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Description
Olga enjoyed the feel of the snow as it crunched under her boots and the smell of the air, heavy with a sweet acrid smoke like old pipe tobacco. She was back in Moscow. Not her Moscow, but it was almost identical in so many ways that it still felt like home and reminded her of better times. She walked slowly past the Spasskaya Tower, with it's through-passage on the eastern wall of the Kremlin, overlooking Red Square. It looked exactly the way it was built back in 1491 in her world and even had the giant red star perched atop it's tower that the Soviets had added in 1935. It was always one of her favorite sites when she was first brought to the city as a girl so long ago. Olga pulled her furred hood closer around her head as she passed by a long line of tourists. The woman known as the Soviet Superwoman had been forced by her own hand to come here incognito after she had threatened the Russian government with a coup almost a year ago. A few of the people looked at the tall, obviously built woman in the over-coat as they passed, but none of them seemed to recognize her. There would be no cheering crowds as she descending in full uniform here, or comrades weeping and rushing at her just to touch her cape. No great parades full of marching soldiers and tanks, with the mighty Soviet air force flying by overhead for the people. Those days were long behind her and in a different place and time. The Moscow of 2010 was now a modern European capital ablaze with neon, populated by chic clubs and fast food restaurants. The USSR here had collapsed and failed, leaving behind only remnants of itself. In the US it was known as the "evil empire", but just how much of that was Western propaganda? Statues to Stalin have begun to reappear in Moscow, a museum devoted to him recently opened in Volgograd, and a nationwide poll last year named him the third greatest figure in Russian history.

The tall Russian shook off her political thoughts and took a deep breath. They were what got her in trouble in the first place after all. She just wanted to enjoy her time here since it was as close as she would ever get to her home again. Olga walked up to a kebab vendor nearby and purchased two of them. It was a kind of pancake, charcoal-grilled and filled with raw white cabbage and warm chicken. She greedily gulped them both down despite having already eaten a few hours ago at a restaurant is called Puchkarskaya Sloboda. The food was good, rather than "excellent" but worth having in her opinion and it had a fully stocked wine cellar (where she was technically older than most of the vintages). What she had really craved was the street foods-the dumplings known as piroshki, pies stuffed with meat or vegetables, potatoes filled with herring and onion-all of them delicious. Back home she had enjoyed them very much and frequently been gifted with them on her many return trips to Moscow during the War. Truly the Russian capital was like nowhere else on earth, this one or her own. It's was a showplace for excess but also a village: many grim Stalin-era buildings encircle cozy courtyards where children play on swings and pensioners walk their dogs in the snow. Being here, despite having to hide who she was and despite the obvious differences from her own time, made her truly happy and strengthened her resolve for what she had to do.

Maia, her Возлюбленный and now her betrothed had already gone on ahead to Angel Falls. They had been enjoying what was left of their engagement vacation to Venice when the local news announced that "Genocide" had escaped from justice yet again. Tartarus had managed to hold her for only about four months total. Here was supposed to be the happiest moment in her life and still Ilsa Hauppman hounded her.
Черт побери! She should have been there! She should have expected something like this. The problem was that no one did and now so many people paid for it with their lives. Mindy had put up a good fight. She would have to visit her when she returned to thank her personally. Olga was also very interested in meeting the mystery man with the golden axe, if nothing else than to thank him as well. Maia had wondered why Olga was not returning with her to Angel Falls straight away. It was not just to come back to homeland and see the sights and smells, taste the food. Her purpose here was not to simply remember the past and relive stories of glory from another time. Olga wanted to feel what it was like to be a Russian again. Her Soviet Union was gone and yet Nazism still remained. The very thought of it made her blood boil. She remembered what the German army's general orders were in regard to the Red Army and her people:

1. Political officials and leaders are to be liquidated.
2. Insofar as they are captured by the troops, an officer with authority to impose disciplinary punishment decides whether the given individual must be liquidated.
3. Political leaders in the Red Army are not recognized as prisoners of war and are to be liquidated at the latest in the prisoner-of-war transit camps.
4. The faintest manifestations of protest or disobedience should be met with ruthless reprisals.
5. Weapons should be used ruthlessly to suppress resistance.
6. The escaping POWs should be shot at without warning and with the determination to hit the target.

Ilsa Hauppman was still using this kind of brutal doctrine, but she had turned it against the peoples of Angel Falls. Civilians. Ordinary people dragged into a war that had supposedly ended decades ago. Hitler's death and fall of the Third Reich in Berlin had not solved a thing. Olga had to battle her and her so-called Fourth Reich as if they were still at war. It was the only way anymore. Up until now she had held back. With all her incredible powers she had chose to honor human moral codes and social mores in her time after the war. There had been so much blood and death she wanted to live up to an ideal that would inspire others. To be a role-model and someone children could look to for operating within the laws. To be an example.

Ilsa Hauppman wanted her to become a Red Army soldier again.

So she would.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This piece of beautiful art was a gift from an amazing artist and friend of mine

Thank you so much for this, it is an absolutely a wonderful image and it inspired me to write this small vignette.

Soviet Superwoman and Ilsa Hauppman are my property and creations. The story was written by me as well.

Walkiria is the creative property of

Mindy Marvel is the creative property of

The guy with the golden axe belongs to

This takes place in the universe.

Description
Olga enjoyed the feel of the snow as it crunched under her boots and the smell of the air, heavy with a sweet acrid smoke like old pipe tobacco. She was back in Moscow. Not her Moscow, but it was almost identical in so many ways that it still felt like home and reminded her of better times. She walked slowly past the Spasskaya Tower, with it's through-passage on the eastern wall of the Kremlin, overlooking Red Square. It looked exactly the way it was built back in 1491 in her world and even had the giant red star perched atop it's tower that the Soviets had added in 1935. It was always one of her favorite sites when she was first brought to the city as a girl so long ago. Olga pulled her furred hood closer around her head as she passed by a long line of tourists. The woman known as the Soviet Superwoman had been forced by her own hand to come here incognito after she had threatened the Russian government with a coup almost a year ago. A few of the people looked at the tall, obviously built woman in the over-coat as they passed, but none of them seemed to recognize her. There would be no cheering crowds as she descending in full uniform here, or comrades weeping and rushing at her just to touch her cape. No great parades full of marching soldiers and tanks, with the mighty Soviet air force flying by overhead for the people. Those days were long behind her and in a different place and time. The Moscow of 2010 was now a modern European capital ablaze with neon, populated by chic clubs and fast food restaurants. The USSR here had collapsed and failed, leaving behind only remnants of itself. In the US it was known as the "evil empire", but just how much of that was Western propaganda? Statues to Stalin have begun to reappear in Moscow, a museum devoted to him recently opened in Volgograd, and a nationwide poll last year named him the third greatest figure in Russian history.

The tall Russian shook off her political thoughts and took a deep breath. They were what got her in trouble in the first place after all. She just wanted to enjoy her time here since it was as close as she would ever get to her home again. Olga walked up to a kebab vendor nearby and purchased two of them. It was a kind of pancake, charcoal-grilled and filled with raw white cabbage and warm chicken. She greedily gulped them both down despite having already eaten a few hours ago at a restaurant is called Puchkarskaya Sloboda. The food was good, rather than "excellent" but worth having in her opinion and it had a fully stocked wine cellar (where she was technically older than most of the vintages). What she had really craved was the street foods-the dumplings known as piroshki, pies stuffed with meat or vegetables, potatoes filled with herring and onion-all of them delicious. Back home she had enjoyed them very much and frequently been gifted with them on her many return trips to Moscow during the War. Truly the Russian capital was like nowhere else on earth, this one or her own. It's was a showplace for excess but also a village: many grim Stalin-era buildings encircle cozy courtyards where children play on swings and pensioners walk their dogs in the snow. Being here, despite having to hide who she was and despite the obvious differences from her own time, made her truly happy and strengthened her resolve for what she had to do.

Maia, her Возлюбленный and now her betrothed had already gone on ahead to Angel Falls. They had been enjoying what was left of their engagement vacation to Venice when the local news announced that "Genocide" had escaped from justice yet again. Tartarus had managed to hold her for only about four months total. Here was supposed to be the happiest moment in her life and still Ilsa Hauppman hounded her.
Черт побери! She should have been there! She should have expected something like this. The problem was that no one did and now so many people paid for it with their lives. Mindy had put up a good fight. She would have to visit her when she returned to thank her personally. Olga was also very interested in meeting the mystery man with the golden axe, if nothing else than to thank him as well. Maia had wondered why Olga was not returning with her to Angel Falls straight away. It was not just to come back to homeland and see the sights and smells, taste the food. Her purpose here was not to simply remember the past and relive stories of glory from another time. Olga wanted to feel what it was like to be a Russian again. Her Soviet Union was gone and yet Nazism still remained. The very thought of it made her blood boil. She remembered what the German army's general orders were in regard to the Red Army and her people:

1. Political officials and leaders are to be liquidated.
2. Insofar as they are captured by the troops, an officer with authority to impose disciplinary punishment decides whether the given individual must be liquidated.
3. Political leaders in the Red Army are not recognized as prisoners of war and are to be liquidated at the latest in the prisoner-of-war transit camps.
4. The faintest manifestations of protest or disobedience should be met with ruthless reprisals.
5. Weapons should be used ruthlessly to suppress resistance.
6. The escaping POWs should be shot at without warning and with the determination to hit the target.

Ilsa Hauppman was still using this kind of brutal doctrine, but she had turned it against the peoples of Angel Falls. Civilians. Ordinary people dragged into a war that had supposedly ended decades ago. Hitler's death and fall of the Third Reich in Berlin had not solved a thing. Olga had to battle her and her so-called Fourth Reich as if they were still at war. It was the only way anymore. Up until now she had held back. With all her incredible powers she had chose to honor human moral codes and social mores in her time after the war. There had been so much blood and death she wanted to live up to an ideal that would inspire others. To be a role-model and someone children could look to for operating within the laws. To be an example.

Ilsa Hauppman wanted her to become a Red Army soldier again.

So she would.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This piece of beautiful art was a gift from an amazing artist and friend of mine

Thank you so much for this, it is an absolutely a wonderful image and it inspired me to write this small vignette.

Soviet Superwoman and Ilsa Hauppman are my property and creations. The story was written by me as well.

Walkiria is the creative property of

Mindy Marvel is the creative property of

The guy with the golden axe belongs to

This takes place in the universe.