Humpdays 18

Artwork by:

Story by:

Written by:

Prior Chapter:

Next Chapter:


Book II: Seeing Reds, SSW vs. Walkiria.



Second Wednesday of the Month.




The Taynitsky Gardens are a part of the Kremlin that has retained more or less its original purpose. Since olden days, there had always been a garden along the Kremlin wall leading to the bank of the Moscow River. The gardens were named after the Taynitskaya Tower, situated in the center of the Kremlin fortifications on the Moscow River side. Olga landed near an obelisk that was erected in memory of Kremlin red guards who fell in battle during the civil war of 1918. The melodious chimes of the historic clock on the Spasskaya Tower were ringing and the sounds brought a smile to her face as she looked over the monument, running a gloved hand over its cold, marble surface. The smell of fresh tulips and roses immediately flooded her with a tidal wave of memories. She had come to this place many times in her own dimension, while waiting to meet with Stalin or Central Committee. Back then it was a quiet, tranquil place, surrounded by tall cherry trees and fragrant flowers of all varieties. Nowadays it was a bustling public park, full of tourists and natives alive who came here to drink in the rich heritage and beauty of the place. Vendors now sold ice creams and pretzels in this once isolated spot behind the cathedrals. There was even a helipad installed nearby for the President and other foreign dignitaries to avoid the terrible Moscow traffic. Olga's smile disappeared as she was reminded just how much things had changed in the sixty years she had lost in coming here. Sweeping her cape around her, the tall, amazonian woman made her way down the concrete path towards her appointment.


She passed the great, bronze statue of Lenin seated amid a copse of evergreen trees, his grandfatherly face looking towards the Kremlin. These gardens had been his favorite place to walk in the evenings, deep in contemplation. Stalin had brought his children to this wooded area to play hide and seek or chase the garden snakes and hedgehogs. He had come here with her once as well, to discuss the situation brewing in Korea, that the United States was attempting through its warmongering to ignite another global conflict. He had asked her if she was prepared for the possibility of going to war with her former allies, the US and Great Britain. At the time, she had said yes without hesitation and he had planted a warm, tobacco-scented kiss upon her cheek, explaining how he hoped it would not come to that. People were beginning to take notice of her now and cameras and cell phone began to furiously take pictures of her. The Soviet Superwoman standing next to a statue of Lenin was too great an opportunity to miss out on. It broke her out of her memory trance and she sighed, continuing on towards her meeting place, waving off autographs and personal photo-ops. She was not in the mood for it today.


"Cosmos" was a simple oak tree planted here by cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space in 1961. A bronze plaque was placed in front of the tree to commemorate the event, something Olga had never gotten the chance to witness during her own timeline. The aliens had made certain of that. As she approached the tree, she saw that the tourists and train of followers she had attracted were being met by suited individuals, Russian intelligence or police possibly who warned them off. The crowd was dispersing, no one wanting to make a scene or get arrested. A disheveled looking man in a black suit stood near "Cosmos". He looked to be middle-aged and slightly overweight with a mop of brown hair. The suit did not appear to be particularly expensive to her eyes and his shoes looked as worn and tired as the lines on his face. He stepped forwards her and held out his hands before dropping them down at his sides.


"Welcome to Moscow Mrs. Yezhov, I am Nikola Myshkin." he said in a raspy purr. "You certainly know how to make an appearance." He shook his head a few times, looking out over the crowd as they were being waved away.


Olga glanced around as the men that had dispersed the crowd seemed to disappear themselves, blending into the throng of people and trees. "I take it you are with the SVR or GRU?"


The man chuckled and placed his hands deep into his pockets. "Let's just say I work for the Russian government. Walk with me Olga...May I call you that?"


"Da."


"Good and you may call me Nikola." he smiled, his cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk. He began to stroll amongst the trees as he continued. Olga followed a few feet behind him, listening. "First let me tell you a bit about myself. I am a family man, married with a wife and two little girls, Fanya and Galina. I have lived in Moscow all my life, although I have been many other places, first with the military and later with my government work. I want you to know the great level of admiration I have for you. You are a hero and a patriot in the truest sense of the word. I remember watching you..."


"Please," Olga cut him off abruptly, "There is no need to flatter me. Just tell me what it is you called me here for Nikola."


"Ah, but it goes to the heart of it. Whereas I respect you and what you are doing, there are many here in your home that do not find you anything worthy of praise. Your own people, some of them anyway, see you as a strange dichotomy. On one hand, you seemingly love your nation and people so much that you refuse to stop wearing the symbol of the Soviet Union, especially given its negative implications abroad. A certain nostalgia for the Stalinist period is rising among many in Russia. Stalin himself is more popular now than during the last few years of his reign, did you know that? Earlier this year, the regional legislature decreed that the city of Volgograd, which was known as Stalingrad for a time as you know, should once again be known by its old name on days commemorating historical battles there. The Russian people crave national pride and strength and the old Soviet days are becoming more and more a source of inspiration. To many of them, you are a symbol of that national pride, one that they wish to come home"


"On the other hand," he continued, "you live in the United States and to many you appear as nothing more than a charlatan. Like a professional wrestler who uses a Soviet motif, they see you as a tool of the US who has grown accustomed to the trappings of Western culture. You dine on expensive foods, live in an expensive high-rise and of course, your marriage is another subject altogether."


"Da, I half expected to be arrested when I touched ground by the OMOH as I am promoting child endangerment." Olga sneered.


Nikola chuckled again. "I am not here to discuss Article 6.21. That is a topic for another time. Needless to say, you have lost a great deal of your support here through what they see on the television and read about in the magazines."


"I am not going to change who I am." The Soviet Superwoman replied, placing her hands on her hips.



"No-one is asking you to. I do however have a way for you to mend the fence with the government and it is for that reason that I have asked you here. We need your help in the placement and positioning of a new defense satellite. The original launch method we were attempting to use is not going to work. It will cause too much damage to the satellite. We have considered many other options as well, but it was I who suggested you could do this for us."



"Why?"


Nikola took his hands out of his pockets and dug out a half-crushed package of cigarettes. He pulled one free and lit it up with a shiny, flip-top lighter. "Because," he started, taking a drag on the cigarette, "You owe it to us."



"How is that?" Olga exclaimed, taken aback.



"Because of when you attacked Russia and sank one of her naval vessels, Russian battleship Pyotr Velikiy. Five years ago..."



"I remember." she replied, her tone now one of resignation, "I also remember the Russian government sending more than one assassin or operative to kill or arrest me in the five years since then."



"I am not privy to any of that," he continued taking another drag, "but I do know, from interviews with you and knowing the kind of person that I think you are, that you regret what happened. I think it may be the biggest regret of your life. I believe that more than anything, you wish you take it all back or barring that, that you could make amends for it. This is your opportunity."



The Siberian Guardsman had said something similar to her once last year: "You are a hero, politics be damned. You deserve to be able to reconcile with a nation that you share at least SOME history with. Olga, I know you are a hero. When I saw the footage of you attacking, I saw somebody frightened and confused. What I have seen of you here, though… This is who you truly are. A protector, a defender, a friend. “At the time she had tried to mend the fence with her homeland by going on patrols with the Russian hero. It had ended with a sneak attack in the streets of Angel Falls in an attempt to bring her to justice. Then there was Koschei the Deathless, the ancient Slavic legend given life, and what he had revealed to her about who held his leash. The Voyevoda...though that madman hadn't been sent by the government it was her actions that had brought him into conflict with her. Even with a second chance at life, he still struck at her friends and loved ones like a coward. She was so tired of it all. One mistake in her life and all the carnage and death that had followed her out of it. This man, Nikola Myshkin was offering her another chance to make things right, like the Guardsman had done. What choice did she have really? More than anything she wanted to start to heal her relations with Russia. She wanted their forgiveness for her actions. She wanted to be accepted by the Russian people so very badly.



"What kind of defensive satellite is this?" she asked curiously.



"It is a prototype laser defense system used to track and destroy hostile missiles. It has an advanced shielding array attached to it and that is what is causing the problems at launch. Standard methods of placing it in orbit might damage the array, thus making the entire venture fruitless."



Olga rolled it around in her head. Here was a chance to rectify the terrible mistake she had made, possibly once and for all. No more assassins and killers leaving a trail of innocent blood that led to her door. All she had to do was help the government this time, and while the slate would certainly not be wiped clean, the opportunity to slowly erase the past would be there. She could once again visit her beloved country and take in the sights and sounds so familiar to her, as well as see what was new and changed. There were so many issues here she could champion, the first of which being to speak with President Putin and the Duma about the anti-homosexual laws and see if perhaps they could be swayed to temper them down. Then there were the criminals, both metahuman and otherwise that she could help clean from the Russian streets. So much good she could do, so many lives she could touch. Part of her didn't want to get her hopes up again. What if this was another ruse on the part of the Russian government to capture or eliminate her?



"How can I know you are telling me the truth?" Olga asked warily.



"Look," Nikola began, "if you help us, you're right, I cannot guarantee that it will change things, but it is an opportunity and one that many powerful people would be watching and grateful for your help in. I can assure you however that this is not a trick or an attempt to arrest you my dear. On that you have my word."



"I will do it." Olga heard herself saying even before she had finished fully considering the situation.



"Wonderful!" Nikola beamed, his face lighting up like Father Christmas, "I have this for you..." the man fished hastily back into his pocket for a small electronic device that looked like a high-tech earpiece. "This is a communication device, very expensive and cutting edge technology. I have the other receiver and this way I can give you instructions."



The Soviet Superwoman took the device and turned it over in her hand. "When do you need me to do this?"



"As soon as possible." he nodded, "If you need to go back to your home and explain things, I understand. Just contact me when you are ready and I will let you know where to meet."



Olga nodded in return. She hadn't considered it, but letting Maia know what she was doing and what was going on was probably for the best. A quick flight back out to Angel Falls and then she could return here and begin the healing process, or so she hoped.



Myshkin held out his hand with its nicotine stained-fingers. "Thank you Olga. I hope this is just the beginning of our friendship."



The raven-haired woman took his hand and shook it. His grip was strong and something about the look in his eyes made her believe he was being genuine. "Thank you Nikola. I hope so as well."


To be continued...

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

Soviet Superwoman and Nikola Myshkin are my creations and property.

This takes place in the universe of stories.