Spitfire

If she escaped this alive, Alex was so going to take a self-defense class. Or ten. Or as many as she could find, because if one group could find out about her parents' research (just Mom's research, now, she remembered with a pang) on Superman and kidnap her because of it, then other groups could find out too. And then there was the possibility of people finding out about Kara, which was certain to make Mom sign her up for classes.

Kidnapper #4 had collapsed under her onslaught, clasping desperately at his balls as his eyes watered in pain. Alex kicked him in the head once, twice, three times, and he was out cold.

The teenager allowed herself a brief smile as she dropped to her knees besides the unconscious #4. There. That's where she'd seen him put his phone, there in that pocket. With shaking hands (funny, she hadn't noticed they were trembling before) she pulled it out, dialed 911.

Some of the other kidnappers—probably #2 and #5—had figured out that something was wrong. They were pounding on the bathroom door, cursing when they realized that it was locked. Alex didn't doubt that they would get in soon, because surely a bunch of kidnappers would know how to pick locks.

"Nine-one-one, what is—"

"I need the police because I've been kidnapped and I need them to triangulate this phone's signal before they kill me."

"I'm alerting them. Do you know where you are?" the operator demanded.

"No!" To her horror, Alex felt her eyes begin to water. "That's why they need to do that triangulation thing!"

"That takes a lot longer than it does on TV," the operator said. The bottom fell out of Alex's stomach, because that's what her desperate, terrified plan had been based on. She nearly dropped the phone in her horror. "Did you see any landmarks, any logos or anything!"

"I was unconscious!" the teenager cried. Her breathing was speeding up, and she felt the beginnings of a panic attack, but she forced herself to hold her breath. She couldn't panic. She had to think.

When she'd woken up tied to a chair surrounded by Kidnappers #1-8, Alex had taken in her surroundings. "I'm—I'm in a warehouse somewhere. There's lots of boxes, but they're all dusty and there wasn't any writing—"

Someone slammed against the door. It bent under the force of the impact. Definitely Kidnapper #5—he was huge.

Alex forced herself to continue. "There's only one bathroom. That's where I am. I told Number Four I had to go and he walked me here and I locked us both in and stole his phone to talk to you."

"The police are going through blueprints as we speak," the operator assured her. "Just—keep talking, okay, kid?"

"Alex," she whispered, "my name's Alex Danvers, and they're going to—"

Crash.

Alex shuddered. "They're gonna break down the door," she whispered. "I—I have to fight."

She dropped the phone, ignoring the operator's shouts for more information. Kidnapper #4 had a gun on him. Alex had never so much as touched a gun in her life, but it couldn't be that difficult, right? Aim at the bad guys (who also had guns, but let's not think about that) and pull the trigger. Swallowing hard, her entire body rigid, Alex aimed the business end of #4's weapon at the door.

Something crashed on the other side, followed by the sound of a hundred falling boxes. A gun fired one, two… six times. A male voice bellowed in pain. Then two more voices were shouting, their tones full of terror.

Crash.

Ka-thunk-thunk-thunk.

Screeeeeeeech.

More gunfire.

More shouts.

And Alex was breathing a bit easier now, because someone was fighting them and that meant that people knew where she was, and that meant that she was safe.

Well, safer. Probably.

Was it Superman? Maybe Mom and Kara had gotten ahold of him and he'd shown up to kick ass and take names.

Still, just in case it wasn't Superman, Alex held onto the gun. It made her feel almost safe.

"Alex?" the operator yelled.

Without taking her eyes off the door, Alex inched back towards the phone. "Someone's out there," she called. "There's a fight. Did the police…?"

"No."

The seconds trickled by. Alex told the operator everything she'd seen about the warehouse, the kidnappers, what she could hear outside the safety of the bathroom.

Finally the sounds of fighting died down. Alex held her breath, her knuckles white around the gun.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. "Miss Danvers?" called a deep male voice. "Are you in there?"

She didn't recognize the voice, but that didn't mean anything. Kidnappers #6-8 hadn't said a word, at least not while she was conscious.

"I have a gun," Alex said to him.

"Ah," was the reply. "Very careless of your kidnappers, letting you arm yourself. How did you manage that?"

"I punched this guy in the balls until he fell over, then I kicked his head until he went out cold."

The stranger burst out laughing. Something about the way he laughed put Alex at ease. The kidnappers would have mean, spiteful laughs, not laughs like this man. "Quite the spitfire," the man observed, amusement clear in his tone.

Alex realized she was chewing her lip, a habit she was trying to break. "I'm coming out now," she announced. "Try anything funny and I'll shoot."

She pried the door open slowly and carefully, poking out her head and weapon but hiding her body behind the door.

He was huge, even bigger than #5. That was the first thing she noticed, his height. Even sitting cross-legged with his hands in the air, she could tell that he had to be approaching seven feet, and his trenchcoat couldn't entirely conceal the powerful muscles that covered his body. He was clean-shaven, with tanned skin and a strong jawline. His hair, brown with the faintest hint of red, was mostly covered by a fedora, and he had the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello, Spitfire," he said softly, and his voice was so gentle that Alex nearly burst into tears then and there. "You're safe now."

Alex swallowed hard. "Did my mom send you?" she asked softly, hopefully—because she knew that her mother wouldn't exchange her knowledge of Kryptonians for Alex's life, because that knowledge might endanger Kara, whom Eliza loved more than she ever had Alex.

"I'm afraid not," he answered, rising to his feet—and wow was he tall. "But I will make sure you get back to her. I promise."

"Okay," Alex whispered.

The adrenaline was wearing off now, replaced by exhaustion. She slumped against the wall as her knees gave way. She was shaking and the world was starting to blur.

The man sat next to her, draping his arm around her skinny shoulders. Shuddering, Alex leaned into him. He was warm and solid and strong, but he was gentle too, pulling her close without making her feel trapped. His free hand lifted a cell phone to his ear. "Hello, police…?"

"Why did you call the ambulance?" she asked once his second call was over.

"You're going into shock," he explained. "I take it you've never been kidnapped before?"

That was what broke the dam and unleashed her tears.

"Shush," he murmured, pulling her closer. "It's going to be okay, Spitfire. I promise." He shrugged out of his coat, wrapped it around her shoulders. Alex hadn't realized how cold she was, but when the warm fabric settled over her body, she realized that not all of her tremors were from residual terror. Shock, probably, she thought.

Her rescuer was talking softly, his words blending together into a soothing murmur. Alex had no idea what he was saying and, to be honest, she didn't particularly care. She just let herself be held and comforted until sirens in the distance heralded the arrival of the police and paramedics, who pulled her to her feet and towards the ambulance.

Alex returned the stranger's coat. Without it, she felt smaller and colder already. "Thank you," she said, trying to put as much gratitude as she could into the inadequate words. "Thank you for everything, Mr. …." That was when she realized, to her absolute mortification, that she didn't know his name.

But he didn't seem to mind. "Jones," he said to her, a faint smile curving his lips. "My name is John Jones."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones."

"You're very welcome, Spitfire."

Any OOC on Alex's part is due to age and the fact that she's not yet accustomed to being kidnapped every other week.