After the door closed, the two took their time taking a look inside. If they were after the boy, Corby had already told them he wasn’t here. Other than that, there wasn’t much to look at. It was a cubicle of an apartment, and they all knew it. It was a shithole!

“So…it’s a nice place you’ve got here, Mr. Dallas. And I see you’ve already taken care of the meteorite damage,” Vitto said, trying for a polite conversation while stalling for time. He didn’t know how much of what he was about to tell the man was going to land well or not–if anything at all.

“It wasn’t a meteorite, Father. And they have taken care of it for me, I’m afraid…I don’t have much time,” Corby replied. “Why don’t we get down to business?”

Narrowing his eyes at the priest for just a moment, he then turned away. He needed coffee if he was going to get through this.

“Coffee?” he offered, sticking a coffee pot to the magnetic wall. The stove in his apartment was vertical to save space; everything in his apartment was meant to save space, but it didn’t much help. The coffee in the pot started boiling though.

Vitto considered the leftover coffee Corby was reheating, and promptly shook his head.

“No, thank you! We’re good,” he quickly returned, maintaining a pleasant smile.

“Suit yourself,” said Corby and poured himself a cup. When he turned to the priest again, he looked at him expectantly from under his eyebrows, taking a sip of his coffee with a deliberate slurp.

It was Vitto’s cue and he understood beating around the bush much longer was going to be pointless.

“Right–” Vitto said, straightening up. “Mr. Dallas, we have a job offer for you. If you would be so kind as to consider it.”

“A job?” Corby asked, surprised. All of a sudden he was getting job offers left and right. What was up with that?

“A mission of sorts,” Vitto continued, vaguely.

“What kind of mission, Father?” Corby’s eyes were on the priest. This was all very weird. He thought they were going to be talking about the boy, not discussing job opportunities.

“I’m afraid this is difficult to explain, Mister Dallas. I’m not sure you’re going to understand me correctly…” Vitto admitted, squirming a little under the man’s steady gaze.

“Try me.”

From the look in Corby’s eyes, the priest could tell he should start talking.

“My name is Vitto Carnellius, Mr. Dallas. I’m here on behalf of…” He stopped to think about it a moment. “Someone looking for the man that was here earlier, the one responsible for the hole in your roof, and the mess. We’re looking for him because…We were waiting for him a long time, you see…And the reason for that is–” Vitto gulped. “He isn’t exactly a man. He's a–”

“A boy!” Corby answered before the priest could. That part was easy. He didn’t need him to explain that to him. Corby could still remember the man-boy in every detail. He couldn’t forget him even if he wanted to.

The priest looked puzzled for a second, “A boy?”

Corby nodded, positive. “Six two. Redhead. Twenty-ish. He was stark-naked when he burst in.”

“Redhead?” the priest repeated. This was all news to him.

“Very redhead, Father,” Corby said. “As redhead as one can be. You can take my word for it. He said his name was Loo.”

“Loo…? How peculiar,” Vitto whispered. There wasn’t anything like that in the book, his age, or his hair color, or even his name. He was but a smudge on the page, depicted in no particular detail.

Corby crossed his arms on his chest. “He was covered in gold when he landed too. The gold was everywhere. The whole place was gold, not just him. Only they’ve taken it all away, my buds from the military. So if you’re looking for him, I have no idea where they’d taken him.”

Vitto had already figured as much. “Gold, you say?”

“Yes, gold. Lots of it. Requisitioned by the government.”

“Of course…” Vitto nodded.

“This boy…” he said, looking Corby straight in the eyes suddenly. “He’s not a usual kind of boy, is he, Mr. Dallas?”

“No kidding,” Corby agreed, watching him. “I don’t think I’ve seen one like him before, and I don’t think I will again. He's one of a kind, I think.”

“One of a kind…” Vitto muttered thoughtfully, but then he shook his head dismissively. “You don’t understand, Mister Dallas. You see, he’s not really a boy…Or a man even…Not like one of us. How do I explain this?”

Corby was eager to find out. But the priest was looking for words again. “He’s like an angel, Mr. Dallas. A heavenly creature, sent here to protect us, all of us. He’s to deliver us from evil. Do you understand?”

Vitto was looking at him hopefully, his hands probing the air in front of him as if he was trying to grasp something intangible to show Corby as proof. Corby frowned; he couldn’t see it.

“Right,” he said. He didn’t think he believed in angels; or God, or heaven for that matter. He wasn’t particularly religious, he would say. Or at all. He’d been to the heavens. There was no God there. Just an infinite stretch of space. And it was empty for the most part anyway; nothing like what they imagined it to be whenever they wrote Bible, or whatever other religious nonsense the priest in front of him subscribed to. Corby let out a long sigh.

“What kind of mission were you going to offer me, Father?” he asked, by means of shortening the conversation. He was beginning to think the priest didn’t know anything about the man-boy after all. He was probably just a religious nut, is all. Corby wanted him and the dude accompanying him out of his hair as soon as possible.

Vitto wasn’t a nut, so he immediately caught where Corby was going with this.

“If you want to see the boy again, snatch him out of the government’s paws, Mr. Dallas…” Vitto said seriously. “You’re gonna have to let me finish.”

Something about the tone of his voice told Corby that he should listen to him.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he said shortly. Vitto nodded, compliantly. Five minutes was all he’d need.

“I’m gonna be frank with you, Mr. Dallas. That boy is the most precious possession humanity ever had. Being what he is…there’s none other like him.”

“And what exactly is he, Father?” Corby asked, staring at the priest. He was dying to know; not sure if what the priest was going to tell him was going to be true or not, he wanted at least an attempt at an explanation out of him. Because the boy was anything but a regular human. The priest was convinced he wasn’t. And Corby, himself, didn’t know what to believe.

“He’s…he’s the fifth element, Mr. Dallas,” Vitto whispered with awe; he had no time to beat around the bush anymore. “The perfect creature created to protect us all. But for him to do so, we must protect him first. The military, having him in their possession, they wouldn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t be any good helping him. They wouldn’t even be able to understand him, if anything. He’d consider them a threat and try to escape, even if they tried to help him.” Vitto put his hands on his chest and looked at Corby beggingly. “He needs us, Mr. Dallas.”

“Perfect, eh?” Corby repeated; the only part of it that stuck. ‘Perfect’ was what he was looking for.

“For the lack of a better word, yes,” Vitto nodded. Corby looked at the man. He wasn’t lying, he could tell. The priest spoke of the boy reverently. For whatever divine entity he was taking him, he must have truly believed he was. Made Corby wonder what kind of religion he professed exactly.

“I’m not sure you’ve come to the right place, Father,” Corby said, earnestly. “If it’s a man of faith you’re looking for, I gotta tell ya, I’m not.”

“I can assure you I’m not looking for a man of faith, Mr. Dallas. A soldier is what I’m looking for,” Vitto said, without a trace of a doubt. “Someone good with a gun, preferably. Someone skilled enough to protect him.”

“I failed my last mission, Father,” Corby countered. “They booted me from the military and all.”

Vitto looked him in the eyes. “You’re the man for the mission, Mr. Dallas! I couldn’t be more certain of anything than this. There’s a reason the boy landed in your apartment. Couldn’t be a coincidence. Tell me I’m wrong, but I think you’ve been waiting for him all your life, same as I have. And it’d taken me a real long time to admit it. But I know it now, Mr. Dallas. And I think you do too. You’re the man for the job, and I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

Corby considered it, frowning. That was a lot of words; but, strangely, some of it did make sense.

“Let me sleep on it,” he said, definitively.

“It’s eight in the morning, Mr. Dallas. We don’t have time for sleep,” said the priest, looking like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Well, your boy here and the guys from the military kept me up all night, so…I need my beauty sleep, Father. Or else I’ll be no good protecting anybody, I promise you.”

Vitto sighed. “I understand. Just promise me to get in touch with us right after, Mr. Dallas. This is very important. We don’t have much time. The fate of the entire galaxy depends on it...”

Corby narrowed his eyes at the priest, watching him produce a business card from his soutane pocket. Corby inspected the card curiously and then granted him with a pleasant smile in return.

“Sure thing, Father.”

Now was the time for him to go, but the priest lingered. “He needs us, Mr. Dallas. He needs my guidance and your protection. It might not look like it, but he’s not nearly as strong as it seems. He won’t be able to make it on his own. He needs our help.”

“Thought you said he was perfect,” said Corby.

“Oh, he is. Doesn’t mean he’s not fragile. This world of ours has every capability to break him, Mr. Dallas. Don’t let it break him. He’s our only hope.”

Corby nodded. “I’ll get in touch with you, Father. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Please do! The sooner the better, Mr. Dallas,” Vitto pleaded urgently. Corby just showed him the door.