The Scarlet Hood

Catherine flew up the steps to grandmother's apartment. Not literally. Not in the this outfit, she thought. The delicate blouse, modest slacks, and short heels hindered her motion. But she rushed anyway. The scribbled phone message on her newsroom desk conveyed subtle urgency, and grandmother had not been well of late. A short taxi ride and ten flights of stairs were now behind her.

"Hi, Carlo," Catherine waved at the first door on the landing, propped slightly ajar. The eyes peering through the crack were bright and little fingers waved back at her. Moving along to grandmother's door, she tried the knob. It was unlocked, as usual.

"Grandmother, I've told you to keep your door locked. This isn't the same old neighborhood anymore." Catherine scolded loudly as she looked around. "Grandmother? Where are you?" She dodged around the floral-print couch and into the bedroom.

"Cathy!" Grandmother called out from the bed. "You came so quickly." She raised a hand to greet her granddaughter.

"Of course I did. The message sounded important," Catherine moved to the side of the bed, leaning in to take grandmother's hand. She stopped short before giving grandmother a kiss on the cheek. Something seemed wrong. Catherine's senses were telling her something. She paused and studied the old woman laying before her.

"Grandmother, your nails. They are so long. Perhaps we should visit your lady to," Catherine paused, scrutinizing the hand she held. It was warmer than it should be.

"All the better," the sweet woman's elderly voice began. She paused, as if gathering her strength. Her voice dropped to a fierce baritone, "All the better, to kill you with!" The sheets and blankets flew into the air, obscuring the old woman as she leapt from the bed and attacked.

Catherine threw up her arms, defending herself from the assailant's relentless blows. Through the blur of flailing arms, she saw the body before her changing. "You!" she shouted as the villain's telepathic illusion faltered. The bulging, hairy creature continued its assault.

The surprise attack had Catherine on the defensive. Her mind reeled. Her secret identity was blown! Grandmother was, where? And the sleeves of her favorite blouse were being shredded as her arms flew, deflecting the vicious claws. Her forearms, without their armored braces, were going to be sore in the morning.

Manwolf howled as he gained the advantage and threw Catherine across the apartment. "Not so happy to see grandmother now, are you?" Manwolf growled as she hit the wall. "The Scarlet Hood, we meet again, for the last time!" He chucked as she fell to the floor. "And this time, the city's beloved crimson crusader is helpless. What will you do, without your uniform and your clever little devices? Your true face is exposed, and you are helpless as I destroy you!" He leapt at her, his fangs bared, crossing the room in one powerful movement.

Catherine darted out of her foe's path in the blink of an eye, and with two swift kicks, launched her heels at supersonic velocity. She was still spinning in the air as one of the shoes connected, hitting him on the snout. It was his turn to be momentarily stunned.

Planting her feet, Catherine shouted at her arch-nemesis. "Where's my grandmother? What have you done with her?" Her hand flinched, reaching for her utility garter, but stopped as she realized how unprepared she was without her uniform and tools of the trade.

"She is safe," he growled. "For now," he added as they circled one another in the tiny space. The air was filled with a rain of lace doilies, thrown into the air by the combatants' inhuman speed. Grandmother's candy dish, the one from Catherine's earliest memories of grandmother, lay in pieces upon the floor, mingling with the dry, pink candies.

"How will the Daily Interloper ever print the story of your demise? Their precious hooded avenger, gone! And with her, their star reporter, mysteriously vanished as well? I wonder how long it will take them to put it all together." Manwolf taunted, sarcasm dripping between his fangs almost as fast as his saliva did.

He's right, Catherine thought. I'm completely exposed. Surviving this battle will be the easy part. The job, the quiet apartment, the generous, anonymous corporate funding, all of it gone in an instant. Not to mention that this outfit is a total loss, she thought, looking down at herself, seeing her clothing torn and dirtied.

She longed for her uniform. The skin-tight bodysuit covered her completely, yet at the same time, left nothing of her athletic, twenty-nine year-old body to the imagination. Late twenties body, she reminded herself. Never twenty-nine. But the durable, ceramolastic material could take a beating. The topcoat, complete with hood and cowl, did double duty, concealing her identity and hiding the embarrassment she felt when the men stared at her body.

Of course, they were usually also sobbing with fear and relief when she met them. Good men were hard to find when you spent your time plucking them from burning buildings or crumpled rail cars.

"I thought you would have red hair," Manwolf taunted, interrupting her introspection with dripping fangs. "I wasn't expecting a brunette." His tongue darted wetly around his mouth as he leered at the unmasked crimson crusader.

Is that beast going to stop hitting me and hit on me? Catherine wondered. "Unfortunately for me, I've been able to see you clearly in all of our previous encounters. Still not mastered the bathing skills have we?" Catherine threw back at the beast.

They renewed their battle. Grappling, they took turns attempting to throw each other, damaging the apartment beyond repair in their struggle. Manwolf won this round, throwing his lithe opponent through a window.

Catherine's body slammed into another apartment building down the block. A shower of smashed brick rained down upon the sidewalk below as she righted herself. Hovering high above the street, she willed her eyes to magnify her vision of grandmother's windows, seeking her opponent. She spied the barrel of a familiar device. "Shi-" she began, as Manwolf fired his Moltenizer.

He howled with victory as he pulled the trigger. Catherine wasn't there when the energy pulse slagged the crushed side of the building into molten goo.

Manwolf peered out, panting, eager to see the champion's helpless, broken body falling to earth. To his side, a rain of glass accompanied Catherine's body as she rocketed in through another window, lancing his body with her own at bullet speed.

The pair crashed through grandmother's apartment and through a wall into the next. They continued, their momentum smashing them through thin walls and sturdy appliances, stopping only when they hit the outside wall on the other side of the building. The building's brick face bulged outward, but held. Manwolf groaned and slipped into unconsciousness, beaten.

Wearily, Catherine stood. She looked around. "Hi, Carlo," she once more acknowledged the child that lived down the hall. Carlo and his mother were cringing in the corner. "Don't worry, Carlo. It's just me, Catherine. I'm really very sorry about this. I'm sure we can," Catherine was cut off by the screams of Carlo's mother, scooping him up to flee the scene.

Catherine sighed. The whole secret identity thing was definitely over.

She turned and ran back through the debris, sprinting through the ragged holes in the building's interior, her bare feet crunching on bits of drywall and cinderblock. Reaching grandmother's bedroom, she searched. She found grandmother, bound and gagged, in the closet. "Cathy! What happened to you? Are you hurt?" grandmother exclaimed as she was unbound.

"No, I'm fine, grandmother. Are you well?"

"Of course I am." Grandmother stated, straightening herself. She then blushed and waved her hands at Catherine. "Cover yourself, dear!"

Catherine looked down and saw her blouse and slacks, shredded, hanging from her in faint ribbons. The practical ensemble hadn't been made for close combat and wall crashing. Her undergarments were exposed and also in great distress. There were good reasons for armored uniforms in her business, she reminded herself. But they were just so difficult to conceal under casual businesswear.

Well, unless you're that tart Gretel, out there championing on the west coast, Catherine thought. No costume was too skimpy for that slut. And the way she and that brother of hers got on. Siblings shouldn't kiss like that, not in public, not ever. Catherine shivered at the memory of their behavior at the last Champions Gathering.

Grandmother gasped as she left the bedroom and saw the full scope of the damage to her modest apartment.

"Do you remember when I was little, and you gave me that little red riding coat with the hood?" Catherine asked, while fishing a spare robe out of grandmother's closet.

"Yes, of course. You loved that little coat." Grandmother toed a pile of debris with a slippered foot, sighing.

The sound of sirens announced the arrival of the authorities. Catherine would leave the trussing and transport of Manwolf to them this one time. She finished tying off the robe as she joined grandmother.

"And do you remember back when I was just starting with the paper, when I broke that story about the nuclear plant?"

"Yes, of course, dear. The award party was quite nice." Grandmother turned and smiled at Catherine. She reached up to tug at Catherine's hair, attempting to untangle the battle damage.

"Well, there was more to that story than was published. Something happened. I had to trade the old hood in for a new model. Come on, let's pop over to my place and get me some new clothes. Then maybe some coffee. This is going to take a while to explain." Catherine scooped up her surprised grandmother and flew her slowly out of the apartment.