Origin Story: Crossover

[Trebuchet]

Note: In our MidGuard campaign, at the time this story takes place in February 2000, supers have not yet gone public although some have been operating "below the radar" for a number of years.

 

Crossover

 

 

For what she expected would be the last time, sixteen-year-old Elena Alekseyeva turned for a moment to look at Saint Petersburg. The city of both her birth and earliest childhood, it was still the true center of Russian culture. It had taken her nearly seven hours to run from Moscow to Saint Petersburg, where she had spent a tearful hour with her Uncle Dmitri and Aunt Katya to mourn her father's unexpected death and say goodbye before continuing her flight from Russia. It was now three o'clock in the morning and she had to be out of Russia by dawn, it would be much more difficult to escape during daylight hours. Her eyes lingered upon the tall golden spire and dome of the Peter and Paul Fortress overlooking the river Neva for a long moment, then she sighed and headed north without looking back.

 

She would travel on foot northwest to Finland; she knew the northern road out of Saint Petersburg led there after passing through the city of Vyborg. At an easy half of her maximum running speed, the young metahuman could reach the 150 kilometer distant border in just over an hour if all went well.

 

Just after passing through Vyborg, Elena heard a distant throbbing sound behind her. At first she thought it was a train enroute to the Finnish border, but then she realized it was gaining on her. Russia hadn't a train in the entire country could even approach her current velocity of about 140 kilometers per hour. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw three sets of running lights about fifteen kilometers back and gaining rapidly. She could make them out easily with her extraordinary night vision. Attack helicopters, armed with cannon and multiple rocket launchers, and probably carrying an infantry squad as well. I've certainly seen enough of them at May Day Parades in Moscow with Papa. This can't be a coincidence, they must be after me. Although the aircraft were slightly slower than her own maximum running speed of 324 kilometers per hour, they were still a serious threat, as she could not run at her maximum speed for more than a minute or two. In any case she could not run much faster than 160 kph for any significant length of time, which meant the helicopters would eventually catch her if they spotted her.

 

Off to her right she could see the railroad right of way, and abruptly altered course to follow the tracks instead of the road. It would still get her to Finland, perhaps even more quickly since it was a shorter route.

The pursuing helicopters probably also meant that the Border Guards had been alerted as well, which was most unfortunate since she'd hoped to slip across the Russian border when most of the guards were sleeping or shivering at their posts in the subzero winter night. Elena was immune to the effects of subzero temperatures, her unusual physiology generated tremendous amounts of excess heat when she operated at high speeds, hence she was wearing only denim jeans and a light windbreaker. Elena shifted her rucksack and accelerated up to her maximum sustained running speed of 162 kph. Looks like this might be more difficult than I thought. I didn't count on pursuit so soon.

 

With only about twenty kilometers left to the border, Elena glanced back and saw only two of the Mi-24s still following. One of them must have followed the road as she had hoped. The remaining two were less than five kilometers away, clearly visible to her ultraviolet vision in the clear night sky. If they were using any type of thermal sight she knew she must be easily visible, shining like a beacon in the sparse coniferous forest around her. I wonder what the maximum range of their weapons is, surely at least a kilometer? I doubt they can easily hit something as small and fast as I am, after all their weapons were designed to engage armored vehicles. But they could get lucky, or have heat-seeking missiles, and the woods here don't offer much in the way of concealment.

 

Five kilometers, less than three minutes, from the border and her pursuers were now less than a kilometer behind her. Elena adjusted her rucksack and began to zigzag as she ran. It slowed her down a bit, but she wanted to present as poor a target as possible. She settled down to serious running, accelerating occasionally to higher speeds for a few seconds. Alongside the tracks she rocketed past a railway repair crew in several trucks. I wonder what they'll make of this strange procession of a girl and two attack helicopters?

Just ahead about two kilometers she could clearly see the lights of the border check station reflecting off the snow.

 

Her two pursuers were now less than 500 meters behind her. Elena started as the lead helicopter fired a quick burst from its nose-mounted 23mm cannon, the tracer rounds impacting twenty meters off to her right like laser pulses. A few seconds later the trailing Mi-24 fired several rockets, the explosions tearing up the railroad tracks a hundred meters ahead of her. They were warning her to stop. She increased her speed, leaping nimbly over the craters left by the rockets even before the flying dirt had fallen back to earth. She hoped the hotly pursuing aircraft wouldn't risk violating Finnish airspace. The Finnish border guards were surely aware of all the activity on the Russian side of the line; the Kremlin would have a difficult time claiming pilot error.

 

Now less than one kilometer from the border fence, the speeding fugitive could see an entire company of armed Border Security troops deploying, and three BMP armored personnel carriers parked side by side in front of the railroad gate. She had to pass through the gate, the areas to the sides of the track were certain to be mined. But how? If she slowed enough to maneuver around the tracked vehicles the soldiers might shoot her. So just how to get around them safely? As she approached she studied the triple rows of fences carefully, then smiled grimly as she suddenly saw a way across. This would require split second timing and accuracy. She altered course slightly and decelerated rapidly down to only 80 kilometers per hour. She heard an officer order his men to prepare to fire. No matter, in another few seconds I'll either be safely in Finland or dead. Behind her she heard the rotor noise from the helicopters change pitch as they slowed to a hover barely 100 meters from the border.

 

A split second before she collided with the BMPs, Elena leapt up onto the sloped glacis plate of the left hand vehicle and launched herself towards Finland from the top of the vehicle. She heard a number of rifle shots as she vaulted nimbly over the line of Russian soldiers standing just in front of the chain link fence. She somersaulted gracefully as she easily cleared the first section of minefields and landed crouched on the strand of barbed wire stretched on top of the center fence thirty meters away from her takeoff. She sprang again in a powerful leap that carried her an additional twenty-five meters in another athletic flip over the second belt of mines and clear over to the third fence. Elena once again bounced off the barbed wire, executing a triple gainer over the heads of open-mouthed Finnish soldiers standing near the gate. She giggled at the expressions of astonishment on the men's faces. Attempting an elegant landing with a flourish, she slipped on a patch of slick ice, and instead fell ignominiously on her rump and slid to a stop, safely in Finland.

 

Mentally and emotionally exhausted, Elena pulled herself up into a ball, put her head down on her knees and cried, mourning the loss of her father, her family, and her country all in less than 24 hours.

 

A score of excited Finnish soldiers surrounded her until finally an officer arrived a few minutes later and quieted the men. He scrutinized the diminutive fugitive for a moment, looked 75 meters across the fences both at his Russian counterparts and the hovering pair of attack helicopters which had clearly been pursuing her, and finally back again at the quietly sobbing girl before asking in good Russian, "Pardon me, miss, but just who are you and how can we help you?"

 

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Elena looked up through reddened eyes and declared proudly, "I am Elena Yurievna Alekseyeva, and I wish political asylum!"

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Nine days later Elena was returning home late after attending evening services at the Russian Orthodox cathedral in Helsinki, enjoying a late evening walk through the picturesque streets. She had found a room with some other Russian expatriates. She passed a huge dark bearded man in a fur greatcoat and hat smoking a pipe and smiled at him. He grinned broadly around his pipe and winked at her. The Finns had been very kind to her, but she could not speak their language.

 

Just ahead on the narrow street she could vaguely see a short blond haired man in a thick wool sweater standing near her building. His face was obscured by the evening fog and light snow flurries; her normally exceptional night vision was seriously degraded by such weather. Behind her, she heard the pipe smoking man knock out his pipe on the side of a building and begin to follow her. Something was wrong, but Elena couldn't figure out just what. She paused at the corner under a gas streetlight, feeling vaguely uneasy.

 

She heard the heavy booted footsteps of the man behind her echoing down the dimly lit street. Ahead, the man near her building began to walk slowly towards her, whistling tunelessly. Muggers? In Helsinki? She chuckled at the very absurdity of the idea. Elena had just about decided that she should continue on when then the blond haired man addressed her, "Elena Yurievna, State Security requires that you return to the Rodina. You will please come with us."

 

Us? Elena looked around quickly. The big man was standing ten meters behind her, lighting up another bowl of his sweet smelling tobacco and eyeing her intently. The sweater-clad man was no more than five meters away. Elena drew herself up to her full 145 centimeters. "Nyet, I will not go back to Russia. I will resist if you attempt to force me," she said with false bravado. Her stomach churned as she realized she would probably have to fight these men; she'd never been in a real fight.

 

The blonde man looked disappointed, and his handsome Slavic face seemed strangely sympathetic. "You obviously have courage, girl, but do not be foolish. We have heard the tales of your escape and they are most impressive, but we are Spetznaz operatives. I am Major Mikhail Nikolaevich Kershenko, and my large friend behind you is Sergeant Gregoriy Petrovich Nabarov. You must return to Moscow with us. Consider carefully your answer."

 

Elena looked back over her shoulder, the bearded giant grinned and saluted her casually with his pipe. Spetznaz? The almost legendary Russian Special Forces? She accelerated her metabolism to full speed; confident her superhuman abilities should allow her to easily evade even these soldiers. She turned to face the Russian officer squarely, her fists tensely clenched. "Major, my father taught me that a soldier must fight bravely no matter what the odds. I will not go willingly."

 

"Very well, Comrade Alekseyeva, things will go more harshly for you then. But we must do our duty." His hand reached behind his back and returned bearing a short metal cylinder. With a flick of his wrist he telescoped it into a half meter long steel baton, the metallic sound ringing harshly down the cobblestone street. "Defend yourself, Elena Yurievna!" He leapt forward suddenly and struck sharply at her head with the metal baton.

 

Startled by his unexpected speed and aggressiveness, Elena flung herself backward. The baton actually touched her head, but she rolled with it and avoided the main brunt of the blow. She somersaulted backwards as Major Kershenko advanced after her, spinning around and swinging the baton as he advanced. Each time he swung she flipped backwards until they had both traveled almost twenty meters down the street performing their strange dance. Her opponent cursed as he realized the girl was even faster than he had feared; in fact her moves seemed so casual it appeared as if she wasn't even purposely evading his blows. There was simply no sense that she felt at all hurried such as he normally got when he used this particularly rapid spinning attack. Blast, this is going to be tougher than I thought.

 

Abruptly he stopped; time for a change in tactics. Kershenko reached behind his back again, then snapped his arm around, hurling five sharply pointed metal throwing stars at her. To her superhuman reflexes the weapons appeared to be moving in slow motion and she simply leaned her torso parallel to the street back out of their flight path. "Lenin's Ghost, you are quick!" Down the street Sergeant Nabarov laughed heartily, obviously amused.

 

He leapt at her, hoping to catch her off balance as she was leaning backwards, but she extended her hands above her head down to the street and delivered a fast kick under his chin, his head snapping back from the unexpectedly powerful blow as she continued into a handstand. Momentarily caught off balance, he watched his diminutive opponent suddenly swing her torso down and split her legs parallel to the street. Then she abruptly swung both her legs around in tandem and swept his feet out from under him in what he recognized as a perfectly executed men's gymnastics routine.

 

He rolled and came back to his feet in a ready stance. It takes enormous upper body strength to perform that move, in fact even many men can't do it, so how in the world can she? So far her maneuvers had all reflected her gymnastics training. He watched as her legs swept around again and then changed direction upwards into a partial somersault as she was suddenly back on her feet facing him. A faint smile flickered across her face.

 

My God, he thought. What would she be capable of with actual training in martial arts? Never mind, I don't really want to know. In fact so far she was giving better than she got. His one advantage so far seemed to be that she did not follow through on her successes; she seemed to view each maneuver almost as a separate entity. That showed her lack of fighting experience, instead of closing for the kill after knocking her opponent off balance she stepped back like she was counting coup. He was no longer at all confident that he could tackle her alone; but then he didn't have to. He had both a team and a mission to perform. But first he would try to use that inexperience against her.

 

What do I know about Elena Alekseyeva? She's almost seventeen, an Olympic gymnast, she won two Bronze Medals in 1996, and has been competing most of her life against other gymnasts. She's used to pushing herself to excel against the very best. She is proud. Then he remembered the brief smile after she had swept him off his feet. Of course! She's setting herself in competition against me! Why else would she still be here when we know she can run over 100 kilometers per hour? She's assuming that I'm one of the best fighters Russia has, so she wants to test herself against me. She wants to prove her superiority. Now I know how to bait her.

 

"Gregoriy, my sticks!" His sergeant reached into the vast pockets of his greatcoat and tossed him three fifty-centimeter long sticks connected by ten-centimeter lengths of chain. He quickly assumed a fighting stance with the three-sectional staff, and the girl looked at it curiously but without recognition. Good, that was exactly what he had hoped for. It was an unusual weapon; even most experienced martial artists had never actually faced one of the tripartite staves.

 

Elena had already realized that Major Kershenko was superhumanly fast, although not nearly so quick as she was. State Security called me a metahuman, she remembered, and she had wondered at the time if they might have other metahumans as operatives. Could Major Kershenko be one too, and perhaps his large comrade as well? This is really exciting, State Security has actually sent super powered agents to capture me. She felt she had more than held her own against the Spetznaz officer up to this point. He had now assumed a fighting stance with some sort of strange weapon, whirling the end in a complicated figure-eight pattern, and she watched it carefully.

 

Major Kershenko advanced, swinging the end of the three section staff to give his novice opponent sufficient time to analyze the pattern. Then he abruptly broke the pattern and swept to strike at her legs, but she leapt with great agility to avoid the staff. He whirled about and attempted a higher attack, but again her phenomenal reflexes enabled her to easily duck beneath his attack. He began his pattern again, pleased that she had done exactly as expected. If he'd guessed correctly she would try to intercept his next blow. Perfect! Come on, girl, block the next one!

 

Elena had pretty well decided it was no serious threat when he abruptly spun around, swung it up and brought it back down directly down at her head. Just as he had expected she decided to actively block his third attack and focused her full attention on the staff. Her right hand shot up to seize the center section and immobilize the staff, she gasped in pain as the third section swung down and struck her unexpectedly in the back. She stumbled forward and was thus perfectly placed for him to release the staff and deliver a lightning fast kung fu strike to her jaw. Elena reeled back with a bloody lip and dropped the staff as he advanced striking with alternating fists as rapidly as he could. She managed to block or avoid many of his blows, but enough still connected that for the first time she had lost the initiative.

 

He lashed out with a sidekick and was almost surprised to see it connect. She flew back three meters, rolled and came back to her feet staggering visibly, and Major Kershenko paused for just a second. He was frankly amazed she was still standing, most normal men he had beaten like this would have long since been unconscious. But then there's seemingly nothing normal about this girl at all, is there?

 

Elena had been growing increasingly frantic as her stronger and more experienced opponent attacked without letup, she needed to clear her head and find a way out. All she needed was a couple of seconds, and Major Kershenko's tiny hesitation finally gave her the opportunity she needed. As he stepped forward to resume his attack she put her left hand on the hood of a parked car, pivoted and struck him solidly in the chest with a spinning kick. As he staggered back she suddenly landed on her hands in front of him and thrust her legs into his stomach with incredible force, throwing him backwards into the air nearly four meters to land flat onto the cobblestone street, knocking the wind out of him. So much, he thought ironically, for her not following through.

 

Elena sprang back onto her feet and looked around for someplace she could retreat for a moment, and with sudden inspiration she realized she could take refuge on a rooftop. She vaulted easily to the roof of the parked car, landed in a crouch and then jumped up, bouncing of a nearby lamp post and finally landing with a backwards flip onto the roof of the nearest house three stories above the street. She began to run quickly along the row of peaked rooftops heading for the far end of the block.

 

The prone Russian officer had watched her escape to the top of the three-story dwelling with astonishment; he'd heard the border guards' stories of her incredible leap to cross the border. I had assumed they were exaggerating. Apparently not, he realized, but even so he couldn't let her get away. "Stop her, Tasha," he croaked, still unable to draw breath enough to shout. Fortunately the command was unnecessary, Natasha was a good soldier who knew her mission.

 

Elena heard a faint ultrasonic buzz behind her and instinctively dodged, narrowly avoiding a lance of brilliant violet energy that passed through the air where she had been less than a half second before. What the Devil was that? It looked like something from an American science-fiction movie. Half blinded by the dazzling beam, she moved haphazardly across the rooftops, caroming off a chimney before suddenly feeling herself start to go over the edge of the roof. She twisted to get her feet down and came to a safe if somewhat artless landing in the next street over.

 

After waiting a few more seconds for her vision to clear completely, she then moved quickly away before coming to a stop two blocks away. Elena carefully peered around the corner and scanned the street. There faintly visible on the roof of the corner building was a dim figure holding some type of rifle with a faintly glowing tip. Major Kershenko was back on his feet; he had retrieved his weapon and was conversing with his huge subordinate in front of her apartment.

 

She waited for a minute to allow her head to clear and catch her breath. Confident because she had so far been able to successfully counter nearly all of their attacks, she contemplated her next move. She was rather proud of herself, and she was enjoying testing herself against the Russian super soldiers and found herself wondering if this was the very team she would have been forced to join. True, she was bruised a bit, but she figured she had only gotten into trouble because she had allowed the Spetznaz officer to surprise her. She would not allow that to happen again, after all if she could get out of that last scrape she assumed she could handle pretty much anything Major Kershenko could throw at her.

 

Sergeant Nabarov, on the other hand, didn't seem to her to do much besides stand around. Elena decided to attack him first; he seemed both slow and not too bright. He should prove easy to defeat with her vast superiority in speed, she'd already seen that the others couldn't hit her if she was careful. After that she would deal with the mysterious sniper. Her course of action decided, she raced out from under the canopy and around the block, snatching up a stout stick from a woodpile en route as she came up sixty meters behind Sergeant Nabarov, who was now moving purposefully towards her previous position a block away. Major Kershenko was still standing in front of her building.

 

Elena accelerated rapidly towards her intended victim. She struck him forcefully with her improvised club as she raced past him; the stick splitting as the force of the impact shot up her arm and the broken stick flew from her grasp. She looked back and was stunned to see that not only was he still standing, he didn't even appear to be hurt. She stopped ten meters away in a doorway, momentarily at a loss.

 

"Ho! Well struck, zaichik! But Gregoriy is not so easily brought down, eh?" Elena's eyes narrowed angrily at being addressed by the child's nickname 'bunny'; she took it as a deliberate insult. Then upon further reflection she giggled, after all compared to him she certainly was tiny. Well over two meters tall and massively built, the full bearded giant looked like nothing so much as a 200 kilogram Cossack. He clasped his hands high above his head.

 

Elena watched him closely, puzzled by his seemingly meaningless action. Surely he doesn't think he can actually hit me, does he? She would be gone long before he got anywhere near her. An instant later she received her answer as the burly sergeant brought his hammer-like fists crashing down onto the surface of the street with tremendous force. The impact rippled the cobblestone road like gelatin, shattered stones flying for ten meters in every direction, and Elena was hurled from her feet as the shockwave passed under her. A Volvo parked next to the giant flipped over onto the sidewalk and windows shattered in houses all along the block. "See if you are so swift now, comrade!" he chuckled.

 

Still lying on her back, she heard a whistling sound and turned to see five more of Major Kershenko's throwing stars hurtling towards her, and he was following rapidly. Unable to step aside, she rolled desperately to avoid the razor sharp projectiles. The missiles narrowly missed and stuck deep into the wooden door next to her. Elena quickly examined the shuriken; it suddenly occurred to her that these people could cause serious injuries attempting to capture her. Suddenly this fight just didn't seem quite as much fun as before. She sat up and plucked the stars from the door, quickly stuffing them into a jacket pocket.

 

Up on the roof, she could see the figure on the roof aiming for another shot with his rifle, the tip of the strange rifle now glowing brightly. Major Kershenko was charging at her and was now only a few meters away, clearly hoping to catch her while she was still prone. Without thinking, Elena snatched up a walnut sized piece of broken pavement and hurled it at her assailant with all her might. The rock pierced him through the abdomen; gore exploding out his back as he crumpled literally at her feet with an agonized scream that was abruptly cut short. The terrible exit wound looked as large as her fist.

 

Oh my God, what have I done? Elena was horrified. She hadn't intended to kill Major Kershenko, only to knock him down. It had never occurred to her that anything thrown as fast as a bullet would cause injuries like one. She began to move over to see if she could help.

 

Another ultrasonic buzz warned her just in time as she rolled right, the beam grazing her left shoulder and nearly making her black out with pain. She staggered to her feet and stumbled around the corner, narrowly avoiding another shot by the energy weapon. Thirty seconds later she stopped in an alley half a kilometer away, where she removed her jacket and opened her shirt to examine her shoulder wound. Fortunately it was minor, the beam had barely touched the skin, although it was still quite painful and bleeding profusely. The corresponding holes in her nylon windbreaker looked melted from the blast. Fortunately she had not taken a solid hit, and probably her body's protective vibratory field had protected her somewhat as well. Elena tore several strips from her blood-soaked blouse to bandage the wound, then tugged the jacket back on. Tears sprang to her eyes and she fought down nausea at the recollection of the puddle of blood by Major Kershenko. So much blood, how can he possibly survive? Oh Lord, she prayed, please let him live!

 

This whole affair had seemed almost like a game until mere moments ago, now it was suddenly deadly serious. They had her on the run, uncertain even of their numbers. The remaining members of the Russian team could attack her as they pleased, eventually one of them would get lucky. And with their commander either dead or seriously injured, they would be out for blood. She must take the offensive; running away would do her no good. They'll just track me down again, and the next time they won't give me a warning. Her only choices were to soundly defeat them or return to Russia as their prisoner, and that was no longer a viable choice now that she had mortally wounded a Russian officer.

 

Departing the alley, Elena raced back to do battle. As she approached her apartment she could hear the giant hurling invectives into the night." Curse you, Elena Yurievna! You have killed Misha! When I catch you, I will grind your bones to paste! Yob' tvoyu mat! I will crush you! Filthy traitor bitch!" He ranted on hoarsely. It appears, Elena thought bitterly, that Sergeant Nabarov doesn't find me quite so amusing anymore. From the sudden crash of metal it appeared he was also hurling things other than curses. It occurred to Elena that the massive Cossack could probably survive anything she was capable of hitting him with. Perhaps I had the right idea when I first attacked him, but simply needed to hit him harder. But how?

 

As she neared her opponents, Elena slowed to a stop just around the corner a block away and peered carefully around the building to ascertain her opponents whereabouts. Sergeant Nabarov was pacing back and forth angrily, nearby were several smashed and overturned cars as clear evidence of his earlier berserk anger. A black haired woman in a dark form fitting costume was kneeling next to the still form of Major Kershenko, apparently administering first aid. She watched as the woman hurriedly applied a number of bandages to her fallen comrade, so the Spetznaz officer might not be dead yet as Elena had feared. Near the woman lay the strange rifle Elena had seen used by her rooftop opponent. I suppose this woman must be the sniper.

 

Elena scanned the street carefully, looking for any other surprises, but saw only her three opponents in the street. From a number of windows she could see several Finns peering timidly out at the violent tableau in their street, and in the distance she could her the high-low wail of approaching sirens. Both her conscious opponents had their backs to her, and suddenly a possible method to hit the giant occurred to her.

 

She moved around the corner and rapidly accelerated directly towards his huge form. He would be very heavy; it would take all her strength to accomplish this certifiably insane maneuver. She crouched slightly as she ran and slammed her right shoulder directly into his lower back at just over one hundred kilometers per hour, lifting his feet clear of the ground as she straightened and pushed. The tremendous impact made her head spin but she continued, pushing herself and her adversary directly at a stone building, the 191 kilogram sergeant letting out a hoarse yell as he smashed headlong completely through the twenty-five centimeter thick stone wall. The instant before the collision, Elena slowed and tucked herself into a ball, rolling right along behind him and coming to a stop just inside the building with only a few more cuts and bruises. Sergeant Nabarov slammed with a resounding crash against the opposite wall of the room, then toppled backwards like a felled tree to the floor covered with stone and other debris. Call me 'bunny', will you? 'Stop the presses, rabbit takes out bear.'

 

Elena lurched unsteadily to her feet, her ears still ringing from the impact. Her head was spinning, her shoulder felt like she had just rammed a locomotive, and she was prepared to either fight or flee as necessary. But one glance told her that her colossal adversary was out cold. Good thing too, I don't think I could beat a kitten right now. She slumped heavily back down to the floor, resting for a few seconds on hands and knees until the room stopped moving. Then she stood with fists clenched and advanced purposefully toward the sniper, who stared open mouthed at the bleeding, bedraggled girl who had just knocked her massive teammate through a solid stone wall. The woman slowly picked up her weapon and stood, but did not point it threateningly.

 

The sniper glanced at Elena's blood soaked left shoulder, the melted hole from the charged particle beam clearly visible in the girl's thin jacket. I was right, I did hit her. My God, she suddenly realized, it's twenty degrees below zero and she's not even wearing a winter coat. She looked stone faced at Elena. "I am Corporal Natasha Ivanova Nabarova. Is Gregoriy... Sergeant Nabarov dead? He is my husband."

 

Your husband? Elena realized with a start that the woman was only a few years older than she. "I did not... Nyet, but he is unconscious." Elena pulled the throwing stars from her jacket pocket and glared at the woman, who glanced at the weapons and blanched, visualizing the terrible wounds that would be caused if they were thrown at supersonic speeds. "Throw me your weapon."

 

Corporal Nabarova nodded acquiescence and tossed her rifle to Elena. Although she was herself a more than competent hand-to-hand fighter, she had no illusions of her ability to defeat this girl after watching her fight Mikhail Kershenko.

 

Elena examined the strange rifle briefly, and then touched the crude bandage over the still painful wound it had caused on her shoulder. She pointed the weapon at the woman and saw sudden fear in her eyes, raised it over her head and spun it like a propeller until it blurred, and hurled it down to the street with all her might. The high tech rifle shattered, the synthetic stock splintered and the metal parts themselves twisted almost beyond recognition. Then she turned back to Sergeant Nabarov's wife, "I will take the Major to a hospital."

 

"That will not be necessary, I have a car only a half kilometer away," objected Natasha.

 

Elena smiled mirthlessly. "Don't be foolish, the nearest hospital is almost four kilometers away. I can carry him there in less than two minutes."

 

"Why would you do that? We tried to arrest you, and we very nearly killed you."

 

Without answering, Elena went over to the comatose man and began to pull him up so she could carry him, and Natasha hurried over to help lift him and wrap his arms around Elena's neck. She straightened up with him slung across her shoulders, warm blood seeping from his wounds trickling down her back, and pointed. "The hospital is down that way ten blocks, then turn left and go another two kilometers. I will take him to the emergency room." She turned and ran rapidly down the street with her human cargo.

* * *

 

 

 

Almost an hour passed before Natasha Nabarov and her husband entered the hospital, Gregoriy Nabarov had a bandage around his forehead and his left arm was in a sling. The couple looked at each other in surprise upon finding Elena standing in a corner of the waiting room, her shoulder wound covered by a sterile dressing and mechanically eating a sandwich given her by the hospital staff. They quietly crossed the lobby over to her.

 

"How is Misha?" asked Natasha. "Will he live?"

 

Elena looked down and took a deep breath before replying, "His heart stopped due to blood loss just after he got here to the emergency room, but the doctors got it started again and then rushed him somewhere upstairs for surgery. The doctors told me the prognosis was guarded, but that he appeared to be in excellent health and that should improve his chances for survival. I told them I was his sister and we had been in an automobile accident so they would tell me." Her eyes came up to meet the taller woman's, and the genuine concern in them was obvious.

 

Natasha scrutinized the tiny shorthaired girl in tattered clothing who stood before her covered in blood and bruises, her lower lip badly swollen, who had fought them so forcefully and with such determination. She had never seen anyone who looked so utterly exhausted, and she suspected the teenager was standing on sheer willpower alone.

 

"He would have certainly died if you had not helped him. We are in your debt." Now what are we supposed to do with you?

 

"You were soldiers doing your duty. My father taught me about duty, he was a soldier all his life." Naked grief suddenly flashed across Elena's face, and tears welled in her eyes as his death was unexpectedly brought home again. Her chin quivered for just an instant before she abruptly clenched her jaw.

 

Natasha looked away quickly; her own eyes moist. She had read the Alekseyeva girl's arrest warrant and classified file before starting on this assignment and knew Marshal Alekseyev had died less than two weeks ago in a suspicious plane crash. The wound was still obviously very fresh for his only child, now an orphan. How can I reconcile this girl's obvious pain with the report alleging she is suspected of somehow arranging her own father's murder with a bomb, or the fact that she risked her own capture or even death to save one of her intended captors? It just doesn't make sense; more likely headquarters is wrong about her. She looked over at her husband and met his eyes inquiringly, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

"I hope he survives, and I will pray for him, but I must be going now."

 

As Elena turned to leave the hospital, Natasha Nabarov spoke again. "Moscow was wrong about you, Elena Yurievna."

 

Elena looked back, startled. "What?"

 

"They told us you were just a girl, but they were incorrect. Your father would have been very proud of the woman you have become."

 

 

 

Note: I first published this story on the Hero boards in May 2006. This is a very minor revision. (For you old-timers, yes, Elena will become the character formerly known as Zl'f. I have retconned it so her Russian superhero name has always been Sil'f, the Russian word for Sylph.)