Yekaterina Kalashnikov
Yekaterina Kalashnikov
Portrayed By: Artemis Pebdani
Status: Alive
Age: 30
Occupation: Welder
Theme Song: Dopilsya – EX SEKTOR GAZA
Alias: The Hydra, formerly Spider-Babe
Powers: Extra Arms, Durability

Yekaterina Kalashnikov is better known as The Hydra, and is the Russian SUPE.


"Madame Kalashnikov, I presume?" she asked politely. The drunk bitch wouldn't know herself from Putin, but Yeka had to know.

"No," she began, scowling at the hefty woman that blocked her doorway. "You've got the wrong place."

"Listen. I know you are the General's last niece. You're my sister! You don't remember, you bitch! I'm here for your own good, okay? Right now," Yeka latched onto the skinny bitch's shoulders, shaking her vigorously.
"There's a van speeding down the road. Four ex-Osnaz whores are about to blow up that cheap-ass door of yours and put two in your heart cavity, with one 9 millimeter to plaster your brain across the wall. You understand!?"

Sara Kalashnikov frowned. "Fine. But let me smoke this last Winston. Alright?" Released, she pulls out the battered box with a shaky hand, her fingers steadying to pull the last stick out.

The sound of Yeka's palm connecting with her cheek precedes the first bullet that rips through the door. All two hundred pounds of Chechnyan beauty slam the heiress onto the polished black and tan tile.

One. More bullets.

Two. The shitty painting that should've come down anyway.

Three. Peter's imported Glenfiddich. The one he thinks gives him balls like a man. It explodes. The shards give her hair a golden sheen. "Yekaterina," she whispers, a part of her knowing that her ugly ass sister probably can't hear her over the sound of four men assaulting her summer home. "I think it's time to go now."

She flies into the air, balanced on her sister's extra arms. She fails to shudder like she does whenever she sees the appendages. It's just not right. Hurtling out a window, she finds herself in the sage bed. She sees the clouds against the night sky, and wonders where her kid sister has got to. She smiles, the kind of smile Peter would say is rich with irony, Not that he knows anything about it. At least this time it wasn't Yekaterina's trouble. It was hers.

They never expect you to be fast, or strong, even. Whenever the boys in Suhoputnye saw her run, they seemed so upset. As if it wasn't fair, as if the rules said that fat girls were not supposed to be faster than athletic boys. She grinned, the kind of grin the men at the pit fights saw before she went all Fedor Emelianenko on their asses. The Osnaz were stacked on the door, the point man hitting left, second man hitting right, third sweeping the blind spots and the last man, well, he turned around to guard the rear- just in time to see her fist slam into his face, crunching as the maxillae buckled under the force of the impact.

She shrieked as a bullet slammed into her elbow, feeling every gut-wrenching moment as it ricocheted on her humerus and travelled up to fracture her clavicle.

Sara heard the scream, but she'd seen it before. The thing is, she would tell daddy when he worried, is that Yeka wasn't like the other girls. He already knew this, but daddy forgot. He worried, and needed to be reminded. She blinked away tears. If only he was still around, she could see what his little girl had become. A marauder in the night, bringing fear to the pigs that preyed on the less fortunate. Sure, she liked material things, and she didn't love the motherland the way he did, but she was a super-hero. She was mother-fucking Spider-Babe.

This is why Yekaterina survived. This is why three of those men are rotting in a Mordovian hellhole and one will drink through a straw for the rest of his life. Yekaterina watches over Moscow, and now, she watches over the world.

Sara beamed.


Your character's personality.

Masked Persona

An athletic red, 100% polyester french terry jacket over a nomex top, emblazoned with the coat of arms of K-Swiss, her official apparel sponsor, Adidas. The octagonal Hydra logo is blazoned in white across her chest and back. High impact red leather pants, boasting the words "This machine kills fascists" is scrawled across her derriere, making the suit hers. Yekaterina does not wear a mask, instead painting her complexion deep crimson with warpaint and throwing locks of her hair in front of two-thirds of her face.


  • Hard To Kill 10 (10)
  • Resources 10 (10)


Aya Okello: Closest friend on the SUPE team. Probably the only person who tolerates her banter indefinitely.
Ashvin Ashok: occassional lover.
Sara Kalashnikov: sister.

Recent Events

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