"Yes, Uncle P, I got it – hide in the bathroom from the aliens, stay away from the windows, will do. OK, yes, I promise. Later, alligator." Mikayla Fitzgerald hung up the phone as her uncle was replying with "after a while, crocodile", their standard greeting since her uncle wasn't big on goodbyes. Her uncle worried about her; had since he taken her in after her parents died. Uncle P was her only living relative, so when he spoke, she tended to listen, though she knew he frequently overreacted. She turned on the TV to catch the local news; nothing about aliens, no little green men with big eyes landing in flying saucers. She still had some paperwork to complete before leaving the office. "Lord knows, if I leave before Sir 'I think I'm God's gift to the world', he'll think I'm slacking, and I'll never hear the end of it."

"Fitzgerald!" Her boss bellowed from his office.

"On my way," Mikayla answered and went to his office. "Yes, sir?"

"Be sure that proposal is on my desk, in triplicate, and emailed to everyone involved before you leave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Proposal on your desk in triplicate, send emails." She was so tired of him treating her like a 3-year-old.

"Good girl. I'm out of here." He got up and swaggered out of the office.

"Hallelujah, he's gone. I get so much more work done when he's not here. Hell, I could run the company if he decided to stop showing up. I know most of his employees wait for that day." She swiped the proposal outline from his desk, took it back to hers, put her earbuds in, began typing, and didn't stop for several hours. "That's it, I need a break, I don't think I can feel my ass anymore." She stood up and rolled her head around, trying to stretch her neck out, then went to the bathroom. When she reached to open the door and go back to her desk, she heard a window crash. "We're too high up for it to be vandals." She listened closer and heard explosions coming from outside. There were times she was grateful to be working in a soundproofed office, constructed that way because of the government contracts the company handled. "Maybe Uncle P was right, and the aliens have attacked." She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and looked at the multitude of news pushes she'd missed. "I owe you one, Uncle P, doesn't look like you overreacted this time." Mikayla cautiously opened the door and stuck her head out. Not seeing anything resembling little green men flying around the office, she ventured out of the bathroom, noticing a broken window or two. She walked toward the shattered glass and remarked, "Well, that's not something you see every day." There was a very attractive man lying face up on the ground, dressed in black tight material trimmed in purple with an empty quiver hung across his back and holding a bow. His left leg was strangely bent, and he was bleeding from various places on his arms and upper torso. He was writhing around on the floor in obvious pain. "Damn, what a nice body. Thank you, whoever sent him to me."

"Ow, and you're welcome," the man groaned. He struggled to sit up, so she knelt to help him. He appeared to be around her age, sandy brown hair, spiked in the front, and arms that were pure muscle. She grabbed his arm and he jerked it away. "I don't need your help," he growled at her.

"Suit yourself, Robin Hood, fix your own damn self," Mikayla snapped back as she went toward the windows and watched strange beings fly by on things not resembling flying saucers in the least. "You just go ahead and lay there; I've got to get this glass cleaned up. I'll try not to swat you too hard with the broom." She went and got a broom and dustpan and upon returning, noticed he still hadn't sat up, so for good measure she hit him with the broom.

"Fine, you can help. Ow," he said again. He looked down and there were several huge shards of glass sticking out from various parts of his body. Mikayla at that point felt genuinely sorry for him and had no idea how he hadn't lost massive amounts of blood.

"I'll go get a first aid kit, though I'm not sure how much help it'll be."

"I've been through worse, this is nothing."

"I don't know that I want to know what's worse than this," she said as she walked away. "Can't wait to tell Misty about this one. I guess if you're going to ask for a guy to be dropped from the sky, couldn't ask for much more perfection that that one," she muttered under her breath. She returned a short time later and discovered he'd made it to a sitting position and had already pulled out several of the shards. She pulled a needle and thread out of the first aid kit. "Here, allow me." She took one of his arms (my God, how much does this guy work out?) and began stitching up several of the cuts without thinking about it. "Sorry I don't have anything for the pain, but there is some booze around here that might help."

He shook his head. "As I said, I've been through worse, don't worry about numbing it." While she worked on sewing up the cuts, he looked out the window and her eyes followed. "Something happened, they're not coming anymore."

"What the hell were they?"

"Alien army."

'So, Uncle P knew what he was talking about,' she thought. "I don't think I want to know. I swear nothing in New York surprises me anymore, but I guess I was wrong." She looked over at him. "Guess you were fighting them? You don't look like an alien, anyway, so you must be on the good side. Thanks."

"For what?"

"Saving New York City from aliens. Did it all by yourself?"

He shook his head. "Had help, and you're welcome."

She noticed an earpiece on the ground. "Yours?" She picked it up and handed it to him.

"Yep, my comm," he replied and put it back in his ear. "I'm here, on my way." He turned and looked at her. "Got somewhere I need to be."

She held out her hand. "Let me at least help you up." He had a puzzled look on his face. "I'm stronger than I look."

'Sure as hell hope so,' he thought as he looked her up and down. She was about 5'7", nicely proportioned, curvy in all the right places, jet black hair and porcelain skin. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse which fit snug against her body, and a chestnut skirt landing just below the knees, showing off her nicely shaped calves.

"Eyes up here, RH," she said, still holding out her hand. He grabbed it and she was able to pull him up without any problem.

"RH?"

"Short for Robin Hood, since I don't know your name. Not every day you run into someone dressed like that unless it's Halloween."

"Clint," he said as he stood up, gingerly putting weight on his left leg. "And thanks."

"You're welcome, and it's Mikayla."

"Mikayla," he repeated the name. "Yeah, the tower, got it."

"You should get going to the tower, though you'll have to let go of my hand first unless I'm going with you," she smarted off.

"Oh, yeah, some other time, maybe." He let go of her hand and limped toward the office door, assuming it would be easier to go than to fly out the same way he came in. "Mikayla?" She turned. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said as he left. "Wait until he discovers my business card." She chuckled to herself as she started cleaning up the glass.