Super Mom: Besieged (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

Super Mom: Besieged

Super Heroines of Annarky

Annarky, midday…

Long black hair trailing behind like a banner, Super Mom flew through the skyscrapers of downtown. She remained upright, leaning forward and back bowed as she flew. Head up, arms flung wide and back, she was out to “show the colors.” The goal was to keep the honest folks honest.

The shapely heroine flew slowly over Main Street, just fifty feet up, while she tugged up on her strapless costume — blue breast cups with large white star on each, vertical red and white stripes below. She smoothed her long white opera gloves, before tugging up on her US Flag stars and stripes thigh boots. Her accessories were a blue mask, blue and silver choker, and a wide silver belt.

There was a demonstration in front of the federal courthouse. She wondered what they were protesting. Some carried signs: Free the Johntown Three. This isn’t my America. And other such protest signs. Probably a Federal trial going on. Not her concern, but she continued flying towards them.

Something out of the ordinary caught her eye down on the street. The tall, shapely super heroine came to a stop and hovered, squinting down at a car parked at the curb. A man stood behind it while he dressed? Camo uniform. Bullet proof vest. Army helmet. Then he started arming up with knives, pistols, and a submachine gun.

“It’s a wannabe mass killer,” she whispered, a jolt going through her body. “A psychopath. A domestic terrorist about to murdered as many innocent people as he can before the police kill him.”

Her violet eyes narrow. It didn’t matter if he was a disgruntled employee, a recently terminated employee, or a jilted lover. That man just crossed the line into evil. A lawbreaker.

He slammed the trunk closed, and turned to stride straight toward the protest. Was he a counter protester? About to join that protest? Or did he have truly evil intentions. State law did allow citizens to “open carry” so he hadn’t committed a crime yet. 

Super Mom paced him from above, watching the man like a hawk. To her dismay, he joined five other men dressed and armed just like him. A paramilitary group? She still wasn’t sure what side of the political spectrum they supported. Didn’t matter. If they intended to use their weapons then they were domestic terrorists.

Not on my watch, she thought.

At the edge of the protesters, the six men formed up in a stack formation. Super Mom knew all of the Annarky Police Department’s SWAT officers on sight, so they were not the police. US military forces weren’t allowed to conduct operations against US citizens, so back to domestic terrorists.

Hands on each other’s shoulder, the heavily armed men pushed through the crowd in single file. Heading straight for the court house entry. Super Mom’s heart raced, her breathing shallow. As yet, they still hadn’t committed a crime.

The stack broke through into the open area between the protesters and building. The terrorists’ weapons came up, leveled on the cops guarding the doors. Those cops saw automatic weapons, ducked and took cover. The stack charged forward toward the now undefended entrance.

Super Mom flipped over, head down, and took off like an air-to-surface missile. She flew under power, just a blur for half a second before she pulled up at the last second. Flipping again, she drove her knees into the trailing terrorist’s back, right between his shoulder blades. That pushed him into the man ahead of him, who also knocked down the next man in line.

The other three gunmen turned and opened up full auto on her. While their bullets were no threat to her, the thick press of protesters were in grave danger. So Super Mom surged into them with a scream of fury, kicking left and right, she pummeled one man in the face with her booted feet, then spun and slammed a backhanded fist into the face of the next in line. And finally, she reached their leader and kicked him in the jaw. 

His submachine gun went clattering across the concrete as he fell back spread-eagle. Stiletto-heeled boots hit the ground half-a-second later. The heroine in patriotic red, white, and blue seized the evildoer, jerked him off the ground and hurled him into a solid concrete wall. Super Mom was on him again in a flash, but found him unconscious. Just a limp pile of bones and flesh.

Automatic gunfire opened up on her. Three of the terrorists had regained their feet, and were attacking, guns blazing. 

Fools, she thought.

Super Mom took off flying straight at them. She plowed into them, body-checking two of them down again. The heroine tore into the third man with fists and feet, battering him bloody before he collapsed bonelessly at her feet. Then she pounced on the other two, smashing them down hard and fast.

The cops on court house guard came running out to help, but super heroines are fast. The entire fight might’ve lasted two minutes.

“Arrest them for domestic terrorism,” she said. “I think the prosecutor’s office will come up with a few more charges, as well.”

“I’m a cop,” the terrorist leader said. “Officer Johansen, Southtown station.”

The cops and Super Mom stared at him.

“A cop?” she cried.

“We’re all cops,” he said. “Here to defend democracy.”

“Attacking a Federal courthouse with automatic weapons is not defending democracy.”

“We disagree.”

The on-duty cops looked at Super Mom. 

“Arrest them,” she demanded. “The law applies to everyone. Cops don’t get a pass.”

So the uniformed cops began handcuffing the six men. Super Mom pointed out the submachine guns and other weapons scattered about. She gave her statement on an electronic pad before noticing the sullen silence of the crowd gathered.

“Officer Grant, who is on trial?” she asked. She indicated the terrorists and crowd. “And why are they so upset?”

“A senior officer in the Fourth Reich is being prosecuted for kidnapping, human trafficking, and tax evasion. He’s the leader of the Johntown Three.”

Her jaw dropped. The heroine looked at the sullen protesters. How could so many support such an evil man? What were they thinking?