Cape and Cowl

The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.

Author's Note - The characters in the story are based on those in the original comics (pre1985) and not any current versions.

All characters in sexual situations are 18+

*****

"Mayday... Mayday... Mayday..." the pilot of the small jet said in a controlled voice as he struggled with the controls of the crippled aircraft. "This is Gotham Air Two-Zero-Niner declaring an emergency!"

Those simple words brought fear to the heart of Jim Lee. In all his twelve years of flying, including almost a hundred combat missions during the Gulf War, he'd never had to declare an emergency. Three minutes ago, just as he'd made the leisurely turn that would line his plane up for the approach into Washington's National Airport, a sudden explosion had ripped through the starboard engine.

Thousands of hours of flying time helped avert any sense of panic as he quickly increased power to the port engine and tried to keep the aircraft intact long enough to make an emergency landing.

"Brace yourself." he said to the smartly dressed young woman who occupied the co-pilot's seat. "This is going to be a little rough." Lee added, trying to be reassuring.

In the split second he had spared to look into the emerald eyes of his sole passenger, Captain Lee had been surprised to see no trace of fear in the redhead. It was as if the young woman faced life or death situations all the time, secure in her acceptance of an uncontrollable fate. In a way it made him feel more secure as well. The last thing he needed right now was a hysterical right-seater.

Glancing up from the instrument panel and then out the window, Jim's eyes fixed on the rapidly growing image of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Rapidly he ran the numbers though his head and a small smile filled his face. Once they cleared the bridge, which he judged they would be able to do, they were home free.

"Almost there..." he said as the altimeter continued to drop.

What measure of confidence he felt, evaporated in a second as the airframe suddenly rocked once again. Jerking his head to the left, a look of horror filled his face as he saw the small jagged hole that now appeared in the port engine.

"Oh shit." he whispered, all color drained from his face.

"We're not going to make it, are we?" the redhead said, no longer worried about breaking the pilot's concentration.

Jim Lee's eyes glanced down at the now spinning altimeter and the bridge before them. They were dropping like a rock. It was no longer a matter of clearing the bridge. If anything, they'd be lucky if they didn't take out a dozen cars when they crashed into it.

Resigned that there was nothing more that he could do, he turned and faced his passenger. No sound issued from his lips, but the look of resignation in his eyes was all the silent answer she needed. Just as quietly, the 26 year old mouthed a prayer that the end would be instantaneous.

Suddenly. Incomprehensibly. The encompassing view of the bridge suddenly dropped below the horizon as the small aircraft rose once more into the sky. It took a moment for the two of them to realize they were still alive. It was a dozen more heartbeats before they dared considered asking themselves how could they be with both engines destroyed.

Before they could say a word to each other, they found themselves on the ground at National Airport. Instinct took over and they quickly exited the aircraft, right into the arms of the emergency crews that were already surrounding it.

"I guess it's safe now to ask..." the young woman said. "Why aren't we dead?"

The answer came in the form of an athletic blonde haired woman who walked out from under the damaged starboard wing. 5'7" and about 120 lbs, she wore a tight fitting blue shirt which topped a red skirt and matching red boots. A equally bright red cape draped across her shoulders. Situated across her rounded breasts was an irregular red and yellow pentagon with a stylized "S" in it.

"Supergirl!" the redhead exclaimed.

"Are the two of you all right?" the Girl of Steel asked as she reached the front of the plane. "I didn't have much time to be gentle if I was going to keep you from becoming an unwelcome decoration on a National Monument."

"We're fine, and thankful beyond words." Jim said as he stepped forward and extended his hand out in welcome. "Jim Lee, pilot and from now on, your number one fan."

"That's better than any reward." Supergirl smiled as she accepted his outstretched hand.

"And let me add my own thanks." the woman in the conservative business suit said as she reached out as well. "Barbara Gordon."

Automatically, Supergirl shifted her attention to Barbara as she had done with a thousand thankful recipients before. Abruptly, the Kryptonian froze as she focused on the attractive young woman for the first time.

Barbara noticed the sudden pause, unsure what to make of it. She waited a few moments, then asked.

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Supergirl said, snapping out of her momentary daze. "I thought you looked familiar, that's all."

"Maybe you saw me on CSPAN." Barbara replied. "Although as Gotham City's most junior Congresswoman I usually get on opposite most of the late night lineup."

"Congresswoman Gordon, of course." Supergirl smiled. "I've read some of your speeches. They were very impressive."

"I'm flattered." Barbara said.

"Well I'm just glad I was able to be here when you had your accident." Supergirl said as she began her own well rehearsed speech. "The country needs people like you."

"I'm glad you were as well." Barbara replied. "But I'm afraid it was definitely not an accident."

"I don't understand." Supergirl said.

"One engine exploding is an accident." Barbara explained. "Two is a statistical anomaly."

With that, the Girl of Steel turned and focused her amazing vision on the twisted remains under both wings. Layer by layer, inch by inch, she surveyed the mangled metal.

"I'm afraid you're right." she reported. "I'm picking up almost untraceable amounts of explosive residue. They'd be invisible under normal investigation."

"I'd expect that." Barbara said, amazingly calm for someone discussing what was supposed to be the instrument of her own death. "If we'd gone down into the Potomac, as was undoubtedly planned, it would've been written up as a tragic, inexplicable accident."

"You sound like you have a good idea who planted those explosives." Supergirl said.

"Not enough to convince the FBI." the Congresswoman replied. "Not even with two other members of Congress having had similar, more fatal accidents in the last eight months."

"Well I'm not the FBI." Supergirl said, suddenly very interested. "Convince me."

"I'm afraid I don't have any real proof." Barbara went on. "I just find it too coincidental that both of them and I were on that fact finding trip to Qurac last year. The one that led to Congress's resolution condemning Qurac for exporting acts of terrorism."

"Qurac, that's a nasty bunch." Supergirl noted. "But wouldn't simply blowing up your plane be more their style."

"That's true." Barbara agreed. "But what information I've been able to come by suggests that this is a contract job. A group of mercenaries led by a woman called the Crimson Rose."

"I've heard of her." Supergirl replied. "As bad as the Quraci's are, she's worse."

"Definitely." Barbara agreed. "And this is exactly her style. She wanted us to know that we were going to die. She gets off on the fear she creates in others."

Supergirl took a few steps away, lost in thought for a few moments. She had only planned to be in Washington for a few hours, just long enough to drop off a heart for a transplant at George Washington University Hospital. Now she had a new goal.

"If you're right, you can be certain that she doesn't suffer defeat gladly." Supergirl noted.

"In order words, I should expect another attempt... and soon." Barbara agreed.

"Exactly." Supergirl said with determination. "And when they do, I'll be there."

A look of concern flashed across Barbara's face. For some reason, the prospect of having the Girl of Steel as a bodyguard seemed to bother her. A strange reaction for someone whose life was in obvious danger.

"I'm afraid that's not a good idea." Barbara said. "I can't really explain why, but I can't let people think I'm running away from what everyone tells me is an overactive imagination."

The Congresswoman's heart was racing, Supergirl noted. A tell tale sign that she was hiding much more that she was telling. Still it was her business, her life. She couldn't be forced to accept a bodyguard.

"I assume you don't have any objection to my spending a few days in Washington and taking a little look around?" Supergirl asked.

"Of course not." Barbara smiled, a smile that hid many secrets.

With that, the Maid of Might was gone.

Ten minutes later, Supergirl found herself drifting among the clouds. Barbara Gordon had made quite an impression on her for a number of reasons. Even if there hadn't been an attempt on her life, she would've wanted to find some reason to spend a little time around Washington and try to get to know her better. Kara had been taken aback when she first saw the Congresswoman. Not that Barbara would have any way of knowing it, but she was almost a twin for Supergirl's first lover. At least what the Kryptonian thought her friend Zara would have looked like if she'd had the chance to grow into womanhood.

Sadly, among all the children of Argo City, only Kara Zor-El, known to the people of Earth as Supergirl, had the chance to grow to adulthood. The children of Argo, like their parents, had died when a thousand meteor fragments had shattered the protective shield around their small space borne city some eight years past. Only her father's foresight to have constructed an escape rocket, patterned after the one that brought her cousin Superman to Earth years earlier, had enabled her to survive.

It hadn't been easy adjusting to life on Earth. Unlike her cousin who had come to this alien world as an infant, Kara had lived the first 15 of her 24 years as a normal, that is non-super girl. Although taken to heart by the people of Earth as one of their super powered protectors, Supergirl had felt apart from them in many ways, especially in those relating to love.

Relationships are hard when you can, as the saying goes, bend steel in your bare hands. Actually, as Supergirl had corrected herself many times, it was difficult when you were a woman and had abilities far beyond those of mortal men - or women.

It had been almost two years since Supergirl had her last serious love, Susan Wienczorkowski. An officer on Metropolis's Special Crime Units, she had died in the line of duty while, Kara was halfway around the world fighting a fire that had already devastated half a town in Germany. The loss had hit Supergirl hard and for a time she blamed herself for not being there when it mattered. But with time, she finally accepted the counsel of her older and more experienced cousin. You can't save everyone, he constantly reminded her. Not even when the one you can't help, is the one that matters the most.

After that, Kara had little success with either men or women - contenting herself with a series of meaningless flings. It was funny, she sometimes considered, how many of them had occurred with fellow costumed adventurers. It had to have something to do with the life style.

The most interesting of these brief relationships, she thought, had been with J'onn J'onzz. Known to the public at large as the Martian Manhunter, he was also an alien visitor to this world. With a compatible humanoid physiology, J'onn was perhaps the second most physically powerful man on the planet. Her cousin Kal occupied the first position. Unlike Superman, on whom she had once turned her x-ray vision on one night out of curiosity, J'onn had a 10" cock that was as thick as a baseball bat. That being the case, who cared if it was green.

It had been fun while it lasted. The relationship had paled however outside of the bedroom. By Earth calendars, Kara had been 22 years old at the time. J'onn, according to those same human measurements, was almost a century old. They just couldn't relate to each other very well once they were out from under the sheets.

Still she ached for another relationship that would again send her heart afire with excitement. Whatever instincts she had, told her that Barbara was that type of woman who could do that. From the very first moment she seen her, she seemed the embodiment of every woman she had ever desired. Even now she could still savor the scent of her perfume, a delightful flowery aroma that conjured up images of virgin gardens and lost summer nights.

Of course she reminded herself, there could be a dozen flaws in her thinking. On the top of the list, the very strong possibility that Barbara might not be interested in other women - a very common trait for women of this culture. Unlike her native Krypton where gender was less important than feelings.

But those were questions for later. First she had to find the ruthless bitch who wanted to see her new infatuation dead. After thinking about it a few minutes, she knew exactly how to track her down.

Soft as a feather, Kara set down on the top ledge of an apartment building across from the Quraci Embassy. By international law, the large red brick building just a few hundred feet away was protected by territorial sovereignty - literally it was a piece of Qurac. Diplomatic immunity protected both the inhabitants and what ever secrets the hundreds of file cabinets within might contain. All of which meant absolutely nothing to the determined young woman standing in the warm afternoon breeze.

The Quraci Embassy had been protected from unwanted surveillance by several million dollars worth of security precautions, both human and electronic. All of this was useless against a person with x-ray vision, super-hearing and almost unlimited patience.

Floor by floor, office by office, Supergirl scanned each carefully guarded secret. In addition, every incoming and outgoing phone call was as clear as if Kara was an invited participant. It was only a matter of time before she found the particular secret she sought.

Barbara Gordon finally returned to her apartment in downtown Washington. With the almost crash as the lead on the evening news, the FBI finally took an interest in the case. In fact, the President himself had called to ask about her condition. But all of it had been merely political showmanship. The agents who had interviewed her and Jim showed no real interest in her theories concerning the Quraci's. After all, to them she was still only a temporary Congresswoman, appointed to fill out an unexpired term. She hadn't even been elected in her own right.

Rest assured, the men in the dark suits and sunglasses had told her, the entire resources of the federal government would be put behind the search for what really happened. Then they had sent her on her way, certain that their interest wouldn't last longer than the next day's evening news.

Checking in with her office, Barbara had been likewise reassured by Tim Murray, the chief of staff she had inherited from the late departed Congressman Stephen Jefferson, that everything was under control and there wasn't even any need for her to stop by. For perhaps the hundredth time, Barbara promised herself that if she did manage to get elected in her own right in November, there were going to be major changes in that office.

Right now however, she had more important things on her mind. The people who wanted her dead were still out there. If she thought about it, she knew that any other member of Congress would've quickly gone into hiding, demanding FBI or Secret Service protection as they did.

That wasn't her style. Barbara Gordon had fought her own battles all of her life. Most of them in situations that few of her colleagues could've ever imagined.

Moving into the bedroom, the tall redhead quickly stripped off her business suit and the equally conservative undergarments beneath them. Standing in only her panties in front of the dresser mirror, the Gothamite was reminded that periods of extreme danger had always left her incredibly aroused. Today's near fatal incident had been no different.

Gently she ran one hand across the lightly covered red bush between her legs while her other hand laid across her breasts. The lean athletic form the 26 year old had worked so hard to develop back in high school and college was still very much in evidence. Her breasts weren't very large, but they stood on their own without support. Many times over the years she'd been told they were near perfect globes. She played with the pert nipples for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life. They had always been very sensitive and given her current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to bring them to erectness.

Barbara lost herself in the sensation of her own touch. Eyes tightly closed, she slid her hands down across her breasts one last time and over her flat stomach. Coming to a rest when they reached the small white triangle between her legs. Using both hands, she rubbed against the soft material. A soft sigh escaped her lips in response to her caress.

Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, she provided a deeper touch. Now Barbara's breaths came in shorter gasps as she slid first one, then two fingers inside of herself. In due time a third finger would follow. Faster, deeper she rubbed, manipulating

her clit and covering her long, slender fingers with her wetness. Eventually the small cloth of her underwear became too restrictive and was also discarded. A few more minutes of play brought forth a small but enjoyable climax. Yet in the quiet aftermath of her pleasure she knew it to be an empty reward.

She hadn't had a lover since leaving Gotham City some eleven months ago. Sure the work she was trying to do was important, she kept telling herself. More important than anything she could accomplish back home. Yet this was a strange city where being in the public eye meant you had little or no private life. There were times she regretted taking the appointment when it was offered to her. One of the most common times was when she crawled into bed each night alone. She had grown very tired of only having a piece of plastic and a few D cells as her only company.

Not that there weren't a great deal of men around her all the time. She was, in truth, quite an attractive woman. But it hadn't taken more than a few innocent dates for her to learn that most of them were more interested in the Congresswoman in front of her name and what that title could do for them. Reluctantly she had pushed her social life aside and concentrated instead on learning the ropes on her new job. Only to be checked at almost every turn by her own staff. Give it time, they kept telling her. You have to learn how to walk before you can run.

Her social life wasn't the only thing Barbara had left behind in Gotham. Unknown to all but a select few, especially those who had proposed her selection to replace Congressman Jefferson, there was quite another facet of her personality. One which would have made them reconsider their opinion that she was a safe candidate that would simply toe the party line until they could get a professional on the ballot.

"Screw them all!" Barbara shouted to the empty air as she finally lost her temper.