ELLIOTT GUSSMAN HAD BEEN KNOWN to be a complete and utter 'whack-job' since the day he first came out of his dear mother's womb.
He would cry and he would shout and he would kick his small, chubby little legs outwards to collide with the nurses, causing them to scowl and shake their heads with a low tutt. The only way his parents would get him to stop crying was if they let him sleep under a view of the stars, which seemed to settle him greatly and they would find him in a soft slumber, the twinkling above him brightening his eyes and making his hair glitter.
At least when he was screaming, he wasn't blabbering about spacecrafts and crop rings, about conspiracies and government secrets – an irritating habit that he developed at the age of sixteen after listening to Crazy-Joe in the street corner preach about the aliens that had apparently kidnapped his daughter. (Of course, it was common knowledge that his daughter ran off with a Texan cowboy last year, but Joe was Crazy and hence nicknamed Crazy-Joe for a reason, so nobody tried to correct him all that much.) But regardless, sixteen-year-olds shouldn't be discussing elemental particles or the theory of other life forms on other planets, and all of the things that drove his mother mad and drove his ex-wife, Eleanor, away.
But still, a whack-job was a whack-job and Elliott Gussman had never been anything different.
Even though he won his Highschool Science Contest three years in a row; or earned a scholarship to his dream school; or gained an internship at NASA (Something that wasn't true but instead a cruel practical joke from his classmates and the school bully, Brian), it would not change the fact that he was guaranteed to go insane by the age of forty-five.
Now, Elliott was reaching forty-three without any major issues, (major issues, that is) and on the day of his birthday, he would mark another cross on his calendar and admire it with a smile. He only had two more years to go.
It was only when a small alien turned up on his doorstep draped in a navy school uniform and an appetite for good coffee, that Elliott thought his retirement had come early. Maybe he hadn't been careful enough, maybe he was going insane much earlier than scheduled, maybe the nurses at the hospital and his mother and Eleanor were right.
But then he took his meds. And then he recalled the alien that fell through the sky on February 11th 1960, stumbling, spluttering, spitting words into the air – and Elliott knew it was all worth it. Because now, he was certain that he was right.
Screw you, Eleanor.
The process repeated itself, the same thing occurring in the same way. The next time it was a tall, black woman with unruly hair that he thought looked hard to maintain, gaping a lot but never yelling or screaming like the others before. He marked the date as February 11th 1961.
Alien after Alien after Alien. Until now, he had never seen one so close before.
"Same thing each time, a bright blue light then something appears," He gasped, excited to share his research with someone who might care. An alien, moreover. Five watched him with furrowed brows and remained silent, focusing on each of his words with a great deal of compliance. Elliott's enthusiasm grew – the alien was interested!
Elliott Gussman wasn't the whack-job, not anymore!
The alien stepped forwards, head tilted and eyes glittering with curiosity. "Did you get a good look at any of them?"
"Yeah, the first and the third one." Elliott nodded, swallowing as he wildly gestured to the large pinboard behind him, pictures stuck with blue tack and pen scribbled incoherently beside them. "And then the last one... the big sensitive one?"
"Sensitive?"
"Yeah... cried a lot, kept coming back to the alley. He sat around calling a woman's name, uhh..." He clicked his fingers furiously, his eyes darting upwards to recall the information he dreamt of consistently for a year. His face lit up with recognition and a wide grin took over his face. "...Allison!"
Five arched a brow and leaned forwards with interest, confirming the details. "Allison?"
"Allison!"
"Luther."
No, Elliott thought with a confused frown. The Alien didn't understand him, perhaps his English was broken. Allison.
Concerned that his new companion was losing interest, Elliott turned back to him and began to speak rapidly. "He wasn't the only one, the others came too, on and off over the years. I guess they were looking for each other. Eventually, they just... they just stopped."
His mouth pressed into a sombre line, the information that they had all given up resting on his lips and weighing down his words. He didn't dare approach any of them, to tell them that he knew what – who – they were all looking for. It was only now that the guilt began to rest on his mind. He hoped that if he ever became an alien in his next life that someone would tell him where the rest of his alien friends were, prior to separation. But then, Elliott realised that if he didn't have any friends as a human, he probably wouldn't have any as an alien, either.
Five spun towards the board that Elliott had gestured to, his hands gently caressing each of the photos that he had taken, cautious not to tear them. They were blurry, both taken during the day and during the night, but the distinct figures of his siblings could be seen melting into the alleyway – various shadows reappearing to wait for family.
"Diego," Five muttered, his eyes scanning over them. Elliott watched him with a riddling impatience, urgent to ask more questions but aware that he was not to be disturbed. "Allison, Luther..."
His eyes caught onto another picture, the night-time follicles making it difficult to identify the object clearly. He squinted, leaning forwards until his nose brushed against the picture. The red of Atlas' hair was visible through the dark, the outline of her face – panicked and confused – forever struck onto the paper. Five shifted his weight at the unfamiliarity between her eyes, looking over his shoulder to Elliott, who leaned forwards, eager to be of assistance.
"Her." Five demanded curtly and jabbed a finger to the picture. "Did you ever see her?"
"Uh, yeah... y-yeah, I remember her." Elliott nodded, his eyebrows knitting as he curved around the table to stand next to him, examining the photo he had already memorised alongside the others. "She's very aggressive, came back the next day and saw my camera... climbed up the fire escape and smashed it to pieces. If you find her, she needs to pay me back. It was a very expensive gift that I had bought myself for Christmas-"
Five cut him off, impatiently turning to corner Elliott back against the desk. Elliott whimpered and swallowed anxiously, Five's eyes cutting deeply into his own. "Now you listen to me..."
"E-E-Elliott!" He stammered, his eyes widening with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Elliott. My name's Elliott.... That's my name. It has two t's, and so a lot of people get mixed up about that, but I can understand why because it's quite confusing as most of them are spelt with only one-"
"Whatever!"
His mouth slammed shut and his eyes widened, sending him a single nod. As Five leaned in closer, viciously hissing into his face, he winced and held back another whimper. "I have ten days to find them and save the world. Now, I need you to help me with that."
"You need... you need my...?" At the prospect of helping an Alien find other Aliens, Elliott's eyes popped open and the fear he had previously felt disintegrated into his veins. Five stepped back, watching as Elliott scrambled upright to whip open a few desk drawers in a hunt to scour through towers of papers and files. "I have just the thing."
Plucking out a small notepad, he slammed the drawer shut with an impatient slam, flicking it pen and sifting through the pages. He brandished it out to Five, each page adorned with newspaper clippings and scribbles that he couldn't read. Once he sees the right page, he rips it from the spine and pushes it into Five's awaiting hands.
"One of those boys you were interested in?" He announced, shifting his weight uneasily and running his tongue over his bottom lip in an anxious habit. "That's... that's where you'll find him."
Five snatched the sheet from him with a subtle urgency, his eyes scanning over the information. Then, his face twisted into a scornful snort and he shook his head.
"You have got to be kidding me."
AUTHORS NOTE:
promise we're gonna get some atlas and five action sometime soon dont hate me