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Description
50 kilometers away from Breslau, at the Czech border.
Occupied Poland.

May 28th, 1944

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

The Soviet Superwoman plowed through the 6 inch steel doors like they were made of tissue paper. The hardened SS soldiers inside turned in horror as their impregnable fortress was suddenly thrust wide open, the torrential downpour outside made visible. The soldiers went for their pistols and submachine guns. The caped woman banked left as she landed, lashing out with her gloved left fist. The unlucky soldier the shot connected with flew about five feet up into the air before coming down hard on the concrete floor, his helmet clattering to the floor a split-second later. The next soldier she punched in the face spun like a top, spitting a bloody mouthful of broken teeth before spiraling into the ground. Two pistol shots rang out, both of which bounced off the hammer and sickle emblazoned on her chest. The Mauser wielding soldier was tossed head-first out into the thick, oozing mud a dozen yards from where he stood seconds earlier. The last two unlucky SS men had their helmets banged together violently, knocking them both unconscious. Olga took a second to look around her, past the five defeated soldiers in the entryway. A flash of lightning outside served to further illuminate the fortress interior. Blood red flags hung down on both sides of the ultra-modern military instillation depicting a black swastika clutched in a steel gauntlet. The symbol of Herman von Trotha, the man known as the Iron Chancellor. The Soviet Superwoman took a deep breath and passed between them, deeper into the lion's den.

"Oh Mein Gott! Erschiesst es! Erschiesst es doch endlich!" Came the cry from further ahead of her.

Multiple running footsteps and the sound of an alarm klaxon filled her ears. The archway opened into a grand hanger, about 120 meters by 60 meters. All manner of attack vehicles were here from half-tracks to tanks, all in various states of repair and design. It began to dawn on Olga that this was no simple troop fortification. This was the laboratory and workshop for one of the most fiendishly clever minds of the Third Reich. Past all of the armored weapon and transport projects was something she had never seen before and it gave her pause. It looked like a V2 rocket, only much, much larger and it was attached to a massive scaffolding of some sort. It took up almost the entire rear end of the facility and it was where most of the armed SS troops were now swarming from. These black-clad warriors...Hitler's elite were strangely armed as well. They carried what appeared to be rifles made of stamped metal. As they drew closer, the weapons erupted into a withering staccato of gunfire. Instinctively Olga drew back and covered her head and face with her powerful arms. The bullets that slammed into her dense flesh stung, but did not penetrate. The soldiers began to spread out, taking defensive positions behind various pieces of heavy machinery and the armored prototypes as they continued to fire. A voice crackled over a loudspeaker, quite fluent in Russian.

"Good evening Soviet Superwoman. I see that my soldiers are showing you one of my many inventions, the MP 44 battle rifle! Our Fueher calls it the Sturmgewehr or 'storm rifle'. 600 rounds per minute with the same weight of the outdated Karabiner 98k our troops currently employ. I hope to have one of these in the hands of every soldier on the Eastern front very soon."

Von Trotha was here and arrogant as always. To capture him alive would be a great victory for the Soviet army and strike a decisive blow to the German war machine. Olga surged forward into the blistering firepower of these new battle rifles. New and improved as they were, they were still no match for her and the soldiers that wielded them were knocked to the sides like bowling pins as she rushed through them. SS men sprawled to the floor as other fired futilely at her as she moved past them towards the strange rocket.

From his observation platform, the Iron Chancellor took the antique Meerschaum pipe out of his mouth and exhaled a plume of sweet, vanilla smelling smoke. He arched an eyebrow as the red, billowing cape of the so-called "Superwoman" moved swiftly through his line of men. He hadn't really expected the battle rifles to stop her, but it was disheartening to see how ineffective they were against her. A Luftwaffe Generalmajor next to him was sweating profusely, his eyes darting nervously from Olga making her way towards them to von Trotha calmly standing next to him. The Iron Chancellor reached up and removed his officer's cap from his salt and peppered hair. He began to push buttons on the instrument panel in front of them and issued a quiet command to the other operators looking up at him, all seated in a row wearing headphones. They began to flip switches and push additional buttons in a flurry of activity. This alarmed the Luftwaffe man who began to sputter.

"Was machen wir jetzt? Die techniker sind immer noch unten um den Antriebmotor fertigzustellen?" he said looking at the Iron Chancellor in confusion.

"Das ist jetzt egal. Wir mussen starten. Wir haben keine zeit mehr um zu diskutieren." Came Von Trotha's calm reply. He hadn't wanted to do this. It was too early...and he still had to make final preparations for the invasion that the British and American's were planning.

Smoke began to billow out of the bottom of the rocket. All around the scaffolding men began to scurry to and fro, sliding down ladders and making their way to designated positions as quickly as possible. From under the rocket a team of technicians began to scream and try to escape by any means necessary, trapped down in the bottom of a pit directly under the smoking thrusters. Olga was unsure of what this weapon was capable of, but she had no intentions of letting it take flight. She had seen the images of London, bombed almost beyond recognition by these terrible weapons. One of this size and scale could destroy an entire city or at the very least cause a horrific loss of life. Ignoring the SS that continued to open fire on her from all directions she moved with super-speeds towards the activating rocket, zig-zagging around other incomplete instruments of terror.

"You are far too late Olga Yezhov." crackled Von Trotha's voice again. "The countdown has already begun. My rocket will make its way ever upwards until it reached the very moon itself! From there, I will be able to rain all manner of destruction down on the enemies of the Reich from space itself! Chemical, conventional explosive...nuclear power even! Who will command the Allied forces when both Washington and Moscow are wiped from the map eh? The fat, little drunk Englishman?"

Von Trotha was chuckling as the rocket's thrusters suddenly roared to life in a blast of incredible fire. The technicians below were reduced to ashes before they could even scream and the entire facility trembled and shook. Up above, a hatch was opening from the ceiling. Rain poured inwards on top of the rocket as it shook and came to life, lifting up and out of its harness. Olga's feet left the ground as she followed the rapidly ascending steel torpedo up and out of the base, soaring high into the dark, night sky. Von Trotha cast a stern glance to the Generalmajor before moving past him and down a flight of stairs. If Olga Yezhov did somehow manage to stop his rocket from reaching its destination, he had no intention of being here when she returned. He made his was across the factory floor, past the cheering SS soldiers to his personal Mercedes 540K. His driver was still looking upwards through the downpour coming from the open hatch.

"Seht! Da oben am Himmel!" he murmured to himself as he almost absently opened the door for his passenger and got into the driver's seat. Von Trotha nodded and looked upwards as well for a brief moment before the car started up. Stopping the Allies wasn't the only purpose for his lunar operations. Not that he could tell someone like the Soviet Superwoman what he feared was in store for mankind. No that she would even believe him if he did. He only hoped she was not powerful enough to put down his rocket.

Olga meanwhile had managed to keep up with the sleek rocketship as it blasted its way upwards. The super-soldier grabbed ahold of its steel frame and dug her fingers into one of the panels, clinging to the side of it like a spider. With one hand fully planted inside the steel structure she used her other to shear the panel away from the craft, throwing it off behind it. The thick metal sheet fell backwards towards the earth as Olga climbed up inside the rocket. Another series of thick, interlocking steel panels blocked her access from gaining entry and these too were crudely thrown aside. The Soviet Superwoman pulled herself inside the rocketship. The interior reminded her of the inside of an Antonov-225 cargo plane, but cylindrical. From where she was there was a hatch up above her. Olga pushed through the sealed hatch, ripping it from its housing. As she entered the next chamber she was almost immediately attacked by a group of men, all dressed in strange-looking flight suits complete with oddly-designed helmets. Something to protect them from the environment of the moon perhaps, if Von Trotha was to be believed. The men screamed at her in German as they threw punches and kicks at her.

The Soviet Superwoman batted them aside like children. She grabbed one by his collar and slammed him into the electronic instruments the adorned the walls. The glass dome of his helmet exploded outwards on impact as he dropped to the floor. Olga punched another in the side, doubling him over and knocking him out instantly. The last man, having been knocked back the furthest from her position reached behind him and pulled forth a bizarre looking handgun. It discharged, blasting out at her with a bluish-white band of cracking energy. The shot hit her in the leg, burning away her uniform there like paper when it hits a flame and causing her flesh to blister and bleed. Olga let out a cry of pain and slumped to the side slightly. The cosmonaut grinned in astonishment at his good fortune and put his second hand on the gun, steadying his aim for a second shot. The Soviet juggernaut's eyes flashed red as she cut her beams across the wall next to him and then through the side of the blaster. The gun cooked off and exploded in his hands, causing him to yelp in both pain and surprise. Next to him the damaged instrument panels began to smoke and explode in a cascade of eruptions and sparks. The Nazi cosmonaut looked down at his injured hands just as Olga launched herself towards him.

There was an explosion coupled with the sound of rending, shredding metal as Olga and the man erupted out from the side of the mortally wounded rocket. The Soviet Superwoman turned to watch the rocket as the cosmonaut plummeted to earth a few yards from her. There were explosions from all sides of the device as it continued to climb upwards, throwing debris all across the black, thunderous skies. It climbed up a few more yards before the entire rocket exploded in a tremendous fireball, blasting outwards in all direction in a magnificent, pyrotechnic display. Only twisted rubble and very little at that was tumbling down all around her. Iron Wolf would be pleased. His intelligence on the Iron Chancellor's fortress was better than even he would have expected and Comrade Stalin would be pleased at the destruction of such a terrible Nazi weapon. Von Trotha was no doubt already gone, but she would relay the location to the nearest advancing Red Army division to make sure they made this place a priority target.

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

A major thank to my dear friend Nathan Dayspring for this incredibly retro-style piece of art! I love it!

I was heavily inspired by a trailer I saw for a movie called "Iron Sky" when I wrote this about Nazi's living on the moon.

So I am back to writing again as you can see. I wanted to do something I really love which is pseudo-historical fiction from WWII and I hope it delivered. I have had a terrible couple of weeks both with my family and my finances, but also with my vision so i hope everyone forgives me for the lack of updates and the unusual quiet from this end.

Soviet Superwoman, the Iron Chancellor and the story are my creations and property.

Soviet Superwoman can be currently found protecting

Description
50 kilometers away from Breslau, at the Czech border.
Occupied Poland.

May 28th, 1944

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

The Soviet Superwoman plowed through the 6 inch steel doors like they were made of tissue paper. The hardened SS soldiers inside turned in horror as their impregnable fortress was suddenly thrust wide open, the torrential downpour outside made visible. The soldiers went for their pistols and submachine guns. The caped woman banked left as she landed, lashing out with her gloved left fist. The unlucky soldier the shot connected with flew about five feet up into the air before coming down hard on the concrete floor, his helmet clattering to the floor a split-second later. The next soldier she punched in the face spun like a top, spitting a bloody mouthful of broken teeth before spiraling into the ground. Two pistol shots rang out, both of which bounced off the hammer and sickle emblazoned on her chest. The Mauser wielding soldier was tossed head-first out into the thick, oozing mud a dozen yards from where he stood seconds earlier. The last two unlucky SS men had their helmets banged together violently, knocking them both unconscious. Olga took a second to look around her, past the five defeated soldiers in the entryway. A flash of lightning outside served to further illuminate the fortress interior. Blood red flags hung down on both sides of the ultra-modern military instillation depicting a black swastika clutched in a steel gauntlet. The symbol of Herman von Trotha, the man known as the Iron Chancellor. The Soviet Superwoman took a deep breath and passed between them, deeper into the lion's den.

"Oh Mein Gott! Erschiesst es! Erschiesst es doch endlich!" Came the cry from further ahead of her.

Multiple running footsteps and the sound of an alarm klaxon filled her ears. The archway opened into a grand hanger, about 120 meters by 60 meters. All manner of attack vehicles were here from half-tracks to tanks, all in various states of repair and design. It began to dawn on Olga that this was no simple troop fortification. This was the laboratory and workshop for one of the most fiendishly clever minds of the Third Reich. Past all of the armored weapon and transport projects was something she had never seen before and it gave her pause. It looked like a V2 rocket, only much, much larger and it was attached to a massive scaffolding of some sort. It took up almost the entire rear end of the facility and it was where most of the armed SS troops were now swarming from. These black-clad warriors...Hitler's elite were strangely armed as well. They carried what appeared to be rifles made of stamped metal. As they drew closer, the weapons erupted into a withering staccato of gunfire. Instinctively Olga drew back and covered her head and face with her powerful arms. The bullets that slammed into her dense flesh stung, but did not penetrate. The soldiers began to spread out, taking defensive positions behind various pieces of heavy machinery and the armored prototypes as they continued to fire. A voice crackled over a loudspeaker, quite fluent in Russian.

"Good evening Soviet Superwoman. I see that my soldiers are showing you one of my many inventions, the MP 44 battle rifle! Our Fueher calls it the Sturmgewehr or 'storm rifle'. 600 rounds per minute with the same weight of the outdated Karabiner 98k our troops currently employ. I hope to have one of these in the hands of every soldier on the Eastern front very soon."

Von Trotha was here and arrogant as always. To capture him alive would be a great victory for the Soviet army and strike a decisive blow to the German war machine. Olga surged forward into the blistering firepower of these new battle rifles. New and improved as they were, they were still no match for her and the soldiers that wielded them were knocked to the sides like bowling pins as she rushed through them. SS men sprawled to the floor as other fired futilely at her as she moved past them towards the strange rocket.

From his observation platform, the Iron Chancellor took the antique Meerschaum pipe out of his mouth and exhaled a plume of sweet, vanilla smelling smoke. He arched an eyebrow as the red, billowing cape of the so-called "Superwoman" moved swiftly through his line of men. He hadn't really expected the battle rifles to stop her, but it was disheartening to see how ineffective they were against her. A Luftwaffe Generalmajor next to him was sweating profusely, his eyes darting nervously from Olga making her way towards them to von Trotha calmly standing next to him. The Iron Chancellor reached up and removed his officer's cap from his salt and peppered hair. He began to push buttons on the instrument panel in front of them and issued a quiet command to the other operators looking up at him, all seated in a row wearing headphones. They began to flip switches and push additional buttons in a flurry of activity. This alarmed the Luftwaffe man who began to sputter.

"Was machen wir jetzt? Die techniker sind immer noch unten um den Antriebmotor fertigzustellen?" he said looking at the Iron Chancellor in confusion.

"Das ist jetzt egal. Wir mussen starten. Wir haben keine zeit mehr um zu diskutieren." Came Von Trotha's calm reply. He hadn't wanted to do this. It was too early...and he still had to make final preparations for the invasion that the British and American's were planning.

Smoke began to billow out of the bottom of the rocket. All around the scaffolding men began to scurry to and fro, sliding down ladders and making their way to designated positions as quickly as possible. From under the rocket a team of technicians began to scream and try to escape by any means necessary, trapped down in the bottom of a pit directly under the smoking thrusters. Olga was unsure of what this weapon was capable of, but she had no intentions of letting it take flight. She had seen the images of London, bombed almost beyond recognition by these terrible weapons. One of this size and scale could destroy an entire city or at the very least cause a horrific loss of life. Ignoring the SS that continued to open fire on her from all directions she moved with super-speeds towards the activating rocket, zig-zagging around other incomplete instruments of terror.

"You are far too late Olga Yezhov." crackled Von Trotha's voice again. "The countdown has already begun. My rocket will make its way ever upwards until it reached the very moon itself! From there, I will be able to rain all manner of destruction down on the enemies of the Reich from space itself! Chemical, conventional explosive...nuclear power even! Who will command the Allied forces when both Washington and Moscow are wiped from the map eh? The fat, little drunk Englishman?"

Von Trotha was chuckling as the rocket's thrusters suddenly roared to life in a blast of incredible fire. The technicians below were reduced to ashes before they could even scream and the entire facility trembled and shook. Up above, a hatch was opening from the ceiling. Rain poured inwards on top of the rocket as it shook and came to life, lifting up and out of its harness. Olga's feet left the ground as she followed the rapidly ascending steel torpedo up and out of the base, soaring high into the dark, night sky. Von Trotha cast a stern glance to the Generalmajor before moving past him and down a flight of stairs. If Olga Yezhov did somehow manage to stop his rocket from reaching its destination, he had no intention of being here when she returned. He made his was across the factory floor, past the cheering SS soldiers to his personal Mercedes 540K. His driver was still looking upwards through the downpour coming from the open hatch.

"Seht! Da oben am Himmel!" he murmured to himself as he almost absently opened the door for his passenger and got into the driver's seat. Von Trotha nodded and looked upwards as well for a brief moment before the car started up. Stopping the Allies wasn't the only purpose for his lunar operations. Not that he could tell someone like the Soviet Superwoman what he feared was in store for mankind. No that she would even believe him if he did. He only hoped she was not powerful enough to put down his rocket.

Olga meanwhile had managed to keep up with the sleek rocketship as it blasted its way upwards. The super-soldier grabbed ahold of its steel frame and dug her fingers into one of the panels, clinging to the side of it like a spider. With one hand fully planted inside the steel structure she used her other to shear the panel away from the craft, throwing it off behind it. The thick metal sheet fell backwards towards the earth as Olga climbed up inside the rocket. Another series of thick, interlocking steel panels blocked her access from gaining entry and these too were crudely thrown aside. The Soviet Superwoman pulled herself inside the rocketship. The interior reminded her of the inside of an Antonov-225 cargo plane, but cylindrical. From where she was there was a hatch up above her. Olga pushed through the sealed hatch, ripping it from its housing. As she entered the next chamber she was almost immediately attacked by a group of men, all dressed in strange-looking flight suits complete with oddly-designed helmets. Something to protect them from the environment of the moon perhaps, if Von Trotha was to be believed. The men screamed at her in German as they threw punches and kicks at her.

The Soviet Superwoman batted them aside like children. She grabbed one by his collar and slammed him into the electronic instruments the adorned the walls. The glass dome of his helmet exploded outwards on impact as he dropped to the floor. Olga punched another in the side, doubling him over and knocking him out instantly. The last man, having been knocked back the furthest from her position reached behind him and pulled forth a bizarre looking handgun. It discharged, blasting out at her with a bluish-white band of cracking energy. The shot hit her in the leg, burning away her uniform there like paper when it hits a flame and causing her flesh to blister and bleed. Olga let out a cry of pain and slumped to the side slightly. The cosmonaut grinned in astonishment at his good fortune and put his second hand on the gun, steadying his aim for a second shot. The Soviet juggernaut's eyes flashed red as she cut her beams across the wall next to him and then through the side of the blaster. The gun cooked off and exploded in his hands, causing him to yelp in both pain and surprise. Next to him the damaged instrument panels began to smoke and explode in a cascade of eruptions and sparks. The Nazi cosmonaut looked down at his injured hands just as Olga launched herself towards him.

There was an explosion coupled with the sound of rending, shredding metal as Olga and the man erupted out from the side of the mortally wounded rocket. The Soviet Superwoman turned to watch the rocket as the cosmonaut plummeted to earth a few yards from her. There were explosions from all sides of the device as it continued to climb upwards, throwing debris all across the black, thunderous skies. It climbed up a few more yards before the entire rocket exploded in a tremendous fireball, blasting outwards in all direction in a magnificent, pyrotechnic display. Only twisted rubble and very little at that was tumbling down all around her. Iron Wolf would be pleased. His intelligence on the Iron Chancellor's fortress was better than even he would have expected and Comrade Stalin would be pleased at the destruction of such a terrible Nazi weapon. Von Trotha was no doubt already gone, but she would relay the location to the nearest advancing Red Army division to make sure they made this place a priority target.

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

A major thank to my dear friend Nathan Dayspring for this incredibly retro-style piece of art! I love it!

I was heavily inspired by a trailer I saw for a movie called "Iron Sky" when I wrote this about Nazi's living on the moon.

So I am back to writing again as you can see. I wanted to do something I really love which is pseudo-historical fiction from WWII and I hope it delivered. I have had a terrible couple of weeks both with my family and my finances, but also with my vision so i hope everyone forgives me for the lack of updates and the unusual quiet from this end.

Soviet Superwoman, the Iron Chancellor and the story are my creations and property.

Soviet Superwoman can be currently found protecting