WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS  EXTREME VIOLENCE.  IT IS NOT MEANT FOR CHILDREN, AND SHOULD ONLY BE READ BY MATURE ADULTS, OVER TWENTY-ONE.

Note:  From an idea by Bob Cashman.
 
 

Introduction: The Congresswoman glanced in a mirror, as she entered her Washington office. "Not too bad for a middle aged lady!"  She thought.  "Maybe my boobs are a little big, after four kids, but they don't sag hardly at all! Not quite the figure I had back then, though, of course!"  She nostalgically remembered her youth, when she gallantly fought crime in a cape and hooded cowl.  Marriage and a successful political career had ended all that, though.  AND that accident, THAT AWFUL ACCIDENT, when her quarry, Tigress, had slipped and broken her neck, as she fled from the young crime fighter.  The Congresswoman would never get that horrible image out of her mind; she still saw it in nightmares.

She sat down at her desk and picked up the top newspaper from the pile laid out by her staff.  It was her hometown paper. She angrily drummed her fingers on the huge mahogany desk, as she read the lead article.

"They still haven't caught her!  I can't believe it!  Damn!  The more we appropriate in Federal aid to local police, the  more incompetent they get. If Dad was still alive, they'd be doing something!"  She fumed. The article was all about the crime spree, of a woman wearing a replica of her own old crime fighting costume, bringing disgrace to it.

"Got to do some fence mending this weekend, for the Senate race next year, even though everyone says I'm a shoo-in!  Of course, although I'll never admit it, it's the White House in 2004, I'm thinking of!  Well, as long as I'll be home, anyway, maybe it's time I put on my old costume, again!  It would be kinda' fun! I bet the kids would never believe, who their mother really was!"

Two nights later, on a dark, lonely rooftop, the caped congresswoman came face to face with the impostor.  She had to admit, the woman, or more likely the girl, filled the costume with athletic trimness, while her own stretched tightly over her fuller, more matronly figure.

"Okay, Miss, who the neck are you?  I'm the one person, who knows for sure you're not, who you're pretending to be!"

I know who you  are, VERY WELL!!   Remember Tigress?" The girlish voice answered. "Well call me Tigercub!

The congresswoman understood, now.  Tigress had a daughter, only a child, then. This masquerade was part of some plot, to gain revenge for her mother's death.

"Your mother 's death was an accident, Dear!  I swear I never meant her any harm!  I've always regretted...."  She began, warm, sincere sympathy, unmistakable in her voice.

"Well," the masked girl cut her off, with a snarl, "she won't be the only one. who has an accident!"  As she spoke, the girl struck, and the congresswoman discovered she might no longer be the crime fighter she once was.