MAJOR DEEJ UNIVERSE

The twins who would become Red Spider (II) were born from one of the darkest incidents in Soviet Guard history.

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Their mother, Yelena Arkadyevna Morozova, the original Red Spider, died on 1 May 2000 during the Soltan invasion of the Soviet Guard’s Greenland base. She sacrificed herself holding a collapsing corridor against Soltan attackers so Red Lynx, pregnant with her daughter Anastasia, and a small group of survivors could escape.

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Red Spider’s body was later recovered and buried among the fallen. At the time, only a few suspected she had been pregnant. Fewer still knew the father was a Red Guard trooper killed during the same invasion.

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The official story ended there.

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The truth did not.

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In the days after burial, the unborn twins survived through a horrific mutant biological event resembling matriphagy, an instinctive survival process found in certain spider species. Sustained by their mother’s remains, the infants lived where they should have died. Eventually, they clawed their way out of the frozen grave soil and were discovered by a Red Guard trooper patrolling a restricted burial perimeter.

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He brought the impossible children to Generalissimus.

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To some in the Soviet Guard, the twins were miracles. To others, they were contamination risks, bad omens, or living violations of nature. Generalissimus saw something else: legacy. They were the daughters of Red Spider, born from death, burial, and hunger. He ordered them protected, studied, and raised within the Soviet Guard Collective.

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Their names were recorded, but inside the base they were more often whispered about as the Spider Twins, the Graveborn, or, among older survivors of the invasion, Children of the Breach.

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They grew up inside the Greenland base, surrounded by metal walls, snowfields, emergency drills, memorial plaques, classified doors, and adults who either feared them, pitied them, or expected greatness from them. They were not raised as monsters, but they were never allowed to forget that others thought they might become monsters.

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Their childhood was disciplined and isolated. The Collective gave them food, education, training, structure, and purpose — but not freedom. The Greenland base was home, fortress, school, laboratory, and prison. Beyond its walls was the frozen wasteland. Beyond the wasteland was a world they were taught to study, infiltrate, and manipulate, but not truly belong to.

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As children, the twins learned early that people stared when they thought no one noticed. They learned that some soldiers made protective signs after passing them. They learned that scientists softened their voices around them but wrote too much in their files. They learned that Generalissimus spoke of destiny, while instructors spoke of usefulness.

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They also learned they had each other.

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The twins developed a bond that went beyond ordinary sisterhood. They could read each other’s moods without speaking, finish each other’s thoughts, and coordinate movement with unnerving precision. They fought constantly as children, sometimes viciously, but separation was worse. Together, they were brave. Apart, they were unfinished.

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Their mother’s legacy surrounded them like a shadow. Red Spider (I) had died saving Red Lynx and Anastasia. That fact shaped every adult relationship around them.

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Red Lynx became their closest thing to an aunt. She was not soft, sentimental, or traditionally maternal, but she was watchful. She understood better than anyone what their mother had given. She made sure they were trained, not merely studied. She pushed back when scientists treated them too clinically. She taught them survival lessons the official instructors avoided. She did not call them daughters, but she protected them like unfinished debts.

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To the twins, Red Lynx was complicated. She was the woman their mother died to save. She was also the woman who stayed. They loved her in the guarded, difficult way children love someone who represents both comfort and loss.

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Then there was Anastasia, Red Lynx’s daughter, born in June 2000 and later known as Red Nikita.

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Anastasia grew up alongside them as another child of the Soltan invasion. She was not their sister by blood, but she was their sister by consequence. Their mother died so her mother could live. Her mother helped protect them because their mother could not. The three girls inherited the same wound from different sides.

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As children, they played together, trained together, argued together, and learned to survive the strange emotional climate of the Collective. Anastasia was more openly restless, angry, and physical. The twins were more controlled, secretive, and watchful. They fascinated and irritated each other.

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The relationship was never simple.

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The twins sometimes saw Anastasia as the child their mother had saved — living proof of Red Spider’s sacrifice. Anastasia sometimes saw the twins as the daughters of the woman her mother could never stop mourning. That created loyalty, guilt, resentment, and affection in equal measure.

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They defended each other from outsiders.
They cut each other deeply in private.
They understood each other better than anyone wanted them to.

Adolescence made everything worse.

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By their teen years, the twins began to understand the full horror of their birth. They learned not only that their mother had died, but how they had survived. The truth changed them. One withdrew into discipline and calculation. The other grew colder, sharper, and more fascinated by fear. Both became more difficult for their handlers.

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They resented the base. They resented the snow. They resented being praised as symbols while being watched like potential threats. They resented the adults who spoke of sacrifice as if children should feel grateful to be born from it.

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They were loyal to the Collective, but not always obedient. They tested boundaries. They manipulated instructors. They slipped through restricted corridors. They stole classified files about their mother. They learned which guards could be charmed, which could be frightened, and which could be bribed with silence.

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The Red Web had begun to rebuild itself before anyone formally gave them the name.

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When Anastasia left at age sixteen on her revenge mission, the rupture hit the twins hard.

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One saw it as betrayal. Anastasia had abandoned the Collective, Red Lynx, and the shared burden of the Soltan children. The other understood it more painfully: Anastasia had followed the blood trail because no one else had given her peace.

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Their bond with Anastasia did not break cleanly. It stretched, frayed, and hardened. Her departure taught the twins something important: family could leave, loyalty could become exile, and vengeance could be stronger than duty.

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The twins remained.

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They continued training under Soviet Guard intelligence handlers, Red Web archives, and surviving Cold War operatives who had once known their mother. Where Red Spider (I) had been one woman with many masks, her daughters became two halves of a single covert identity.

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One developed into the social face of the web — elegant, persuasive, diplomatic, and emotionally surgical. She specialized in recruitment, seduction tradecraft, asset cultivation, and the patient destruction of reputations.

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The other became the hidden fang — colder, quieter, more predatory, skilled in surveillance, toxins, trap-setting, interrogation support, and the removal of compromised assets.

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Together, they could do what one operative could not. One could enter a room while the other watched from the walls. One could build trust while the other prepared the consequence. One could be seen in one country while the other operated elsewhere under the same name.

Rumors began to spread that Red Spider had returned.

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The Soviet Guard did little to correct them.

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On 1 May 2018, eighteen years after the Soltan invasion, Red Lynx died. Her death closed the last living bond between Red Spider (I)’s sacrifice and the child she had saved.

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For the twins, Red Lynx’s death was not simply grief. It was a summons.

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They were eighteen years old — old enough to understand debt, legacy, and unfinished work. They approached Generalissimus and offered to assume their mother’s role within the Red Web. Not as replacements for Yelena Morozova, but as her continuation.

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The proposal was audacious:

There would be one codename.

Red Spider.

But there would be two operatives.

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The outside world would never know whether Red Spider was one woman, two sisters, a revived ghost, or an intelligence myth used by the Soviet Guard to frighten enemies into mistakes. That ambiguity became their greatest weapon.

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By 2026, the twins are twenty-six years old and active as Red Spider (II). They serve as the modern heirs of the Red Web, operating through intelligence channels, diplomatic circles, criminal networks, compromised officials, and covert Soviet Guard assets hidden across the world.

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They are not their mother.

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They are what came after her.

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Red Spider (I) was the web’s architect.
Red Spider (II) is the web learning to move in two places at once.

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Born from sacrifice, raised in isolation, hardened by secrecy, and bound by a sisterhood as dangerous as any weapon in the Soviet Guard arsenal, the twins carry the Red Spider name into the modern era with a simple, terrifying promise:

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The mother died.

The daughters survived.

The web endured.

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