I Woke Up in the Marvel Universe, But All the Heroes Are Women?-Chapter 30: Bow To Your Sensei!

Professor Masters' fist whistles past my ear close enough that I feel the displaced air rustle my hair. I duck and weave backward, barely avoiding a follow-up strike aimed at my solar plexus. My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to create distance between us, but she closes the gap with terrifying speed.
"Keep your guard up!" she barks, her left arm casually tucked behind her back while her right hand continues its relentless assault. "Your footwork is sloppy today, Steele!"
I throw a desperate jab that she deflects with contemptuous ease. The impact sends a jarring shock up my arm, and before I can recover, her palm connects with my sternum. The carefully controlled strike still sends me stumbling backward, gasping for air.
"You really suck, don't you, kid?" Masters says, not even breaking a sweat despite putting me through my paces for the past hour. Her military-cut hair remains perfectly in place, her breathing steady and controlled while I'm practically drowning in my own perspiration.
"Sensei," I wheeze, trying to regain my composure, "you just wait. One of these days I'm gonna learn a special move and hit you in the perfect spot, and you'll shit your pants."
Masters' eyebrows shoot up, her expression caught between amusement and disapproval. "Don't be crude," she scolds, though I catch the ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "You'll never land a girlfriend talking about shit, Steele."
I grin at her, unable to help myself. "Actually, Sensei, I do have a girlfriend."
Masters pauses mid-stance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies my face. She doesn't look particularly surprised by this revelation, just mildly curious.
"Is it someone strong," she asks, crossing her arms, "or is it one of those soft-handed science majors that could never protect a man in danger?"
"Uhh, she's not a science major," I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sensei, you'd love her. She's so strong she might even be able to beat you up."
Professor Masters throws her head back and laughs, a full, hearty laugh that echoes through the training room. "I doubt that very much," she says, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.
I don't push it further. It's not like I'm just going to tell my teacher my girlfriend is an alien monster who can bench-press a car.
"Well, whoever she is," Masters continues, settling back into her fighting stance, "she clearly isn't improving your focus. Now, again!"
I barely have time to raise my guard before she's on me again, moving with that fluid precision that makes me feel like I'm fighting in slow motion while she's at normal speed. Her fist grazes my cheek as I dodge a fraction too late.
"So who is this mystery woman?" Masters asks casually, as if we're having coffee instead of her systematically dismantling my defenses. "Anyone I know?"
"It's Ellie Brock," I reply, a dopey grin spreading across my face despite my best efforts to maintain the serious expression appropriate for combat training.
I try to focus on Masters' movements, but my mind keeps drifting to Ellie, her fierce blue eyes, that predatory smile, the way the symbiote ripples across her skin when she's excited. My momentary distraction costs me as Masters' fist connects with my shoulder, sending me staggering backward.
"Brock? That er girl?" Professor Masters raises an eyebrow, her fist pausing mid-air. "The girl built like a linebacker?"
"That's the one!" I say proudly, unable to contain my enthusiasm. "She has abs so defined I just want to rub my face across them like they're a cheese grater."
Masters' expression shifts from surprise to amusement as she delivers a lightning-fast jab to my gut. The air whooshes out of my lungs as I double over, clutching my stomach.
"So you're an abs guy," she laughs, shaking her head. "Should've known."
"Who isn't?" I wheeze, trying to straighten up while protecting my midsection from another potential strike.
Masters circles me slowly, her predatory stance never faltering despite our conversation. "Well, good for you, Steele. Though I have to say, I'm surprised. Brock doesn't strike me as the dating type."
"You'd be wrong, Professor," Ellie's voice cuts through the air like a knife.
Masters freezes mid-stance, then turns toward the doorway with a slow, deliberate motion. Her face transforms into a wide smile that I've never seen before, predatory and eager.
"Ms. Brock," she says, her voice taking on an almost musical quality.
My stomach does a nervous flip as I spin around. Ellie is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, looking like she just stepped off the cover of some fitness magazine. Her blonde hair is swept back, highlighting the sharp angles of her face.
"How long were you there?" I ask, heat rising to my cheeks.
"Long enough to hear you compare my abs to a cheese grater," she replies, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
"Ugh," I groan, covering my face with my hands. This is not how I wanted my girlfriend and my combat instructor to meet.
"It's fine," Ellie says, pushing off from the doorframe. She shrugs off her leather jacket and tosses it onto the mat with casual confidence. "Professor Masters, you seem awfully tired beating on my boyfriend. Perhaps you want a real sparring partner?"
There's something in her tone that sends a shiver down my spine, a dangerous playfulness that borders on challenge. I've heard that tone before, usually right before something gets broken.
Masters' eyes light up like someone just offered her favorite dessert. She rolls her shoulders back, a subtle movement that somehow makes her look twice as intimidating.
"I don't mind," Masters replies, her voice deceptively casual. "But I'm not going to take it easy on you."
Ellie's smile widens, revealing teeth that seem just a bit too sharp in the fluorescent lighting. "I don't plan to play around either."
My heart rate doubles as I scramble off the mat, giving them space. This is either going to be the coolest thing I've ever seen or a complete disaster. Maybe both.
"Ladies, maybe we should, " I begin, but the look both women give me makes the words die in my throat.
They size each other up with calculating eyes. Masters moves with the practiced precision of someone who's spent decades perfecting her craft. Ellie moves with a predatory grace that seems almost... inhuman.
I hold my breath as they explode into motion. One second they're circling each other, the next Ellie's dodging Masters' first punch with a casual tilt of her head, like she saw it coming a mile away. Masters follows with a lightning-fast combination that would have flattened me, but Ellie weaves through it like water flowing around rocks.
"Whoa," I whisper, backing up against the wall.
Masters' eyes narrow as she increases her speed, throwing strikes that blur in the air, but Ellie slips past each one with almost lazy grace. She's not even bothering to counter-attack, just evading everything Masters throws at her.
"Professor," Ellie says with a smirk as she ducks under another punch, "do they really pay you to work here?"
Masters doesn't respond to the taunt, but I notice her stance shifting, becoming more determined. Her eyes track Ellie's movements with intense focus, trying to anticipate where she'll go next. Her attacks become more strategic, feints followed by real strikes, attempting to catch Ellie off-guard.
But it's like Ellie can read her mind. She moves just before Masters does, always one step ahead, her movements fluid and precise.
"Holy shit," I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away from the spectacle. It's like watching a dance where one partner knows all the steps in advance.
Finally, after what feels like minutes of Masters failing to land a single hit, Ellie counters. She sidesteps a jab and drives her fist deep into Masters' gut, the exact same spot where Masters hit me earlier. The impact makes a dull thud that echoes through the training room.
Masters doubles over, clutching her stomach, and for a moment I'm genuinely concerned. I've never seen anyone put her on the defensive, let alone land a hit that powerful. She's breathing hard, and I wonder just how much strength Ellie put behind that punch.
What throws me off completely is that they're both grinning wildly, like this is the most fun either of them has had in ages.
Masters straightens up, still holding her midsection, but her eyes are bright with excitement rather than pain. "Well," she says, sounding genuinely impressed, "I'm glad to see Mr. Steele has a girlfriend that could protect him."
Ellie laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "Someone has to."
"Hey!" I protest from the sidelines. "I'm getting better!"
Masters shoots me an amused glance. "Maybe, but I don’t think you’’ll ever be anywhere near her level."
Ellie walks over to me, sweat barely visible on her brow despite the intense sparring session. "Don't worry, babe," she says, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I’ll keep you safe."
Her arm around me feels warm and secure, like armor I didn't know I needed. The symbiote ripples softly against my waist where she touches me, a gentle acknowledgment that makes my heart skip. I lean into Ellie's embrace, my body yielding to her strength as tension melts from my shoulders.
Masters clears her throat, and when I glance up, I catch an expression on her face I've never seen before, a mixture of approval and something almost like nostalgia.
"You two make quite the pair," she says, her usual gruffness softened around the edges. "Now get out of my gym, Steele. Class is over, and clearly you've got someone better to spend your time with than an old war horse like me."
"You're not that old, Sensei," I reply automatically.
Masters laughs, waving us toward the door. "Flattery will get you nowhere. I expect you back here Friday, twice as focused."
"Yes, ma'am."