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Humpday 17

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Artwork by: :iconmegaween:

Written by: :iconryat66:

The overall setting: :iconangel-fallsda:


Ultrawoman and Soviet Superwoman
are owned by and used with the
permission of:

:iconu1trawoman: and :iconsoviet-superwoman:

Story concept by: :iconandrewr255:

<The story takes place just prior to the Trial of Genocide>
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BOOK TWO: NO HOLDING BACK, SSW VS. UW

Angel Falls Time, 3:00 pm, Wednesday


Soviet Superwoman’s eyes didn’t blaze red for long before twin beams lanced from her pupils, flared the visor of her mask, and burst out at Ultrawoman. The villainess didn’t have time to let her eyes grow wide with surprise and she unleashed a volley of her own to deflect the beam. The interception was sloppy and the two beams bounced off each other at wild, harsh angles.

Ultrawoman hadn’t expected that. She figured the masks would be too fragile to resist the power of an eye beam blast. She had to find whoever it was that had made them. It would be a careful project to take somebody with talent like that and turn them to her needs and tastes and keep the skills and abilities intact.

She filed the thought away for future use and dove into the Soviet’s midsection. The Communist was sent hurtling into the distance and Ultrawoman smiled as she rapidly became a tiny speck. She knew it wouldn’t last, so she braced for another attack. She would probably wind up slamming into the moon from it, with Olga likely planning on arcing her away from the moon base.

It was silly, she thought to herself. That Bardak character had sought to stop the energy beam before it struck Earth. The Soviet Supercow was likely hurtling toward her. Nobody was going for the cannon. They never did.

Ultrawoman knew why. It was because, deep down, every one of these self-proclaimed “heroes” or “heroines” was, at heart, deep within their souls, just like her. They all felt they knew better than the rest of the pitiful humans they claimed to protect, and kept their options open. She wondered a moment where “Wal-cow-ria” and Superslut would try to hide a weapon like this when a beeping sound at her hip startled her.

She looked down to her hip and noticed the portal controller device she’d used to disable Walkiria. The discharge end of the machine was glowing with a strange, orange light. That wasn’t right. Every time she’d tested it, it had fired along the spectrums of green and blue.

Soviet Superwoman shrieked loudly into her breather as she dove into Ultrawoman, causing the white-and-black clad woman to wince in irritation. She still tried to shout in warning before the collision, but it was much too late.

The impact was painful, but her superhuman physiology allowed her to absorb the impact nonlethally. Their journey didn’t end the way she had expected, however. Instead of the impact with the lunar surface and the sensation of rock tumbling about her body, there was a bizarre electric tingling sensation and the rush of wind.

Ultrawoman missed the important element of the situation. If she didn’t have the gray-clad body of Olga doubling her over as they launched toward the moon’s surface, she would have seen that the cannon had been damaged by the deflection of her assailant’s laser beams. The beams had scored through important housing of the machinery, burning out systems and transmutational components. Radiation had leaked out and altered the portal controller, causing it to grow unstable.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the clear blue sky. An orange-rimmed hole hovered far away, and it grew exponentially smaller the further she was driven from it. By the time she and the Soviet had smashed into a skyscraper, hammered through a few floors and burst out the other side (several stories lower), the portal was gone.

She twisted the two of them around and flung Soviet Superwoman against another building. They glared at each other for a few seconds before taking in their surroundings. Ultrawoman looked to her left and saw a familiar sight.

“The Empire State Building?” she breathed as people on the streets looked up in shock.

“Zachyem?” the Russian asked in bewilderment as she looked about their surroundings and felt for the mask that should have been affixed to her head.

The breather masks had been destroyed in the impact. Had they been on the moon still, Soviet Superwoman would have been in dire straits, as she wouldn’t be able to breathe. The two took a moment to dust off the remaining fragments of the masks from their outfits and look themselves over. Ultrawoman was a little shocked to find her skin scuffed under the gashes of her uniform. She glared at the Soviet, who was similarly afflicted with superficial scars.

“Do you know how luck-!?” Ultra got out before she was rocked in the face by the supersonic heroine.

No more room for words. Olga wasn’t going to let Ultrawoman get a word in edgewise now. She was going to beat the woman within an inch of her life and drag her to the authorities. She wasn’t thinking about the difficulties of such a task. She just knew that she would finish this now.

The world wasn’t going to be threatened by Ultrawoman tomorrow.

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Ryan Lawrence walked into the twenty-third story coffee break room and poured himself a cup. The Donaldson Report was making his mind numb and he needed some caffeine stimulant to get his thought processes working again.

As he mixed creamer and sugar into the black fluid, he heard a thump. Looking up at the window, he was a little surprised to see a rounded pair of white spandex-clad muscular buttocks rubbing and squeaking against the glass.

He finished stirring and took a sip. He could see the super lady’s assailant taking a few rounds out of her. Ryan nodded happily when he saw it was a busty, dark-haired woman.

“Yes,” he said simply before raising the cup of coffee to the air as a toast, “Best. Coffeebreak. EVER!”

The beating stopped suddenly. Both super ladies turned to look at him through the plexiglass. Despite the punishment she’d been receiving, Ultrawoman was still able to narrow her eyes in consternation at the annoying young man.

“What?” he asked with a shrug, suddenly feeling surprisingly liberated, “It is!”

He resumed sipping his drink and Ultrawoman took the opportunity to return the favor to her assailant with a suckerpunch to the jaw.

“That was for earlier, bitch,” she shouted before vaulting herself off the window and crashing into the heroine, “And this… Is for fun!”

She was planning on slamming her into the Empire State Building. It would have been a Hell of a statement. However, the controller had other ideas in mind. It beeped again and Ultrawoman didn’t notice. When they were a half-mile away from the building, an orange portal opened up and they dove into it, heedless of where they would wind up.
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Labyssitory's avatar
...Going through these images trying to favourite them all - they're brilliant! - Hope I don't miss some, lol