Super Granny and the Tone Deaf Bandit

Prologue

Fact number one: A retirement home - sometimes called an old people's home or nursing home - is a multi-residence housing facility intended for elderly people.

March 16th, the dreaded day. The day where Agatha was uprooted from her home. The day where Agatha was placed in a "proper place for elderly people," as stated by her son. To her, it meant she was being tossed into an old folks home to waste away and be forgotten. Fact number two: Agatha loathed nursing homes with every inch of her being. For her son, today was a bittersweet day. He loved his mother dearly, but he knew and accepted he did not have the means to take care of her and it eased his mind knowing his mother would be well taken care of. While his decision came from a loving place, he had severely underestimated his mother and her capabilities.

In exactly five minutes and thirty-two seconds, he'd realize just how severely he truly underestimated his mother.

"Bartholomew dear, couldn't you be a tad more careful with that vase?" Agatha asked in concern. It was a family heirloom after all.

"Mum, stop worrying. I'm not going to drop it, it isn't that heavy."

"Dear, what about your Superman comics? You loved those comics as a little boy," she said, holding up the box of well-loved and worn out comics. They weren't ancient, but they were old and most likely worth a small fortune if they were in mint condition.

"Mum, heroes don't exist, and even if they did I wouldn't have a reason to worship them."

Bartholomew (who prefers to be called Bart) fits the stereotype of balding men sitting behind desks and doing the paperwork for the majority of the day. Organizing cabinets, writing up reports, that was something that came easily. It was even enjoyable to him. The imaginative little boy that spent his childhood days searching for pirate treasure, or running around in his Batman costume had long since passed - a fact that saddened his ageing mother greatly.

As Agatha went through her boxes, packing and repacking items she deemed precious, she came across a particular item that had faded away in her memories - a worn and tattered cape. To be specific, her worn and tattered cape. A gift she received from her father and wore it all day and all night, even after he left. That cape became the sparks to her dreams of a future where she would stop crimes, save innocents, and be protector New York City needed and deserved. A common childhood dream, but eventually a dream that faded and was replaced by adulthood demands. It was a dream that was never meant to come true, but according to whom? Life had an unfortunate habit of getting in the way of plans, but now that she had nothing else planned except spending the rest of her days playing checkers, what was stopping her?

"Bartholomew dear?"

"Yes mum?" he replied in a monotonous tone.

"You don't need to pack anymore, I'm not going to the nursing home. I'm going to be a superhero."

Fact number three: Agatha was completely and utterly serious.