Walking along the road from her bus stop to home Mia lost herself in thought, random musings about how much time she'd need to finish her homework, if she could check her email, whether her friend would call. She crossed the street, walking past the front of a white van that wasn't familiar to the neighborhood and pondering with amusement what might happen if a gang of hoodlums were scheming inside. Five feet later, as she was about to turn the corner, the rush of car doors opening and fleeting footsteps met her ears, and before she could turn around a sack had been pulled over her head and she was being carried away, despite her squirming, fighting and cursing. With little to no concern she was tossed through the air to land heavily on a hard surface, and she figured it was the random white van from five feet ago. Hearing the doors slam shut again she renewed her swearing and thrashing, and after her foot connected with shin a good deal of times a man's voice gave a snarling demand and she felt a sharp blow to her head, immediately pulling her into unconsciousness.

The one and only word to come to mind and sum up how Mia felt was 'ow', followed by a choice few words for emphasis of how much 'ow' really was. Eventually overcoming the throbbing in her head that felt as if she were throwing herself against a brick wall she looked around to see that she was in a rather large and rather empty warehouse, except for, you know, her. After failing to find a trustworthy escape route she looked down at herself to see if she was injured besides her head, something that might have been blocked out by shock, but saw nothing open or bleeding in a Monty Python Black Knight style. What she did notice was that her shirt had conveniently been removed, revealing her kidnappers to be pig-dog hybrids, but found they had kindly left her pants on and in one piece. Tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling she berated herself for not sticking around after school for some ever-pointless class participation, but what had passed had passed.

"Let's see, she awake yet?" called out a voice so cocky that Mia couldn't help but roll her eyes despite the hell she was inevitably about to go through. "Rise and shine, mornin' glory"

"It is morning, then?" she called back, twisting around as best she could without the ropes securing her to her chair cutting into her skin. "I shouldn'tve been out more than an hour or two, which would make it... five in the afternoon? You must have either failed math spectacularly or passed geography miraculously."

"Oh ho! We got a talker!" the man chortled as he strode up in front of her, crossing his arms to survey her in her conscious state. "You'll be fun then."

"Why do I get the feeling that this 'fun' you speak of will only entertain half of this party?" she inquired, putting on a puzzled expression. "Aw, you ruined it," he replied, looking utterly crestfallen. "Stiff, we snatched a dud!" he called back from the vague area that he entered, and the man curiously named Stiff started towards them as well.

"Well that sucks," he replied in dismay, coming to stand next to the first man. Stiff seemed to be named so from his lacking ability to move his head separately from the rest of his body, but that was just a shot in the dark and for some reason Mia figured she was wrong. "I'm sure we can find something to do with her."

"Such as?" a new voice inquired, a voice that the two men didn't seem to recognise judging from the slightly spooked expressions on their faces. Fighting past the extreme discomfort she craned her neck so she could see this new stranger, but was slightly taken aback. He appeared to be wearing what looked like a much-worn British Revolutionary jacket, unbuttoned and of a faded red, and Mia was quite convinced he was a complete loon. "No, really, I want to know," he pressed as he strode over to them, hands jammed in pockets and looking stern, then added "Might join in if it's my cup of tea," making her stomach plummet.

"Oh, well," Stiff bumbled with a hesitant grin. "Might rough her up a bit, just to spook her, you know? Got nothing in particular in mind, but we'll find something. How's that?"

The man, coming up to the opposite side of the other two, settled into place, bracing his feet and crossing his arms in thought. "Nothing more? That's it? Haven't terrified her enough?" he asked, coming to the edge of a demand, enough to make the men glance uneasily at one another, then just as quickly switched back to "No, sorry, never mind, have at her. She's not looking too bad for wear."

Looking like they were children just granted free run of a candy shop the two men directed their focus back to Mia, casually sidling up to her yet looking utterly lost. She tried shooting the man a pleading look, but he seemed to not see her, watching the two men instead.

"Hit her," he offered, and Mia's jaw near dropped. "Got some pent up stress? Let it out. God knows it's worked for me," he smirked.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" she demanded of him as the first man slapped her across the cheek. When the other two weren't paying attention the Revolutionary finally acknowledged her, fixing a steady gaze at her.

"Jesus Christ," he said with dismay, shaking his head at the two of them, then with a sudden bang-bang they fell to the floor, and stunned Mia looked at him, two massive pistols in his fists. "Your mother must not have raised you right," he murmured, then stowing the guns away turned around and headed back from where he came.

"Hey, wait a second! Where the hell d'you think you're going?" Mia demanded, fighting against her ropes but to no avail. "You can't just shoot them and leave me behind."

"Yes I can," he called back, not turning around. "You've got a pair of scissors in your back pocket. Cut your own damn self out." Somehow it was then that she noticed his accent.

"Wha- I can't reach those! Get your ass over here and cut me loose!" she yelled at him. This seemed to do the trick as he threw his arms up, spun on his heels and came back over to her.

"God, you are a nuisance," he muttered, unabashedly grabbing the scissors from her pocket to start sawing through the rope.

"You're quite an angel yourself, there," she retorted, and as the tension loosened she stood up quickly in case he was going to turn on her as well.

"Why thank you," he replied, looking pleased as he put the scissors back in her pocket, giving her back end a slap for good measure before retreating again.

"Hey! Stay here! Who the hell do you think you are?" she said with a demanding snarl, grabbing hold of his shoulder so he couldn't get away, and he spun around to face her, nose inches away.

"Since you insist, Captain John Hart, at your service," he replied in a rather mocking tone, shrugging his shoulder to regain possession of his coat.

Despite her incredible loathing and distrust of him she felt compelled to return the 'courtesy', responding "Mia Jones" through semi-gritted teeth.

"Oh, pleasure to meet you, Miss Mia Jones," he shot back, and made to leave again.

"Oi! What the hell is your problem? Sit your ass down until I'm done with you."

"Such a foul mouth for a young lady," Hart marveled, crossing his arms to sum her up, then grinned mischeviously. "But I like your thinking."

"Hey, Captain, eyes up here," she snapped as his gaze lingered on her still mostly-bare chest. "And stop thinking through your pants. What are you doing here?" she pressed, unable to hide the flushing in her cheeks. "What's a man dressed as a Revolutionary soldier doing in the twenty first century?"

"I got lost," he shrugged, and Mia noticed a small light at his wrist, a very modern, almost futuristic wristwatch hiding out of sight.

"What's that?" she continued, making to reach for it, only to be shoved back by Hart as he turned away again. This time she strode after him, making sure her footsteps could be heard, and he glared over his shoulder at her. "Like hell you're lost."

"You are unbearable!" he roared, digging his fingers into his hair.

"Give me your coat and I'll quit bugging you," she offered.

"What? No, I don't do chivalry."

"Jesus, you are an ass," she said with contempt, then pressed, "Give me your coat and I'll stop asking questions. The personal ones, at least. I'm not tagging after you with no shirt on," she scoffed.

"Fine!" he caved. "It's a vortex manipulator. It lets me travel through time and space. I'm a time agent, one of seven still surviving. Happy?" he growled.

"Relatively," she grumbled. "I'm still following you, though."

"Why?" he snarled as he continued walking, Mia following, regardless.

"If they come after me. You'll shoot them dead, assuming they've got the balls to come near you," she snorted, looking behind her to make sure no one was coming, only to walk into the muzzle of a gun. Immediately her heart took off, but trying to look nonchalant gazed up at him with a candid look on her face. "You going to shoot me, John? Go ahead, do it," she dared him, holding her head up. The gun strayed, betrayed hesitation, but she redirected it, pressing it to her chest till it dug into her skin. "Go for it. Life's been boring. Let me go out with a bang," she offered, mouth twitching at the pun. For a few moments he simply stared at her, eyes narrowed and burning with determination to carry out his want, to pull the trigger, but--

His hand dropped, head turning away with disdain as he re-holstered the gun before pulling the jacket off and offering it to her, still not meeting her gaze.

"Thanks," she replied cheerily, donning the coat and buttoning the first few buttons in a bad attempt for decency. The fabric reeked of blood and sweat, of adventure. "Ready?"

"If you insist," he growled, and figuring she'd never get an outright "Yes" out of him trailed along behind him as he made for a new door, to exit the warehouse and leave it behind.

A/N: If you could, review with continuation ideas, mayhap... I'm not sure where it'll go, but I want it to continue. If not, reviews would be nice :) constructive criticism is good!