[✓] 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐚

His eyes glanced at the stairs to see if anyone was with her before he breathily questioned, "What do you want?"

"Hi, I'm selling cookies for my girl scouts group," she improvised, plastering a wide smile on her face. "I was wondering if—"

The door slammed shut.

She exhaled as she looked at the wooden door in front of her. One way or another, she needed to find out what this guy was doing with that satellite system.

After making another portal, she stepped through it and arrived in the kitchen of the man. 

The walls were teal, but most of them were covered in brown cabinets that were filled with dishware. There was a pot on the stove and a few clean dishes rested next to the sink. Further led to the living room, although there was no door or wall separating it.

The man was only a few feet away from her and jumped in fright as soon as he realized that she had appeared. 

She watched in amusement as he scrambled to open the drawer of the counter beside him and pulled a dull knife that would make Diego laugh.

He pointed the knife at her, his voice quaking as he gestured to where the portal had just been moments before. "How'd you do that?"

"Uh . . ." She crinkled her nose as she shrugged. "I don't really have time to explain."

He continued questioning her, "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head as she answered, "Definitely not."

His eyes widened with every word. "CIA? FBI? KGB?"

"Do I look like I belong in the CIA or KGB?" she scoffed as she gestured down to herself. This was about the only time her seventeen-year-old body was useful.

She walked past him, not really caring as he jabbed the knife at her (it wouldn't be the first time she was stabbed, anyway). She stopped in the living room and looked around, her eyes squinted as she took in the room.

It was quite the mess in there as if the man didn't care in the least about cleanliness (which he probably didn't). There was an orange couch on the left, which had a blue-and-yellow plaid blanket sprawled over it. A dental chair sat in the far back, with a lamp that hung over it. There were multiple desks that were placed on the left, all covered in a mess of papers and random objects.

She then noticed the hundreds of newspaper clippings of supposed alien activity on the wall, and then the set-up of many radios on the right.

Ah, so this man was insane.

Although, this did give her an idea.

She turned around to face him, raising her eyebrows as she questioned, "You ever heard of Area 51? Roswell?"

The man lowered his knife as he let out a small chuckle. He turned around in his spot, throwing the knife onto the desk beside him and clapped in excitement. 

The terrified look on his face changed to a joyous one as he exclaimed, "Hot damn! Whoo! See, I always knew we weren't the only ones. See, Eleanor thought my head wasn't screwed on tight, but . . . but it's all true, yeah? UFOs, crop circles . . ."

"Well" —she folded her arms, a small smile on her face— "the truth is out there."

He started to walk towards her, his hands outstretched. She took a few steps backwards with wide eyes as he spluttered, "Tell me, wh . . . why is it always anal probe?"

She did not have an answer for that.

"Well, that's just . . . the best place to look." She crinkled her nose at her words. Gross. "Hey, by the way, what . . . what day is it?"