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Description
Continued from:

Leningrad, U.S.S.R.
June 15th, 1955

Конец света.

That is what they called it: The end of the world. I will never forget that horrible morning. It is burned into my mind. More terrible than the siege of Leningrad. More horrific than the horrors I found at Stalingrad. More heart-wrenching than anything I found at Auschwitz or Sajmište. Doomsday. It was the day they came. It is only recently here, far away and in another dimension, that I learn what they finally called themselves. I still do not know what it is they wanted. Did they want our resources, our oils and precious metals? Was it just as the Reich and what they wanted was lebensraum because their own world was overpopulated? Was it simply because they hated us for some unknown reason. I wish that I knew and at the same time I never want to know. It is enough that they came and brought nothing but death and destruction in their wake on the fifth of June, 1955.

I was at Leningrad. When I look back on this now I can appreciate the irony. It was here in that once burned-out, shell of a city that I first utilized my tremendous powers to drive off a powerful enemy invader and it would be here that I would fail with another. I had come here to witness the first run of the new rapid transit system in a beautiful station decorated with marble and bronze. So much had changed in the last ten years. The "Hero City" named for our glorious leader Lenin was unrecognizable from the place that the Germans had laid siege to for over eight-hundred days and that had seen the deaths of over a million people. Leningrad had transformed into a major trade gateway and financial and industrial center for the U.S.S.R. A financial and cultural gem in the crown of our great empire.

The first indication that something was wrong was a low humming sound in the air. It began slowly and gradually become more and more noticeable. It caused the teeth in our mouths to ache and our temples to throb. Those of us assembled began to get terrible headaches that grew worse with each passing moment, the humming sound becoming louder and more pronounced. Even I was not immune to this sensations. I rushed outside with so many others to find the source of this strange noise. Once outside it was apparent that something was terribly wrong. What had once been a cloudless, sunny summer day had become darkened as if a tremendous storm was approaching. The winds had picked up significantly and black, angry clouds had filled the sky. The noise seemed to come from all around us, pulsating with a steady droning rhythm. Everyone stared up into the sky, shielding their eyes with their arms from a rain that never came. Eyes that were filled with fear and confusion. Terrified people simply pointed their fingers and watched.

Then it appeared. A gigantic vessel of such proportions I had never seen before emerged from the blackening clouds. It was sharp and angular looking with hundreds of jutting, scythe-like arms as it descending, filling the sky with it's enormity. The noise seemed to be coming from the ship itself, though from the engines or another power source I did not know. Everyone stared it this behemoth transfixed, rooted to the spot. I confess that I myself stood there with my cape billowing and my jaw dropped open. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. Was this a sneak attack from the Americans? They had been aggressively building newer and better jet fighters and planes to dominate the skies the last few years. Their space program was nothing more than a cover for their testing of new weapons of war, a smokescreen meant to fool our spies and lie to their populace about their true intentions. I had even heard rumors about a super-soldier they had created to replace the late Colonel Smith; a woman with powers equal to mine though I had never encountered such a being since his death over two years ago.

Could this have been a revenge machine from the Germans that were still hiding and had escaped justice after the war? Hermann von Trotha was dead but had his legacy of advanced technology and terror weapons lived on through other scientists and SS men loyal to him? Ilsa Hauppman had never been accounted for either, a constant painful reminder that I had never truly been able to avenge the thousands of deaths at her hands including my beloved Claire. Otto Skorzeny, Mengele, Himmler, the hideous von Farben...how many of them had managed to slip away, plotting and planning patiently for a moment just like this one. How many of them had been given help by the Americans.

As my mind raced to think of what this could have been, thousands upon thousands of smaller versions of the same strange aircraft began to launch forth from the larger vessel. A veritable swarm of strange aerial machines unlike any ever imagined. They raced towards the earth at incredible speeds and the hum and pulse increased dramatically. People now began to break and run in all directions screaming in panic and fear. Mothers grabbed their children and fled in panic and some of the men did the same. Soldiers ran around me, their boots clattering on the sidewalks. They held their rifles and machine guns and charged as if they were suddenly back in the Great Patriotic War. Air raid sirens began to peal out all over the city. I held my ground and stared up at this invasion force, for what else could it have been? I was foolishly still convinced it was the Americans up until they began to fire their weapons and reduced once proud Leningrad and the population of it into ash and cinders.

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

Not my longest story but I wanted it to be from Soviet Superwoman's point of view and I think that the incredible image created by and commissioned by speaks for itself.

I promise a much more lengthy tale next outing.

Soviet Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman, Hermann von Trotha and Claire are all my creations and property as is the story.

This takes place in the home dimension of Soviet Superwoman and will expose a great deal more about her history.

Description
Continued from:

Leningrad, U.S.S.R.
June 15th, 1955

Конец света.

That is what they called it: The end of the world. I will never forget that horrible morning. It is burned into my mind. More terrible than the siege of Leningrad. More horrific than the horrors I found at Stalingrad. More heart-wrenching than anything I found at Auschwitz or Sajmište. Doomsday. It was the day they came. It is only recently here, far away and in another dimension, that I learn what they finally called themselves. I still do not know what it is they wanted. Did they want our resources, our oils and precious metals? Was it just as the Reich and what they wanted was lebensraum because their own world was overpopulated? Was it simply because they hated us for some unknown reason. I wish that I knew and at the same time I never want to know. It is enough that they came and brought nothing but death and destruction in their wake on the fifth of June, 1955.

I was at Leningrad. When I look back on this now I can appreciate the irony. It was here in that once burned-out, shell of a city that I first utilized my tremendous powers to drive off a powerful enemy invader and it would be here that I would fail with another. I had come here to witness the first run of the new rapid transit system in a beautiful station decorated with marble and bronze. So much had changed in the last ten years. The "Hero City" named for our glorious leader Lenin was unrecognizable from the place that the Germans had laid siege to for over eight-hundred days and that had seen the deaths of over a million people. Leningrad had transformed into a major trade gateway and financial and industrial center for the U.S.S.R. A financial and cultural gem in the crown of our great empire.

The first indication that something was wrong was a low humming sound in the air. It began slowly and gradually become more and more noticeable. It caused the teeth in our mouths to ache and our temples to throb. Those of us assembled began to get terrible headaches that grew worse with each passing moment, the humming sound becoming louder and more pronounced. Even I was not immune to this sensations. I rushed outside with so many others to find the source of this strange noise. Once outside it was apparent that something was terribly wrong. What had once been a cloudless, sunny summer day had become darkened as if a tremendous storm was approaching. The winds had picked up significantly and black, angry clouds had filled the sky. The noise seemed to come from all around us, pulsating with a steady droning rhythm. Everyone stared up into the sky, shielding their eyes with their arms from a rain that never came. Eyes that were filled with fear and confusion. Terrified people simply pointed their fingers and watched.

Then it appeared. A gigantic vessel of such proportions I had never seen before emerged from the blackening clouds. It was sharp and angular looking with hundreds of jutting, scythe-like arms as it descending, filling the sky with it's enormity. The noise seemed to be coming from the ship itself, though from the engines or another power source I did not know. Everyone stared it this behemoth transfixed, rooted to the spot. I confess that I myself stood there with my cape billowing and my jaw dropped open. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. Was this a sneak attack from the Americans? They had been aggressively building newer and better jet fighters and planes to dominate the skies the last few years. Their space program was nothing more than a cover for their testing of new weapons of war, a smokescreen meant to fool our spies and lie to their populace about their true intentions. I had even heard rumors about a super-soldier they had created to replace the late Colonel Smith; a woman with powers equal to mine though I had never encountered such a being since his death over two years ago.

Could this have been a revenge machine from the Germans that were still hiding and had escaped justice after the war? Hermann von Trotha was dead but had his legacy of advanced technology and terror weapons lived on through other scientists and SS men loyal to him? Ilsa Hauppman had never been accounted for either, a constant painful reminder that I had never truly been able to avenge the thousands of deaths at her hands including my beloved Claire. Otto Skorzeny, Mengele, Himmler, the hideous von Farben...how many of them had managed to slip away, plotting and planning patiently for a moment just like this one. How many of them had been given help by the Americans.

As my mind raced to think of what this could have been, thousands upon thousands of smaller versions of the same strange aircraft began to launch forth from the larger vessel. A veritable swarm of strange aerial machines unlike any ever imagined. They raced towards the earth at incredible speeds and the hum and pulse increased dramatically. People now began to break and run in all directions screaming in panic and fear. Mothers grabbed their children and fled in panic and some of the men did the same. Soldiers ran around me, their boots clattering on the sidewalks. They held their rifles and machine guns and charged as if they were suddenly back in the Great Patriotic War. Air raid sirens began to peal out all over the city. I held my ground and stared up at this invasion force, for what else could it have been? I was foolishly still convinced it was the Americans up until they began to fire their weapons and reduced once proud Leningrad and the population of it into ash and cinders.

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

Not my longest story but I wanted it to be from Soviet Superwoman's point of view and I think that the incredible image created by and commissioned by speaks for itself.

I promise a much more lengthy tale next outing.

Soviet Superwoman, Ilsa Hauppman, Hermann von Trotha and Claire are all my creations and property as is the story.

This takes place in the home dimension of Soviet Superwoman and will expose a great deal more about her history.