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Description
Olga soared through the evening sky high over Angel-Falls, her adopted city. The sun was setting quickly, turning the normally azure shade of blue into a deep orange. The fiery dying light reflected off the glass spires of the city's skyscrapers and off the tranquil waters out in the bay. It was beautiful. So far that day she had broken up two muggings, shut down a major drug dealer, caught a purse snatcher and stopped a domestic dispute that could have turned deadly. It had been relatively quiet considering and she had nothing to show for it. The drug cartel had foolishly tried to gun her down, one of the muggers actually attempted to stab her and the majority of her interaction with the "everyman" went one of two ways: Either they ogled her and made a blatant sexual comment or they shouted something standard like "Commie go home". The few heart-felt "thank you's" and smiles of gratitude she received made it all worth while however. They meant more to her than all the criminals, critics and cowards. It was part of why she had to turn down the Lone Stranger though. He had recently announced a great idea, to have the super-powered heroes of the city band together as a team to respond to the growing threats.

She had called him personally to decline his offer. Soviet Superwoman would be there if the situation called for it, she said, but she was too much bad publicity and she worked better alone. Having an open communist, one wearing the symbol of a dangerous superpower on this world, would have hurt his idea before it got off the ground. It was too soon after her ill-fated and rash decision to attack the Russian military and the American political system was having out-spoken aggression against "socialist reform" already. Too many questions would be asked. He understood her reasoning and told her the seat would always be open. At least her interview seemed to have been received positively. She hoped Maia would understand, though she didn't know what her lover thought about his ambitious plan. All she wanted to do now was go home and have a nice dinner with her Возлюбленная. The way her hair smelled, the way she laughed when Olga mispronounced something, her chiseled abdomen; she just wanted to hold her in her arms forever. Maia had been so supportive of her bulking up, gaining muscle. She had told her it was to meet the growing threats to the city and Maia had approved with a wink and a nod. There was no way she could tell her the real truth. She was afraid.

Genocide had escaped three weeks ago. That's what she was calling herself now and the name suited her fine. Olga had beaten her down and handed her over to authrorities who kept her drugged and under military guard until she could be transported away. Too much red tape and it had taken too long to convince the Israeli government who she was exactly. Her super-powered confederates broke her free and she had disappeared. The last thing she had said was that she was going to kill Maia. It was a threat that she had carried out once to it's terrible conclusion. Olga searched for the first few days to no avail. She even told Maia all about Major Hauppman and all the horrors she was responsible for during the War. Maia seemed unconcerned, almost eager to smash her Nazi face in. It was the United States marine in her talking and she was not afraid. Olga had left out telling her about Claire or her fears for her safety. So she had decided to spent her days patrolling the city for any signs of her or her organization, this supposed "Fourth Reich", and the rest of her time working out rigorously. Ilsa had somehow perfected her serum and was the size of a giant. Olga would have to match her strength, and mass, if need be. The next battle would be their final, one way or another.

She shook these thoughts off even as tears came to her blue-eyes. If only she had made sure she was dead so long ago in Hungary...or even killed her in Berlin...how many lives could she have saved? 10? 100? 1,000? Olga was just as responsible for every death as that mass-murder was from that moment on. Claire. At least she could have saved one more person. One more person. She set her jaw tight and flew down low as she made her way toward Eden Island, where Maia's corporate penthouse apartment was located and where she called home most of the time. She would kill that monster, as she should have done years ago, and deal with the consequences. She was a soldier and she had killed before. Maia would understand even if the city did not. Just one more reason she had turned Stranger down. All she wanted to do now was go home and have that dinner. She would cook a traditional Russian meal for her love: Fish pelmeni served with cabbage soup and kasha. Then they would drink red wine and sit out on the roof under the stars. She would be with her Возлюбленная and nothing else mattered. The city had dozens of other protectors to keep her safe. Tonight belonged to them. She loved her so much.

Perhaps she would tell her about Claire.

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

This wonderful piece of artwork was provided by my friend . I hope you are enjoying your holiday comrade!

Soviet-Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman and the story are my creations.

Walkiria/Maia belongs to the amazing the heart and soul of Angel-Falls.

The Lone Stranger belongs to well, oddly enough.

Soul-searching high above the streets of

Description
Olga soared through the evening sky high over Angel-Falls, her adopted city. The sun was setting quickly, turning the normally azure shade of blue into a deep orange. The fiery dying light reflected off the glass spires of the city's skyscrapers and off the tranquil waters out in the bay. It was beautiful. So far that day she had broken up two muggings, shut down a major drug dealer, caught a purse snatcher and stopped a domestic dispute that could have turned deadly. It had been relatively quiet considering and she had nothing to show for it. The drug cartel had foolishly tried to gun her down, one of the muggers actually attempted to stab her and the majority of her interaction with the "everyman" went one of two ways: Either they ogled her and made a blatant sexual comment or they shouted something standard like "Commie go home". The few heart-felt "thank you's" and smiles of gratitude she received made it all worth while however. They meant more to her than all the criminals, critics and cowards. It was part of why she had to turn down the Lone Stranger though. He had recently announced a great idea, to have the super-powered heroes of the city band together as a team to respond to the growing threats.

She had called him personally to decline his offer. Soviet Superwoman would be there if the situation called for it, she said, but she was too much bad publicity and she worked better alone. Having an open communist, one wearing the symbol of a dangerous superpower on this world, would have hurt his idea before it got off the ground. It was too soon after her ill-fated and rash decision to attack the Russian military and the American political system was having out-spoken aggression against "socialist reform" already. Too many questions would be asked. He understood her reasoning and told her the seat would always be open. At least her interview seemed to have been received positively. She hoped Maia would understand, though she didn't know what her lover thought about his ambitious plan. All she wanted to do now was go home and have a nice dinner with her Возлюбленная. The way her hair smelled, the way she laughed when Olga mispronounced something, her chiseled abdomen; she just wanted to hold her in her arms forever. Maia had been so supportive of her bulking up, gaining muscle. She had told her it was to meet the growing threats to the city and Maia had approved with a wink and a nod. There was no way she could tell her the real truth. She was afraid.

Genocide had escaped three weeks ago. That's what she was calling herself now and the name suited her fine. Olga had beaten her down and handed her over to authrorities who kept her drugged and under military guard until she could be transported away. Too much red tape and it had taken too long to convince the Israeli government who she was exactly. Her super-powered confederates broke her free and she had disappeared. The last thing she had said was that she was going to kill Maia. It was a threat that she had carried out once to it's terrible conclusion. Olga searched for the first few days to no avail. She even told Maia all about Major Hauppman and all the horrors she was responsible for during the War. Maia seemed unconcerned, almost eager to smash her Nazi face in. It was the United States marine in her talking and she was not afraid. Olga had left out telling her about Claire or her fears for her safety. So she had decided to spent her days patrolling the city for any signs of her or her organization, this supposed "Fourth Reich", and the rest of her time working out rigorously. Ilsa had somehow perfected her serum and was the size of a giant. Olga would have to match her strength, and mass, if need be. The next battle would be their final, one way or another.

She shook these thoughts off even as tears came to her blue-eyes. If only she had made sure she was dead so long ago in Hungary...or even killed her in Berlin...how many lives could she have saved? 10? 100? 1,000? Olga was just as responsible for every death as that mass-murder was from that moment on. Claire. At least she could have saved one more person. One more person. She set her jaw tight and flew down low as she made her way toward Eden Island, where Maia's corporate penthouse apartment was located and where she called home most of the time. She would kill that monster, as she should have done years ago, and deal with the consequences. She was a soldier and she had killed before. Maia would understand even if the city did not. Just one more reason she had turned Stranger down. All she wanted to do now was go home and have that dinner. She would cook a traditional Russian meal for her love: Fish pelmeni served with cabbage soup and kasha. Then they would drink red wine and sit out on the roof under the stars. She would be with her Возлюбленная and nothing else mattered. The city had dozens of other protectors to keep her safe. Tonight belonged to them. She loved her so much.

Perhaps she would tell her about Claire.

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

This wonderful piece of artwork was provided by my friend . I hope you are enjoying your holiday comrade!

Soviet-Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman and the story are my creations.

Walkiria/Maia belongs to the amazing the heart and soul of Angel-Falls.

The Lone Stranger belongs to well, oddly enough.

Soul-searching high above the streets of