The abandoned warehouse down by the docks in the shady part of town was hardly that; from her precarious perch atop a few boxes, she could see from the grimy window three men of ill repute arguing over what she assumed had something to do with illegality, mischief and mayhem.
It was dark. They couldn't see her. So she took out her camera, popped on the flash, took a picture, and when the shooting started, as it always did, screamed out for Superman.
He was there faster than the speeding bullet that was a mere inch from her right eye.
He scolded her, but she knew he liked it, and when he scooped her up to carry her home, she had never felt more safe.
Two weeks later, it was a burst dam. The water rose, the screams gurgled from her throat, and suddenly, she was out, a bit wet, but otherwise fine.
"What are you doing here?"
"My job. What are you doing here?"
He looked at her incredilously as he held her just a bit closer.
"MY job."
There was a bomb strapped to her chest, and she was dangling over a vat of acid, suspended with a remarkably frayed rope.
A sonic boom, and he was there, floating overhead, surveying the rope, the bomb, and HER.
"Really?"
She stared him down, not blinking.
"Really."
Another boom and she was on the ground, no rope, no bomb.
"This is beginning to get excessive."
"I'll say, the vat melted one of my pumps."
She did a one legged hop in the sole surviving sensible shoe.
He smiled. He always did.
It was too late this time, maybe. There was a lot of blood, and it looked like it may be coming from somewhere vital. Felt like it too. But then again, she was no doctor. Maybe she still had a chance. She tried to call out for help, but little more than a strangled whisper came out.
Collapsed lung?
Didn't matter.
She began to consider some things. It was alright that he hadn't been on time, this time. In her soul, she knew that there would be a time when he wouldn't.
She had never really been brave in her life. Nor had she been stupid. She had known where this kind of behavior usually led, and in a way she welcomed it. Easier to die alone and unfulfilled than to live that way, she thought.
Or maybe there was a less angst-ridden explanation. Maybe she had been just a little boy crazy.
She coughed, tasted metal. Oh Lord.
A sonic boom. He swam into her vision.
"Oh my God."
She laughed, spluttered. "Barely nicked me."
He picked her up, and the agony of being moved made her scream nearly soundlessly.
He heard her anyway, of course. "Hold on okay?"
She looked at him, caught his eyes, got out the words she desperately needed him to hear.
"Don't you dare drop me."