Just a hint of friction...

Art by TGK

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Text by

Olga the Soviet Superwoman is property of  and used with permission

Detective Angie Stewart is property of and appears with his permission.

Taking place in the setting



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The Soviet Superwoman strode in through the flashing strobe lights and loud techno music. The dark, smoky inner chamber of Club Sin was bathed in white, red and blue lighting that danced and flickered across her gray and black costume. Cape billowing out behind her, the Soviet juggernaut made a beeline for the back tables where she knew her quarry was waiting. Security moved in quickly in a vain attempt to stop the angry looking heroine. The first guard, a tall man dressed in a expensive looking black suit surged towards her and thrust his hand out onto her right shoulder. The caped woman spun around, throwing the man head over heels over the side of the railing and down into the dance pit below where he landed with a tremendous thud. Immediately screams and shrieks began to fill the room, threatening to drown out the electronic beat as fingers pointed through the darkened club to where Olga was engaging the security. The next man, bearded and wearing a brown jacket took a swing at her head. The blow was easily deflected off her forearm and a solid punch to the face was issued in return, dropping the man unconscious immediately as she continued making her way to the back.

　

The next man in a biker jacket rushed towards her, throwing his fist out in a wild swinging arc. Olga took a step back as the man over-extended himself and reared back smashing him the teeth with her gloved fist. As that man dropped another man ran up on her from behind, this one carrying a slender blade like a switchblade or balisong. He thrust the gleaming metal forward only to have it fold in half on contact with her back, only succeeding in cutting her costume open about an inch. The Russian whipped him around by the arm, slamming her fist down on his elbow and shattering his arm before sending him flying backwards with a second blow to the head. These goons were lucky she was holding back her colossal strength and only rendering them unconscious with a few broken bones. A heavy set man with a square jaw now rushed her, slamming into her with his ponderous girth. Upon realizing that he hadn't even moved her backwards a centimeter he came up swinging. Olga grabbed him under his armpit and hefted him up and down over the railing. The final bodyguard leapt towards the Soviet that was still walking forward and pulled what looked like a Glock. Rushing him with a burst of super-speed she rammed him into the railing and offered him a crippling punch to the gut. As he sank to the floor she retrieved his firearm and crushed it into a ball, tossing it behind her.

　

The woman at the table clapped as she approached. She was still surrounded by about four or five guards, but these ones didn't seem as stupid or as willing to get hurt. Tatiana Romanova crossed her knee-high boots and put down her slender cigarette in an ornate ashtray. Every inch of her voluptious, lush body was perfectly highlighted in the flashing strobe lights here. She leaned forward, letting a lock of her straight, solid-black hair fall down over one of her eyes. When she spoke her voice had a definite Russian accent, but unlike Olga's clunky English hers was as smooth a velvet glove caressing her milky thighs.

　

"Olga Yezhov. My club has a very strict dress policy. I shall have to fire my doorman I see."

　

Olga stood stony faced in front of her before leaning in to meet her gaze, placing both of her hands down on top of the tabletop. "Tatiana Romanova...better known as Madame Darkness. I stopped a shipment of your designer drugs from hitting the streets earlier tonight. Do the names Leon Timm or Smooth Blue mean anything to you?"

　

"Should they? And for the record I have no idea what drugs you are referring to."

　

"Leon Timm," Olga continued her eyes locked on the smaller woman's, "is the biggest drug dealer for the east quarter of Angel Falls. It took quite a lot of pressure to get him to reveal your name."

　

"Bravo," Madame Darkness quipped, sitting back in her chair, her incredible valley of cleavage on display for everyone to see now, "you caught some dirt bag drug dealer. I'm sure he would say anything to incriminate anyone but himself. I presume you have some other evidence?"

　

The Soviet Superwoman pointed in her face. "I will be watching you and your club. Who is coming in. Who is going out. Who is not coming out."

　

Taitiana curled her lip. "Are you threatening me you little крестьянский

<peasant> girl? You have no evidence and yet you come in here, disrupt my clientele, injure and maim my security and then you dare to threaten me? On the word of a known drug dealer? This is not the Soviet Union you backwards trollop. You are not the KGB and this is not Moscow. Sucking off Stalin does not win you any special privileges here. I could call the fucking mayor now, or the chief of police and have you brought up on charges. Both of them are personal friends of mine."

　

"I suppose they are the ones getting the suck treatment then?"

　

Madame Darkness smiled, her perfect white teeth akin to a shark. "Also none of your damn business. You know I had been wanting to meet you since I arrived and learned you were here. Surely even someone as ignorant and degenerate as you can recognize this?" She held out her arm, clad in a long black leather glove. On her delicate ring finger was a heavy golden ring emblazoned with a black double-headed eagle. Olga's looked at it for a moment. She had seen it in her past long ago, but even then it was nothing but a relic of the empire that had preceded the Soviets.

　

"That is the royal crest of the Romanov house. Clearly you think you are related to that..."

　

Tatiana stood up violently, her eyes blazing with such a hatred that her security stepped away from her. "I AM a Romanov! My family and all my future generations were systematically wiped out and murdered by you and your fucking Reds. I am living proof that you failed even at that! Your Oktober Revolution only brought down my noble house and subjected our people...MY people to death by pogroms, gulag and starvation. Over 20 million Russians dead and yet you dare to wear that symbol in my club and threaten me?"

　

"You are mistaken, I am not from this world," Olga started to reply.

　

"Oh, that’s right, in your world Stalin had you as a super-weapon to enact his reign of terror. I bet he was a kinder gentler maniac there, greater power usually brings out the best in people." Tatiana spat out, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Tell me фермы äåâóøêà <farm girl>, did they ever let you out so you could see the conditions for yourself, or were you kept on a short leash so you would only see what they wanted you to see?"

　

Olga paused, flinching a bit as the club owner’s words struck a nerve. It was true she had an assigned handler; to make sure her actions were politically acceptable and couldn’t be used as propaganda by Stalin’s political foes. Olga had gotten the impression that the times she did meet the Soviet public the events were carefully organized, and never spontaneous.

　

"I am sure you were never allowed to see the bread lines, the people starving as you were kept in your golden cage. Did you see how many loyal Russians died because of Stalin’s paranoia? How our army lost men because able generals were assassinated because Stalin feared their talent and successes would make them a threat to his hold on power? Or did none of that happen on your world as well?" Tatiana asked, venom dripping off every word.

　

The Russian superheroine paused, her mind in turmoil. It was true there had been purges of disloyal officers during her time. Some of the officers had been men she had fought along side of. Men that she had a hard time believing were disloyal. But she had been assured by Stalin himself that there was solid proof against each and every one of them.

　

"Nothing to say? Or is it that your simple peasant brain is beginning to grasp the truth? You are a fool, Olga Yezhov, a ignorant tool of a corrupt regime who’s symbol you proudly wear into my club, my home. How dare you?" Tatiana continued, her voice rising in volume. The violet-eyed beauty punctuated every word with a hard poke of her finger into the Superwoman’s muscular pectorals.

　

Olga winced at the sharp pain she felt as Tatiana’s finger beat a tattoo on her chest. The club owner’s rage was practically a physical force. Her eyes seemed to glow, surely a trick of the club’s cutting edge lighting systems. This conversation had taken a turn into waters the Soviet heroine was not entirely comfortable swimming in. "Say what you want, I am putting you on notice. This drug you are peddling will be your downfall, Ms. Romanova. It is just a matter of time before I can link you to this drug, then you be wearing a new costume. One with prison stripes."

　

Tatiana met Olga’s gaze without blinking. "If I had any idea what you were speaking of, I might be concerned. Now if you are finished hurling unfounded accusations and injuring my employees, I have a performance to prepare for and medical attention to arrange for my men. You are welcome to come back and watch, once you change into something less offensive to the eye. In fact, next time you come, call ahead, I will reserve a table for you, and have the bar fill a trough with vodka for you."

　

Several people snickered at that last comment, and Olga felt her face grow red with shame. Reports of her excessive drinking had graced the front pages of several scandal rags and tabloid publications. "Remember what I said," she retorted before spinning around and making a bee line for the nearest exit. She swore she could feel Tatiana’s gaze follow her all the way out, burning a hole between her shoulder blades.

　

Madame Darkness eyes still seemed to glow as she watched the heroine leave the club. When the Soviet Superwoman was no longer visible Tatiana sat back down and opened the ornate golden cigarette box. Retrieving a fresh cigarette, she brought it to her glistening lips. Immediately Galen lit his lighter, holding the flame to the tip of the custom made smoke.

"Do you want us to take care of her, Madame?" he asked, his eyes flashing red with restrained rage.

　

Tatiana turned to look at her head of security. The "us" he was referring to was undoubted the werewolf pack he was the Alpha of. "No, while I would enjoy seeing how she fared against a pack of Lycans, your people are too important to waste on a piece of dung like her. Besides, ,she is too high profile to suddenly go missing. No, there are better ways to deal with her, other vulnerabilities to exploit."

　

"And what about Leon?" the Lycan asked, his deep voice rumbling.

　

"First, call his second in command, I believe that would be Big Rosie. Tell Rosie he just got a promotion. Then have the East Side operation move to the back up location immediate and have the primary site sanitized. Then see if Leon was turned over to the police. If he was, arrange for him to get the best lawyer money can buy. Tell him we understand he was coerced and not to worry, we will take care of him. If he isn’t in custody, make sure he gets any medical attention he needs. No telling what that Cossack bitch did to make him talk."

　

"And the police?" Galen asked.

　

"Let me find out what they know, or what they think they know. I believe another date with Detective Angie is in order," Tatiana said with a smile, thinking of the young police woman currently enthralled by Madame Darkness’s sexual magic. The detective had no idea she was acting as an informant for Madame Darkness, giving her confidential police information whenever they met for a tryst.

　

Turning her thoughts back to the Soviet Superwoman, Tatiana’s lips curved into a cruel smile. "And then give Mr. Bosco a call. I want him to tail our Russian gadfly. Tell him to be discrete, but do some digging into her background, anything he can find out. If there is any juicy dirt, Benny Bosco is the one to find out.

　

"If you say so," Galen said, sounding unconvinced.

　

"Now Galen, I know different species of weres don’t get along well. But the wererat private detective is very good at his job. And if he is discovered somehow, he is expendable."

　

"Yeah, there is that," Galen was forced to agree. "Anything else I can do?"

　

"Just make sure anyone injured by the peasant коровье <cow’s> stampede receives whatever first aid they need. Oh, and make sure they all get a bonus, let’s say an extra month’s salary as a combat bonus."

　

The big Lycan smiled and nodded. "They will appreciate that," he remarked.

　

Tatiana returned his smile with one of her own. Leaning back on the couch, she inhaled then blew out a plume of smoke. Already her mind was formulating plans on how to best repay the Soviet Superwoman for her actions tonight.

　

　

******

　

"Olga, you were very quiet tonight, is everything okay?" Walkiria asked as she heard her wife move around in the bathroom after her shower.

　

The Russian heroine stepped out of the bathroom, an oversized white cotton bath towel wrapped around her body. Olga finished drying her short black hair with another towel and tossed it towards the laundry hamper. "I am fine, just thinking about what that woman said to me. I think she actually believes she is Russian royalty. But some of the things she said, they have me unsettled. Do you think it is possible to do the right thing, for the wrong people?"

　

"Wow, that’s a loaded question, if ever I heard one. But the short answer is yes, I do. My experiences in the military taught me that, the hard way on a few occasions. Don’t let her get in your head, if what you suspect is true, she will try to distract you by making you question yourself." Maia turned around on the bench in front of her vanity. Unlike Olga, she was dressed in semi-transparent camisole that did little to hide her body from view. Reaching out, she took her wife’s hand and pulled her closer. "Why don’t you relax and let me make you forget all about that mean club owner?" Maia said in a husky voice.

　

Olga smiled, familiar enough with her wife to know what that tone of voice meant. "Well, I suppose I could let you try. If you think you are up to the task?" she said.

　

Maia licked her lips in anticipation as she reached out to pull the towel away from her wife’s body. The cotton towel fell to the floor to pool at Olga’s feet. "Oh, I promise to do my best not to disappoint you, my sexy lover," the red haired heroine replied as her hands ran over the curves of Olga’s hips. Maia’s gaze swept up her wife’s naked body with obvious hunger. "Good thing I put fresh batteries in Mr. Squirmy last night, just in case we…" Mai’s voice faltered suddenly. "Olga, what happened to you?" she asked, standing up swiftly.

　

The Russian woman looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked in puzzlement.

　

Maia stepped aside so Olga could look in the vanity mirror. High on her chest, in the center of her left pectoral were a series of dark blue bruises that marred the normally invulnerable skin. Olga reached up, touching the area and suddenly becoming aware of the lingering soreness where Madame Darkness had poked her with her finger. The Russian looked at her wife in bewilderment, unsure of what to say.

　

To be continued ??