CHARLIE

Dinner is ready by 0645 (1845 according to Wetboy, who suggest I adjust to military time and terminology to better acquaint myself with my new world). It's only he and I for the first 20 minutes and it's awkward and silent. The dining room is large and surprisingly nice. Wooden table, large enough for 12 guests or so. But only 6 chairs. Dinner is family buffet style, but it's all covered; waiting for the rest of our guests.

I'm still barefoot but I'm wearing more clothes. Sweatpants and a tank top. No bra of course, but mostly because I've discovered the too many articles of clothing agitate me now. Especially shoes and gloves.

Wetboy is wearing athletic clothes, fidgeting on his iPhone. His head pops up after a few moments and looks towards the door.

Sure enough, a body emerges. It's an awkwardly tall, thin, brown-skinned man. He's dressed semi-casually, a striped button-up over an earth tone shirt and beige khakis. He wears sandals, obviously well loved, judging by their shape and color. He has curly black hair and a wispy goatee. Big brown eyes. Crooked nose. Thin lips. He's sort of cute, in a dorky kind of way.

He manages to seat himself, nodding nervously to Wetboy, and looking over at me. We meet eyes for a moment and I can see his discomfort in my lack of conservatism. He averts his gaze.

Wetboy takes the moment to introduce us,

"Sarah, this is Omar. Omar, Sarah."

I smile as politely as I can manage,

"Hullo."

He nods, in a surprisingly sexy voice, he responds,

"Hello, Sarah."

Wetboy waits for a few moments, watching us coil into our shells.

"Omar here, can materialize his entire body."

Omar abruptly corrects him,

"Not materialize... I can change my form of matter. You know.. solid, liquid, gas."

I smile, and in a joking matter I say,

"But no gas at the dinner table, yeh?"

He blinks at me, totally unaffected. Wetboy chuckles a bit.

Omar fidgets with his hands and that's when I notice something peculiar. He's missing a pinky finger, on his right hand.

"What happened to your finger?"

Omar sighs uncomfortably,

"I still haven't worked out the kinks of my... ability. Whatever you want to call it, and I uh. Well, I changed to gas, to uh... rob a bank. And when I turned solid again it seems like I just misplaced a piece of myself. If I don't wait long enough for my form to gather in an area I run the risk of losing bits."

I nod, far too enthusiastically,

"You robbed banks? That's so badass."

He grins and nods,

"Yeah. Well, until I got caught."

I look over to Wetboy inquisitively.

"I didn't catch him." Wetboy says, putting his hands up defensively.

For a moment it all feels too jokey. Too "waiting for the other shoe to drop". Too perfect and funny and almost, just almost, normal.

Cue the other three guests entering. They all shuffle in about the same time. As awkward and uncomfortable as Omar. Two women, both about mid-twenties, and a teenage boy. Younger than me, teenage boy.

He stares at me. Not in the usual pervy, teenage way. It's a new look. A desire. But to understand. He's breaking me down in his head - or at least trying to. He seems to be hitting a wall. He's white. Dark hair, weird eyes. Though not as weird as the taller woman's. Her eyes are wild. Lacking all human characteristics. They glimmer. Like the eyes of a predator in a hilly field. Her teeth are spectacularly white and very sharp. Pronounced canines like a cat. Her fingernails are long and sharp. She wears a loose brown dress the covers most of her body, and her feet too are bare. Though it takes no time to note the hair that covers her body- softly.

The other woman is timid and prude. Hispanic, and of course, very beautiful. Long black hair pulled back neatly. A white dress the covers her entirely and modestly hides her apparently petite frame. Her hands are clutching a small book - a bible, perhaps? And she seems to shake. They all take seats. Wetboy smiles and calls over the cooks to remove the covers.

The food smells good - but I don't care much to look. This meeting is not about food. So it can certainly wait.

Everyone looks to Wetboy.

He adjusts, his plate already full of proteins and animals and sets down his fork to speak.

"We are all here because we are.. talented. In ways perhaps that we've always known.. or just recently discovered."

He looks to me.

"And perhaps some of us are talented by... choice."

"Regardless of where we obtained our gifts, I believe, and the United States believe that it would be in our best interest to use these abilities towards a common goal. Defending this country against enemies much like ourselves. You are not the only ones who we've discovered."

"You want to make us soldiers?" The beautiful woman pipes up, her eyes darting back and forth - almost as if she was reading a book.

Wetboy nods after a moment.

"I do."

The table is silent for a moment, and the wild one pipes up,

"I belong in the forest in my skin - not in a uniform."

Wetboy nods again,

"We are hoping to set up camps that will suit all of our needs - ours and the governments."

The boy scoffs. His mouth doesn't move but I hear his voice - and all of us are taken aback for a moment,

"I really don't think you've picked your seal team well."

Wetboy smiles at him,

"I think you doubt yourself more than you should."

The boy rolls his eyes.

I adjust uncomfortably. I notice - and perhaps I should've sooner, that I'm hot. I slide around in my seat, trying to get cool but the panic begins to overcome. I don't want to start a fire.

The boy looks at me like a light went off in his head and I can hear his thoughts.

"Oh s**t."

I look to Wetboy for guidance. He's distracted. Speaking to someone but I can't hear the words. Everything starts to blur. I try to move but I fall out of my chair.

I can feel it trying to get out of me. Again - like spiders. Like anxiety.

"Dude you need to calm down. You're working yourself up" his voice is loud in my head and feels like he's drumming against a hangover inside my mind.

"Take slow and controlled breaths."

He's trying so hard but I can't. I'm already too far in. I can't speak but I manage to convey a final thought before I explode.

Get them out.

I can't see or hear and I can only feel the fire in my presence. I curl up fetal. How do I overcome this? How can I be a soldier when I can barely keep myself from freaking out. I'm weak. I'm defective. I'm broken. I won't make it. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I

I black out.

*********************

I wake up. I'm in my room. There's music playing and I notice it immediately. It's the song I had in my head a few days before that I had been wanting to listen to again. It calms me for a moment. And then I notice his smell in the room.

"Aren't you afraid I'll blow up again?" I say, passive-aggressively.

I can hear him shrug.

"No. The dinner was stressful for you. It was a lot of information and ideas in a small amount of time with a group of strangers with unique gifts. They are already used to theirs. You on the other hand just recently discovered yours. I wouldn't have expected anything less. Which is why I equipped all the rooms with fire extinguishing agents and certain rooms - like yours and the kitchen have oxygen conditioning filters that, in the event of a fire, automatically drop the oxygen to starve the fire. Well - and you. But hopefully the fire first."

I look at him finally, and he's in his pajamas, a cup of coffee in his left hand, his phone in the right.

"How'd you know the song?"

"Mikah told me to play it when you woke up. He was pretty annoyed at how loud it was playing in your head when he first arrived."

I chuckle and sit up the bed.

"That's pretty cool though. That he can hear it. I mean - nerve-wracking, sure, but mostly I'm super impressed."

Wetboy sets his coffee down and nods, turning off the music and putting away his phone.

"Not as impressive as you. Everyone, while a bit startled, was very impressed by your display. Once you gain control you will only be that much more powerful."

I run my fingers through my hair and sigh frustratedly.

"If I could trade this, I would."

"Sarah. You're amazing."

"What are you? I never got to hear."

Wetboy grins and sits at the end of my bed, tracing the webs of his fingers.

"I am, a semi-aquatic human. I elected to go through some pretty gnarly genetic testing and gene splicing during my early military years. I was a seal at the time, and all I wanted to do was be better. Harder. Superior to the rest. And it paid off, in most ways. I can spend hours underwater with no surface time. I can endure extreme temperatures and depths. I'm obviously quite a good swimmer"

He grins toothily at me.

For a moment I'm weak. For a weirdo, he's pretty damn handsome. His plum colored lips are calling but I resist. Don't bite/kiss the hand that feeds me... or something like that. Instead of kissing him I obnoxiously blurt out,

"You're pretty hot"

Which I promptly follow with,

"In a platonic, not weird, normal kind of way"

Wetboy laughs and stands back up, obviously uncomfortable by my definitely weird comments.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that no one got hurt and that everyone will be getting together tomorrow for some final input. You are welcome to stay in your room if you're nervous - but no one will run away if you decide to come. Sleep well, Kiddo"

I grumble,

"It's Kido."

"Oh, I know." he says as he leaves my room.