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Meeting of the Minds

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The woman who called herself the Warlord popped the last fork-full of hot apple pie between her plump lips, washing it down with a cup of tea flavored with milk and lemon. She hoped that with the stir she had caused during the city’s Midnight Queen event and the fact that every Canadian Syndicate soldier she could locate suddenly stopped whatever task they were engaged in and went en mass to their handlers to tell give a message to the Occupant that he would be here soon. Taking a second sip of the wonderfully delicious tea she leaned back, her massive breasts bouncing in the confines of their top, a top far smaller than it should have been. She crossed her voluptuous legs and took a deep breath. Catherine knew she was taking a big risk in meeting with the Occupant like this. Ilsa and her other Reich handlers would not approve in the slightest. Small minds that didn't understand, they all feared this being as much as they feared her...all except for one of them. Best not to dwell on him for now. As she placed the now-empty tea-cup back in its saucer she could feel a presence approaching. A powerful signature, the likes of which she had not encountered in her lifetime. The Warlord's blue eyes rolled up slightly in her head as she bolstered her own ID shields and defenses, making her mind a tower of iron will and creating for any psychic the equivalent of a signal flare. Surely he would be drawn to her now like a moth to a flame, and he did not disappoint.


The Occupant appeared in front of her. She had left a small portion of her mind open, just enough to let him use her senses to see him. His form was translucent, and he had decided to forgo the clothes he usually created the illusion of. Instead, he was wearing a duplicate of the armor she wore as the Voyevoda, sans helmet. He knew this meeting was a risk: after all, this woman worked for his enemy. And yet, something told him that she was acting on her own accord, and he was curious to see what exactly she wanted. The face of his illusionary form smiled widely as he said, “Hello, hello. How are you doing this fine day. And forgive me for being so blunt, but just why is it you want to see me so badly?”


Catherine Gale looked him up and down with her tongue in her cheek for a long moment before leaning back in her seat.


"Well, well. So this is the mighty Occupant who worries even the Fourth Reich's mighty leader. I'm flattered that you would use my accelerator suit to appear in astrally. Means that you took the liberty of memorizing it since I'm not letting you into my head. I wanted to meet you, or at the least have a look at you. Our kind are so exceedingly rare. It would be a true pity were we to mar our first and possibly only, meeting with violence. I am of course the Voyevoda."


“Yes, I do realize who you are,” the Occupant replied. “Still, that leads me to a number of questions, the first being the fact that when you first appeared in this city, you weren’t as obviously female as you are now. And of course there’s the question of why a Russian would have anything to do with a Nazi.”


“And it’s nice to hear that I worry Hauppman,” he continued. “It means that she no longer views me with the contempt she once did. That’s flattering, in its own way.”


"I'm on my second body to answer your first question." Catherine said flatly, "Much like the phoenix, every time I die I arise anew from the ashes of my previous form. I am as immortal of war itself, hence my name. Secondly my current allegiance to the vaunted 'Master Race' is...complicated. You may believe that Ilsa is the most dangerous creature in the ranks of the Reich, but she has something else working for her...ancient...eldritch...you are playing a dangerous game baiting Hauppman like you are."


The Warlord flashed her perfect smile and sat up quickly, her obviously fake breasts bouncing. "And that is all the information on my handlers I shall be providing. Now why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? When did you first discover you had abilities above the common man?"


“So you transferred your mind into another body. Interesting,” the Occupant said as he stroked his chin. “I’m not sure if even I could do that, despite my level of power. Of course, I’m not exactly sure if I’d want to. After all, I assume there would be a certain amount of personality lost in the transfer, along with the absorption of traits from the host. No, I’d try to avoid that unless it’d be the very last resort.


“And don’t be so melodramatic. ‘Eldritch.’ Please,” he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know Hauppman’s capabilities better than she suspects, and there’s nothing that I have to fear. The most dangerous thing she has is herself, and of course you, my dear, but she hamstrings herself by clinging to a failed ideology and implements the same strategies that brought it down.”


He watched her shift with only a little interest and then said, “And as for how I got my powers, well, the details of my life are inconsequential. Maybe I was born with them. Maybe I received them from an alien device. Maybe I had radical surgery performed to maximize my brain’s potential. How I got them doesn’t really matter. I have the power, and that’s what matters.”


Catherine smirked, studying his psychic projection a long moment before continuing. Part of her was exhilarated that she was capable of a feat that this Canadian mentalist wasn't but part of her realized that what he had said about absorption was true, despite telling herself otherwise. Even Black had commented on it. She wondered how much of her original personality had remained un-merged before quickly deciding it best to block it out for now and focus strictly on her mental shielding as she spoke up again.


"I suppose you are right, but don't say I didn't warn you about Ilsa. I was hoping you would be more forthcoming with me but as for myself I was born with this gift. I was selected by my government to take part in a special Soviet project headed by Dr. Milan Ryzl, a Czechoslovakian biochemist who performed para-psychological experiments and who pioneered research in developing mind control. Afghanistan was where I honed my powers and abilities, powers I have used to cripple and defeat both the Soviet Superwoman and her mate Walkiria."


The Occupant arched an eyebrow. “So is that why you threw in with Hauppman? Revenge against the soviet? Because a wise man once said ‘revenge is a sucker’s game’. And no offense, but from what I’ve seen on the news, you hardly ‘crippled’ them. They’re still as active as they ever were, and if they ever found out that you were still alive, well, I assume it wouldn’t end well. And before you say anything,” he continued, holding up a hand to hold off protests, “I’m not saying I could have done a better job. I just would have approached the problem from another angle.”


The Warlord bolted slightly upright, the smoldering fire behind her eyes suddenly fanned to life.


"I had them broken! Olga was nothing but a blubbering, useless pile on the sidewalk and Walkiria fared no better! If I hadn't had interference from that mysterious, cybernetic woman Grendel everything would have gone according to my design! My reasons for operating with Ilsa Hauppman right now are strictly my own. I wanted to meet you to see if we had anything in common, if you had seen the things I had seen in mankind. In my lifetime, I have touched the minds of thousands of men and women and each mind that I peered into was stuffed with the same single object of obsession. That selfish and atavistic desire to pass on one’s seed…it was enough to make me sick. Every living thing on this planet exists for no other reason than to mindlessly pass on their DNA. We’re designed that way. And that’s why there is war…humans weren’t designed to bring each other happiness. From the moment we’re thrown into this world, we’re fated to bring each other nothing but pain and misery. This is why I became the Voyevoda, the Warlord!"


Catherine seemed to settle after that, the smirk returning to her lips as she added: "This new body has advantages when it comes to what most men want. It causes them to lower their defenses, open their minds more readily...but not you. Perhaps you do know what I am talking about...that or you aren't into girls."


The Occupant held his hands up in a conciliating manner. “Now calm down, my dear. Like I said, I’m not saying I could do a better job. After all, the willpower of those so-called heroes is greater than that of the sheeple, and so can overcome more. I just would have done things differently. I’d have my minions attack them physically while I mentally assault them from a remote location. After all, I’m well aware of my limitations,” he continued, shaking his head. “And so I tend to avoid physical encounters as much as possible. I do have a suggestion, though. I have great success with implanting false memories. Perhaps, you could make the soviet think she has actually been a spy for the Nazis, or that Stalin chained her to his bedposts every night and rode her hard.


“And I don’t really care for passing on my DNA. What I’m concerned about is gaining money and power. Being comfortable in the present is more important than having someone to carry on for me in the future. That is why I became to Occupant, to enrich myself. And as for causing pain and misery, well, as long as I benefit from it, I don’t care.”


He winked at her and said, “And I can safely assure you I’m ‘into girls’. But I can control my libido, unlike so many other men. Although I seem to be detecting a thread in your word. Questioning my sexuality, wanting to know the source of my power, Talking of ‘our kind’, speaking about passing on DNA. Now, I may be wrong here, but,” And he arched an eyebrow, “Are you after my genetic matter?”


At his comment, the Warlord paused and stared at him for a moment before she threw her head back and laughed out loud, blonde hair cascading backwards across her neck. The woman held her hand up as she stifled her chuckles.


"No, no...that wasn't what I as implying and I am not mocking you. I was merely making a statement that the mindless cows that make up the masses want only to fuck and in lieu of that create war and death. People are incredibly easy to manipulate and this body works to that advantage far better than my broken one does. You intrigue me though. You have so much in common with me. We crave power over these simpletons and comfort for ourselves in this pathetic world. Let me get to know you better before I invite you to my bedroom. I haven't even seen the 'real' you yet, have I?"


"As for your suggestion as to how to handle Olga, you are closer than you could ever know. Rest assured that even now I painting the final details before a master-stroke that will bring that damned Soviet harlot to her knees and beg for the end to come." she smiled with a twinkle in her eyes.


The Occupant shrugged. “Well, looks like I was a fair bit off base. At least I gave you a good laugh. Personally, sex is just a source of enjoyment to me, not the driving motivation of my life. My desire for power is what drives me. Of course, I’m not arrogant enough to want to conquer the world. That’d be too much work. I’d settle for a nice medium sized country


“And you’re right about not showing you my true face,” he continued with a smirk. “If you had of said yes, I would have just supplied you with a sample. The only way that I would have agreed to do it the fun way is if you fully opened your mind, and I don’t think we trust each other enough for that.


“And good luck with defeating Olga. I mean it. One less ‘do-gooder’ helps us all.” He checked his watch. “It’s been enlightening meeting to you, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again, but I need to be going. However, if you’d like my help with something, or even if you want to chat, you know how to contact me,” he said with a wink.


"I appreciate the support, in that particular operation at least." Catherine said standing up. "My situation with Ilsa sadly still puts us at odds, but I must admit there is far more to you than a simple peasant out to make headlines. It's refreshing to meet another one so gifted and not have it end in the death of one of us. I can't guarantee that for next time of course, but I would also very much enjoy meeting with you a second time, perhaps in person. I'll be less theatrical in getting you the message...or perhaps you might wish to contact me."


The Warlord reached over and picked up her cup of cooling tea, swallowing down the remainder before placing it gently back in it's saucer. "I also have an appointment that I have put off for too long. Good luck in your endeavors Occupant, in so much as your interests don't conflict with mine."


“Well, if you ever wish to get out from under Hauppman’s thumb, I’d be more than happy to help you with that, if for no other reason than to piss her off,” the Occupant replied. “And as for meeting you in person, well, who can say what the future might bring. But until then, I bid you adieu.” And with that, he gave her a deep bow and then vanished.

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Major thanks to :iconartguyjoe: for providing this amazing image of two of Angel Falls most powerful telepaths finally meeting.

Another big thanks to :iconpathetic-virgin: who co-wrote and co-edited this story, as well as created and owns the Occupant and Canadian Syndicate.

The Warlord, Ilsa Hauppman, Soviet Superwoman and Fourth Reich, as well as half the story are my property and creations.

This takes place in :iconangel-fallsda:
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© 2012 - 2024 Soviet-Superwoman
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Paudraic's avatar
Their attitude towards the peasants they wish to rule reminds me of Ralph Cramden.
Ralph: (shouting) I'm the King, Alice, you're nothing!
Alice: Congratulations, Ralph, you're the King of Nothing.