Cold War Stories:- Ghost Hunter( A Request by hshws)

[Stormtrooper1990]

When I wrote the story Ghost of Budapest I was messaged by hshws a fellow board member from Budapest Hungary. While he enjoyed the story, he messaged me asking whether it was possible to write a sequel where the titular character, psychotic KGB assassin Sofia Bukharova would get her comeuppance, just in time for Hungary's independence day on the 23rd October. I answered and here i would like to present the sequel to that story. I would like to thank hshws for their knowledge of Budapest and for their assistance in bringing this story to life. It's mid November 1956 and Célia Takács, younger sister of Hanna Takaçs, has returned to her hometown. Under the pretence of being the latest CIA operative to be deployed to Budapest to report on the aftermath on the failed revolution in November. But the real reason she has returned is to avenge the murder of her elder sister, by a sadistic KGB assassin known only as Prizak or ghost. With little to go on, Célia must use all her resourcefulness to find and excise the Ghost of Budapest. And once she is done, she can finally say goodbye to her estranged sister and find closure...



The 15:30 train from Athens to Budapest, 3km from Budapest, nearing Kelenföld Station. Wednesday 17th November 1956 15:23pm



Looking through her window feeling the train grind on the tracks below her, 22 year old Célia Takács could see the first snows of winter drifting past landing on the dreamlike spires of her home, Budapest, shooting past like dewdrops. Silhouetted by the grey overcast cloud, the city reflected Celia's mood she felt both trepidation and sadness coming back here. I can't believe it's been a year since I have walked these streets, and it hasn't changed at all. Still crawling with Reds, strutting around like they own the place. Lessened by the loss of many of her sons and daughters, my dearest sister Hanna among them... Catching her reflection in the glass, Célia wiped her eyes stained with tears. She was a beautiful young woman, almost identical to Hanna. They had shared the same heart shaped features, high cheekbones and piercing sapphire blue almond shaped eyes. The only difference was Célia's chestnut brown locks had been cut short into a loose comb over style favoured by American women. Oh Hanna, I miss you. Why did you have to die? The girl sighed, glancing down at the monochrome picture of she and Hanna as children.



They were only a couple of years apart but they were close, once. Like many children in Budapest they had lost their parents during the Red Army's push from Poland in WW2 and were forced into an orphanage by the new regime. But the sisters had made an oath that on the lives of their dead parents, they would always stick together. Growing up, playing through the rubble of their home Hanna was always her heroine, always there to wipe her cheeks, dress her skinned knees and when they came of age how to deal with the attention of boys who always flocked to the elder Takács. That was their life until last year, when the girls were in the third year of their studies in University. The murmurings of revolution had swept through the campus of the Budapesti Múegyetem (BME) and this had divided the usually close sisters. Hanna had always maintained that communism is the right way, but not the stalinism of the Soviets while the younger Takács had been seduced by smuggled western music, movies and chocolate arguing for them to leave their home and seek sanctuary in the west.


The last time Célia had spoken to to Hanna, it was more a heated argument. Hanna had accused her of becoming seduced by the west and for abandoning them in their hour of need while Célia, the stubborn one had told her she was just a brainwashed communist puppet and that they would be free and safe in the west. "Please, Hanna. We will be safe in the US, we wouldn't have to look over our shoulder all the time. And we could still help our people." Hanna had shook her head. "By becoming capitalists? You've lost your head, sweet sister. Please, I beg of you stay with me and join the resistance. We can build a better future, together." Célia had grabbed her coat and made for the door of their apartment. "You're always holding me back! Well, I don't need you and I don't need communism!" She had stormed out without another word and headed straight for the US embassy. And from that day, she had regretted every word. The screech of the train coming to a halt, brought her back to the present.



Gathering up her coat from the bench, Célia's thoughts turned from the painful past to the immediate future. She had returned home to Budapest, ostensibly to spy on the aftermath of the failed November rising for the CIA, but in truth she was here to avenge her sister something she had not told her new American pay masters about. She had only just completed her spy training at Langley, learning the ins and outs of disguise and infiltration when she heard the news from a CIA intercept that had broken her heart. The November revolution had been crushed by the Soviets, almost single handedly by a deadly KGB operative known only as Prizak . The only information the CIA had on the operative was she was a woman, who had murdered 3 women and one of them was Hanna. That she herself used a garrote and was a master of disguise, having stripped her victims after killing them. The very thought of brave beautiful Hanna, her heroine older sister violated like that chilled her to the bone. The only identifying feature on the assassin was an Auschwitz camp tattoo number "157908" on the lower left forearm. Upon hearing the news, Célia had begged her handler to be sent back to Hungary to put her new skills to the test. Of course the CIA had no knowledge of her real, more personal mission but she still had to use them for information on where to start her search.



Kelenföld Station, Budapest 15:32pm


Having memorised her mission orders before her departure from the Athens station house, Célia knew that the CIA safehouse was under a small haberdashery on the Pál Nyári street, number 15. Like any Budapesti, Célia knew the name from the revolutionary hero of the 1848-49 revolution and the best way to get there. All she had to do was to say the phrase. "Do you sell Umbrella's?" To which the shopkeeper who would reply with "I do but they are in the cellar."' and indicated an unburned safehouse. Picking up the pace, Célia weaved her way through the bustling station outside towards the tram stop. Getting on the next tram to the Pál Nyári. Despite the sadness in her heart, the familiar ring of the trams bell was music to her ears. Leaning against the bar, feeling the tug behind her navel Célia grimly smiled. She knew she was home.


Nágy Haberdashery, Pál Nyári Street 15, 15:50pm


Her presence announced by the tinkle of the stores bell, Célia entered to find the store curiously deserted save a single middle aged male clerk wearing a crisp black suit and sporting a bushy black moustache that matched his immaculately groomed coif. He flashed her a smile. "Good afternoon, madam. What can do for you. Perhaps a new bonnet or fascinator? To bring out your eyes?" Célia thinly smiled brushing off the sales patter as she approached the counter. "No. Do you sell Umbrella's?" A look of recognition passed across the man's lined face. "I do but they are in the cellar. Come follow me." He said opening the counter, beckoning her forward. Nodding Célia fell into step behind him.



"So you're a local too? The Americans seem to like using us as their go betweens. What's your name, miss?" The man asked pulling the light cord which revealed a flight of stairs. "My name is Célia Takács, I was born in Lipótváros across the river. You?" She said following him down the stairs. Turning he smiled " Péter Nágy, District V. We're practically neighbours then. Good to meet you." He held his hand which she took firmly shaking it. At the bottom of the stairs they entered a small, dingy but homely cellar with a single bed, radio set and a door beyond that led to a toilet and shower. "It's not much but it's home. We have running hot water but the shower takes a bit of getting used to." Célia' turned flashing a smile. "Could you tell me? What's the best place to pick up a little gossip nearby? My superiors back at Langley want me start gathering information in the morning." She lied. Péter's brow furrowed, hands on his hips. " Well that would be the Café Centrale under 9 Károlyi Street. Do you know it?" Célia nodded. "Mhm. It's in the inner city, not to far away. I'am surprised it survived both the War and the revolution." Péter chuckled grimly. "Well, it's crawling with Reds now. The communists have all the best cafés in the city. Lucky swine." He said bursting out laughing as Célia merely chuckled. "Well, I best get back to the shop. Just in case a red walks in. I will leave you to get settled. If need anything just give me a shout. And if anybody asks, you're my new assistant, got it? " The young agent sat on the bed, testing the mattress. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Péter." With a smile the man departed closing the door.


Finding the bed a little stiff, Célia stripped off her coat and dress then entered the bathroom. Taking off her underwear, she stepped naked into the shower switching it on. Swearing as biting cold water suddenly hit her skin, Célia's thoughts turned to her mission. I will avenge you, my dearest Hanna. I swear on the lives of our parents. Taking a deep breath, she sighed with pleasure as hot water caressed her bare skin.


Across from The Café Centrale, Károlyi Street 9, Inner City Budapest, Thursday 18th November 1956 09:30am


Having woken early, showering then enjoying an omelette topped with paprika, onions and kolbäsz sausage prepared by Péter, Célia was in high spirits. She hadn't tasted sausage that good in a whole year, since Hungarian fare was practically none existent in the states. She had caught a tram from Pál Nyári to Károlyi Street and made good progress. Now standing across the road from the café, Célia found the place crawling with soviet troops of both genders enjoying their eggs, coffees and omelettes topped with sausages. Glancing through the window, the young spy weighed up her options. As far as I can tell, I have two options for disguise; one wait until a Red Army girl steps out for a cigarette and take the uniform. While my Russian is passable, it's too much of a risk, they all know other other and might spot a change of face. Or a waitress...


Célia's attention turned to an attractive young waitress around the same age, one of three, serving a couple of soldiers coffee who barely looked at her. She had freckled oval shaped features with slender cheekbones, and emerald green eyes her flame coloured hair tied into a sensible knot. Her figure hugged by a black buttoned blouse, with matching long skirt past her knees, white apron tied around her waist and black pumps. Hmm? She's my size and waitresses are a better option, after all I should know. I was one. They are practically faceless and nobody suspects you. She's my ticket in... Célia watched the girl disappear into the back. Checking the street, she crossed over the street into the alley to cut her off.


Alley beside the Café, 5 minutes later



21 year old waitress Eszter Szabó sighed as she leant against the dumpster, lighting a cigarette. Finding only sanctuary in this dirty alley with her only friend, her cigarettes. I hate working here. All those damn reds, acting like they are the victors. All they do is try to reach up my skirt. And it's not just the men either, the women are just as bad. All they see is a piece of ass, not my face. I should have just taken that job in father's bakery... Blowing out a steady stream of blue smoke, Eszter tapped ash from her cigarette. Suddenly she felt a slender arm snake around her neck followed by a hand on the back of head, panicking she dropped her cigarette. "Shh! I'am very sorry about this, sister. But I need your clothes." Hissed a young woman's voice in her ear, applying pressure. "What? No stop! Don't kill me! Your crazy!" She replied in a choked voice, trying to stamp on her attackers feet. The woman only applied more pressure, pressing her head slightly forward. "Stop struggling! I don't want to hurt you anymore then I have to. Just relax it won't be long now." The young waitress began to feel her consciousness fade, little black spots appearing in her vision. "P-please..uhhh." Was all she could utter as she slumped unconscious into her attackers arms, with a cute rattle of breath.


"Well that took a little longer then it did in training. I hope I didn't hurt you too much, sweetheart." Célia whispered into the waitresses ear dragging her behind the dumpster under her shoulders. "And I'am sorry for what I need to do. You didn't deserve this....Eszter Szabó." She said reading the girls papers. Feeling a profound sense of guilt, kneeling over the sleeping young waitress Célia stripped down to her cream coloured slip and high waisted knickers feeling the biting cold against her skin. Working quickly, she stripped the redhead. First she untied Eszter's apron, slipping it from her slim waist before unbuckling the waitresses shoes. Finding the shoes to be just about her size, Célia unbuttoned the girls blouse revealing a cheap lace trim white cotton slip, a hint of a matching bra underneath covering small, young breasts. Rolling the waitress onto her side, Célia unzipped her skirt whipping the garment off her hips and down off her stocking covered legs, modesty protected by matching low cut briefs. After she finished dressing in the waitresses clothes, Célia put her trenchcoat on the girl's scantily clad body. "Here. This should keep the cold from you. I wouldn't want you to freeze out here." She said tearing up her polka dot dress, binding and gagging the redheaded waitress before scooping her into her arms stashing her gently into the dumpster, tossing in the remains of her dress in with her. "My apologies, Eszter. But I do this for a just cause, for my sister. You wouldn't understand." Célia said closing the lid on the sleeping girl. Still shaking the guilt from her mind, she straightened her stolen apron then walked into the café through the service entrance.


The Café Centrale, 9:45am


Célia walked into the bustling café immediately snatching up a tray and began serving drinks, with nobody not even the staff noticing the change. Its a good thing I took that part time waitress job back in Falls Church. Perfect cover for a trainee spy. After ten minutes of eavesdropping useless gossip including the colour of Krushchev's small clothes, she overheard two young soviet soldiers one male, the other female both privates sitting over in a smooth booth nursing cups of tea she had just served them . Inching closer, Célia caught to back end of their conversation. " So Comrade Nina. Is the Prizak really that frightening. I've heard the rumours she...strips her female victims." Asked the man, a square jawed blonde sipping his tea. Nina, a pretty brunette with shoulder length dark under her side cap nodding. "Mhm. Yes, Comrade Vladimir. She actually came through my checkpoint while on her through to Hosmusz Farm, she had killed the truck driver and was wearing her clothes." She took her tea, taking a sip before continuing. "Trust me, the stories are true. She's a dedicated servant of the motherland but I think she enjoys her job a little too much, if you ask me." Vladimir shuddered taking a long gulp. "How does command trust such a vicious killer? What if she killed you and stripped your body?" Nina shrugged. "Well just be glad she's on our side. Anyhow, ours is not to reason why comrade. A friend of mine told me they put her up in the Prestige Hotel overlooking the Danube. She's being sent back home to be awarded the Order of Lenin for her bravery by Premier Kruschev himself." Hearing enough, Célia turned making her way to the back door. Suddenly a slender hand gripped her wrist as she past the next booth


Gasping, Célia turned to the hands owner an attractive female corporal with rounded features, prominent cheekbones and piercing blue eyes the colour of sapphires. Her short raven coloured hair done up in bunches under her olive green side cap, which matched the rest of her uniform; olive green field jacket belted at the waist, rank tabs on her collar, matching below the knee long skirt with black leather boots and grey tights. "My aren't you a pretty little darling aren't you?" She purred while her companions two male soldiers laughed, caressing Célia's hand with her finger. The young spy blushed, while she herself wasn't into other women Célia had been trained to expect this and exploit it to her advantage. "And you're a fine example of the soviet fighting woman, my dear." She flirted fluttering her eyelashes towards the soldier, who tittered with desire. "You certainly now how to flatter a girl. Do you want to get outta here? And keep me company? I will pay." She winked flashing some rubles. Damn it, this is all I need. Well I need to play along or else it will raise suspicion. Besides, I can easily lure into the alley and take her out then move on. Giggling, Célia took the money tucking it into her stolen apron. "Come with me, beautiful. I know a good place, round the alley." Unable to resist her charms, the horny soldier took her hand letting Célia lead. "I'am all yours, sweetie." She breathed, voice husky with desire. Behind them as they walked away the soldiers laughed. "You lucky bitch, Svetlana!"



The Back Alley, beside the Café 10:05am


"So, Comrade. Have you ever been with another woman before?" Svetlana asked gently pinning Célia to the wall caressing her cheek. Célia smiled caressing the woman's hand. "Well, let's just say when my boyfriends away, what he doesn't know won't hurt him." She lied as she felt the corporal's hand ride up her skirt. "Well aren't you a delight. Put it this way, I will treat you a lot better than a man would." Célia squirmed under the woman's touch. I need to end this before things get too... physical. As the soviet woman leant in to kiss her, she paused hearing a thumping sound coming from the dumpster next to them, followed by muffled screams. "Wait? Do you hear that? It sounds like a woman in the dumpster-ugh!" Seizing her chance, Célia kneed Svetlana in her crotch knocking the wind out of her, and causing the soviet to double up in pain. "Not now, not later, not ever!" Célia cried finishing off the corporal with a chop to the back of her neck, sending her crashing to the pavement in a heap on her stomach, unconscious.



"Damn it, what a mess." Célia sighed pinching her nose as Eszter screams got louder. "Excuse me a moment, corporal." Walking over the prone soldier, she opened the dumpster to see the bound form of Eszter still wearing the trenchcoat. The girl began to cry, reeling back from Célia. "I'am sorry, Eszter I really am. But you need to be quiet." She balled up her fist. Sensing her intent, the half naked waitress frantically shook her head tears streaming down her face, pleading. Reluctantly, Célia struck the girl on the cheek sending the poor girl unconscious once more with a muffled grunt of pain. "Sorry, but it's for your own good." Closing the lid, she turned her attention back to Svetlana kneeling beside her.


Rolling the unconscious corporal over, Célia searched her pockets finding her papers. "Corporal Svetlana Kurylenko, 23, 14th Guards Tank Division." She caressed the woman's collar, an idea forming in her mind. If the reds have reserved the hotel then her uniform should get me in. Besides, she has money for the tram and no-one is going to trouble a soldier, after all my russian is passable. Like my handler always says, "Make the most of a bad situation." After shedding Estzer's clothes, Célia got to work stripping Svetlana. Shivering, she removing the corporal's hat and boots, she unbelted then unbuttoned her field jacket, revealing C-cup breasts emphasised by a black lace bullet bra. Rolling the unconscious corporal onto her side, Célia unzipped the skirt from the side whipping the garment from her hips down Svetlana's long tight covered legs. Ignoring her own reservations about taking the hosiery, Célia decided to peel the tights from Svetlana's body, exposing matching high waisted briefs covering the soldiers modesty. It's part of the uniform and it will draw too much attention if I didn't wear the tight. Still I don't have to like it. Standing over the scantily clad unconscious russian, Célia quickly dressed in the corporal's uniform, including the tights not wanting the feel the cold a moment longer.


Setting the side cap on her head, Célia tore up Estzer's apron binding and gagging the young scantily clad soviet soldier before scooping her up in her arms. Opening the dumpster, she looked down on the still sleeping waitress. "Apologies again, Estzer but I have to put Svetlana in next to you. I warn you she's all hands." She quipped darkly setting the underwear clad soldier shoulder to shoulder with the waitress. After tossing in the waitresses clothes, Célia closed the lid, swapped out their ID photographs then made her way out of the alley towards the nearest tram stop.


The Prestige Hotel, Budapest 10:30am


Getting off at the József Attila street stop, Célia walked briskly up Nádor street before turning onto Vigyázó Ferenc street her stolen uniform working perhaps a little too well drawing both respect, with scared civilians parting to let her past and then derision with the same people spitting in disgust behind her. I can't help wondering had I stayed and joined the resistance, would Hanna and I be walking this street hand in hand giggling. Free and talking about boys? Or would we both be dead? Victims of this Ghost bitch. No stop it, Célia... Shaking the thoughts from her mind, the young woman crossed the street finding the front of the hotel crowded with soviet troops, a mixture of privates and corporals surrounding an harried looking sergeant holding out his hands. Hanging back, Célia eavesdropped on the mob.


"Comrades! Please step back or I will have to inform the commissariat! Like I said before, nobody below the rank or sergeant is allowed into the hotel!" Cried the sergeant holding back the mob who were waving their pay books at him. "But please, comrade sergeant. Some of us have come a long way to get a glimpse of the mighty Prizak! , the heroine of the motherland!" Yelled back a pretty young private, next to her her male companion nodded. The sergeant sighed. "Are you the photographer from the Krasnaya Zvezda ?" He asked as the private shook her head. "Um no, comrade sergeant. I'am a gunner with the 226th Guards Regiment." The man roared with exasperation. "Damn it! The damn woman is running late! Alright last warning, all of you! Get back or you will be in a Siberian gulag come the morning!" With a collective sigh of disappointment the group dispersed, walking down the hotel steps. Behind her, Célia heard the rumble of a vans engine. She turned to see a red army truck drive past her, a young attractive blonde woman dressed in the uniform of the political bureau behind the wheel. She followed the truck around the corner where it parked in the hotel's deserted parking lot. Célia approached the van as the young blonde got out, flashing her a friendly smile.

Hotel Parking Lot

Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács, opened the back of her van bending over to retrieve her camera. If it wasn't for the traffic and all the damn checkpoints I would have got here sooner. And don't get me started on the language barrier. A comely 23 year old, Amalia was a local Budapesti with slightly squared features, prominent cheekbones and bright narrow hazel eyes. Ash blonde hair tied into a small ponytail under her blue trimmed olive flat cap. Her petite figure hugged by her uniform; an olive green belted tunic with her rank on the collar and epaulettes, blue trousers and brown leather jackboots that matched her belt. Dragging out her camera, Amalia straightened out her back to see the pretty brunette corporal approach her a smile on her face.


"Hello, comrade sergeant. They tell me that you're going to be taking the picture of the heroic Prizak ." The woman said. Amalia breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the girl's local accent. "Well, I wouldn't say she's a hero. I'am just following orders. Look, I don't mean to be rude comrade but I'am already running late. Perhaps another time?" She said turning to close the back of her van. " You're running late? Nothing major I trust, sergeant?" Amalia sighed. "Just some traffic and the odd checkpoint. But I don't see how any of that's your bus-mmmph!" She panicked as the corporal clamped a hand around her mouth, muffling her cry of betrayal. "You see...comrade. It is my business." The woman hissed into her ear. "I'am sorry, you seem like a nice girl but I need your uniform." With that, Amalia felt a sharp blow to the side of her neck. She let out a muffled pained squeak slumping unconscious into her attackers arms before being bundled into the back of her van.


It scares me, just how much better I'am getting at this and how much I enjoyed knocking....Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács out. Célia thought reading the girls ID papers, swapping out their photographs. "Alright, time to relieve you of your uniform Amalia." After stripping out of Corporal Kurylenko's uniform, including the tights Célia started to undress the unconscious photographer. Pulling off the woman's boots and hat, she loosened the belt before unbuttoning Amelia's tunic. Hoisting the girl up, Célia slipped the sergeant's tunic from her shoulders before unfastening the white undershirt removing that as well, exposing Amalia's crimson satin black lace trim camisole covering her young B-cup breasts. Gently lowering the half naked photographer to the vans flatbed, Célia unzipped the girls trousers working them off the hips and down her long legs revealing a matching pair of satin shorts. Kneeling beside the unconscious scantily clad woman, Célia quickly dressed in the girl's uniform.


Now fully dressed, setting on the woman's hat Célia taped up Amalia's wrists, ankles and mouth then dragged her underwear clad body behind the shelves. Unlocking the van, she hopped out the back before closing it back up. Picking up the box containing Amalia's camera, Célia walked back around the front of the hotel, barely containing her anticipation. Time to see if all hours of studying photography in university paid off.


The Prestige Hotel Lobby, 10:40am


"You sure took your sweet time. You are 10 minutes late, explain yourself Comrade Sergeant Kovács?" Asked the door sergeant in poor Hungarian, as he flicked through Célia's stolen pass and identity papers. "My apologies Comrade Sergeant, I was waylaid in traffic and ran afoul of a few checkpoints. Some didn't even speak Hungarian. But I know it's no excuse, sir." She replied saluting the man. Sighing the sergeant handed her back her papers. "Ugh! All this bureaucracy. What are we? Bloody capitalists. Well, I don't suppose it matters now. You are here now and that's what matters. Come along, sergeant I will take you to the commissar. Falling in step behind behind the man, she followed him through the revolving doors.



They found the commissar, a lean white haired man wearing the imposing black uniform of the Commissariat, peaked cap pulled low over his head leaning against the wall near the elevator bank. Looking down at his watch the officer sighed before approaching them, throwing out his arms. "What time do you call this? We are already on a tight schedule." Célia hurriedly saluted the older man. "My deepest apologies, comrade commissar. I was detained by traffic and the increased checkpoints, sir." The commissar pinched his nose. "Well then we shouldn't detain you any longer, Comrade Sergeant..." Célia smiled. "Kovács, comrade commissar." The man nodded before turning to the sergeant. "Very good. Comrade Galinov, return to your post. I will take it from here." The sergeant quickly saluted "Da, Comrade Commissar Mishkin." He then turned on his heels, back down the lobby. "Okay, Comrade Kovaçs please follow me." The man held out his hand beckoning her to a nearby elevator, pressing the button. Once they were inside, the commissar pressed the 3rd floor button turning to face her as the lift ascended.


"Because of the tight schedule, you won't have have much time with Comrade-Lieutenant Bukharova as intended." Célia shifted the weight of her camera on her shoulder. "Oh? Why is that, Comrade Commissar Mishkin?" Mishkin creaked his neck. "Comrade Sofia Bukharova has a train to catch from Kelenföld Station back home to Moscow in the hour." The news hit Célia like a speeding train. Damn it! That will be cutting it very fine. If she gets on that train then I will lose her forever and Hanna along with the other souls will not be avenge. But I can't kill her here, two many people and even if I do kill her the reds will kill me anyway. Looks like I will have to play this one out. The young agent nodded. "I see. Well don't concern yourself, comrade commissar I'am a very good photographer. By the way what's she like? The Prizak? I have heard the rumours." The commissar sighed. "She's a true heroine of the motherland and a formidable woman. But don't take my word for it. You will soon see for yourself." With that their elevator stopped with a chime on the third floor. With Mishkin leading the way, Célia walked up to room 305.


Suite 305, Prestige Hotel 10:44am


Entering the hotel room, Célia finally came face to face with her sisters murderer. There seated on a chintz sofa dressed in the freshly laundered uniform of a red army lieutenant and smoking a cigarette was the Prizak herself, Sofia Bukharova looking at her lower left forearm at her tattoo. "Comrade-Lieutenant Bukharova? This is comrade sergeant Kovács from the Krasnaya Zvezda to take your picture." The woman whipped around at the commissars voice stubbing out her cigarette, rising from her seat. Célia suddenly felt a pang of fear mixed with rage as she beheld the pretty flame haired, square featured assassin who had murdered her beautiful sister. But that wasn't the most terrifying thing about her. Has the assassin scanned her with her deep blue eyes, Célia had the distinct impression she was being sized up, like a lioness studying her next kill. There was nothing there in her eyes, except a coldness and if Célia's mind wasn't playing tricks on her, evil. The assassins brow furrowed in confusion as she approached them, holding out her hand which the young spy shook firmly.


"Hmm? Kovács? Like the Green Grocer? I killed him for the traitorous dog he was. Crushed his throat." Célia couldn't help but shudder at the sinister statement, as the assassin squeezed her hand. "Forgive me, comrade. But have we met before? You seem very familiar to me." Célia's blood ran cold has she gently withdrew her hand. My god! She can see Hanna in me! She quickly recovered. "No, Comrade-Lieutenant. We have never met but your reputation does proceed you." Sofia chuckled waving her hand. "Naturally, the new 'heroine of the people'. I'am not one for all this pomp and ceremony but uncle Georgi insists. Forgive me, comrade sergeant. I have seen many faces, both living and the dead. They all tend to blur together." She said with a reptilian smile. She's.... She's a monster. Was that all Hanna was to her, just another face? The commissar clapped his hands together. "Well I think we've wasted enough time. Are you ready, comrade Kovaçs?" Célia nodded setting down the camera on the table. Has she was assembling the flashbulb, Célia still had the uncomfortable feeling that Sofia was still studying her.


Over the course of 15 minutes, Célia had taken numerous shots of Sofia Bukharova; some of her seating others of her seated brandishing her Tokarev service weapon. With each picture she took, the more Célia found it difficult to keep her cool. There is my sister's murderer! A woman who has killed many innocents, yet she is treated like a hero! She's nothing more than an heartless killer! And I will make sure she never kills again. At 11 o'clock, Mishkin clapped once again. "I'am afraid that's all we got time for, comrade sergeant. I trust you've got all the pictures you need?" Célia nodded as she packed away the camera. Sofia smiled cocking her head. "Do I make you nervous? Comrade Sergeant Kovaçs? You can't pack your camera away fast enough." The assassin smiled, trying to get under her skin. Célia smiled her face neutral. "No, no. You're quite the photogenic subject, Comrade-Lieutenant. I have never met anyone else like you." Once again the assassin rose from her chair, studying her intently. "And you're quite sure we've never met?" Before Célia could come up with another lie, Commissar Mishkin got inbetween them. "Apologies, comrade lieutenant but we have to get you the station. Comrade Sergeant Kovács...". He turned to Célia. "...our car is just outside in the rear parking lot, would you walk with us?" Nodding she fell into step behind the couple, the assassin still staring at her.



Hotel Parking Lot 11:04am


Célia parted ways with Bukharova and Mishkin, making her way to the photographers van. Getting inside she watched the assassin and the commissar enter their staff before pulling out towards Vigyázó Ferenc street. As she turned the key to ignite her engine, Célia started to hear muffled screaming and banging coming from the vans rear. Roaring in frustration, she bolted out of the cab opening the rear doors. There she found the terrified scantily clad bound Amalia, tears streaming down her face trying to rear away from her. Getting into the back she narrowed her eyes at the young woman. "I really don't have time for this! Not when I'am so close! Besides you asked for it!" Amalia shook her head, screaming into her gag pleading with her eyes for release. "Mmmpugh!" Célia punched the girl in the stomach then chopped the side of her neck, knocking her unconscious once more. Ignoring the feelings of guilt coursing through her, Célia slammed shut the doors then climbed back into the cab. "I hope I haven't lost her, Hanna." She said switching on the engine resuming her hunt.


Kelenföld Station, Budapest 11:25am


Célia arrived just in time to see Mishkin drop Sofia off outside the station, parking closed nearby the young agent got out. Using the cover of the van she listened on their conversation. "Alright, Comrade Lieutenant I need to report back to the politick bureau. You're aware of your orders?" Sofia getting out of the staff cat nodded. "Da, Comrade Commissar Mishkin. I'am to board the train to Moscow alone, compartment 11B second car. When I arrive I'am to report to Comrade Commissar Valentin who will take me straight to the Kremlin, for my meeting with Comrade Krushchev." The commissar saluted her. "Very good, it's been an honour Comrade-Lieutenant. Safe journeys and dasvidanja." Returning the salute, the KGB turned on her heels heading into the station. Pausing to retrieve some duct tape and a box cutter from the van, Célia was right behind her sisters killer.


Utilising her training, Célia blended into the bustling terminal making sure to keep Sofia Bukharova in her field of vision without giving herself away. After all it only takes one move or gesture and the target could either be spooked or make you. After five minutes she tracked Bukharova to a steam engine on platform 5, where she disappeared into compartment 2. Sighing Célia weighed up her options. I cannot go in dressed like this, not without a ticket. Or maybe a conductors uniform. I could either grab a civilian and take her ticket and clothes. Or a conductor.... As soon has the thought popped into her mind, Célia noticed a young woman conductor leave the train heading into the direction of the women's bathroom. She was a pretty, slender girl, with diamond shaped features, freckled cheeks and doe shaped eyes the colour of turquoise. Her shoulder length curled auburn hair hung loosely under her black flat topped, peaked cap the badge of the Hungarian Railway and 'Conductor' pinned on the front. The rest of her uniform consisted of a black buttoned jacket, matching below the knee skirt with black pumps and black translucent stockings. Underwhich was a white blouse and black ribbon tie with black leather handbag looped over her shoulder and ticket machine over her head. Hmm? A little on the small size but close enough. I can squeeze into that uniform no problem. Célia thought shadowing the woman as she entered the bathroom.

Women's Bathroom

25 year old train conductor Mónika Németh sighed with pleasure finishing off her piss, pulling up her blue satin with black lace briefs before clipping on her stockings to her suspender belt. Ugh! I always hate going into Moscow. A six hour trip dodging lonely Soviet men and even women's wandering hands. Going right into the lions den. If I didn't need this job so badly, I would have joined the resistance but if I had then I would probably be dead. Shrugging she pulled up her skirt hearing the door to the toilet open. "It's okay, I'am just coming ugh!." She said opening the cubicle door, only to be greeted by a woman's fist to her face. Letting out a short pained squeak, Mónika was thrown back onto the toilet bowl sliding down unconscious her hat clattering to the tiled floor.


"Sorry, sweetheart. But I'am really in a hurry here." Quipped Célia Takaçs massaging her right hand grimacing at the ugly red bruise on the conductors cheek. Scooping up the woman's hat, she set it on the cistern before straddling the young conductor stripping off Amalia's uniform. Wasting no time, Célia got to work stripping the redheaded girl. After looping the ticket machine over the girls head, and removing her shoes, she unfastened the jacket slipping it from the conductors shoulder then unlaced the ribbon tie. Unbuttoning the blouse, revealed small B-cup breasts covered by a blue satin bra with black lace trim. Unzipping the skirt from the side, Célia whipped the garment from the girl's slender hips down her long legs exposing matching high waisted briefs, stockings and a suspender belt. Well, it looks like I will have to take at the least her stockings and suspenders. To really sell the disguise and get close to Sofia. Ignoring her feelings of squeamishness, Célia unclipped the stockings from the belt rolling them down the conductor's legs gently as she could then pulled down the suspender belt from her waist. Finally she pulled the blouse from the conductors body, leaving clad only in her expensive underwear.


Célia quickly got dressed in the conductors uniform, setting the hat on her head, finding the outfit small like she expected but passable with only the shoes being a couple sizes down. Bearing the pain, she taped up the scantily clad conductors wrists and ankles before gagging her. After looping the ticket machine over her head, Célia closed the cubicle door on the naked redheaded conducted leaving her slumped sleeping on the toilet. Concealing the both the tape and the knife in the woman's handbag, she looped it over her shoulder then swept from the bathroom briskly walking towards the train.


The 11:45 Train to Moscow, 3km from Budapest, heading East 12:05pm


Seeing the blanket of white coating the Hungarian countryside, snowflakes falling quickly as the train sped past Célia made her way slowly but surely to Sofia's compartment. She had stopped to play her role as conductor, checking tickets and even dispensing some to those who didn't buy them at the station. The CIA had taught her well, her handler explaining to her that should you steal the uniform or clothing of an enemy female then you have to become that woman. Assume their identities and their roles, lest you raise suspicion and end up in a Siberian gulag or worse at the business end off five soviet rifles. Winding her way through the packed train, Célia eventually found her way to compartment 11B. Shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation of delivering vengeance to her sisters killer, Célia knocked on the door. "Tickets please?" Hearing the curt reply from the assassin, Célia entered the compartment.


She found the assassin drinking from an all too familiar silver hip flask, her deep blue eyes looking up right at her. "Now I finally recognise you. I don't forget the face of anyone I have become. You're the sister of Hanna Takaçs. Tell me something, girl. What did you feel when you took their lives and became them? To hold their life in your hands? There's nothing quite like it, is there?" Célia took out her box cutter, not taking her eyes off the woman. "I have not killed anyone? I'am nothing like you. I'am not a murderer." The assassin laughed, an evil animalistic bark. "Yet, girl. Not a murderer yet. After all, you're here aren't you? To kill me and avenge your sister? Well she was weak, pathetic just like you. Prey. A pathetic little traitor. I put her out of her misery and I became her. I saved her! Where were you?!" Célia gritted her teeth, flicking open her blade. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! She was all I had. She was brave and beautiful!" Sofia laughed once again, standing straight. "And I killed her, easily. Like a mother would smother her child in its crib. Come, little Takaçs. Claim your revenge and I will send you to your sister. And maybe I will become you too." Roaring with barely contained rage, Célia lunged blade raised.


The KGB assassin was much quicker then she. Flowing like water around Célia, Sofia seized her wrist twisting it. Crying with pain the younger Takaçs dropped the knife to the floor of the compartment, before feeling her legs being kicked from under her sending her to her knees. "Well, it looks like you have some fight in you. Unexpected but welcome. Your sister was far too trusting, she believed me to be a mere grocers girl it was so easy-" she took out her garroting wire looping it over Célia's neck "-to do this!" Suddenly by reflex, Célia shot up her hands protecting her throat. "What?! Impossible!" The assassin cried in shock, giving the young agent a brief window. Roaring with rage, Célia pulled forwards throwing the KGB assassin over her head where she lay sprawled on her back, stunned. Snatching up the assassins wire Célia quickly looped it over the murderers neck, pulling it tight.


"Go on then. Finish it, put me out of my misery girl. But I will tell you this. Killing me won't bring the dead back, they are gone. Merely useless husks for us to exploit. I still remember the face of the first girl I became. She was only 16 and like all prey too trusting, I squeezed the life from her when she sought to comfort me. I will always be with you, haunting your dreams. Like she does with me-ugh!" Crying with a mixture of pain and rage, Célia pulled the wire tight. The assassin tried to pull the wire away from her throat but Célia poured all her grief and rage into the cord, pulling tighter and tighter. "Just die you filthy murderer!" She cried as the woman's struggles became weaker and weaker until she slumped into Célia's body. "T..thank youuu..." Sofia Bukharova let out in a low death rattle before she lay still.


Taking deep breaths, Célia reared back from the cooling body of her sisters murderer holding her mouth in shock. "Oh my god?! What have I done?!" Seeing the bloody wire still in her hand, the young agent threw it aside like it was a grenade. Feeling great shame. Then feeling a strange sensation coming up from the pit of her stomach, like a runaway train Célia doubled over and voided the contents of her stomach. Outside she could hear a crowd outside the compartment, trying to force open the door. She then saw the silver hip flask glinting next to the assassins body, with the coat of arms of the Austro-Hungarian army embossed on the front. It was their father's hip flask, retrieved from the ruins of their home. She quickly snatched it up. "This doesn't belong to you, thief!" She cried brandishing it at the assassins corpse. Pocketing it, Célia quickly ran for the compartment door opening it wide. Feeling the cold bite on winter on her cheek, she leapt from the train into the white.


Hungarian Countryside, 3km West of Budapest 12:40pm


Hearing the crunch of snow under her feet, Célia ran into the treeline the train zipping along behind her. Shivering against the cold clutching her body, the young spy put one foot forward her mind awash with emotions. By the grace of God i have done it. I thought once that wire had looped around my neck, it was my death come upon me. I have avenged you, sweet Hanna but why do I feel so sick? So hollow? Shaking thoughts from her mind, Célia focused on her current predicament. She was a mile of Budapest and her disguise, the skirt torn in the struggle with Sofia was now useless. Well i need some transport and a change of clothes. But where would I find a woman around here, let alone one with clothes to fit. I need to get home to Budapest to finally say goodbye to you, Hanna. Her breath misting in front of her, an exhausted Célia pressed forward onto a snow covered path.


A little further down, Célia caught sight of something curious. It was a small horse and cart parked by the side of the path, laden with bundles of firewood and a single chestnut mare who blinked at her approach. "Who do you belong to girl?" She smiled stroking the horses mane, noticing a thick woolen coat laying on the cart's step. Looking down, her eyes followed a trial of small dainty shoeprints through the snow leading to a row of small bushes. Creeping slowly she followed the trial. These footprints look womanly and that means clothes. Hopefully she's alone.



At the end of a trial was a pretty young woman around 18 or so, a peasant girl dressed in a drab but cosy looking brown sack cloth dress, grey mittens matching scarf and fur hat with the flaps down. She was attractive in a rustic sort of way with dirt covering her rounded features, slender cheekbones and big green eyes a strand of dark brown hair, peaking from under her hat. The girl was squatting in a bush, her dress hiked up showing her bare plum shaped ass. The sound of trickling water, informed Célia she was taking a leak. Perfect she's alone and unaware, I just need to time my attack just so. Don't want risk her soiling her dress. It would be nothing to hit her with this... she picked up a decent sized rock feeling the weight. No, Célia. She's an innocent. Simply choke her out and take the dress. She doesn't need to die. You're not Sofia. Said a voice that sounded just like Hanna. Taking a deep breath and dropping the stone, Célia snuck on the unsuspecting girl taking care to avoid patches of snow to avoid spooking her.



As soon as she heard the last of the girl's water trickle into the leaf litter, Célia struck fast clamping her right hand over the peasants mouth to quieten her screams while snaking her left arm around her neck drawing her down. The girl tried her best to break free, her legs kicking trying to shake Célia off. "Don't struggle girl! I don't want to kill you." She hissed into the squirming girls ear, applying more pressure. Just snap her neck and strip her, get it over and done with. Just one little pull of the wrist. Quick and easy, put her out of her misery. Sofia's voice droned in her head. Subconsciously she began to twist the struggling peasants head to her left. No Sofia! Stop, no one else needs to die. You're not a murderer. Sofia deserved to die for killing me but this girl doesn't deserve this! Once again, Hanna had came to her sister's aid. Applying even more pressure, Célia felt the peasants struggles grow weaker and weaker until she slumped unconscious into Célia's body with a low muffled rattle. "I'am so sorry, girl. Please forgive me..." She said gently caressing the girl's beautiful face before rolling her body off her. Feeling great shame and guilt for nearly taking another life, Célia stripped off the conductors uniform in silence.


Shivering in her underwear, Célia quickly stripped the unconscious girl first removing her mittens, scarf then unbuckled her shoes sighing when she discovered they were much too small. Pulling off the girls hat revealed long silken brown hair tied into a long ponytail. Unbuttoning the girl's dress from the rear, Célia peeled the garment which smelled of straw from the peasants shoulders down her thin undernourished body letting out a gasp of shock when she discovered her victim was totally naked underneath. The swell of her small young breasts with puffy dark pink areolas, nipples peaking in the cold rising with each breath and small untrimmed vagina decorated with a thin smattering of brown hair. "Poor kid, too poor to afford any underwear. Well, I won't leave you to die of the cold. Not if I can help it."


After quickly dressing in the warm sackcloth dress and accessories, Célia dressed the unconscious peasant in the conductors uniform despite it being way too big for her she simply tied the girl into it. Then retrieving the coat from the cart, put the girl into it. "There this should be enough to make sure you don't freeze out here. And this for your dress and cart." Taking out some rubles from the conductors bag, she tucked the notes into the girls coat. "I'am so sorry." Leaving the girl in the bushes fast asleep, Célia clambered onto the cart getting the horse to move onto the main road. The adrenaline she had felt from killing Sofia was gone but the shame and guilt remained, but she knew what she had to do. I need to find Hosmusz Farm and for that i have to go the university. I need to finally say goodbye. Huddling against the cold, Célia continued up the lonely path towards the city.


The Budapesti Múegyetem, 13:35pm


Word that the new heroine of the people, Sofia Bukharova had been found dead on the train from Budapest to Moscow had arrived before Célia. With Soviet soldiers, crawling the streets arresting anyone at gun point without due process Dumping the horse and cart on the outskirts of District Ten, she had used the last of her money boarding a tram to the University along the west bank of the Danube her stolen peasant garb drawing both ridicule and revulsion as the more finely dressed Budapesti reared from her. She had even considered attacking a girl and stealing her expensive clothes but she was simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically. Not to mention cold. No, her mission now was to find the final resting place of her beloved sister and finally say goodbye. While she had the chance. She regretted storming out on her and she had to make it right.



"Get out of my way! You dirty peasant!" Célia heard this response one two many times as she tried and failed to ask the students about Hosmusz Farm. Her peasants outfit repelling them. Sighing she found a small bench, sitting down she pinched her nose. Perhaps I should have pulled that woman into the alley and took her clothes. I would have had more luck walking amongst these people. It's strange just a year ago, i was one of them. But then again, maybe they don't know anything. Taking a deep breath, Célia raised her head feeling the snowflakes dance across her cheeks. I'am so tired... "Excuse me? Do I know you?"


Célia turned to see a young blonde woman, dressed in a beige trenchcoat and red beret perched over her blonde curls. Rising from the bench, she recognised the girl. "Barbeta? Barbeta Oláh?" She cried hugging the young woman who returned the hug. "Célia! Célia Takács! As I live and breathe. It's been what a year? I thought you had left for America." Célia stood holding Barbeta who was her sister's best friend in university and had treated Célia much like her own blood. "I did but I came back when I heard about Hanna..." Pulling out of the hug they looked at each other. "What the hell are you doing dressed like that?" Célia blushed slightly. "Um, these clothes aren't mine it's a very long story." Further down the street, a truck full of soviet troopers pulled up who then started to summarily arrest young women. "Does it have anything to with those reds?" Célia glanced at the troopers nodding. "Yes. Look, Barbeta I need to find Hanna and say farewell. Do you know anything about Hosmusz farm?" Suddenly, Barbeta snaked her arm around Célia's waist leading her from the square towards her car. "Not here, Célia. We need to get away from here before we get arrested. Besides you need a change of clothes and some food in your belly, you look exhausted." Too tired to argue, Célia let herself be placed in the car then leaning into the seat closed her eyes.

[Stormtrooper1990]

The Apartment of Barbeta Oláh, 21 Baranyai Street, 1 hour later


Over a warm cup of tea and bowl of goulash, Célia recounted her story to Barbeta who sat and listened not sparing her any of the details. "You shouldn't have had to endure all that alone, Célia. But at least you killed the bitch and laid Hanna's soul to rest. I know she would be proud of you." Gulping down her goulash, Célia shook her head. "Then why do I feel empty? I took a woman's life and near killed another. It didn't bring Hanna back or assuage the pain I feel in my heart." Flashing her a sympathetic smile, Barbeta reached across the table squeezing her hand. Appreciating this simple act of compassion, Célia put down her knife and fork. "Can you tell me about Hosmusz farm? Where are the dead buried?" Barbeta withdrew her hand gently before picking up her cigarettes. After offering Célia one which she refused, her friend paused to lit one up. Her voice quivering with emotion. "The Soviets...they levelled the place with their tanks and tossed everybody into a mass grave. The bastards...they...planted an orchard over the site to cover it up." Tears began to swell in Célia's eyes, as she squeezed Barbeta's hand. "You mean Hanna and her friends...they never had a Christian burial? They're still out there?" Barbeta nodded unable to contain her emotion. "They died heroes but they have been forgotten." The two women sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.


"I want to go there. I have to. I need to...pay my respects and say goodbye to Hanna. I have something of our father's that she needs back. Do you know the way?" Célia asked breaking the silence. Barbeta nodded raising from the chair. "I think it's the least I could do. Besides I need to say goodbye to Hanna too, I never got the chance before. But I will take you tomorrow morning when everything has died down. First you need a bath and a change of clothes. You smell like a hayloft." Laughing despite herself Célia finished off her meal as Barbeta disappeared to run her a bath.



Standing naked facing the bathroom mirror, Célia wiped the condensation from the glass sighing not recognising the woman that stared back at her My god! I look terrible. I don't even recognise myself anymore. I have hurt innocent women and stripped them. What does that make me? Am I no better then the woman I killed? Suddenly she gasped as the figure of Sofia Bukharova, still dressed in her uniform appeared at her shoulder blood oozing from the cut across her throat. "I will always be with you, killer..." Whipping around she breathed a sigh of relief when it was just her alone. Shaking the gruesome image from her mind, Célia quickly clambered into the bath smiling as the hot water caressed her bare skin. Then taking a deep breath she dunked her head under the water, feeling all her troubles melt away.


The Ruins of Hosmusz Farm, Friday 19th November 1956, 10:00am


On the morning, Barbeta and a now clean Célia travelled to the ruins of Hosmusz Farm using a mixture of local knowledge and false papers to make it past the soviet checkpoint. When they arrived, Célia gasped as the ruins of the farm came into view. There was nothing left standing, except a few foundations where buildings once stood. "My god! There is nothing left, they just levelled the place." Barbeta grimly nodded her head. "Such is their way. They wanted to make an example of them." Holding hands, they walked out into the growing orchard.


Crouching, Célia took out her family photograph and fathers canteen tears welling up in her eyes. "Hanna, I miss you so much and I'am sorry that we fought over something so stupid as politics. I should have been here with you in this struggle for freedom but instead I ran to America like a coward, and left you die here in this lonely place." She let out a shuddering rattle of breath has Barbeta gently squeezed her shoulder. "I killed the "Ghost" who robbed you of your life and dignity but I felt no peace just emptiness. I found father's flask, that bitch must have taken it from you but it rightly belongs to you. I look forward to when we will be reunited as a family. I love you, farewell sweet sister. Rest in peace." Burying a small hole with a shovel, Célia placed the flask and photo in the earth. Then voice full of emotion, she recited The Lord's Prayer before turning to Barbeta and collapsing into her arms, her grief finally overcoming her.


As they walked back to the car, snow crunching under their feet Barbeta turned to her. "What will you do now? Do you have anywhere to go, Célia?" Sighing the young woman shook her head. "No I doubt the CIA will take me back. I went rogue and killed a Russian Officer without official sanction not to mention the innocent women I attacked." Barbeta placed a hand on her shoulder. "You did what you had to do, Célia. Besides, the Americans don't care about our people, Célia. To them our revolution was communists killing communists." Célia nodded, she had overheard as much from some ignorant Americans during her time at Langley. Barbeta continued. " You should join us, finish Hanna's work. The fires of resistance are still burning and we could use someone as resourceful as you. After all it's our land, our people, our blood and that's what matters." Célia wrapped her arms around her. "Alright, but I make this oath. As god has my witness, I will never take another human life no more killing. I will prove myself better then the Soviets and make Hanna proud." Barbeta pulled out of the hug smiling. "I don't doubt that she's already proud of you. Come we have work to do."


Hand in hand, the two women walked back to the car snow fluttering about their shoulders. For a second, Célia turned back to the field and saw a figure in black. She was beautiful and smiling. "Hanna..." Célia breathed as the image of her departed sister faded into the white, grinning. "Everything okay, Célia? You look like you've seen a ghost." Célia wiped the tears from her eyes, joyfully. "I think she's at peace now and come to think of it so am I. Thank you for bringing me here." Barbeta smiled before they resumed their walk. Célia breathed deeply, for the first time since she had arrived in Budapest she felt utterly at peace having laid two ghosts to rest.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Here are the Soviet uniforms stolen by our heroine in our story.


Corporal Svetlana Kurylenko on patrol the day before her run in with Célia.


https://as1.ftcdn.net/v2/jpg/01/73/82/8 ... 0zf2KV.jpg

[hshws]

When I wrote the story Ghost of Budapest I was messaged by hshws a fellow board member from Budapest Hungary. While he enjoyed the story, he messaged me asking whether it was possible to write a sequel where the titular character, psychotic KGB assassin Sofia Bukharova would get her comeuppance, just in time for Hungary's independence day on the 23rd October. I answered and here i would like to present the sequel to that story. I would like to thank hshws for their knowledge of Budapest and for their assistance in bringing this story to life. It's mid November 1956 and Célia Takaçs, younger sister of Hanna Takaçs, has returned to her hometown. Under the pretence of being the latest CIA operative to be deployed to Budapest to report on the aftermath on the failed revolution in November. But the real reason she has returned is to avenge the murder of her elder sister, by a sadistic KGB assassin known only as Prizak or ghost. With little to go on, Célia must use all her resourcefulness to find and excise the Ghost of Budapest. And once she is done, she can finally say goodbye to her estranged sister and find closure...



The 15:30 train from Athens to Budapest, 3km from Budapest, nearing Kelenföld Station. Wednesday 17th November 1956 15:23pm



Looking through her window feeling the train grind on the tracks below her, 22 year old Célia Takaçs could see the first of the snows of winter drifting past landing on the dreamlike spires of her home, Budapest, shooting past like dewdrops. Silhouetted by the grey overcast cloud, the city reflected Celia's mood she felt both trepidation and sadness coming back here. I can't believe it's been a year since I have walked these streets, and it hasn't changed at all. Still crawling with Reds, strutting around like they own the place. Lessened by the loss of many of her sons and daughters, my dearest sister Hanna among them... Catching her reflection in the glass, Célia wiped her eyes stained with tears. She was a beautiful young woman, almost identical to Hanna. They had shared the same heart shaped features, high cheekbones and piercing sapphire blue almond shaped eyes. The only difference was Célia's chestnut brown locks had been cut short into a loose comb over style favoured by American women. Oh Hanna, I miss you. Why did you have to die? The girl sighed, glancing down at the monochrome picture of she and Hanna as children.



They were only a couple of years apart but they were close, once. Like many children in Budapest they had lost their parents during the Red Army's push from Poland in WW2 and were forced into an orphanage by the new regime. But the sisters had made an oath that on the lives of their dead parents, they would always stick together. Growing up, playing through the rubble of their home Hanna was always her heroine, always there to wipe her cheeks, dress her skinned knees and when they came of age how to deal with the attention of boys who always flocked to the elder Takaçs. That was their life until last year, when the girls were in the third year of their studies in University. The murmurings of revolution had swept through the campus of the Budapesti Múegyetem (BME) and this had divided the usually close sisters. Hanna had always maintained that communism is the right way, but not the stalinism of the Soviets while the younger Takaçs had been seduced by smuggled western music, movies and chocolate arguing for them to leave their home and seek sanctuary in the west.


The last time Célia had spoken to to Hanna, it was more a heated argument. Hanna had accused her of becoming seduced by the west and for abandoning them in their hour of need while Célia, the stubborn one had told her see was just a brainwashed communist puppet and that they would be free and safe in the west. "Please, Hanna. We will be safe in the US, we wouldn't have to look over our shoulder all the time. And we could still help our people." Hanna had shook her head. "By becoming capitalists? You've lost your head, sweet sister. Please, I beg of you stay with me and join the resistance. We can build a better future, together." Célia had grabbed her coat and made for the door of their apartment. "You're always holding me back! Well, I don't need you and I don't need communism!" She had stormed out without another word and headed straight for the US embassy. And from that day, she had regretted every word. The screech of the train coming to a halt, brought her back to the present.



Gathering up her coat from the bench, Célia's thoughts turned from the painful past to the immediate future. She had returned home to Budapest, ostensibly to spy on the aftermath of the failed November rising for the CIA, but in truth she was here to avenge her sister something she had not told her new American pay masters about. She had only just completed her spy training at Langley , learning the ins and outs of disguise and infiltration when she heard the news from a CIA intercept, that broke her heart. The November revolution had been crushed by the Soviets, almost single handedly by a deadly KGB operative known only as Prizak . The only information the CIA on the operative was she was a woman, who had murdered 3 women and one of them was Hanna. That she herself used a garrote and was a master of disguise, having stripped her victims after killing them. The very thought of brave beautiful Hanna, her heroine older sister violated like that chilled her to the bone. The only identifying feature was an Auschwitz camp tattoo number "157908" on the lower left forearm. Upon hearing the news, Célia had begged her handler to be sent back to Hungary to put her new skills to the test. Of course the CIA had no knowledge of her real, more personal mission but she still had to use them for information on where to start her search.



Kelenföld Station, Budapest 15:32pm


Having memorised her mission orders before her departure from the Athens station house, Célia knew that the CIA safehouse was under a small haberdashery on the Pál Nyári street, number 15. Like any Budapesti, Célia knew the name from the revolutionary hero of the 1848-49 revolution and the best way to get there. All she had to do was to say the phrase. "Do you sell Umbrella's?" To which the shopkeeper who would reply with "I do but they are in the cellar."' and indicated an unburned safehouse. Picking up the pace, Célia weaved her way through the bustling station outside towards the tram stop. Getting on the next tram to the Pál Nyári. Despite the sadness in her heart, the familiar ring of the trams bell was music to her ears. Leaning against the bar, feeling the tug behind her navel Célia grimly smiled. She knew she was home.


Nágy Haberdashery, Pál Nyári Street 15, 15:50pm


Her presence announced by the tinkle of the stores bell, Célia entered to find the store curiously deserted save a single middle aged male clerk wearing a crisp black suit and sporting a bushy black moustache that matched his immaculately groomed coif. He flashed her a smile. "Good afternoon, madam. What can do for you. Perhaps a new bonnet or fascinator? To bring out your eyes?" Célia thinly smiled brushing off the sales patter as she approached the counter. "No. Do you sell Umbrella's?" A look of recognition passed across the man's lined face. "I do but they are in the cellar. Come follow me." He said opening the counter, beckoning her forward. Nodding Célia fell into step behind him.



"So you're a local too? The Americans seem to like using us as their go betweens. What's your name, miss?" The man asked pulling the light cord which revealed a flight of stairs. "My name is Célia Takaçs, I was born in Lipótváros across the river. You?" She said following him down the stairs. Turning he smiled " Péter Nágy, District V. We're practically neighbours then. Good to meet you." He held his hand which she took firmly shaking it. At the bottom of the stairs they entered a small, dingy but homely cellar with a single bed, radio set and a door beyond that led to a toilet and shower. "It's not much but it's home. We have running hot water but the shower takes a bit of getting used to." Célia' turned flashing a smile. "Could you tell me? What's the best place to pick up a little gossip, nearby? My superiors back at Langley want me start gathering information in the morning." She lied. Péter's brow furrowed, hands on his hips. " Well that would be the Café Centrale under 9 Károlyi Street. Do you know it?" Célia nodded. "Mhm. It's in the inner city, not to far away. I'am surprised it survived both the War and the revolution." Péter chuckled grimly. "Well, it's crawling with Reds now. The communists have all the best cafés in the city. Lucky swine." He said bursting out laughing as Célia merely chuckled. "Well, I best get back to the shop. Just in case a red walks in. I will leave you to get settled. If need anything just give me a shout. And if anybody asks, you're my new assistant, got it? " The young agent on the bed, testing the mattress. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Péter." With a smile the man departed closing the door.


Finding the bed a little stiff, Célia stripped off her coat and dress then entered the bathroom. Taking off her underwear, she stepped naked into the shower switching it on. Swearing as biting cold water suddenly hit her skin, Célia's thoughts turned to her mission. I will avenge you, my dearest Hanna. I swear on the lives of our parents. Taking a deep breath, she sighed with pleasure as hot water caressed her bare skin.


Across from The Café Centrale, Károlyi Street 9, Inner City Budapest, Thursday 18th November 1956 09:30am


Having woken early, showering then enjoying an omelette topped with paprika, onions and kolbäsz sausage prepared by Péter, Célia was in high spirits. She hadn't tasted sausage that good in a whole year, since Hungarian fare was practically none existent in the states. She had caught a tram from Pál Nyári to Károlyi Street and made good progress. Now standing across the road from the café, Célia found the place crawling with soviet troops of both genders enjoying their eggs, coffees and omelettes topped with sausages. Glancing through the window, the young spy weighed up her options. As far as I can tell, I have two options for disguise; one wait until a Red Army girl steps out for a cigarette and take the uniform. While my Russian is passable, it's too much of a risk, they all know other other and might spot a change of face. Or a waitress...


Célia's attention to an attractive young waitress around the same age, one of three, serving a couple of soldiers coffee who barely looked at her. She had freckled oval shaped features with slender cheekbones, and emerald green eyes her flame coloured hair tied into a sensible knot. Her figure hugged by a black buttoned blouse, with matching long skirt past her knees, white apron tied around her waist and black pumps. Hmm? She's my size and waitresses are a better option, after all I should know. I was one. They are practically faceless and nobody suspects you. She's my ticket in... Célia watched the girl disappear into the back. Checking the street, she crossed over the street into the alley to cut her off.


Alley beside the Café, 5 minutes later



21 year old waitress Eszter Szabó sighed as she leant against the dumpster, lighting a cigarette. Finding only sanctuary in this dirty alley with her only friend, her cigarettes. I hate working here. All those damn reds, acting like they are the victors. All they do is try to reach up my skirt. And it's not just the men either, the women are just as bad. All they see is a piece of ass, not my face. I should have just taken that job in father's bakery... Blowing out a steady stream of blue smoke, Eszter tapped ash from her cigarette. Suddenly she felt a slender arm snake around her neck followed by a hand on the back of head, panicking she dropped her cigarette. "Shh! I'am very sorry about this, sister. But I need your clothes." Hissed a young woman's voice in her ear, applying pressure. "What? No stop! Don't kill me! Your crazy!" She replied in a choked voice, trying to stamp on her attackers feet. The woman only applied more pressure, pressing her head slightly forward. "Stop struggling! I don't want to hurt you anymore then I have to. Just relax it won't be long now." The young waitress began to feel her consciousness fade, little black spots appearing in her vision. "P-please..uhhh." Was all she could utter as she slumped unconscious into her attackers arms, with a cute rattle of breath.


"Well take that a little longer then it did in training. I hope I didn't hurt you too much, sweetheart." Célia whispered into the waitresses ear dragging her behind the dumpster under her shoulders. "And I'am sorry for what I need to do. You didn't deserve this....Eszter Szabó." She said reading the girls papers. Feeling a profound sense of guilt, kneeling over the sleeping young waitress Célia stripped down to her cream coloured slip and high waisted knickers feeling the biting cold against her skin. Working quickly, she stripped the redhead. First she untied Eszter's apron, slipping it from her slim waist before unbuckling the waitresses shoes. Finding the shoes to be just about her size, Célia unbuttoned the girls blouse revealing a cheap lace trim white cotton slip, a hint of a matching bra underneath covering small, young breasts. Rolling the waitress onto her side, Célia unzipped her skirt whipping the garment off her hips and down off her stocking covered legs, modesty protected by matching low cut briefs. After she finished dressing in the waitresses clothes, Célia put her trenchcoat on the girl's scantily clad body. "Here. This should keep the cold from you. I wouldn't want you to freeze out here." She said tearing up her polka dot dress, binding and gagging the redheaded waitress before scooping her into her arms stashing her gently into the dumpster, tossing in the remains of her dress in with her. "My apologies, Eszter. But I do this for a just cause, for my sister. You wouldn't understand." Célia said closing the lid on the sleeping girl. Still shaking the guilt from her mind, she straightened her stolen apron then walked into the café through the service entrance.


The Café Centrale, 9:45am


Célia walked into the bustling café immediately snatching up a tray and began serving drinks, with nobody not even the staff noticing the change. Its a good thing I took that part time waitress job back in Falls Church. Perfect cover for a trainee spy. After ten minutes of eavesdropping useless gossip including the colour of Krushchev's small clothes, she overheard two young soviet soldiers one male, the other female both privates sitting over in a smooth booth nursing cups of tea she had just served them . Inching closer, Célia caught to back end of their conversation. " So Comrade Nina. Is the Prizak really that frightening. I've heard the rumours she...strips her female victims." Asked the man, a square jawed blonde sipping his tea. Nina, a pretty brunette with shoulder length dark under her side cap nodding. "Mhm. Yes, Comrade Vladimir. She actually came through my checkpoint while on her through to Hosmusz Farm, she had killed the truck driver and was wearing her clothes." She took her tea, taking a sip before continuing. "Trust me, the stories are true. But she's a dedicated servant of the motherland but I think she enjoys her job a little too much, if you ask me." Vladimir shuddered taking a long gulp. "How does command trust such a vicious killer? What if she killed you and stripped your body?" Nina shrugged. "Well just be glad she's on our side. Anyhow, ours is not to reason why comrade. A friend of mine told me they put her up in the Prestige Hotel overlooking the Danube. She's being sent back home to be awarded the Order of Lenin for her bravery by Premier Kruschev himself." Hearing enough, Célia turned making her way to the back door. Suddenly a slender hand gripped her wrist as she past the next booth


Gasping, Célia turned to the hands owner an attractive female corporal with rounded features, prominent cheekbones and piercing blue eyes the colour of sapphires. Her short raven coloured hair done up in bunches under her olive green side cap, which matched the rest of her uniform; olive green field jacket belted at the waist, rank tabs on her collar, matching below the knee long skirt with black leather boots and grey tights. "My aren't you a pretty little darling aren't you?" She purred while her companions two male soldiers laughed, caressing Célia's hand with her finger. The young spy blushed, while she herself wasn't into other women Célia had been trained to expect this and exploit it to her advantage. "And you're a fine example of the soviet fighting woman, my dear." She flirted fluttering her eyelashes towards the soldier, who tittered with desire. "You certainly now how to flatter a girl. Do you want to get outta here? And keep me company? I will pay." She winked flashing some rubles. Damn it, this is all I need. Well I need to play along or else it will raise suspicion. Besides, I can easily lure into the alley and take her out then move on. Giggling, Célia took the money tucking it into her stolen apron. "Come with me, beautiful. I know a good place, round the alley." Unable to resist her charms, the horny soldier took her hand letting Célia lead. "I'am all yours, sweetie." She breathed, voice husky with desire. Behind them as they walked away the soldiers laughed. "You lucky bitch, Svetlana!"



The Back Alley, beside the Café 10:05am


"So, Comrade. Have you ever been with another woman before?" Svetlana asked gently pinning Célia to the wall caressing her cheek. Célia smiled caressing the woman's hand. "Well, let's just say when my boyfriends away, what he doesn't know won't hurt him." She lied as she felt the corporal's hand ride up her skirt. "Well aren't you a delight. Put it this way, I will treat you a lot better than a man would." Célia squirmed under the woman's touch. I need to end this before things get too... physical. As the soviet woman leant in to kiss her, she paused hearing a thumping sound coming from the dumpster next to them, followed by muffled screams. "Wait? Do you hear that? It sounds like a woman in the dumpster-ugh!" Seizing her chance, Célia kneed Svetlana in her crotch knocking the wind out of her, and causing the soviet to double up in pain. "Not now, not later, not ever!" Célia cried finishing off the corporal with a chop to the back of her neck, sending her crashing to the pavement in a heap on her stomach, unconscious.



"Damn it, what a mess." Célia sighed pinching her nose as Eszter screams got louder. "Excuse me a moment, corporal." Walking over the prone soldier, she opened the dumpster to see the bound form of Eszter still wearing the trenchcoat. The girl began to cry, reeling back from Célia. "I'am sorry, Eszter I really am. But you need to be quiet." She balled up her fist. Sensing her intent, the half naked waitress frantically shook her head tears streaming down her face, pleading. Reluctantly, Célia struck the girl on the cheek sending the poor girl unconscious once more with a muffled grunt of pain. "Sorry, but it's for your own good." Closing the lid, she turned her attention back to Svetlana kneeling beside her.


Rolling the unconscious corporal over, Célia searched her pockets finding her papers. "Corporal Svetlana Kurylenko, 23, 14th Guards Tank Division." She caressed the woman's collar, an idea forming in her mind. If the reds have reserved the hotel then her uniform should get me in. Besides, she has money for the tram and no-one is going to trouble a soldier, after all my russian is passable. Like my handler always says, "Make the most of a bad situation." After shedding Estzer's clothes, Célia got to work stripping Svetlana. Shivering, she removing the corporal's hat and boots, she unbelted then unbuttoned her field jacket, revealing C-cup breasts emphasised by a black lace bullet bra. Rolling the unconscious corporal onto her side, Célia unzipped the skirt from the side whipping the garment from her hips down Svetlana's long tight covered legs. Ignoring her own reservations about taking the hosiery, Célia decided to peel the tights from Svetlana's body, exposing matching high waisted briefs covering the soldiers modesty. It's part of the uniform and it will draw too much attention if I didn't wear the tight. Still I don't have to like it. Standing over the scantily clad unconscious russian, Célia quickly dressed in the corporal's uniform, including the tights not wanting the feel the cold a moment longer.


Setting the side cap on her head, Célia tore up Estzer's apron binding and gagging the young scantily clad soviet soldier before scooping her up in her arms. Opening the dumpster, she looked down on the still sleeping waitress. "Apologies again, Estzer but I have to put Svetlana in next to you. I warn you she's all hands." She quipped darkly setting the underwear clad soldier shoulder to shoulder with the waitress. After tossing in the waitresses clothes, Célia closed the lid, swapped out their ID photographs then made her way out of the alley towards the nearest tram stop.


The Prestige Hotel, Budapest 10:30am


Getting off at the József Attila street stop, Célia walked briskly up Nádor street before turning onto Vigyázó Ferenc street her stolen uniform working perhaps a little too well drawing both respect, with scared civilians parting to let her past and then derision with the same people spitting in disgust behind her. I can't help wondering had I stayed and joined the resistance, would Hanna and I be walking this street hand in hand giggling. Free and talking about boys? Or would we both be dead? Victims of this Ghost bitch. No stop it, Célia... Shaking the thoughts from her mind, the young woman crossed the street finding the front of the hotel crowded with soviet troops, a mixture of privates and corporals surrounding an harried looking sergeant holding out his hands. Hanging back, Célia eavesdropped on the mob.


"Comrades! Please step back or I will have to inform the commissariat! Like I said before, nobody below the rank or sergeant is allowed into the hotel!" Cried the sergeant holding back the mob who were waving their pay books at him. "But please, comrade sergeant. Some of us have come a long way to get a glimpse of the mighty Prizak! , the heroine of the motherland!" Yelled back a pretty young private, next to her her male companion nodded. The sergeant sighed. "Are you the photographer from the Krasnaya Zvezda ?" He asked as the private shook her head. "Um no, comrade sergeant. I'am a gunner with the 226th Guards Regiment." The man roared with exasperation. "Damn it! The damn woman is running late! Alright last warning, all of you! Get back or you will be in a Siberian gulag come the morning!" With a collective sigh of disappointment the group dispersed, walking down the hotel steps. Behind her, Célia heard the rumble of a vans engine. She turned to see a red army truck drive past her, a young attractive blonde woman dressed in the uniform of the political bureau behind the wheel. She followed the truck around the corner where it parked in the hotel's deserted parking lot. Célia approached the van as the young blonde got out, flashing her a friendly smile.

Hotel Parking Lot

Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács, opened the back of her van bending over to retrieve her camera. If it wasn't for the traffic and all the damn checkpoints I would have got here sooner. And don't get me started on the language barrier. A comely 23 year old, Amalia was a local Budapesti with slightly squared features, prominent cheekbones and bright narrow hazel eyes. Ash blonde hair tied into a small ponytail under her blue trimmed olive flat cap. Her petite figure hugged by her uniform; an olive green belted tunic with her rank on the collar and epaulettes, blue trousers and brown leather jackboots that matched her belt. Dragging out her camera, Amalia straightened out her back to see the pretty brunette private approach her a smile on her face.


"Hello, comrade sergeant. They tell me that you're going to be taking the picture of the heroic Prizak ." The woman said. Amalia breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the girl's local accent. "Well, I wouldn't say she's a hero. I'am just following orders. Look, I don't mean to be rude comrade but I'am already running late. Perhaps another time?" She said turning to close the back of her van. " You're running late? Nothing major I trust, sergeant?" Amalia sighed. "Just some traffic and the odd checkpoint. But I don't see how any of that's your bus-mmmph!" She panicked as the private clamped a hand around her mouth, muffling her cry of betrayal. "You see...comrade. It is my business." The woman hissed into her ear. "I'am sorry, you seem like a nice girl but I need your uniform." With that, Amalia felt a sharp blow to the side of her neck. She let out a muffled pained squeak slumping unconscious into her attackers arms before being bundled into the back of her van.


It scares me, just how much better I'am getting at this and how much I enjoyed knocking....Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács out. Célia thought reading the girls ID papers, swapping out their photographs. "Alright, time to relieve you of your uniform Amalia." After stripping out of Private Kurylenko's uniform, including the tights Célia started to undress the unconscious photographer. Pulling off the woman's boots and hat, she loosened the belt before unbuttoning Amelia's tunic. Hoisting the girl up, Célia slipped the sergeant's tunic from her shoulders before unfastening the white undershirt removing that as well, exposing Amalia's crimson satin black lace trim camisole covering her young B-cup breasts. Gently lowering the half naked photographer to the vans flatbed, Célia unzipped the girls trousers working them off the hips and down her long legs revealing a matching pair of satin shorts. Kneeling beside the unconscious scantily clad woman, Célia quickly dressed in the girl's uniform.


Now fully dressed, setting on the woman's hat Célia taped up Amalia's wrists, ankles and mouth then dragged her underwear clad body behind the shelves. Unlocking the van, she hopped out the back before closing it back up. Picking up the box containing Amalia's camera, Célia walked back around the front of the hotel, barely containing her anticipation. Time to see if all hours of studying photography in university paid off.


The Prestige Hotel Lobby, 10:40am


"You sure took your sweet time. You are 10 minutes late, explain yourself Comrade Sergeant Kovács?" Asked the door sergeant in poor Hungarian, as he flicked through Célia's stolen pass and identity papers. "My apologies Comrade Sergeant, I was waylaid in traffic and ran afoul of a few checkpoints. Some didn't even speak Hungarian. But I know it's no excuse, sir." She replied saluting the man. Sighing the sergeant handed her back her papers. "Ugh! All this bureaucracy. What are we? Bloody capitalists. Well, I don't suppose it matters now. You are here now and that's what matters. Come along, sergeant I will take you to the commissar. Falling in step behind behind the man, she followed him through the revolving doors.



They found the commissar, a lean white haired man wearing the imposing black uniform of the Commissariat, peaked cap pulled low over his head leaning against the wall near the elevator bank. Looking down at his watch the officer sighed before approaching them, throwing out his arms. "What time do you call this? We are already on a tight schedule." Célia hurriedly saluted the older man. "My deepest apologies, comrade commissar. I was detained by traffic and the increased checkpoints, sir." The commissar pinched his nose. "Well then we shouldn't detain you any longer, Comrade Sergeant..." Célia smiled. "Kovács, comrade commissar." The man nodded before turning to the sergeant. "Very good. Comrade Galinov, return to your post. I will take it from here." The sergeant quickly saluted "Da, Comrade Commissar Mishkin." He then turned on his heels, back down the lobby. "Okay, Comrade Kovaçs please follow me." The man held out his hand beckoning her to a nearby elevator, pressing the button. Once they were inside, the commissar pressed the 3rd floor button turning to face her as the lift ascended.


"Because of the tight schedule, you won't have have much time with Comrade-Lieutenant Bukharova as intended." Célia shifted the weight of her camera on her shoulder. "Oh? Why is that, Comrade Commissar Mishkin?" Mishkin creaked his neck. "Comrade Sofia Bukharova has a train to catch from Kelenföld Station back home to Moscow in the hour." The news hit Célia like a speeding train. Damn it! That will be cutting it very fine. If she gets on that train then I will lose her forever and Hanna along with the other souls will not be avenge. But I can't kill her here, two many people and even if I do kill her the reds will kill me anyway. Looks like I will have to play this one out. The young agent nodded. "I see. Well don't concern yourself, comrade commissar I'am a very good photographer. By the way what's she like? The Prizak? I have heard the rumours." The commissar sighed. "She's a true heroine of the motherland and a formidable woman. But don't take my word for it. You will soon see for yourself." With that their elevator stopped with a chime on the third floor. With Mishkin leading the way, Célia walked up to room 305.


Suite 305, Prestige Hotel 10:44am


Entering the hotel room, Célia finally came face to face with her sisters murderer. There seated on a chintz sofa dressed in the freshly laundered uniform of a red army lieutenant and smoking a cigarette was the Prizak herself, Sofia Bukharova looking at her lower left forearm at her tattoo. "Comrade-Lieutenant Bukharova? This is comrade sergeant Kovács from the Krasnaya Zvezda to take your picture." The woman whipped around at the commissars voice stubbing out her cigarette, rising from her seat. Célia suddenly felt a pang of fear mixed with rage as she beheld the pretty flame haired, square featured assassin who had murdered her beautiful sister. But that wasn't the most terrifying thing about her. Has the assassin scanned her with her deep blue eyes, Célia had the distinct impression she was being sized up, like a lioness studying her next kill. There was nothing there in her eyes, except a coldness and if Célia's mind wasn't playing tricks on her, evil. The assassins brow furrowed in confusion as she approached them, holding out her hand which the young spy shook firmly.


"Hmm? Kovács? Like the Green Grocer? I killed him for the traitorous dog he was. Crushed his throat." Célia couldn't help but shudder at the sinister statement, as the assassin squeezed her hand. "Forgive me, comrade. But have we met before? You seem very familiar to me." Célia's blood ran cold has she gently withdrew her hand. My god! She can see Hanna in me! She quickly recovered. "No, Comrade-Lieutenant. We have never met but your reputation does proceed you." Sofia chuckled waving her hand. "Naturally, the new 'heroine of the people'. I'am not one for all this pomp and ceremony but uncle Georgi insists. Forgive me, comrade sergeant. I have seen many faces, both living and the dead. They all tend to blur together." She said with a reptilian smile. She's.... She's a monster. Was that all Hanna was to her, just another face? The commissar clapped his hands together. "Well I think we've wasted enough time. Are you ready, comrade Kovaçs?" Célia nodded setting down the camera on the table. Has she was assembling the flashbulb, Célia still had the uncomfortable feeling that Sofia was still studying her.


Over the course of 15 minutes, Célia had taken numerous shots of Sofia Bukharova; some of her seating others of her seated brandishing her Tokarev service weapon. With each picture she took, the more Célia found it difficult to keep her cool. There is my sister's murderer! A woman who was killed many innocents, yet she is treated like a hero! She's nothing more than an heartless killer! And I will make sure she never kills again. At 11 o'clock, Mishkin clapped once again. "I'am afraid that's all we got time for, comrade sergeant. I trust you've got all the pictures you need?" Célia nodded as she packed away the camera. Sofia smiled cocking her head. "Do I make you nervous? Comrade Sergeant Kovaçs? You can't pack your camera away fast enough." The assassin smiled, trying to get under her skin. Célia smiled her face neutral. "No, no. You're quite the photogenic subject, Comrade-Lieutenant. I have never met anyone else like you." Once again the assassin rose from her chair, studying her intently. "And you're quite sure we've never met?" Before Célia could come up with another lie, Commissar Mishkin got inbetween them. "Apologies, comrade lieutenant but we have to get you the station. Comrade Sergeant Kovács...". He turned to Célia. "...our car is just outside in the rear parking lot, would you walk with us?" Nodding she fell into step behind the couple, the assassin still staring at her.



Hotel Parking Lot 11:04am


Célia parted ways with Bukharova and Mishkin, making her way to the photographers van. Getting inside she watched the assassin and the commissar enter their staff before pulling out towards Vigyázó Ferenc street. As she turned the key to ignite her engine, Célia started to hear muffled screaming and banging coming from the vans rear. Roaring in frustration, she bolted out of the cab opening the rear doors. There she found the terrified scantily clad bound Amalia, tears streaming down her face trying to rear away from her. Getting into the back she narrowed her eyes at the young woman. "I really don't have time for this! Not when I'am so close! Besides you asked for it!" Amalia shook her head, screaming into her gag pleading with her eyes for release. "Mmmpugh!" Célia punched the girl in the stomach then chopped the side of her neck, knocking her unconscious once more. Ignoring the feelings of guilt coursing through her, Célia slammed shut the doors then climbed back into the cab. "I hope I haven't lost her, Hanna." She said switching on the engine resuming her hunt.


Kelenföld Station, Budapest 11:25am


Célia arrived just in time to see Mishkin drop Sofia off outside the station, parking closed nearby the young agent got out. Using the cover of the van she listened on their conversation. "Alright, Comrade Lieutenant I need to report back to the politick bureau. You're aware of your orders?" Sofia getting out of the staff cat nodded. "Da, Comrade Commissar Mishkin. I'am to board the train to Moscow alone, compartment 11B second car. When I arrive I'am to report to Comrade Commissar Valentin who will take me straight to the Kremlin, for my meeting with Comrade Krushchev." The commissar saluted her. "Very good, it's been an honour Comrade-Lieutenant. Safe journeys and dasvidanja." Returning the salute, the KGB turned on her heels heading into the station. Pausing to retrieve some duct tape and a box cutter from the van, Célia was right behind her sisters killer.


Utilising her training, Célia blended into the bustling terminal making sure to keep Sofia Bukharova in her field of vision without giving herself away. After all it only takes one move or gesture and the target could either be spooked or make you. After five minutes she tracked Bukharova to a steam engine on platform 5, where she disappeared into compartment 2. Sighing Célia weighed up her options. I cannot go in dressed like this, not without a ticket. Or maybe a conductors uniform. I could either grab a civilian and take her ticket and clothes. Or a conductor.... As soon has the thought popped into her mind, Célia noticed a young woman conductor leave the train heading into the direction of the women's bathroom. She was a pretty, slender girl, with diamond shaped features, freckled cheeks and doe shaped eyes the colour of turquoise. Her shoulder length curled auburn hair hung loosely under her black flat topped, peaked cap the badge of the Hungarian Railway and 'Conductor' pinned on the front. The rest of her uniform consisted of a black buttoned jacket, matching below the knee skirt with black pumps and black translucent stockings. Underwhich was a white blouse and black ribbon tie with black leather handbag looped over her shoulder and ticket machine over her head. Hmm? A little on the small size but close enough. I can squeeze into that uniform no problem. Célia thought shadowing the woman as she entered the bathroom.

Women's Bathroom

25 year old train conductor Mónika Németh sighed with pleasure finishing off her piss, pulling up her blue satin with black lace briefs before clipping on her stockings to her suspender belt. Ugh! I always hate going into Moscow. A six hour trip dodging lonely Soviet men and even women's wandering hands. Going right into the lions den. If I didn't need this job so badly, I would have joined the resistance but if I had then I would probably be dead. Shrugging she pulled up her skirt hearing the door to the toilet open. "It's okay, I'am just coming ugh!." She said opening the cubicle door, only to be greeted by a woman's fist to her face. Letting out a short pained squeak, Mónika was thrown back onto the toilet bowl sliding down unconscious sitting on the toilet bowl her hat clattering to the tiled floor.


"Sorry, sweetheart. But I'am really in a hurry here." Quipped Célia Takaçs massaging her right hand grimacing at the ugly red bruise on the conductors cheek. Scooping up the woman's hat, she set it on the cistern before straddling the young conductor stripping off Amalia's uniform. Wasting no time, Célia got to work stripping the redheaded girl. After looping the ticket machine over the girls head, and removing her shoes, she unfastened the jacket slipping it from the conductors shoulder then unlaced the ribbon tie. Unbuttoning the blouse, revealed small B-cup breasts covered by a blue satin bra with black lace trim. Unzipping the skirt from the side, Célia whipped the garment from the girl's slender hips down her long legs exposing matching high waisted briefs, stockings and a suspender belt. Well, it looks like I will have to take at the least her stockings and suspenders. To really sell the disguise and get close to Sofia. Ignoring her feelings of squeamishness, Célia unclipped the stockings from the belt rolling them down the conductor's legs gently as she could then pulled down the suspender belt from her waist. Finally she pulled the blouse from the conductors body, leaving clad only in her expensive underwear.


Célia quickly got dressed in the conductors uniform, setting the hat on her head, finding the outfit small like she expected but passable with only the shoes being a couple sizes down. Bearing the pain, she taped up the scantily clad conductors wrists and ankles before gagging her. After looping the ticket machine over her head, Célia closed the cubicle door on the naked redheaded conducted leaving her slumped sleeping on the toilet. Concealing the both the tape and the knife in the woman's handbag, she looped it over her shoulder then swept from the bathroom briskly walking towards the train.


The 11:45 Train to Moscow, 3km from Budapest, heading East 12:05pm


Seeing the blanket of white coating the Hungarian countryside, snowflakes falling quickly as the train sped past Célia made her way slowly but surely to Sofia's compartment. She had stopped to play her role as conductor, checking tickets and even dispensing some to those who didn't buy them at the station. The CIA had taught her well, her handler explaining to her that should you steal the uniform or clothing of an enemy female then you have to become that woman. Assume their identities and their roles, lest you raise suspicion and end up in a Siberian gulag or worse at the business end off five soviet rifles. Winding her way through the packed train, Célia eventually found her way to compartment 11B. Shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation of delivering vengeance to her sisters killer, Célia knocked on the door. "Tickets please?" Hearing the curt reply from the assassin, Célia entered the compartment.


She found the assassin drinking from an all too familiar silver hip flask, her deep blue eyes looking up right at her. "Now I finally recognise you. I don't forget the face of anyone I have become. You're the sister of Hanna Takaçs. Tell me something, girl. What did you feel when you took their lives and became them? To hold their life in your hands? There's nothing quite like it, is there?" Célia took out her box cutter, not taking her eyes off the woman. "I have not killed anyone? I'am am nothing like you. I'am not a murderer." The assassin laughed, an evil animalistic bark. "Yet, girl. Not a murderer yet. After all, you're here aren't you? To kill me and avenge your sister? Well she was weak, pathetic just like you. Prey. A pathetic little traitor. I put her out of her misery and I became her. I saved her! Where were you?!" Célia gritted her teeth, flicking open her blade. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! She was all I had. She was brave and beautiful!" Sofia laughed once again, standing straight. "And I killed her, easily. Like a mother would smother her child in its crib. Come, little Takaçs. Claim your revenge and I will send you to your sister. And maybe I will become you too." Roaring with barely contained rage, Célia lunged blade raised.


The KGB assassin was much quicker then she. Flowing like water around Célia, Sofia seized her wrist twisting it. Crying with pain the younger Takaçs dropped the knife to the floor of the compartment, before feeling her legs being kicked from under her sending her to her knees. "Well, it looks like you have some fight in you. Unexpected but welcome. Your sister was far too trusting, she believed me to be a mere grocers girl it was so easy-" she took out her garroting wire looping it over Célia's neck "-to do this!" Suddenly by reflex, Célia shot up her hands protecting her throat. "What?! Impossible!" The assassin cried in shock, giving the young agent a brief window. Roaring with rage, Célia pulled forwards throwing the KGB assassin over her head where she lay sprawled on her back, stunned. Snatching up the assassins wire Célia quickly looped it over the murderers neck, pulling it tight.


"Go on then. Finish it, put me out of my misery girl. But I will tell you this. Killing me won't bring the dead back, they are gone. Merely useless husks for us to exploit. I still remember the face of the first girl I became. She was only 16 and like all prey too trusting, I squeezed the life from her when she sought to comfort me. I will always be with you, haunting your dreams. Like she does with me-ugh!" Crying with a mixture of pain and rage, Célia pulled the wire tight. The assassin tried to pull the wire away from her throat but Célia poured all her grief and rage into the cord, pulling tighter and tighter. "Just die you filthy murderer!" She cried as the woman's struggles became weaker and weaker until she slumped into Célia's body. "T..thank youuu..." Sofia Bukharova let out in a low death rattle before she lay still.


Taking deep breaths, Célia reared back from the cooling body of her sisters murderer holding her mouth in shock. "Oh my god?! What have I done?!" Seeing the bloody wire still in her hand, the young agent threw it aside like it was a grenade. Feeling great shame. Then feeling a strange sensation coming up from the pit of her stomach, like a runaway train Célia doubled over and voided the contents of her stomach. Outside she could hear a crowd outside the compartment, trying to force open the door. She then saw the silver hip flask glinting next to the assassins body, with the coat of arms of the Austro-Hungarian army embossed on the front. It was their father's hip flask, retrieved from the ruins of their home. She quickly snatched it up. "This doesn't belong to you, thief!" She cried brandishing it at the assassins corpse. Pocketing it, Célia quickly ran for the compartment door opening it wide. Feeling the cold bite on winter on her cheek, she leapt from the train into the white.


Hungarian Countryside, 3km West of Budapest 12:40pm


Hearing the crunch of snow under her feet, Célia ran into the treeline the train zipping along behind her. Shivering against the cold clutching her body, the young spy put one foot forward her mind awash with emotions. By the grace of God i have done it. I thought once that wire had looped around my neck, it was my death come upon me. I have avenged you, sweet Hanna but why do I feel so sick? So hollow? Shaking thoughts from her mind, Célia focused on her current predicament. She was a mile of Budapest and her disguise, the skirt torn in the struggle with Sofia was now useless. Well i need some transport and a change of clothes. But where would I find a woman around here, let alone one with clothes to fit. I need to get home to Budapest to finally say goodbye to you, Hanna. Her breath misting in front of her, an exhausted Célia pressed forward onto a snow covered path.


A little further down, Célia caught sight of something curious. It was a small horse and cart parked by the side of the path, laden with bundles of firewood and a single chestnut mare who blinked at her approach. "Who do you belong to girl?" She smiled stroking the horses mane, noticing a thick woolen coat laying on the cart's step. Looking down, her eyes followed a trial of small dainty shoeprints through the snow leading to a row of small bushes. Creeping slowly she followed the trial. These footprints look womanly and that means clothes. Hopefully she's alone.



At the end of a trial was a pretty young woman around 18 or so, a peasant girl dressed in a drab but cosy looking brown sack cloth dress, grey mittens matching scarf and fur hat with the flaps down. She was attractive in a rustic sort of way with dirt covering her rounded features, slender cheekbones and big green eyes a strand of dark brown hair, peaking from under her hat. The girl was squatting in a bush, her dress hiked up showing her bare plum shaped ass. The sound of trickling water, informed Célia she was taking a leak. Perfect she's alone and unaware, I just need to time my attack just so. Don't want risk her soiling her dress. It would be nothing to hit her with this... she picked up a decent sized rock feeling the weight. No, Célia. She's an innocent. Simply choke her out and take the dress. She doesn't need to die. You're not Sofia. Said a voice that sounded just like Hanna. Taking a deep breath and dropping the stone, Célia snuck on the unsuspecting girl taking care to avoid patches of snow to avoid spooking her.



As soon as she heard the last of the girl's water trickle into the leaf litter, Célia struck fast clamping her right hand over the peasants mouth to quieten her screams while snaking her left arm around her neck drawing her down. The girl tried her best to break free, her legs kicking trying to shake Célia off. "Don't struggle girl! I don't want to kill you." She hissed into the squirming girls ear, applying more pressure. Just snap her neck and strip her, get it over and done with. Just one little pull of the wrist. Quick and easy, put her out of her misery. Sofia's voice droned in her head. Subconsciously she began to twist the struggling peasants head to her left. No Sofia! Stop, no one else needs to die. You're not a murderer. Sofia deserved to die for killing me but this girl doesn't deserve this! Once again, Hanna had came to her sister's aid. Applying even more pressure, Célia felt the peasants struggles grow weaker and weaker until she slumped unconscious into Célia's body with a low muffled rattle. "I'am so sorry, girl. Please forgive me..." She said gently caressing the girl's beautiful face before rolling her body off her. Feeling great shame and guilt for nearly taking another life, Célia stripped off the conductors uniform in silence.


Shivering in her underwear, Célia quickly stripped the unconscious girl first removing her mittens, scarf then unbuckled her shoes sighing when she discovered they were much too small. Pulling off the girls hat revealed long silken brown hair tied into a long ponytail. Unbuttoning the girl's dress from the rear, Célia peeled the garment which smelled of straw from the peasants shoulders down her thin undernourished body letting out a gasp of shock when she discovered her victim was totally naked underneath. The swell of her small young breasts with puffy dark pink areolas, nipples peaking in the cold rising with each breath and small untrimmed vagina decorated with a thin smattering of brown hair. "Poor kid, too poor to afford any underwear. Well, I won't leave you to die of the cold. Not if I can help it."


After quickly dressing in the warm sackcloth dress and accessories, Célia dressed the unconscious peasant in the conductors uniform despite it being way too big for her she simply tied the girl into it. Then retrieving the coat from the cart, put the girl into it. "There this should be enough to make sure you don't freeze out here. And this for your dress and cart." Taking out some rubles from the conductors bag, she tucked the notes into the girls coat. "I'am so sorry." Leaving the girl in the bushes fast asleep, Célia clambered onto the cart getting the horse to move onto the main road. The adrenaline she had felt from killing Sofia was gone but the shame and guilt remained, but she knew what she had to do. I need to find Hosmusz Farm and for that i have to go the university. I need to finally say goodbye. Huddling against the cold, Célia continued up the lonely path towards the city.


The Budapesti Múegyetem, 13:35pm


Word that the new heroine of the people, Sofia Bukharova had been found dead on the train from Budapest to Moscow had arrived before Célia. With Soviet soldiers, crawling the streets arresting anyone at gun point without due process Dumping the horse and cart on the outskirts of District Ten, she had used the last of her money boarding a tram to the University along the west bank of the Danube her stolen peasant garb drawing both ridicule and revulsion as the more finely dressed Budapesti reared from her. She had even considered attacking a girl and stealing her expensive clothes but she was simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically. Not to mention cold. No, her mission now was to find the final resting place of her beloved sister and finally say goodbye. While she had the chance. She regretted storming out on her and she had to make it right.



"Get out of my way! You dirty peasant!" Célia heard this response one two many times as she tried and failed to ask the students about Hosmusz Farm. Her peasants outfit repelling them. Sighing she found a small bench, sitting down she pinched her nose. Perhaps I should have pulled that woman into the alley and took her clothes. I would have had more luck walking amongst these people. It's strange just a year ago, i was one of them. But then again, maybe they don't know anything. Taking a deep breath, Célia raised her head feeling the snowflakes dance her cheeks. I'am so tired... "Excuse me? Do I know you?"


Célia turned to see a young blonde woman, dressed in a beige trenchcoat and red beret perched over her blonde curls. Rising from the bench, she recognised the girl. "Barbeta? Barbeta Oláh?" She cried hugging the young woman who returned the hug. "Célia! Célia Takaçs! As I live and breathe. It's been what a year? I thought you had left for America." Célia stood holding Barbeta who was her sister's best friend in university and had treated Célia much like her own blood. "I did but I came back when I heard about Hanna..." Pulling out of the hug they looked at each other. "What the hell are doing dressed like that?" Célia blushed slightly. "Um, they aren't mine and it's a very long story." Further down the street, a truck full of soviet troopers pulled up who then started to summarily arrest young women. "Does it have anything to with those reds?" Célia glanced at the troopers nodding. "Yes. Look, Barbeta I need to find Hanna and say farewell. Do you know anything about Hosmusz farm?" Suddenly, Barbeta snaked her arm around Célia's waist leading her from the square towards her car. "Not here, Célia. We need to get of here before we get arrested. Besides you need a change of clothes and some food in your belly, you look exhausted." Too tired to argue, Célia let herself be placed in the car then leaning into the seat closed her eyes.

My God, It's here, and it's as beautiful as I had hoped. Forgive me for sounding like a broken record but there are only so many words to express my gratitude for your work.

The takedowns were superb as usual, with my only gripe being that the conductor wasn't choked out like we've discussed, but that is merely a nitpick from me, one that doesn't detract from the quality of the story. The uniform steals were great as well, and the knocking out of already stripped victims was a great touch.

I was really happy to see that you've used many different locations even beyond the ones I've suggested. It added a lot of flavor to the story.

It was quite interesting to see the psychological - and well, physical - effects of the first kill on Célia. The fact that she almost kills an innocent girl because of Sofias voice in her head really drives home how infatuated she was with her sisters killer, something that she will probably have to fight off constantly in her future endeavours.

Once more, thank you for making it, especially how punctually you did!

[Stormtrooper1990]

Thanks Hshws

It's quite alright, my friend it was a pleasure to work with you and I'am very glad that you enjoyed the story.


Yeah, sorry about the conductor I changed it last minute to reflect that Célia herself was in a hurry to board the train and was driven to catch Sofia before she could escape. But I'am glad it didn't detract from the story. Reading back, I'am glad with how everything turned out and my favourite takedown was Corporal Svetlana who made the mistake of making a pass at the wrong girl. And thanks again, when I wrote in the victims being knocked out again it reminded me of the scene from La Dolce Vita in which our protagonist, Claudia knocks out again the unfortunate stripped Italian policewoman Vittoria. But this time it was two for the price of one.


I'am glad to hear that. While I was writing the story, i embarked on further research and found some additional locations that I thought would add that little something extra to the story. It goes to show that our discussions were a great source of inspiration that helped me showcase this very beautiful location.


Indeed, I did a little research on the psychological effects of a traumatic experience like killing has on the human psyche. It's fair to say that Célia through a mixture of adrenaline and an obsession with her sisters killer, almost drove her to kill the peasant girl were it not for Hanna pulling her back from the edge of the abyss. I thought it best to leave the girl unidentified as this was Célia's last steal and a key moment in the story. It was also to reflect that Célia herself had beome desensitised, and this like the act of killing scares her. I think this trauma will stay with Célia for long time and it will be something she needs to come to terms with when she continues the struggle. As Sofia's final words said. "I will always be with you..."


Your very welcome, my friend. It was more than a pleasure and I'am glad to have done Célia's story and indeed Budapest justice. And for Sofia to get her comeuppance.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Some of the locations visited in Budapest by Célia during her hunt for Sofia.

The Budapesti Múegyetem( BME, The University of Technology and Economics)

https://c8.alamy.com/comp/2C712R0/europ ... C712R0.jpg

Kelenföld Station

https://media.funiq.hu/images/12/b3/882 ... fullhd.jpg

Café Centrale under Károlyi Street


https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media ... errace.jpg


The Prestige Hotel Budapest


https://cf.bstatic.com/xdata/images/hot ... 15&o=&hp=1

[meditions142]

Hi Stormtrooper

You know that feeling of an unexpected surprise? Well that is what I am feeling now! I remember when this story was originally posted I was not able to read it and intended to come back to it. Apparently I never did but came across it just now and thankfully had a chance to read it. Really great story with some wonderful scenes.

First off, we have the scene with Eszter. Always a great scene with a waitress being taken out for her uniform. The comments during the after the sleeperhold are great: "Stop struggling! I don't want to hurt you anymore then I have to. Just relax it won't be long now." and then "Well that took a little longer then it did in training. I hope I didn't hurt you too much, sweetheart." Great stuff.

And of course we get the second knockout to keep out, albeit far less gentle then the often used sedative. Then the great comments: "I'am sorry, Eszter I really am. But you need to be quiet." and "Sorry, but it's for your own good."

Also good action knockout of Svetlana. The perfect knee to the crotch to double her over and then a neck chop.

Then we next get the scene with Amalia. A fun scene given even though she was a military person as a photographer I am sure she never expected what was to happen to her. Great take with Celia covering her mouth and then a neck chop. A perfect strike to that special spot in a woman's neck that will disrupt a nervous system and knock her right out. Great description: "She let out a muffled pained squeak slumping unconscious into her attackers arms". And of course the wonderful comment: "I'am sorry, you seem like a nice girl but I need your uniform."

And definitely like the inter monologue "It scares me, just how much better I'am getting at this and how much I enjoyed knocking....Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács out." She actually enjoyed knocking Amalia out. Sounds like the idea of rendering women unconscious is becoming a turn on for her.

And I have to say the way you described Amalia's satin panties and camisole, I bet she looked awful sexy once she had been striped.

Then we get the scene when Amalia has regained consciousness. The scene plays out funny the way the stress of the situation has caused Celia to run out of patience. There is no time for her to be slow of gentle with Amalia. The comment is great: "I really don't have time for this! Not when I'am so close! Besides you asked for it!" And then a punch to the stomach and then another neck chop. Poor Amalia got pretty beaten up.

Celia's need to not waste time by being gentle continues with Monika. Fun scene to imagine of Monika opening the stall door and immediately receiving a punch to the face that knocks her right out. Then yet another great comment: "Sorry, sweetheart. But I'am really in a hurry here."

The scene with the peasant girl was really intriguing the the inter voices of the angels and demons. Interesting the way as she has the girl in a sleeperhold she hears in her head Sofia saying "Just snap her neck and strip her, get it over and done with. Just one little pull of the wrist. Quick and easy, put her out of her misery." Followed by the fact Celia actually starts to twist the girl's neck, Then Hanna's voice reminders her of what to do.

Celia obviously isn't a killer unless the person truly deserves it or it is necessary. However, with that said, she has a mission. She was pretty rough on the women she had to deal with.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Hi Stormtrooper

You know that feeling of an unexpected surprise? Well that is what I am feeling now! I remember when this story was originally posted I was not able to read it and intended to come back to it. Apparently I never did but came across it just now and thankfully had a chance to read it. Really great story with some wonderful scenes.

First off, we have the scene with Eszter. Always a great scene with a waitress being taken out for her uniform. The comments during the after the sleeperhold are great: "Stop struggling! I don't want to hurt you anymore then I have to. Just relax it won't be long now." and then "Well that took a little longer then it did in training. I hope I didn't hurt you too much, sweetheart." Great stuff.

And of course we get the second knockout to keep out, albeit far less gentle then the often used sedative. Then the great comments: "I'am sorry, Eszter I really am. But you need to be quiet." and "Sorry, but it's for your own good."

Also good action knockout of Svetlana. The perfect knee to the crotch to double her over and then a neck chop.

Then we next get the scene with Amalia. A fun scene given even though she was a military person as a photographer I am sure she never expected what was to happen to her. Great take with Celia covering her mouth and then a neck chop. A perfect strike to that special spot in a woman's neck that will disrupt a nervous system and knock her right out. Great description: "She let out a muffled pained squeak slumping unconscious into her attackers arms". And of course the wonderful comment: "I'am sorry, you seem like a nice girl but I need your uniform."

And definitely like the inter monologue "It scares me, just how much better I'am getting at this and how much I enjoyed knocking....Technical Sergeant Amalia Kovács out." She actually enjoyed knocking Amalia out. Sounds like the idea of rendering women unconscious is becoming a turn on for her.

And I have to say the way you described Amalia's satin panties and camisole, I bet she looked awful sexy once she had been striped.

Then we get the scene when Amalia has regained consciousness. The scene plays out funny the way the stress of the situation has caused Celia to run out of patience. There is no time for her to be slow of gentle with Amalia. The comment is great: "I really don't have time for this! Not when I'am so close! Besides you asked for it!" And then a punch to the stomach and then another neck chop. Poor Amalia got pretty beaten up.

Celia's need to not waste time by being gentle continues with Monika. Fun scene to imagine of Monika opening the stall door and immediately receiving a punch to the face that knocks her right out. Then yet another great comment: "Sorry, sweetheart. But I'am really in a hurry here."

The scene with the peasant girl was really intriguing the the inter voices of the angels and demons. Interesting the way as she has the girl in a sleeperhold she hears in her head Sofia saying "Just snap her neck and strip her, get it over and done with. Just one little pull of the wrist. Quick and easy, put her out of her misery." Followed by the fact Celia actually starts to twist the girl's neck, Then Hanna's voice reminders her of what to do.

Celia obviously isn't a killer unless the person truly deserves it or it is necessary. However, with that said, she has a mission. She was pretty rough on the women she had to deal with.

Thanks my friend, I know that feeling quite well and I'am a big fan of surprises! It's great that you commented on this story since I have been working with hshws to develop a sequel miniseries featuring Célia and a host of new characters, set a few months later. For know I'am happy to discuss this story, since it's also one of my recent favourites.


You know how much I love my waitress takeouts, and for Célia's first with Estzer I wanted the chokeout to be slightly amateurish to represent this as Célia's first real knockout since the end of her basic training. And it serves as a foreshadowing of how easily she adapts to the work she had to do, during the course of her revenge mission. She bore Estzer no ill will and was even sorry to for the knockout and stripping, but it was the point of no return.


Yeah, Célia was less gentle with the second knockout but still she didn't want the girl to attract unnecessary attention or to be discovered with a stripped soviet soldier too quickly. Then of course their was catching the tram to consider to.

I really enjoyed writing the scene with Corporal Svetlana as it displayed another of Célia's skills she learned in the CIA. Although a straight girl herself, she knows how to lure a horny gay soldier like Svetlana to a dark corner to take her out. And you can't really go wrong with a knee to the groin and neck chop, just like the takeout in Conan the Barbarian.


Indeed, poor Amalia was only there to snap Sofia's picture and was running quite late but never expected to be accosted by a woman wearing a stolen uniform, and using it to acquire hers. It also demonstrates that Célia bears no ill will against the locals who serve in the Red Army, hence the apology to poor Amalia.

Even though Célia is straight and has no romantic feelings towards other women, she is becoming impressed with how she's growing in both strength and confidence but also afraid how this is changing her. But like I said in Red Pock Pt 4, Célia will still like the sensation of dominating these women and stripping them down to their very sexy knickers.


Thanks, I agree with you that these were my favourite set of underwear on a victim in this story. There is something very sexy about seeing red and black on a scantily clad woman, particularly a camisole and matching panties.


I know I felt pretty bad for Amalia during her second knockout, her only crime was waking up but in Célia's defence I wanted to show that the stress of seeing her sister's murderer in the flesh and being unable to anything about it, stirred something dark in Célia. So she took out her frustration on poor sexy Amalia and got to following Sofia.


Yeah, with Monika Célia wasn't in the mood to mess around and needed to board the train quickly before it left. So a swift punch to deck the poor conductor was in order. I do like these sudden blitz attacks, especially in somewhere like a bathroom as a change of pace. It was partly inspired by the scene in Bad Karma with the coastguard girl but the ending was much happier here.


Yes, I wanted to explore the effect psychology has in someone like Célia. She has just killed the woman who had brutally killed and stripped her sister, her only family. Her blood and adrenaline was pumping so she was still in that "fight or flight mode." We can she that Célia did enjoy getting her revenge and was prepared to kill an innocent in her frenzy, the darker side represented by Sofia. But luckily for Célia's soul and for the peasant girl, her conscience represented by her sister Hanna made her see reason.


Indeed, with Célia I wanted to explore the effect killing has on a good person like her. We can see that by the end she is a changed woman. She has taken a life and was ready to kill an innocent, she feels ashamed for what she as done. Not to mention Célia has discovered her talent for espionage and rendering other women unconscious, sometimes not gently either. Its this too what scares her.

In the next story series, Célia will return along with two very different characters who have very different reasons for hunting her. I look forward to developing her character further and she how much she has changed since we last saw her.

[meditions142]

Not to mention Célia has discovered her talent for espionage and rendering other women unconscious, sometimes not gently either.

I think that is a big part about what makes her character so interesting. She is new at this and learning what she is capable of.

And, as you know, my favorite knockouts are usually the more "gentle" one (nerve pinch, sedatives, tranq darts, etc.) However, there is something fun about these action sequences here where Celia gets rough with the women she is taking out.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Not to mention Célia has discovered her talent for espionage and rendering other women unconscious, sometimes not gently either.

I think that is a big part about what makes her character so interesting. She is new at this and learning what she is capable of.

And, as you know, my favorite knockouts are usually the more "gentle" one (nerve pinch, sedatives, tranq darts, etc.) However, there is something fun about these action sequences here where Celia gets rough with the women she is taking out.

Thank you, I'am glad you like her. The next time we see her she will be a little more refined and honed in her technique, but still learning about herself and dealing with the guilt. I will also be introducing new characters to her story, with their own techniques ( one will be just like Célia herself and an old friend of hers, while the other a callous KGB spy killer).


I completely agree, my friend . You know myself how I like to mix things up, with gentler takedowns and more rougher action sequences depending on the situation and context. The next series will display a character that's like Célia who's still learning and a brutal experienced KGB killer who may not be on the same twisted level as Sofia but still enjoys her work with a callousness bordering on evil. So there will be a mixture of non lethal ( both gentle and rough) takedowns and lethal as well.