!* He slammed back down onto the floor.
Only then did her afterimage fade away where she had been standing.
Maeve was already crouching beside him, poking at him with a finger.
“Hey,” she mocked.
“Deep, can you take it or what?”
The Deep felt as if a hole had been blasted through his abdomen and a grenade had detonated inside him.
Sharp, stabbing pain racked his stomach and intestines, which were violently spasming—so hard that he could literally hear his organs gurgling and throbbing under the severe shock.
“Fuck!”
The Deep vomited another mouthful of stomach acid.
Maeve clicked her tongue, her mocking smile widening.
She assumed he would give up then and there.
To her surprise, after gasping for air for a few seconds, he managed to wheeze out, “Maeve…
how much power…
was in that punch?”
Maeve gave him a soul-crushing answer: “Ten percent.
Maybe a bit less.”
“Maeve…
what’s your maximum strength?” The Deep asked.
That was a question he had always wondered about; the show *The Boys* never gave exact numerical stats for Homelander or Queen Maeve.
Considering he hadn’t died after taking a direct hit from her, Maeve didn’t hide it.
“50 tons.”
*Damn!
Holy shit!*
Ten percent of 50 tons was 5 tons.
Using Queen Maeve’s benchmark, The Deep could now estimate Homelander’s base stats.
Homelander’s top speed was mentioned in the show—even as a four-year-old child, his flight speed could reach Mach 1, roughly 340 meters per second.
As an adult, his stats were likely two to three times higher.
And Queen Maeve was the second strongest Supe alive before Soldier Boy emerged.
Apart from flight and heat vision, Maeve’s strength, speed, self-healing, and physical durability were likely only one tier below Homelander’s—making her at least an SS-rank Supe.
If Queen Maeve’s strength was 50 tons, then even Homelander had his limits.
Based on their actual combat performance, Homelander was likely two to three times stronger than Maeve, putting him in the 100 to 150-ton range.
Otherwise, if the gap were too massive, a single punch from Homelander would have turned Maeve into red paste, and she never would have been able to pierce his defenses and stab him in the ear later on.
Now that he had deduced Homelander’s strength through Maeve, The Deep felt immensely relieved.
Fear stemmed from the unknown and uncertain.
Just as people feared ghosts because they imagined ghosts possessed infinite ways to kill them without defense or escape, fear was bred from unknown threats.
However, once a ghost’s lethal capabilities were bounded—say, if it could only kill you by touching you—that terror naturally transformed into a tactical question: how to prevent the ghost from touching you in the first place.
Seeing that The Deep was actually smiling, Maeve looked stunned.
Meanwhile, during this brief respite, The Deep’s accelerated healing had completely mended his internal injuries.
Nip-upping back to his feet, he locked eyes with Maeve, the desire for combat rekindled in his gaze.
That burning heat in his eyes amazed her.
“Deep, are you sure you want another hit?”
“Cut the talk!
Kill me today if you’ve got the guts!”
*Hahaha!* For the first time, Maeve burst into genuine laughter.
She laughed with pure delight.
Finally, a durable punching bag!
“Deep, this next one is at eleven percent.”
“Fuck!
Maeve, keep it at ten percent!
Not a bit more!
I can’t handle eleven percent yet!”
No one knew how much time passed.
In the end, The Deep crawled out of Maeve’s office door, covered in blood and bruised meat.
And hours of brutal beating had only allowed Maeve’s punching power to scale up from 10% to 12%.
“Coming back tomorrow, baby?” Maeve leaned against the doorframe, lighting a cigarette like a heartless lover taking a post-coital puff.
The Deep turned back to glare at her, gritting his teeth.
“You bet I am.
One day, Maeve, I’m gonna make you drop to your knees in front of me and sing the national anthem.”
Maeve threw back her head and burst out laughing.