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March 3
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Humpdays 36 by Soviet-Superwoman Humpdays 36 by Soviet-Superwoman

Artwork by: :iconjohnnyharadrim:


Story by: :iconandrewr255: :iconsoviet-superwoman:


Written by: :iconsoviet-superwoman: & :iconteri-minx:


Prior: Humpdays 35 by Soviet-Superwoman

Continued: Humpdays 36.5 by andrewr255


Book II: Seeing Reds, SSW vs. Walkiria


"I wanted to thank you," Natalia Myshkin said in a soft voice as she and her youngest daughter Galina made their way through the rows of tombstones and silent momuments, "for quite a few things. Firstly for coming out here to pay your respects with us, your wife and you."

Olga nodded and walked along-side her, Maia trailing a few feet further back. Olga was clad fully in her costume and felt a tad uneasy. Mrs. Myshkin however had requested that she wear her colors proudly, in honor of her late husband. Maia decided upon wearing a thick overcoat over her own emerald garb. Mrs. Myshkin stopped and glanced over at the throng of reporters and papparazzi that had gathered just outside the gates to the cemetary, snapping photographs and shouting questions. Olga looked over as well and frowned slightly. They were all doing their best to block them out, but it was becoming apparent that it was an excerise in futility.

"It is an honor Mrs. Myshkin." she said at last, "Your husband saved not only my own life and that of my beloved, but the lives of millions of other people."

Natalia nodded her response, not breaking her cold gaze at the media blitz happening only a few feet away. The uniformed police were doing their best to keep people from climbing over the wrought iron or making too much of a spectacle, but it clearly wasn't the quiet, somber occasion she had hoped it would be. After a few moments that seemed like hours, Mrs. Myshkin sighed, looking away and down at her daughter. The young girl wasn't much older than ten or twelve with the same straw colored hair as her mother. Both surviving members of Nikola's family were clad in black, their heads covered in crisp, white shawls. Olga continued to stare at the feeding frenzy until Maia's hand on her shoulder took her away from the moment and back to reality.

"I'll go deal with that." Walkiria said between clenched teeth before softening her expression and looking over at Mrs. Myshkin.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Your husband was a brave man and he deserves respect. You deserve the same respect so I'll let you and my wife continue on while I take care of the media. I'll meet back up with you."

Natalia smiled, a bit of color returning to her thin, white lips. "Thank you, it is appreciated."

As the tall, statuesque red-head made her way over to the fence, the two women and the little girl continued on to their destination.

"He really did admire you, you know," Natalia continued as they resumed walking, "When he was younger he was a member of the Party and worked for the KGB after a stint with the army. Such a dashing figure he cut back in those days. I fell in love with him instantly, a Russian James Bond who swept me off my feet. He enjoyed playing that part. After the Soviet Union collapsed he continued to work for the government, but he became more disillusioned over time. So much crime, so much corruption. He saw you as an example of the best of us. He followed your history here and wanted so badly to meet you. He said often that if this nation only had such a patriot and a hero, then maybe things could be better."

"Mrs. Myshkin, I do not..."

"Don't say anything, let me finish." Natalia said firmly, cutting her off. The din of the media was becoming farther and farther away and much quieter. "Anyway, he was given this opportunity to meet with you and ask you to help the government. He was so excited, positively giddy. It was something he had looked forward to for a long time, the chance to work with you and possibly invite you back home again. He never thought he was being used..."

Natalia stopped and her eyes squeezed shut. The smaller woman took a few deep breaths and held her daughter tightly, her knuckles whitening.

"In any event I know he would have wanted you here Mrs. Yezhov and it gives me the opportunity to thank you."

"Thank me?" Olga said, looking confused, "Mrs. Myshkin, you have no reason to thank me. Your husband was the real hero on that day."

"I know what he did and I know why he did it. Because he was a good man who believed in and was inspired by a good woman."

The small gathering stopped as they reached the simply adorned grave of Nikola Myshkin and stopped. There would be no great monuments to this man, no parades thrown in his honor yet he had sacrificed so much for so many. Olga stared at the grave-marker, her eyes growing wet with tears. She had only known him for a brief time and yet, he had left such a permanent mark on her life, even beyond saving her life and the life of her beloved. He had restored her faith in people and in humanity. He had shown her that one man could make a difference again.

"Evil only triumphs when good men do nothing." Olga said in a quiet voice.

Natalia placed her hand on the larger woman's arm and was about to say something when her voice cracked and all that came out was a little sound. She did her best to regain her composure, wiping her eyes and finally taking her daughter by the hand. The two women stepped directly in front of the grave and began to pray and say their goodbyes.


Maia left Olga and the Myshkin's at the grave site and made her way over to the iron fence. The group of paparazzi continued taking pictures and shouting questions as she approached the tall wrought iron barrier surrounding the graveyard. The questions were mostly in Russian with a smattering of English ones as well. As Maia stepped up to the fence she held up her hand for silence. Her expression hardened as her gaze swept the assembled crowd of photographers. Maia waited until the cacophony died down enough for her to speak. "Twenty seconds," she stated flatly. "двадцать секунд," she repeated in Russian. Slowly and deliberately she began to count in Russian. "один... два... три..."

The photographers' and reporters' expressions slowly changed from curiosity to doubt. As they watched, the American heroine continued to count slowly. They exchanged looks as they tried to decipher her actions. The shouted questions changed to worried murmurs as Maia's hands began to crackle with ever increasing levels of ionic energy. At the same time, her green eyes changed to their natural state. The entire surface of her eyes was replaced with a swirling mix of purple, magenta, and orange energy swirls that blazed brighter as her energy levels increased. The sight increased the apprehension the crowd of media personnel were starting to feel. By the time she reached "ten" the paparazzi closest to her began to back away, bumping into and pushing against those behind them. At "fifteen" the snow around Maia's feet had begun to melt from the energy she was radiating. At "eighteen" the reporters and photographers began to flee in undisguised panic as the police officers shouted for them to leave the area.

By the time Maia reached twenty the crowd has dissipated like a morning fog in the heat of the rising sun. The nearest paparazzi were across the street, content with taking pictures through large telephoto lenses. The only people still remaining at the fence were a trio of serious-faced men in brown overcoats. They stood by calmly as Maia reduced her energy levels back to normal. Once Maia's hands and eyes returned to normal one of the men stepped towards the fence.

"I imagine you could make a good living in your Hollywood; providing that service for the movie stars," the man stated with a smile.

Maia couldn't resist a short laugh. "I already have a day job. But I'll keep in mind in case I fall on hard times," she replied.

The man gestured towards the gate in the cemetery fence. "May I ?" he asked.

The American Heroine nodded then watched as the three men moved to the gate. The man who had spoken to Maia opened the gate and stepped inside. His two companions took up flanking positions on either side of the gate. The man walked directly up to Maia and offered his right hand. As she took it to shake hello the insignia ring on his ring finger caught her attention.

"A pleasure to meet you Ms. Walkiria. I am Colonel Andrei Ivanov. I am..."

"Our official shadow?" Maia finished for him. "I spotted you and your two friends back when we left the General Committee Building. I thought I spotted you once while we were being driven to the Myshkin's home, but your driver is very good. I could never be certain."

The Russian colonel smiled. "I will pass on your compliment. We are just here to make sure the remainder of your visit goes smoothly," he explained.

"And you couldn't do anything about that group?" Maia asked.

"Well, if we lived in the Russia the conspirators you stopped wanted they would all have been given official photos and an official statement. Any of them that would have tried to get more would have been sent to the gulags. But our leaders want to show the world we are a modern progressive country. So we have to allow the press these liberties."

"Perhaps, but I think Nikola's family deserves to have some dignity and privacy while they grieve. He was a good man, we owe him that," she said fervidly.

"Da. A good man. A great loss for our nation."

"A great loss for the world. Men like him make the world a better place."

The colonel looked at her strangely, as if he did not expect such a comment.

Maia continued. "But your country will feel the loss most acutely. You have my condolences."

"Thank you. And thank you for your comments to the press outside the Central Committee Building. My superiors feared you might offer a condemnation of the Russian government. You were quite gracious. But it is them who will miss him the most," Ivanov said as he turned to look at Natalia and Galina Myshkin.

"There was no need to worry. This last incident was not the work of the real government. Political extremists and nut-jobs exist in nearly every government at some time or another. I am not going to live in a glass house and start throwing stones," Maia said while thinking of whackos like Crimson Conservative and American Hero. "Will your government help take care of them?" the American heroine asked as she nodded towards the widow and her daughter.

"Yes. Nikola is receiving a post humous promotion, and his wife will be receiving his full pension and benefits. It is the least they can do."

"And you? You have anything interesting to report to your superiors after Olga and I leave?"

The colonel held up his hand as if to dismiss Maia's suspicions. "I told you. My detail is just here to make sure your visit goes smoothly."

"But you will be filing a report, won't you?" Maia pressed.

"Da, of course."

"Well, I have a proposition for you. I will give you a bit of information for your report if you deliver a message for me," Maia offered.

Ivanov's eyebrows raised with interest. "I am listening."

"My powers come from an energy portal that is fused to my body, a part of me now."

"Yes, your dossier mentions that," the Russian replied.

Maia nodded. "I am not surprised. But what I bet it doesn't mention is this. That every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day I have to hold myself back. I have to hold it in, find a way to lift the lid just enough and never too much!"

Andrei turned to look at the American heroine, more than a little unnerved by her confession and the intensity of her voice. He swallowed and looked her in the eye. "And the message?"

Maia's gaze was steady as she faced the Soviet officer. "Let me tell you two things before I get to that. First, I believe your government is sincere about making nice with Olga. And I think that is great. Good for Olga, and good for your country. Second, this message is not meant as a threat. It's not just for your superiors, or your leaders. It is for the mercenaries, the Soviet metahumans, the special operatives, all the shadow folk a man like you knows."

"A man like me?" Ivanov interrupted.

"Yes, a former officer in the elite Spetsnaz forces has to have all sorts of interesting contacts."

"How?" the colonel started to ask.

"Your insignia ring. I know a special unit crest when I see one," Maia explained.

Ivanov looked down at his ring and smiled a bit. He looked back up and shrugged. "Continue please."

"I want you tell everyone that the rules of engagement have changed." Maia stepped closer to the officer, her face mere inches from his. "You let it be known; you spread the word. Open season on my wife is fucking OVER! The next one that comes after my wife, be they religious zealot, political radical, metahuman trying to build a rep, government hit squad, whatever; they come at Olga they better come hard! Because they will learn what happens when I stop holding back. I want everyone to know the consequences of any further attempts. Because I am no longer in the mood to accept and excuses or show any mercy. Do you understand me Colonel?” Maia asked. Her eyes once again became swirling maelstroms of energy as she looked at Andrei. “You want to make a difference? Save the life of some fool who is about to make the last great mistake of their life. Warn them of what they are stepping in to. Now if you don’t mind, I want to go spend some time with my wife,” Maia stated as her eyes slowly returned to their normal appearance. Shaking the colonel’s hand, Maia made her way back over to where Olga and Nikola’s family were standing.

To be continued...


Soviet Superwoman and the Myshkins are my creations and property.

Walkiria and Colonel Ivanov are the creations and property of my dear friend :iconteri-minx:

This story takes place in the :iconangel-fallsda: universe.
Add a Comment:
jeandulin Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2014
Really this drawing made émotions to me; it has really a ww2 side: it seemed to ne first the tomb of a fallen soldier.... Olga is really as beautyful as red army music
VKrull Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014
Nice story...and's about time Maia thrown down the gauntlet. Hopefully it isn't put to the test. But we all know how things normally work out.... ;)
andrewr255 Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014
No one asked what was on the tombstone.
Soviet-Superwoman Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014
I should have said, sometimes I forget others can't read Russian. ^^;
andrewr255 Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2014
I forgot as well when the story posted.
Plasmoid70 Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
What is written on the tombstone?
Soviet-Superwoman Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014
Nikola Ivanovich Myshkin


Loving Husband, Father and Hero
Vasily1 Featured By Owner May 13, 2014
Sorry but you have mistakes.

Никола Иванович Мышкин


Любимый муж, отец и герой
Soviet-Superwoman Featured By Owner May 13, 2014
Appreciated, I'll let the artist know. :handshake:
Plasmoid70 Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Figured it was along the lines of that. :handshake: Thanks for the clarification.
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