Soviet Superwoman – Spectres of the Past

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With a body shaped to Amazonian proportions, this Russian beauty will fuel your most intense desires and captivate the sheer force of your imagination. The rare combination of her stunning blue eyes and jet-black hair, coupled with her ripped, muscular physique and large, full breasts, is enough to make any man (or woman) fantasize.

The creation of C. A. Ecklund, Soviet Superwoman (aka Olga Yezhov) is a new brand of superhero amidst the realm of 3D digital art characters. Whether you like action, adventure, sex, or drama, Soviet Superwoman has it all… and she does it all with super strength to boot.

To read more Soviet Superwoman stories visit:

Soviet Superwoman: Spectres of the Past

Written & Created by: C. A. Ecklund

Maia (aka Walkiria) created by: Teri-Minx

Artwork provided by: Dwight/Hotrod5 , Synthya , Fauji M. Bardah , Joe Trimarchi

As she sat on the couch, the television set in front of her on more for the noise than for the daytime content, Olga Yezhov tries to focus on the events of the last several days. A man she had never met had assaulted her…he had murdered dozens of innocent people with the sole purpose of killing her. He had somehow managed to defeat her, but worse than that he had invaded her mind – her most private thoughts, intimate secrets and darkest doubts – and left them bare. This man had dredged the very bottom of her soul and left her broken and powerless on the ground, surrounded by the people of the city she had sworn to protect amid her own failure. She had failed them, she had failed Maia and she had failed herself. If it weren’t for all those fears that gnawed at her soul perhaps she could have mustered the strength to defeat him. As it stood he had only managed to be defeated by the combined efforts of Maia and Claire, both at great personal risk to themselves. Claire.

Maia had told her that she was different now, not only in appearance, but also in her heart. She was no longer a puppet controlled by Ilsa. She was herself again or she was at least in the process of reaching it again. Olga wished she could have seen her there doing battle with that armored Russian. There were so many things that needed to be said. So much time had passed and so much tragedy between them. More than anything Olga simply wanted to embrace her old friend and hold her in her arms once more, if only for a moment. Maia was the woman she loved more than anything in the world and had chosen to spend the rest of her days with…her Возлюбленная…but her love for Claire still burned like the sun. Undiminished.

Later she was told that this Russian man…someone named Yuri Gregorovich, had been killed in an alley a few blocks away by her most hated enemy. Ilsa.

The Nazi woman had crushed his skull for the crime of trying to kill her. Ilsa saw murdering her as her destiny…a task given to her by Hitler that she would one day fulfill. All this time had passed and her hatred was something else that had not diminished. Olga knew that one day they would clash for the final time and she would have to cross a line in the sand she had made for herself years ago.

The sound of the door clicking open drew her attention back to reality. Maia had returned home from picking up a few groceries. The amazonian red-head smiled as she saw Olga up and about, but didn’t care for the expression written on her features at all. The woman known as Walkiria scanned the room quickly and noticed an empty glass near the kitchen counter-top. She placed the grocery bags down near it and took a deep breath without being too obvious. Her nostrils were immediately hit with the pungent tang of imported vodka. Maia sighed to herself and made her way into the living room.

“I know that look, ” she started, “you’ve been putting yourself through the ringer again, as if that Russian nut-job didn’t do a good enough job. How are you feeling, love?”

“Good,” Olga responded, “it would seem that my powers all came back in the instant he was killed…along with the knowledge of everything he had done to me. Total recall.”

Maia nodded, “Well at least you weren’t physically hurt. Seems like Ilsa wants a rematch pretty badly at some point.”

“Da…I was just thinking on this.”

Walkiria grimaced slightly as she had touched on a sore spot. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Olga leaned forward and rubbed her palms across her eyes. “I have been doing so much worrying and doubting myself of late, it allowed this psychic to defeat me. This situation with Ilsa…I know it is coming. I have been making myself massive and more powerful, working out to the extreme…my real weakness is that I am afraid Maia, not of her…but of what I am capable of doing…or not doing as the case may be.”

The former Marine reached out and put her hand on her broad shoulder. “Does this have anything to do with what happened a few months back. We never had much time for closure there, what with our wedding and Genocide’s escape. I knew you were at your breaking point then and now this…”

The Russian nodded “Da, it all goes back to the same thing. I have let the shadows of my past haunt me so much that I doubt myself and what I am doing here. Did you know that while I was trying to recover on the streets, covered with shame and tears a few people actually clapped for this man. One of them spit on me.”

Maia’s lips pulled off her teeth as she spoke, “and a few of them tried to help you up and more of them called 911. Just because a few assholes think…”

“It is not just a few. I have begun to think lately that perhaps I am not a hero myself anymore. This Gregorovich man came to the city and hurt and killed peoples just to kill me. Ilsa has done the same thing. Jane Smith arrives with the same purpose and they laud her as a hero. A hero? Did they not see that she did not care who she hurt to get to me? Yet she still receives more fan mail than you or I in Tartarus prison. All I have done since coming here is bring death and destruction with me and I have been too weak to stop it.”

“None of that is your fault Olga. Ilsa would have come here regardless and without or without you she will continue her mad dreams of an Aryan nation. That Russian psychic bastard was an obsessed madman and if you weren’t around he could have just as easily selected me or Lin or Mindy to be the reason why his little world was so fucked up. Smith is a coward and a vigilante. Sure the public thinks she has the right idea about killing off crime but that’s because the public doesn’t have to make the choices you and I have to make. It doesn’t make her right. And if you mean ‘too weak to stop it’ you should be making yourself judge, jury and executioner than you would become no better than she is.”

“Being a heroine,” Maia continued, “it isn’t about how popular you are. You can’t blame yourself for how people will react to you and can’t control how many diseased minds will form obsessions with you. You are a good person. You save lives. You are not a killer and you are the woman I love.”

Olga looked away, towards her empty glass of vodka. Maia frowned.

“If only you knew what kind of person I really was…what I had been like.”

“Then tell me Olga. Stop keeping this all to yourself. Let me in and I can help you honey, with all of your doubts and fears. I can’t help you if you won’t trust me. Whatever you tell me, no matter how terrible you might think it is, I will never stop loving you. It’s in the past. It isn’t you anymore.”

The Soviet heroine glanced over at the empty vodka glass and couldn’t help but smirk.
“If I am going to delve down and tell you all of it, then I will need a refill.”

Maia looked at her hard for a second before answering. “How many is that today?”

“Better you not know, da?” her lover smiled, the first time Maia had seen her do so in days.

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