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"'We can still salvage Mother's Day,' he says," she shouted over the barking of her pistol. The wind howled around the tigress, her orange locks blowing harshly forward into her face. She bared her teeth as she steadied herself on the door frame of the car as it swerved through the streets.

Her eyes that matched her navy dress trained on one of the gunmen who peeked his head out from a chasing black car. Her pistol barked again and he slumped back in his car.

The tigress slid back in the window, hunching down against the car seat.

She looked at the tiger that was driving like a madman. "Troy, I'm out."

Troy grunted, eying the two following cars in his rearview mirror. "Hold on."

He slammed on his breaks and spun the wheel. The car screeched around a tight corner. People blared their horns. The tiger watched as the cars skidded after theirs.

"Fuck. I can't shake them," he snarled.

"Troy, language," his mother muttered under her breath. "Give me your gun and I'll run point."

"You knew I had a gun?"

"Of course! I'd be stupid otherwise. Now give it here, we don't have time for this," she said sternly.

Three loud bangs rang from behind them. Two bounced off the side of their car, but one pierced the back windshield and shattered the rearview mirror. Troy stomped on the gas pedal as he reached for his holstered gun and held it out to her.

"Not yet. Take my phone." The tiger struggled to pull it out from his pocket. "Password is 8856. Call the last recent contact."

The tigress followed his instructions. The phone rang on the other line.

"Hello?" a baritone voice answered.

"This is Margaret Stuch mom-"

"I'm sorry, who?" the man interrupted her.

"Troy Stuch's mom. We're in a bit of a-" another bullet whizzed by and through the windshield, cracks splintering outward, "For goodness sakes, Troy, why couldn't you bring the bullet-proof car?!"

"Not now, Mom!" the tiger snarled, whipping around a cement truck before drifting around another corner.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this is a private number," the voice replied.

Margaret growled and held the phone away from her ear, shouting. "Troy, this dipshit doesn't understand this is an emergency!" She put the phone to the tiger's ear and gripped his gun in her paw.

"Chuck. This is Mike Taffeta. There, now talk to my mother, damnit! I've gotta drive!" He veered around a car in the slow lane, almost colliding with a semi. "Get off the fucking road! Mom, take the phone back. I gotta make it to the highway where I can hopefully outrun 'em."

Margaret huffed and talked to this Chuck person. "We're on Gloria Street. Oh, nevermind. Combs Road now. Towards highway 301. Two black cars. Two gunmen down and- one second."

A barrage of bullets screamed at them. The tigress hissed when a bullet ricocheted off the dash and dug into her calf.

"Shit! That hurt... and this is my favorite dress too. The bastards! One sec, deary," she said to the stranger on the phone. The tigress swept her bangs back and, with a bit more effort this time, leaned out the window. She pointed Troy's gun at the nearest car and fired. Just as she did, Troy swerved to avoid a pedestrian making her shot arc wide and hit a street lamp. "Keep it steady, Troy!" she hollered.

"I'm trying!" His response was muffled by the wind.

Margaret took aim again, trying to hit the driver. She realized then that her previous shots had barely damaged the vehicle. The tigress clicked her tongue, and then trained her sights downward. She inhaled and on the exhale fired. The passenger side tire exploded. The driver tried to correct it, but as soon as the axel hit the pavement his car veered off sharply and squealing and crashing into a store front for some insurance company.

She climbed back in, taking up the phone again. "Make that one black vehicle, Chuck."

"All right. I've got some back up on the way for you two. They're about a mile away," he said curtly. "Message on the airwaves says cops are notified about a fire fight." Chuck paused. "Alarms went off at a break in at Hampton, Hampton and Hampton Insurance. Was that you guys?"

"Yes," she said, sucking in a breath.

Her calf throbbed and she pulled away her dress enough to see some of the damage. Blood was dribbling down her striped leg and pooling on the carpet. Troy glanced at her.

"You okay, Mom?" he asked, eyes again focused on the road, his car roaring through a school zone at seventy miles an hour.

"Just a small hole."

The tiger grunted and began to tug at his tie, growling louder when it resisted him. Finally, he pulled it free. He tossed the navy tie into her nap. "Tourniquet."

She nodded and wrapped the tie around her leg and began to tighten it. Troy watched out a side mirror and saw the other black car picking up speed, whipping in and out of traffic before speeding up beside his car. He cursed when they rammed their car into his door.

"Stay down!" he yelled, ducking so he could just barely see ahead.

As soon as his mother ducked, he hit the brakes until his car's nose was right at their back bumper. He floored the gas once more and steered hard into them. That driver must have been new at this if he fell for Troy's PIT Maneuver. The other car swung sideways and the driver lost control.

Troy sped on. Margaret looked back and watched as the car flipped three, four, five times before coming to an uneasy rest. Her son veered onto an entrance ramp and merged onto the highway.

"Give me the phone," he said. He took it back from her. "Chuck, we disabled them. We're on the highway and relatively unharmed."

"Good. You two have been quite busy tonight. I want a report on my desk tomorrow... Also, from the sounds of it, I would not want to be on your mom's bad side."

"Me neither. Bye." He hung up and looked at her. Margaret was shaking. The tiger frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine... fine..." she said, wincing when her leg moved wrong. "You think they have Italian at the hospital?"

Troy let out a breath. If she could joke, she'd be fine. "No, Mom, I don't think they do. But, I'll sneak you in something." He kept track of which exit he would need for Saint Mercy Hospital. His ears twitched, listening to his car to make sure it could still make it. "Where'd you learn to do all that, Mom?"

She smiled now, adjusting her dress. "That's classified." Margaret laughed. "Kidding. I was a spy twenty-five years ago. Surprised I still have it in me."

She watched his mouth gape open. He stammered, "that trip to Brussels..?"

"Yup!" She grinned triumphantly, "now, you can either tell me what you do, or I can find out the hard way. Moms always find out."

Troy let out a long exhale, his tail limp in his seat as he turned off the highway. "Undercover cop. Took down a drug lord about two weeks ago."

The tigress handed back his gun. "Well, next time, piss them off when I'm not around. Deal?"

"Deal. Love you, Mom."

"Love you, Troy."

~The End

4/6/19

By: Novak "Walto"