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Description
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>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK TWO: NO HOLDING BACK, SSW VS. UW
Angel Falls Time, 4:30 pm, Wednesday
Washington D.C. is usually protected from meta humans. With hidden gun and missile launcher emplacements, specially trained meta humans in the Secret Service and military and a host of supertechnology weapons and devices complementing all of them dotted throughout the city, it was not a safe environment.
And this says nothing about the socio-political ramifications of waging open war in the streets of the capitol of one of the world’s super powers.
By the time an orange rift tore open in the sky above the White House and the two battle-torn maidens emerged from it, still trading blows amid wordless shrieks of rage, the city’s authorities were on full alert and the President and his staff had been ushered to a secure location. Members of Congress and the Chief Justices who were in town were also well-hidden and experimental heavy artillery was being rolled out to deal with the possible threat. They had been tracking the battle between the two throughout the world since they appeared and disappeared over Kuala Lumpur just a couple hours ago.
Of course, that didn’t matter to Vyr-Na and Olga. Their visions rimmed in red, all they could see were each other. All they could feel was raw hatred. Fists impacted, blows were traded, but they each refused to relent.
Olga dimly felt the pain in her jaw from where it had cracked after Vyr-Na had punched her in Paris. Even after fifteen minutes of combat, it still throbbed worse than the innumerable blows to her ribs. Her opponent didn’t seem to be feeling the effects of where she’d been struck in the ribs, but she was.
Ultrawoman couldn’t believe how hard she’d been struck. The lower right muscles on her ribs had to be bruised, at least, and she must have rattled Olga, because nothing that had hit her since had been nearly so bad. Disorienting, sure, but not bad enough to really hurt.
They traded blows again, pummeling each other mercilessly. They didn’t notice the red dots lighting up on their bodies as Secret Service agents sighted in with pistols and rifles that were selected from what was affectionately referred to as the “Cape Killer” line. Of course, it didn’t matter, either. They were so absorbed in their combat that they departed when they closed for a grapple and flew off into the highway.
Ultrawoman twisted the two of them about as they collided with the pavement so the Soviet slammed into the street. Tires squealed and screeched as motorists steered out of the way. There was the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass as some vehicles hit each other. Ultrawoman paid it no heed, as she hauled her enemy into the air and slammed her into the ground again. She could dimly hear a chopping sound in the distance.
Olga headbutted her aggressor in the chin and Vyr-Na reeled back. She pushed into a crashed pickup truck, busting the wheels on the opposite side and causing it to lean.
As the Soviet Superwoman closed with her, Ultrawoman ripped the door from the truck and smashed her over the head with it. The vehicle’s driver screamed as he furiously tried to unstrap his seatbelt, but the powerful villainess paid him no mind as she grabbed the box of the vehicle and wrenched the whole machine around to clobber the heroine aside. The vehicle made a whining crunch as she dropped it to the street and she sighed in satisfaction, still uncaring about the vehicle’s driver, who had spilled out and was now scrambling to run away while her back was turned.
Olga leaped over the truck suddenly, caught Ultrawoman by the collar, vaulted over her, then catapulted the villainess into the distance. Momentarily confused about the sudden shift in momentum and the spinning sensation in her stomach, Ultrawoman was unprepared for the elbow that drove into her neck, sending her hurtling back to the ground.
She struck an armored fence and tumbled through the dirt, struck some pavement and came to rest at the foot of some concrete steps. Blinking more from surprise than from any kind of pain, she pushed herself up and was unceremoniously stomped back against the steps.
The chopping sound got louder.
Ultrawoman narrowed her eyes and pushed the Soviet aside. She had about enough of-
There was an explosion and she was thrown to the steps again. It was a strange eruption, like a missile, but somehow full of electricity. As she looked back to where a crater was, she saw the remains of the mushroom cloud of charged dust still rising into the air. Little arcs of electricity circuited through it, apparently still putting enough heat into the dust to keep it rising.
“What the Hell was that?” she asked aloud before a tinny shout from above caught her attention.
“That’s far enough, Ultrawoman! Stand down!”
She looked up to see that helicopters had moved in. That’s what the chopping sound had been. Attack helicopters, AH-64 Apaches, possibly all equipped with meta human suppressive measures like the strange missile that had almost struck her and the Soviet, were hovering overhead.
That was when she realized where they were. They were on the steps of the U.S. Capitol Building. She looked around and saw troops, tanks, and all manner of heavy artillery being brought in.
This was exactly what she didn’t want to deal with. She wasn’t in a position of power or intimidation. She was exhausted from battling Olga, and while she could probably handle this army, she probably couldn’t handle what would come afterward. She also didn’t know what they had at their disposal. The U.S. government was paranoid about metas. If they had anything that could even begin to hurt her, they would have it here.
The controller on her hip warbled strangely. She looked down and saw it was dirty and singed. Somehow, despite all the impacts and battle, it was still operating. However, when she pressed the Reset button, it responded.
The countdown disappeared, the distance detector disappeared, and the system became readable for her again. She looked down at Olga, who had apparently taken the brunt of the blast and was only just starting to groggily stand again, and started walking toward her.
“Didn’t you hear me, bitch!?” the man’s voice from the helicopter shouted again, “I said STAND-THE FUCK-DOWN!”
“When I come back,” she mused, “I want your name, pilot. Things are going to be very different here, very soon… And I’m going to need somebody to clean my kitty’s litterbox with his flippant tongue!”
She hoisted Soviet Superwoman to her feet and turned her around. She saw the aim of the soldiers didn’t even waver as she levitated the two of them into the air. They would cut both of them down if given half the chance or the reason.
“It’s not random anymore,” she explained to Olga quietly, “I know exactly where we’re going. It’s somewhere you can’t survive, but I’ll be just fine.”
The raven-haired heroine struggled to move, but it was too late. The blonde pressed the activation button and they were gone in a green flash of light.
The soldiers looked to each other in surprise. After a few sweeps of the area, the helicopters, troops and tanks returned to their respective bases. The leaders of the defense were confused by the development, but no less thankful. Soviet Superwoman had sank a battleship. It was likely Ultrawoman could do the same, if not worse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Continued:
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>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK TWO: NO HOLDING BACK, SSW VS. UW
Angel Falls Time, 4:30 pm, Wednesday
Washington D.C. is usually protected from meta humans. With hidden gun and missile launcher emplacements, specially trained meta humans in the Secret Service and military and a host of supertechnology weapons and devices complementing all of them dotted throughout the city, it was not a safe environment.
And this says nothing about the socio-political ramifications of waging open war in the streets of the capitol of one of the world’s super powers.
By the time an orange rift tore open in the sky above the White House and the two battle-torn maidens emerged from it, still trading blows amid wordless shrieks of rage, the city’s authorities were on full alert and the President and his staff had been ushered to a secure location. Members of Congress and the Chief Justices who were in town were also well-hidden and experimental heavy artillery was being rolled out to deal with the possible threat. They had been tracking the battle between the two throughout the world since they appeared and disappeared over Kuala Lumpur just a couple hours ago.
Of course, that didn’t matter to Vyr-Na and Olga. Their visions rimmed in red, all they could see were each other. All they could feel was raw hatred. Fists impacted, blows were traded, but they each refused to relent.
Olga dimly felt the pain in her jaw from where it had cracked after Vyr-Na had punched her in Paris. Even after fifteen minutes of combat, it still throbbed worse than the innumerable blows to her ribs. Her opponent didn’t seem to be feeling the effects of where she’d been struck in the ribs, but she was.
Ultrawoman couldn’t believe how hard she’d been struck. The lower right muscles on her ribs had to be bruised, at least, and she must have rattled Olga, because nothing that had hit her since had been nearly so bad. Disorienting, sure, but not bad enough to really hurt.
They traded blows again, pummeling each other mercilessly. They didn’t notice the red dots lighting up on their bodies as Secret Service agents sighted in with pistols and rifles that were selected from what was affectionately referred to as the “Cape Killer” line. Of course, it didn’t matter, either. They were so absorbed in their combat that they departed when they closed for a grapple and flew off into the highway.
Ultrawoman twisted the two of them about as they collided with the pavement so the Soviet slammed into the street. Tires squealed and screeched as motorists steered out of the way. There was the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass as some vehicles hit each other. Ultrawoman paid it no heed, as she hauled her enemy into the air and slammed her into the ground again. She could dimly hear a chopping sound in the distance.
Olga headbutted her aggressor in the chin and Vyr-Na reeled back. She pushed into a crashed pickup truck, busting the wheels on the opposite side and causing it to lean.
As the Soviet Superwoman closed with her, Ultrawoman ripped the door from the truck and smashed her over the head with it. The vehicle’s driver screamed as he furiously tried to unstrap his seatbelt, but the powerful villainess paid him no mind as she grabbed the box of the vehicle and wrenched the whole machine around to clobber the heroine aside. The vehicle made a whining crunch as she dropped it to the street and she sighed in satisfaction, still uncaring about the vehicle’s driver, who had spilled out and was now scrambling to run away while her back was turned.
Olga leaped over the truck suddenly, caught Ultrawoman by the collar, vaulted over her, then catapulted the villainess into the distance. Momentarily confused about the sudden shift in momentum and the spinning sensation in her stomach, Ultrawoman was unprepared for the elbow that drove into her neck, sending her hurtling back to the ground.
She struck an armored fence and tumbled through the dirt, struck some pavement and came to rest at the foot of some concrete steps. Blinking more from surprise than from any kind of pain, she pushed herself up and was unceremoniously stomped back against the steps.
The chopping sound got louder.
Ultrawoman narrowed her eyes and pushed the Soviet aside. She had about enough of-
There was an explosion and she was thrown to the steps again. It was a strange eruption, like a missile, but somehow full of electricity. As she looked back to where a crater was, she saw the remains of the mushroom cloud of charged dust still rising into the air. Little arcs of electricity circuited through it, apparently still putting enough heat into the dust to keep it rising.
“What the Hell was that?” she asked aloud before a tinny shout from above caught her attention.
“That’s far enough, Ultrawoman! Stand down!”
She looked up to see that helicopters had moved in. That’s what the chopping sound had been. Attack helicopters, AH-64 Apaches, possibly all equipped with meta human suppressive measures like the strange missile that had almost struck her and the Soviet, were hovering overhead.
That was when she realized where they were. They were on the steps of the U.S. Capitol Building. She looked around and saw troops, tanks, and all manner of heavy artillery being brought in.
This was exactly what she didn’t want to deal with. She wasn’t in a position of power or intimidation. She was exhausted from battling Olga, and while she could probably handle this army, she probably couldn’t handle what would come afterward. She also didn’t know what they had at their disposal. The U.S. government was paranoid about metas. If they had anything that could even begin to hurt her, they would have it here.
The controller on her hip warbled strangely. She looked down and saw it was dirty and singed. Somehow, despite all the impacts and battle, it was still operating. However, when she pressed the Reset button, it responded.
The countdown disappeared, the distance detector disappeared, and the system became readable for her again. She looked down at Olga, who had apparently taken the brunt of the blast and was only just starting to groggily stand again, and started walking toward her.
“Didn’t you hear me, bitch!?” the man’s voice from the helicopter shouted again, “I said STAND-THE FUCK-DOWN!”
“When I come back,” she mused, “I want your name, pilot. Things are going to be very different here, very soon… And I’m going to need somebody to clean my kitty’s litterbox with his flippant tongue!”
She hoisted Soviet Superwoman to her feet and turned her around. She saw the aim of the soldiers didn’t even waver as she levitated the two of them into the air. They would cut both of them down if given half the chance or the reason.
“It’s not random anymore,” she explained to Olga quietly, “I know exactly where we’re going. It’s somewhere you can’t survive, but I’ll be just fine.”
The raven-haired heroine struggled to move, but it was too late. The blonde pressed the activation button and they were gone in a green flash of light.
The soldiers looked to each other in surprise. After a few sweeps of the area, the helicopters, troops and tanks returned to their respective bases. The leaders of the defense were confused by the development, but no less thankful. Soviet Superwoman had sank a battleship. It was likely Ultrawoman could do the same, if not worse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Continued:
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Would u please put all humpday posters in a single place very hard to track one after the other otherwise through deviantart