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Continued from: soviet-superwoman.deviantart.c…

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Soviet Superwoman collided with the brick building on her right side as the black-clad woman smashed into her. Whoever she was she was obviously super-humanly strong or enhanced somehow. Olga didn't recognize her, but she wore similar trapping to the soldiers Genocide employed: Black skin-tight leather bodysuit, a gas mask with red-tinted lenses and a combat helmet. Probably another one of her assassins, like the two that had tried to kill her a week or so ago. They had failed miserably and there was no reason to believe this one would fare any better, even if she did have the element of surprise. Though her attack was unusually strong and silent, she hadn't actually hurt the large Russian woman with her blow. Olga was more irritated that her assault had made it so the bandaged, cyborg assassin of Ilsa's had managed to escape. She had spent all day waiting for that exchange to catch one of the Fourth Reich's top officers and this woman had ruined her chance.

As the muscular heroine hit the brick wall, cracking it and sending shards in all directions, Grendel pushed off her body with both feet, driving her opponent away from her further as she leapt backwards. Olga lashed out with her arm, but all she caught was air as the nimble cybernetic assassin landed on her feet, knees to the sides. Soviet Superwoman got her balance and assumed a defensive stance, watching her squatting enemy. There was a high-pitched clicking sound followed by an intense burst of light from the assassin that flooded the darkened alley. Olga shielded her eyes as the wave passed over her, hitting her a volley of frozen icicles. Almost instantly she began to feel disoriented and nauseous. Shaking her head, the Soviet-born woman could feel herself becoming tired and quickly drained of strength. She had felt this way before, but never this quickly: Ilsa Hauppman's energy-draining technology. The Nazi must have found a way to deliver it's devastating effects in a rapid burst of energy rather than a gradual wearing down through her gauntlets or machinery.

Before she could give it any further thought, Grendel launched herself forward. Soviet Superwoman, her head spinning as she could feel her powers rapidly leeching away, retaliated with her left hook, succeeding only in knocking the helmet off the assassin's head as she ducked. Everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion. Grendel came up hard, slamming her knee into the heroine's abs with all her strength. Olga felt all of the air rush out of her lungs and something inside her made a wet-popping sound. Grendel grabbed hold of her right arm and pulled it to the side, slamming her knee home a second time in the same spot. This time the costumed Russian spit up a gout of blood as her internal organs took the full force of the attack, her invulnerability diminishing by the second.

Coughing, Soviet Superwoman feebly tried to pull her arm free. Grendel responded by wretching it from it's socket like an over-cooked chicken wing. Olga tried to cry out as her arm was violently dislocated, her voice choked off from blood and lack of oxygen. The masked killer swung her around by her injured limb, tossing her like a rag doll into a pile of trash cans on the other side of the alley. Catching her breath, Olga struggled to regain consciousness and get to her feet. Grendel was watching her from a few feet away, not moving to stop her. Taking hold of a metal can, she used it as a brace to stand wobbly back on her feet. She wiped the blood from her chin with a shaking left hand. There was no chance she could survive this encounter, not unless another hero or heroine happened by and the police were still a good few minutes out before they would arrive on the scene. Olga narrowed her eyes and watched her assassin, who still had made no move to intercept her.

"Are you watching his my Master?" The gas-masked woman spoke in a harsh, muffled voice.

"I am indeed my pet." Ilsa's voice crackled electronically from inside the same mask. "How does it feel to know you are about to die Sowjetische Superfrau? That I was the one who finally wielded the instrument of your destruction, after so many years."

Olga doubled over and grimaced in pain. She was bleeding internally and her arm was on fire. Ilsa could have had her pet kill her five times over by now, but the German bitch always had to gloat. Her ego wouldn't let her have it any other way. She had to keep her talking, either to give her time to think of something or, at worst, give the police time to arrive...more than likely just to find her body. Soviet Superwoman looked up and grinned, despite her agony.

"I noticed you could not accomplish this on your own, could you, you больных нацистской сука. You had to use another person since you could never defeat me, despite all your science and strength. German efficiency is a joke."

"I spent years upgrading and perfecting Grendel! After you escaped from the dimensional prison I tried to leave you in, I realized that my dream of a greater German Reich rising from the ashes could never exist as long as you did!" The voice responded. "The aliens made certain it would never happen on our world, but here I will make sure the Führer's dreams are once more made a reality and that will begin with your death, seconds from now."

Olga shook her head slowly. "So you kill me...do you think that the other heroes of this world will let you and your goose-stepping morons rule this one? Do you honestly think you can survive past my Возлюбленный?"

Genocide's voice rang out again. "I will deal with that American schweinepest Walkiria just like I dealt with Claire my dear. You do remember her don't you?"

Soviet Superwoman curled her lip and tried her best to push the pain aside. She bit down and stood at her full height, if not somewhat slouched. Her breathing was harsh and labored, but her eyes burned with a cold, blue intensity. Amazingly she began to feel stronger, like a shiver through her body. The effects of the pulse were already beginning to wane in the few seconds they had been talking. Unlike the gauntlets, this pulse apparently was not able to continually siphon her powers, only suppress them for a few minutes. The pain was still there and intense, but her wounds were beginning to mend slowly. If she could just keep her talking. Not giving her new-found revelation away, Olga nodded slowly.

"I remember that you did not even have the courage to shoot her face to face. That deep down Ilsa Hauppman, you are nothing but a coward who preys on those you perceive as weaker than yourself. Your precious Third Reich was defeated on this world just as it was on ours because those 'weak' peoples rose up and crushed it. Your legacy will always be nothing but failure and ruin. I wonder at times, what happened to you in childhood to make you the monster you became now.”

“Enough! Slavic ungeziefer, those will be your last words! Auf Wiedersehen Sowjetische Superfrau, but before you depart from this world to oblivion I want you to see the face of your killer. I want it to be the last image you see before darkness takes you. Grendel please remove your mask and kill this schwanzlutscher. Make sure that it's agonizingly painful and perfectly captured to show Walkiria before you kill her as well.”

Nodding, Grendel snapped out her wrist blades, like two gleaming silver points of light stabbing downwards in the darkness. Reaching up, she unclasped the gas-mask on the left side and removed her mask with a hissing sound...

To be continued...
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A special thanks to for this fantastic image and all his help and support with telling the stories of Soviet Superwoman. So many good ideas my friend, it was so difficult not using them all!

Soviet Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman/Genocide and Grendel are creations of mine, as is the story presented above.

This takes place in her adopted home of

Description
Continued from: soviet-superwoman.deviantart.c…

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

Soviet Superwoman collided with the brick building on her right side as the black-clad woman smashed into her. Whoever she was she was obviously super-humanly strong or enhanced somehow. Olga didn't recognize her, but she wore similar trapping to the soldiers Genocide employed: Black skin-tight leather bodysuit, a gas mask with red-tinted lenses and a combat helmet. Probably another one of her assassins, like the two that had tried to kill her a week or so ago. They had failed miserably and there was no reason to believe this one would fare any better, even if she did have the element of surprise. Though her attack was unusually strong and silent, she hadn't actually hurt the large Russian woman with her blow. Olga was more irritated that her assault had made it so the bandaged, cyborg assassin of Ilsa's had managed to escape. She had spent all day waiting for that exchange to catch one of the Fourth Reich's top officers and this woman had ruined her chance.

As the muscular heroine hit the brick wall, cracking it and sending shards in all directions, Grendel pushed off her body with both feet, driving her opponent away from her further as she leapt backwards. Olga lashed out with her arm, but all she caught was air as the nimble cybernetic assassin landed on her feet, knees to the sides. Soviet Superwoman got her balance and assumed a defensive stance, watching her squatting enemy. There was a high-pitched clicking sound followed by an intense burst of light from the assassin that flooded the darkened alley. Olga shielded her eyes as the wave passed over her, hitting her a volley of frozen icicles. Almost instantly she began to feel disoriented and nauseous. Shaking her head, the Soviet-born woman could feel herself becoming tired and quickly drained of strength. She had felt this way before, but never this quickly: Ilsa Hauppman's energy-draining technology. The Nazi must have found a way to deliver it's devastating effects in a rapid burst of energy rather than a gradual wearing down through her gauntlets or machinery.

Before she could give it any further thought, Grendel launched herself forward. Soviet Superwoman, her head spinning as she could feel her powers rapidly leeching away, retaliated with her left hook, succeeding only in knocking the helmet off the assassin's head as she ducked. Everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion. Grendel came up hard, slamming her knee into the heroine's abs with all her strength. Olga felt all of the air rush out of her lungs and something inside her made a wet-popping sound. Grendel grabbed hold of her right arm and pulled it to the side, slamming her knee home a second time in the same spot. This time the costumed Russian spit up a gout of blood as her internal organs took the full force of the attack, her invulnerability diminishing by the second.

Coughing, Soviet Superwoman feebly tried to pull her arm free. Grendel responded by wretching it from it's socket like an over-cooked chicken wing. Olga tried to cry out as her arm was violently dislocated, her voice choked off from blood and lack of oxygen. The masked killer swung her around by her injured limb, tossing her like a rag doll into a pile of trash cans on the other side of the alley. Catching her breath, Olga struggled to regain consciousness and get to her feet. Grendel was watching her from a few feet away, not moving to stop her. Taking hold of a metal can, she used it as a brace to stand wobbly back on her feet. She wiped the blood from her chin with a shaking left hand. There was no chance she could survive this encounter, not unless another hero or heroine happened by and the police were still a good few minutes out before they would arrive on the scene. Olga narrowed her eyes and watched her assassin, who still had made no move to intercept her.

"Are you watching his my Master?" The gas-masked woman spoke in a harsh, muffled voice.

"I am indeed my pet." Ilsa's voice crackled electronically from inside the same mask. "How does it feel to know you are about to die Sowjetische Superfrau? That I was the one who finally wielded the instrument of your destruction, after so many years."

Olga doubled over and grimaced in pain. She was bleeding internally and her arm was on fire. Ilsa could have had her pet kill her five times over by now, but the German bitch always had to gloat. Her ego wouldn't let her have it any other way. She had to keep her talking, either to give her time to think of something or, at worst, give the police time to arrive...more than likely just to find her body. Soviet Superwoman looked up and grinned, despite her agony.

"I noticed you could not accomplish this on your own, could you, you больных нацистской сука. You had to use another person since you could never defeat me, despite all your science and strength. German efficiency is a joke."

"I spent years upgrading and perfecting Grendel! After you escaped from the dimensional prison I tried to leave you in, I realized that my dream of a greater German Reich rising from the ashes could never exist as long as you did!" The voice responded. "The aliens made certain it would never happen on our world, but here I will make sure the Führer's dreams are once more made a reality and that will begin with your death, seconds from now."

Olga shook her head slowly. "So you kill me...do you think that the other heroes of this world will let you and your goose-stepping morons rule this one? Do you honestly think you can survive past my Возлюбленный?"

Genocide's voice rang out again. "I will deal with that American schweinepest Walkiria just like I dealt with Claire my dear. You do remember her don't you?"

Soviet Superwoman curled her lip and tried her best to push the pain aside. She bit down and stood at her full height, if not somewhat slouched. Her breathing was harsh and labored, but her eyes burned with a cold, blue intensity. Amazingly she began to feel stronger, like a shiver through her body. The effects of the pulse were already beginning to wane in the few seconds they had been talking. Unlike the gauntlets, this pulse apparently was not able to continually siphon her powers, only suppress them for a few minutes. The pain was still there and intense, but her wounds were beginning to mend slowly. If she could just keep her talking. Not giving her new-found revelation away, Olga nodded slowly.

"I remember that you did not even have the courage to shoot her face to face. That deep down Ilsa Hauppman, you are nothing but a coward who preys on those you perceive as weaker than yourself. Your precious Third Reich was defeated on this world just as it was on ours because those 'weak' peoples rose up and crushed it. Your legacy will always be nothing but failure and ruin. I wonder at times, what happened to you in childhood to make you the monster you became now.”

“Enough! Slavic ungeziefer, those will be your last words! Auf Wiedersehen Sowjetische Superfrau, but before you depart from this world to oblivion I want you to see the face of your killer. I want it to be the last image you see before darkness takes you. Grendel please remove your mask and kill this schwanzlutscher. Make sure that it's agonizingly painful and perfectly captured to show Walkiria before you kill her as well.”

Nodding, Grendel snapped out her wrist blades, like two gleaming silver points of light stabbing downwards in the darkness. Reaching up, she unclasped the gas-mask on the left side and removed her mask with a hissing sound...

To be continued...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A special thanks to for this fantastic image and all his help and support with telling the stories of Soviet Superwoman. So many good ideas my friend, it was so difficult not using them all!

Soviet Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman/Genocide and Grendel are creations of mine, as is the story presented above.

This takes place in her adopted home of