Continued from:

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Mature Content

Where has Maia been and what's been going on behind the scenes? Check it out here:

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Mature Content

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Mature Content

Angel Falls, USA
The penthouse apartment of Olga and Maia

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Olga awoke several hours later, sore and bruised. The Russian brunette rose from bed aching like she had been in a prolonged fight with Ultrawoman rather than simply having sexual relations with her wife. She rubbed the purple blotches on her thigh and stood up, gingerly taking the few steps to the closet. The Soviet super-soldier pulled on some fresh clothing and visited the bathroom before finally leaving the bedroom. The stairs leading down felt worse on her sore body, but the pain started to subside a bit the more she moved around. So far Maia was nowhere to be seen. Olga walked over to the coffee table where the remote control for the entertainment system was and turned it on. The television clicked to life almost at the same time O.D.I.N.'s electronic voice piped up from her sub-dermal communicator.


"Hello Olga, I hope you slept well."


"Hello O.D.I.N., where is my wife?" Olga asked as she flipped through the channels, sitting on the couch.


"She had to leave I'm afraid. She wanted me to remind you not to watch the news stations. In your present condition if you were to see some crime or disaster happening you might not resist rushing out to help."


"Yes, how could I possibly forget I had no super-powers right now?" Olga said rolling her eyes. "So where did she go?"


"Your wife is currently working on solving your current dilemma and is meeting with someone to that effect." O.D.I.N. answered, yet didn't.


"Who is she meeting with? I assumed we were keeping this very quiet."


"Well, I must confess I do not know myself. She did not inform me." O.D.I.N. replied in a sheepish tone.


"Do you know if anyone has located Atomica?"


"To the bets of my knowledge, Atomica is still at large ma'am."


Olga sighed and settled on watching the History channel as they discussed yet another program about Hitler and his rise to power. It was always fun to compare Der Fuhrer of her Earth with the one from here. After a few minutes she rose, making her way into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. She frowned after glancing inside and opened the next one...and the next one. Finally the Soviet Superwoman crossed her arms and let out a deep huff.


"O.D.I.N....where is all of my vodka? Or any of the alcohol for that matter?"


"Your wife took it and placed it somewhere. She wanted to make sure you weren't here getting 'black-out drunk', as she put it, given your current situation. As to what she did with it, I am not certain ma'am."


"Дерьмо!" Olga snarled, slamming the cabinet shut. "She does not want me to go anywhere, she does not want me to drink, she does not want me watching the news..."


"I understand how frustrating this must all be for you, but I assure you that she has your best interests at heart. You know that she is doing this because she loves you and wants to keep you safe."


Olga returned to the living room and threw herself down on the couch, a scowl on her beautiful face. She wasn't even interested in watching the black and white archival program anymore.


"No one understands how this feels. I could not even enjoy coupling with my Возлюбленный. I feel every ache and pain. The room here is too cold...and I look like I am shrinking, becoming a shadow of myself with each passing moment."


"Well I can certainly adjust the temperature for you." O.D.I.N. answered, trying to be helpful.


"Da, please. I will fix a snack and watch some television until she comes back then."


The Russian woman stood up and made her way back towards the kitchen, limping slightly.  Just before she reached it however she darted quickly towards the front door, conviently losing the "limp" she had a moment before, and thrust it open before O.D.I.N. could react and activate the security locks.


"Olga, what are you doing? Where do you think you are going?" O.D.I.N. asked, anxiety in his computerized voice.


"I am leaving. I will be back later, but I will not stay trapped up here, nyet. Goodbye, tell Maia I will be back soon and not to worry. Even powerless I can take care of myself like normal woman." Olga said as she reached up and began to peel off the communication device from behind her right ear.


"I must strongly object to this AND to you removing that Olga..." was the last thing she heard before she tossed the tiny device onto the kitchen counter and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.


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"Maia, I hate to interrupt but we have a problem." O.D.I.N.'s voice crackled to life in Walkiria's ear as she cut through the air to her destination and meeting point.


"What's wrong?" the red-haired amazon asked with more than a hint of concern in her voice.


"It's Olga ma'am, she has left the premises and removed her communicator."


"Dammit!" Maia cursed, stopping in mid-air. She punched a green gloved fist into the palm of her other hand, creating a loud popping sound. "Where is she?"


"Without her communicator I am not able to track her with the chip, but I am already working on using satellites to locate her. She was last seen getting into a yellow cab and heading towards downtown. The cab number was..."


"Just find her O.D.I.N. and watch her. I can't put this meeting off to deal with her recklessness. I'm trying to help her even if she won't help herself. If God-forbid something should happen let me know, or locate the nearest Guardian."


"I will ma'am and I apologize. I think it was the lack of alcohol that set her off." O.D.I.N. responded quickly.


"Probably. I love her to death but wow does she like to take risks with her own life."


The muscular superheroine shook her head before resuming her flight with earnest.

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Olga swiftly made her way to the Solyanka bar, a little Russian place she always enjoying going to when she could. O.D.I.N. might not be able to track her by her communicator, but she knew he was would be trying to locate her by satellite, cameras and surveillance systems and through any credit card transactions. After the cab ride she made her way to an ATM and took out some cash, knowing full well he knew exactly where she was. Part of it was thrilling in a way, like a Cold War spy movie that the Americans seemed to always enjoy. She was the dangerous Russian agent trying to make her way to the safe zone before she was apprehended, either by Maia or by another member of the Guardians, determined to take her back to sit on a couch for however long. Cash in hand she ducked, weaved and doubled back her entire trip to the bar on foot. It wasn't a long walk and the sounds and smells of the city made her feel normal again. Olga moved through several crowds of everyday people and no-one seemed to really recognize her. Part of that bothered her as it meant her physical appearance wasn't even the same person anymore. It was someone alien to them and to herself, a shadow of who she had spent her live becoming. All she wanted to do was sit in a happy, comfortable environment and have a few drinks. The food at Solyanka was always good as well and she savored some Хлебные Гренки  – fried brown bread with a cheese sauce.


The owner was a heavy-set man named Anatole with a mop of sweaty brown hair and the smell of cheap cigars that always seemed to follow him around. He was helping tend bar this evening, chatting with patrons (or making bad jokes more often than not) as he absently mixed various drinks. When Olga approached the bar, Anatole nodded at her beofre blinking and almost doing a double take.


"Olga, is that you?" he asked, his eyes moving all across her.


"Da, is me." Olga nodded before leaning in close, "Do not draw attention, I am fine. This is for undercover operation."


"Ah...but...why..."


Olga cut him off, smiling as best she could, "I am fine my old friend and very glad this, er, magical disguise works so well. I have a few hours before I must meet my contact and wanted to get a few drinks."


Anatole took a moment for it to soak in before smiling back, even winking, "I see, for a moment you had me worried. Your usual then?"


"Da, and keep them coming."


To be continued...
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A big thanks to my old friend Nathan Dayspring for this artwork!

Walkiria belongs to

Soviet Superwoman & Atomica, as well as the story are my creations and properties.

This story takes place in