Humpday 21

Artwork by: Written by:

The overall setting:


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

and

Story concept by:

<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, 4:15 pm, Wednesday


Most introductions to Paris involve a long extrapolation on the art, architecture, and romance. This one, however, features a dark haired woman being hurled a mile through the night sky and the frustrated scream of her enemy shattering windows in every direction for a hundred yards.

Growling angrily, Ultrawoman yanked the portal controller off her hip and started poking buttons in irritation.

“The Slavic cunt can barrel into me as much as she wants,” she seethed as she carefully studied the changes and shifts on the screen while she manipulated it, “I am getting this little fucker FIXED!”

She could hear the local authorities scrambling to call in whatever the flavor of national hero they could bring in to deal with the metahuman crisis breaking out over their skies. New York had practically ignored her battle with the Soviet (seriously, they had ignored HER, Ultrawoman; they would PAY for that!), and the people in Kuala Lumpur were like chickens with their heads cut off. She could imagine the various French heroes being contacted, told her description, and unceremoniously hanging up.

“The Musketeer might make an appearance,” she grumbled as she poked buttons and strained to understand why the controller was malfunctioning like it was, “He usually jumps to the def… She… Wait… Is there a Musketeer?”

The sound of rushing air caught her attention and she twisted out of the way in time to cause the Soviet Superwoman to careen toward one of the apartment buildings. Sighing as there was no tell-tale crash to signify the “heroine’s” inglorious collision with the wall and the critical injury of civilians, she holstered the controller to her hip, unaware that the display was now chaotically and frantically shifting symbols without any further semblance of order.

It was at this point one would wonder why she would be so keen as to hang on to the controller. The reason was simple. It wasn’t built to JUST handle Walkiria. It wasn’t just constructed to generate small portals for quick movement between distant points. It was a multifunctional device, capable of operating her televisions, turning on the spaceship her minions had used to travel to the surface of the Earth, and it held a collection of music files she really liked.

All of these still weren’t reasons to hold onto the controller, though, not when it was being so willfully detrimental to her combat. Then why was she keeping it if the next place it sent her and her enemy to could very well be an Arion slaver fortress?

It was Vyr-Na’s only remote control for the terraformer. It was her ace in the hole. She wasn’t a fool, if this fight kept up too much longer, heroes across the world could get involved and she would be overwhelmed. She would be forced to begin bombarding the planet to get them off of her. Then, if any still felt like they could stop her, they would have to pry the controller from her cold dead hands.

“And good luck with that,” she murmured as she and her foe circled each other over Paris.

Olga had always hoped to return to this city in simpler times. She wanted to bring Maia here. She wanted to immerse herself in the romance that still permeated the essence of the city, despite the increasingly prevalent likelihood of interference from the tourists that simultaneously bolstered and choked the city.

Still, if one could keep her composure, there were many hidden nooks to find. For instance, the Eiffel Tower had a spectacular view for miles in every direction, but there were a few nice restaurants and cafes that had just as amazing a view of the tower itself. There was more to the city than just flocking to the grand structures or walking past great paintings in the Musée du Louvre.

She had painful memories associated with the city as well, but they were also powerful ones. They were memories that shaped who she was today. They had helped her finally embrace her lover, her love, her Maia.

She didn’t want to come here like this. She didn’t want to be here, locked in combat with a hated enemy. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and the last thing she wanted was for Ultrawoman to take something else away from her that she loved.

They stopped circling each other and stared at one another for a moment. Their respective bleeding had stopped, but that didn’t do much to help either’s appearance.

“Why?” Olga asked, “Why must you always be like this?”

“Why must you always oppose me?” Vyr-Na countered, “We could have been friends, Slav… Instead… You and your cow keep doing your damnedest to piss me off.”

“It was never meant to be personal,” the heroine replied, “You threaten too many lives… For nothing but your own ego.”

“And you oppose me for your own,” the alien growled, “Your selfish vanity. You want to be accepted by this world, by the American nation that broke yours in this timeline, by the woman who will never agree with your backwards way of thinking. You almost did as I do, and tried to wrest control from the Russian government because you knew it was the right thing to do. I almost tried to help you, but I wanted to see how far you were willing to go… What was it that stopped you, Soviet? Love, or are you finally addicted to the Western decadence you decried from the moment you wound up here?”

Tears fought to blur Olga’s eyes. She couldn’t stop her foe without destroying her. She didn’t even know if she could destroy her. She had hit Ultrawoman with her hardest, yet the alien Amazon looked like she could fight for another day.

Now wasn’t the moment to let her emotion overwhelm her, however. Now was the moment to stand for what she knew was truly right. Her foe had made mention of a dark time in her life, from when she was still trying to make sense of this world, but she wasn’t about to let that mistake from her past be used against her. Not now. The Russian government would come after her eventually, and she would deal with the consequences then, but for now she was free to stop Ultrawoman’s plot.

“I stopped because I realized who I am and what I truly represent,” she replied, “And that is what stands between the people of this world and monsters like you.”

Ultrawoman’s eyes narrowed. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but she was hoping it would have struck the Superslut a little harder than it did. Even worse, it seemed she just bolstered the woman’s resolve.

With nothing more to say to each other, they charged each other for another assault.
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Sorry for the delay on this one but I hit an artwork delay. My aim has been one per week and hopefully, with one future picture still to do and some adjustments to others, I can maintain that pace to the end.

Continued: