Rebirth

Death came for me with open arms and embraced me.

I remember drifting like I was a cloud...my consciousness leaving my shattered body. I remember looking down and seeing myself dead, my skull shattered like an egg all over that filthy alley. My assailant was gone...everything was so quiet...peaceful....ethereal. The pain faded away and was replaced with a feeling of panic. What was going to happen next? My mind...soul...my spirit was like smoke on the wind. It became harder and harder to think. Everything was going blurry and I almost wanted to evaporate into that nothingness. I had to remember who I was...I had to concentrate. I had never attempted a feat like this. I knew my will was strong...I knew my powers were unmatched, but I did not know if I could do this. Voice below me. A pair of women has come out of one of the damaged buildings and one of them...a young black woman I believe is screaming. I don't care for the sound...it is like shattering glass in a large empty room. The echo seems to linger forever. I use the sound to hone in on something tangible. The woman is running out of the alley, calling...screaming for help. The other woman is bending down to look at my broken mortal shell. I bend all of my thought into touching her mind. In my present state it is the most difficult task I have ever done, something that would have otherwise been mundane...routine. It takes everything that is left of me, so very little now, to break through and contact her.

Her name is Catherine Gale and she is a 23 year old American woman. Catherine works as a stripper at a club known as "Sin" across town. She is in decent physical shape for a woman who smokes and exercises regularly. Everything about her is suddenly open to me. Her entire life. Everything she is and is ever going to be. Where she went to school. Who her friends are. Where she lives. Who she's fucked. What she fears. What her hopes and dreams are. What she hates. What she loves. None of it matters ultimately.

I wipe it all out in an instant and take my first breath again.

I look down through my new eyes and see my blood-spattered corpse. I take a deep breath. I can smell my old sweat...the blood...the fecal matter. I stand back up shakily and unexpectedly vomit. Everything about this body feels wrong. A fucking American female. A physiology I have never experienced. I can feel foreign objects in my body. I drop back to my knees and wipe the vile liquid from my lips. The friend is back...Sabrina...she is asking me if I'm alright. I wave her off, tell her I'm fine. The voice is so confusing at first. High and nasal. It takes me a moment to realize it is mine now. More people are coming into the alley. Some are taking pictures...making comments. I stand back up with Sabrina's help just as the police enter. The AFPD cordon off the area and wait for a detective to arrive. I'm told to give a statement. I explain that I was having dinner with Sabrina when we heard a loud noise and stumbled upon this dead man. I don't know him. I've never seen him before. I have no idea what happened.

More police arrive...the red-haired Walkiria arrives with this second set of officers. I watch her as she looks over the body...my former body for a moment and the destruction of the alley caused by Genocide. She doesn't touch the body but she looks at it with malice and contempt. I can feel her anger. I watch her and she looks up for a moment. Our eyes meet. I swallow hard. I know she's going to recognize me...see the look in my eyes...the hatred I have for her and her wife. I hold my breath for what seems like eternity. The amazon looks away and continues to talk with the officers. She doesn't recognize me...she thinks I am dead. They all think I am dead. The advantage is mine. The people tell me that I am free to go. I take off these ridiculous heels and hurry out of the alley, past the officers and the ambulance. I explain to Sabrina that I just want to go home and sleep. She walks me to my car and I drive to what is now my apartment. It is a loft, with plenty of room and privacy. I have a great deal of work to do. When I laid down I realized another side-effect. I had not had to shut out all the noise from the Americans minds all around me. I was not nauseous or overloaded with the banality of their thoughts. Perhaps having my mind inside this American woman's brain had somehow buffered me from it as she lived it each and every day with every breath she took. I thanked God for granting me a second chance and giving me this great gift!

That was half a year ago. In those six months I have pushed this over-sexed body to it's limits, working out rigorously several hours a day as I did when I was a spetsnaz. I am too afraid to try to switch bodies again. It took everything I had and more to do it the first time. I do not know if I am capable of such a feat a second time. Except for these gigantic breasts made of plastic I am in top physical condition again. I never arrived back to work at the club after that night and cut off all ties with my "friends and family". They are of no use to me in this new form. Only this body is. I quit smoking that same fateful night as well. Once I became strong enough to employ my vast mental powers again, I began to secure finances. Several mega-stores in the area began handing me their weekend deposits on a regular schedule. I began buying and obtaining supplies to re-build my actuator suit. I transformed my lodgings from a place of body glitter and dancing poles to a place of workbenches, maps, photographs, weapons...assault rifles, pistols, heavy machine guns...,training and meditation. A new headquarters in my crusade against the filth that is Angel Falls and the harlots that exist in this capitalist Gomorrah.

The Soviet Superwoman survived and has apparently thrived in the wake of my assault. What was supposed to be my greatest triumph has become an epic failure. It has made her stronger and strengthened her resolve. The rumor is that she has given up heavy drinking as well. She is still married to that whore Walkiria, still attempting to clean the streets of a city already too slick with blood and degeneracy. Both of them will never see me coming this time. I have heard nothing on the one called Claire. She has apparently gone to ground or been killed. I hope it is the latter as it will save me one less opponent in what is coming. Genocide is still active in the city as well, but like a spider that sits in the middle of her web, I will have to draw her out into hiding. She will be the first one to feel my vengeance for the pain and humiliation I suffered at her hands. Genocide will be the first to fall. Already I have tracked down several of her soldiers and pulled what information I could from their "master" brains, with them none the wiser. It is only a matter of patience now on my part. All the pieces are being put into place.

My revenge will be legendary.

I am Yuri Gregorovich. I am Catherine Gale.

I am the Warlord. I am the Voyevoda.

More to come...

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Listened to this whilst writing: [link]

I once again have my good friend to thank for this amazing image. Your help and skills are as always invaluable!

Soviet Superwoman, Voyevoda, Genocide, Grendel and the story are all my creations and property.

The mentioned Walkiria belongs to

This story takes place in