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Rematch, part two

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Continued from: [link]


Olga took the first member of Benjamin "Boxy" Giancarla's goons down with a hard fight to the chin. The gangster flew across the table head along, plowing through the cold boxes of Chinese take-out and knocking the stacks of counterfeit hundreds in all directions like confetti. When he reached the end he collided with Boxy himself, sending the two mobsters sprawling to the floor. The two gangsters on the right and left of the tables both pulled Ruger .44's and proceeded to open fire desperately. The bullets ricocheted off her invulnerable flesh as if they were throwing peanuts at her instead of hollow-points. The Soviet Superwoman closed the distance to the one on the left, dropping him with an open palm thrust to the face. As the man fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, Olga vaulted over the table, slamming her boot heel into the mid-section of the other, slightly overweight, crook. He had just enough time to clutch his abdomen and collapse with a low grunt. These punks were lucky she had decided a long time ago to renounce killing. They were being battered about by fists and feet that could easily punch through several inches of armored steel. The bodyguard standing next to Boxy, as the tall older man got back to his feet rather spryly, blasted a volley from his pump action shotgun at the red caped heroine. Olga darted to the left at super-speed, the deadly blast managing to only shred the front end of the wooden table to splinters. She came up lightning fast and grabbed the goon by his collars, throwing him forcefully over the counter of the bar on the far side of the room. He hit hard, knocking him out cold as he landed in a shower of broken glasses, bottles and spilled alcohol.
Boxy clutched his briefcase with white knuckles and began to back away slowly. In his other hand he held a shaking .45 colt.

"Do you really think that will do you any good?" Olga quipped, half smirking at the criminal's desperation.

"This might." A voice familiar voice that came from behind her said loudly followed by an electrical, whirring sound.

Olga turned away from Boxy just in time to see Connie, the Crimson Conservative. She was dressed in her usual: a white tank top that showed off her incredible valley of cleavage, a pair of jungle camouflaged fatigue style pants that ended in American combat boots. Around her waist was a large web belt that held two over-sized belt-pouches, probably full of ammunition knowing how she operated. On her hands were a pair of fingerless red leather gloves. A few strands of her long, red hair hung down over her eye-patch but other than that the rest of it was tied back in a tight ponytail. Her full lips were pulled back in a sneer.

She was holding a minigun like it was a regular assault rifle.

She thrust her arms up in front of her face as the barrage of ammunition descended on her like locusts. These bullets stung and ripped through the front part of her uniform in places, causing her to take a step back. Boxy never knew what happened. All his attention had been focused on the Soviet so when Connie opened fire he was mowed down under a hail of bullets both from the minigun and from the ones flying off of Olga in all directions. The black haired Russian growled and clenched her teeth. She had spend a great deal of time tracking and following Boxy's movements so she could take him down here and hopefully get the AFPD enough evidence to shut down a great deal of Giancarla's fronts and counterfeiting operations. Now he was dead, the evidence ripped to pieces under Connie's blistering rain of firepower and she still had a nine-foot tall psychopath to contend with.

"BET YOU THOUGHT IT WAS REALLY FUCKING HILARIOUS WATCHING ME SWIM ALL THE BACK HERE DIDN'T YOU YOU COMMIE BITCH!" Connie shouted at her above the incredible noise of the minigun. "Think you can try to overthrow the US like you tried with Moscow huh?"

Olga walked towards her through the heat and pain of the minigun pelting her flesh with literally thousands of rounds. She wondered how long it would take that one-eyed giantess to figure out that while it was irritating her, the minigun wasn't actually causing her any real physical harm. It was ripping her costume to bits more than anything else. She opened her palms up towards the barrels and began to walk forward into the fire, deflecting the vast majority of the bullets away from her. Suddenly the rounds stopped coming and the noise from the weapon stopped abruptly. Olga looked up just in time to have Connie's fist smash hard into the side of her face. The force of the blow slammed her through the brick wall and down two stories into the parking lot below. Глупо! Olga quickly got to her feet as the larger woman leapt down after her, landing hard on the broken brickwork and concrete next to her. The Russia grabbed her by her shirt and swung her around, throwing the American into the side of a nearby parked sedan. The car dented in completely on the drivers side as she impacted with it. Connie rose back up, tossing the now damaged minigun to the ground next to her. Olga stood a few feet away in a defensive stance, her cape down straight behind her.

"What are you talking about Connie?"

"You red Soviet cunt! I knew you couldn't be trusted. We should have dropped the nuclear bombs on you and your entire vodka drinking, bed-wetting country when we had the chance! I knew you were only here in Angel Falls to infiltrate our nation! Double-dealing bitch!"

Olga snarled and moved towards her. Connie lashed out with her incredibly long right leg for a vicious kick to the side. The bulky Russian thrust her hands down to successfully block the incoming kick, only to have Connie surge up with another brutal punch to the face. Olga staggered back after receiving that punishing shot and Connie rushed forwards with her fist raised to deliver a second one. The smaller woman responded by knocking her arm down and to the right and punching the red-head in the face with a left of her own. The woman in the camouflaged pants stumbled backwards and swung around, catching herself on a street-lamp and ripping it loose as she fell to the pavement. Sparks shot up for a few moments from the torn, live electrical wires jutting out of the broken base. Connie swung the street-lamp around, the heavy metal pole crashing hard into Olga and plowing her into the side of another parked car, shattering all of it's glass at once. As the Russian woman stood and shook herself free of the twisted wreck she spied something nearby. Behind Connie, who was standing there holding that bent lamp-post like Casey at the Bat, she saw for a moment what looked like a small, floating sphere...metallic, with what looked like a camera lens in the middle.

One of Genocide's spy-drones.

"Connie...we have another problem..." Olga began, once again taking a defensive posture. "I don't know what you've been told..."

"Oh yeah you do," the nine-foot amazon interrupted her grinning, "you soulless Commies don't have baseball in Moscow do you? Well I suppose I could give you a few pointers you could take with you when I box you up and sent you back you fucking Socialist. The first thing about our national past-time to remember is that you get three strikes before you're out."

Connie's grin broke open as she charged at Olga, her combat boots kicking up debris behind her as she lifted the lamp-post high above her head like a battle-axe. The Soviet Superwoman side-stepped with her terrific speed letting the first double-overhand blow crash through the body of the automobile like a wrecking ball. The flame tressed conservative ripped the bent and shattered lamp-post free and swung it in a wide arc at her side. This time Olga flew backwards a few inches off the ground, her cape trailing up under her feet. She could feel the air cut in front of her where the weapon missed her by mere centimeters. She landed several feet away and blasted the impromptu club with her laser vision, slicing it cleaning in half about a foot from where the muscular American was holding it. The longer section dropped to the pavement with a long clanging sound. Connie took a moment to look at the small section of street-lamp she was still holding before tossing it casually over her shoulder.

"It figures you vodka drinkers can't appreciate a REAL game..." Connie mused, "Guess I'll just have to go to one you do know...BOXING!"

Connie shoved her hands down into her belt pouches and came up with something completely unexpected. On both her hands she wore a pair of strange metallic gauntlets that seemed to glow with a white light from various places and emitted a low powered humming sound. The feeling that washed over her was one she was intimately familiar with. It was powered by the same energy-draining technology that Ilsa had stolen from the aliens and twisted into her own devious devices. Originally Ilsa's first device was a large machine that filled an entire chamber in her Hungarian keep with access to the fantastic technology of the 21st century she had recently installed a similar device in Claire...Grendel...that was capable of absorbing her powers in a matter of minutes. That time she had just barely managed to stay alive, playing on Ilsa's vanity and hoping that her former friend's love for her would over-ride her programming. This time she was already beginning to feel disoriented and nauseous...weaker...and her mind raced to find a way to get Connie to see reason. From what little she knew of the larger woman she was an American super-patriot through and through, also from an alternate dimension trapped here in Angel Falls. Maybe she didn't know who had provided her with this technology. She couldn't see this proud woman volunteering to work with someone like the Nazi regime no matter how much she hated the Soviet Union and Olga. This was not the place or time however. She had to fly straight up and try to blast those gauntlets off of her from a distance. Connie couldn't fly and had no ranged attack except the various firearms she carried.

Olga began to take off, flying straight up. Connie sprinted forward and pounced at at her, managing to grab hold of her ankle. Using her upper body strength she reared back and swung forward, smashing her powered gauntlet hard into Olga's back. The Russian let out a cry of agony as the punch shattered several of her ribs. She dropped back down to the earth and landed back in the parking lot on her side, clutching her back. Connie had leaped off her when she realized how effective these weapons were and come up in a tumble a few feet away. As Olga tried to pick herself up, the large American woman rushed back towards her and planted another fist into the side of her face. The Soviet was knocked up off the ground several feet and came down spitting blood. She was disoriented and in a great deal of pain.

"Well whaddya know? These knuckle-dusters actually DO work!" The Crimson Conservative exclaimed, holding the bloodied gauntlets up to have a look at them. "I doubted anything built by the NObama administration actually worked for you, except maybe if you were a Koran kissing camel-jockey."

Olga rolled over on her side to face the slowly advancing Connie. "Connie...listen to me...these gloves that..."

"Hang on my Slavic friend? Can you hear that? That's the world's tiniest violin playing 'Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue' just for you!"

Connie walked forward and kicked her opponents arm out from under her, causing her to drop back to the ground. Olga was breathing heavy and could literally feel the strength and energy being sapped out of her. She rolled over and her cold-blue eyes flashed red for an instant, but no lasers launched out from them. Olga was already far too weak to fire them. Connie picked up her heavy booted foot and smashed it down on Olga face with a sickening crunch. The Russian's nose was broken in several places and she had to turn her head to breath as blood literally poured from her ruptured nasal passages.

"THAT was for leaving me to swim all the way back you spineless Soviet cocksucker!"

Olga's head swam. She was going unconscious. She raised her hand feebly and tried to speak through the wave of blood and mucous.

"Connie...please listen...I apologiz..."

"THIS!" Connie interrupted by kicking her viciously in the side, rolling the caped, injured woman like over onto her back again. "Is for fucking being a miserable, lying member of a no-good race."

The Soviet Superwoman coughed several times and once again tried to flip herself back over, if for nothing else than to correct her ragged breathing. This time Connie slammed her boot heel down in between her breasts hard and kept it there pinning her to the ground. The one-eyed amazon leaned in close to get a good look at her handiwork. She inhaled deeply, like she was smelling her victory over the Russian woman battered under her foot. Connie nodded and reared her fist back until it was level with her head.

"And this," she began, "is for plotting to overthrow this great nation like you tried to do with Russia last year, and prop yourself up as the next Joe Stalin...hell you aren't even that cool. More like Brezhnev. You've even got his eyebrows honey. Oh you got any last words for the record, so I can keep them ringing like sweet music in my ears for year to come?"

"Did a...blonde woman...blue eyes....tall...give you those....?" Olga manged to rasp out.

Connie smirked, but at the same time was intrigued how the Ruskie knew that. "Old friend of yours then? What did she stop your plot to put Marx, Lenin, Stalin and yourself on Mount Rushmore or something?"

"She's...a Nazi....and the head of the Fourth Reich...and she's watching us..." Olga said in a voice barely above a whisper, motioning to the left with her arm, but not deliberately pointing at anything.

Connie stared at her for a long moment before leaning over in that direction slowly to pick up a large slab of broken concrete a few inches away with her left hand. As she twisted and moved, the American woman looked out with her good eye and scanned the area nearby. Sure enough, a few yards way a large object was hovering that looked to Connie like something designed by George Lucas, capturing everything in a circular lens. She quickly turned back to her broken opponent and raised the slab high over her head with both hands.

"GOD BLESS AMERICA!" she cried out and slammed the shattered piece of down hard only an inch or two away from Olga's head, throwing her entire body forward with it. Olga's eyes bulged as she cut them over at the stone next to her head and then looked up at Connie, her face dripping sweat down onto her own. Connie's lips were white and trembling and her expression was a mixture of what looked like pure, unadulterated fury and incredible humiliation. She was positively seething and at the same time she had an almost shame-filled look in her eye. She whispered in a low voice for that brief second before rising back up.

"Don't fucking move Olga. Please."

The incredibly tall red head stood up and took out a long unfiltered cigarette from her pocket, striking a match on the stone she had supposedly just split Olga's head open with and lighting it. She took off the gauntlets slowly, powering them down and placing them back in the pouches, exhaling a plume of white smoke. Another sidelong glance told her that the spy-droid or whatever it was had moved off. Connie still didn't want to risk it. She was positively shaking with anger. She had been played by some fucking NAZI to kill Olga. Lied to. Manipulated. Her own sense of loyalty and American patriotism turned against her like a tool. She felt sick to her stomach and the more sick she felt the more angry she got. Sure the Ruskie was messed up in the head and a throw-back from the Cold War that needed to have her ass kicked...but not like this. She wasn't preventing Olga from a terrorist action on American soil, she had been hired to murder her in cold blood and for no other reason than to satisfy some old Nazi's personal vendetta. If anything Olga was only guilty of having incredible bad taste and making her swim a few dozen miles. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, the girl didn't deserve what just happened to her. With the gauntlets turned off she hoped that her incredible healing would kick back into overdrive.

Then they would talk about this old Nazi who thought she was so fucking clever.


To be concluded...

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This image of my poor Soviet heroine getting trashed was done by the incredible talent of :iconlovelybonez:! She actually knows Connie's creator in real life and works with him, so I got sneaky and asked her create this is secret to surprise him. I think it got the desired results and I am so glad to have such an amazing image (even if Olga has just had her ass handed to her). Thank you once again my new friend. :iconbowplz:

Crimson Conservative is the property & creation of :iconjamese82: who feels bad enough that I wrote this segment the way I did (his words were that he felt like his little girl had beaten up another friendly little girl). Thanks for having faith and letting me use Connie. The end is going to be SO much bigger.

Soviet Superwoman is my property and creation, as well as the story and the minor characters appearing.

This takes place in :iconangel-fallsda:
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Lurker-Below's avatar
Wow! Great story, and awesome fight, but why did Connie believe Olga so quickly?