After the three left, I began prepping for training by checking on Zashchitnik; I wanted to see if my gun was still in good condition.

As I flipped the massive weapon over to examine its other side, something that was reflecting the room's light caught my eye. I snapped my eyes above the gun to see where the glinting was coming from. What I saw made my heart stop for a split second.

I careful placed Zashchitnik down on the desk's top and rose my fingers up to my eye level: All ten fingertips of mine were completely made out of glass. It was like the time I got frostbite after playing soccer in the snow, but my fingertips were translucent with a tint of light blue. 'Почему мои пальцы сделаны из стекла?' Why are my fingertips made out of glass?

I pulled myself closer to the desk so that I could place my elbows on the desk's top; my upper body hit the edge of the furniture as I leaned forward toward my hands. But instead of my body adjusting to the hard surface that was pressed against it, I heard a short-lived, hollow THUNK! accompanied with a hollow feeling.

In shock and confusion, I immediately pushed myself away from the desk and patted my chest and torso, feeling that underneath my shirt was something smooth and hard, like glass. I placed my hand on the energy source that was located on the chest area of my shirt and twisted it around in precise numbers, like a locker lock. My shirt disappeared in pixels, revealing what was underneath.

I gazed down at myself, seeing that mainly the left side of my upper body was completely made out of glass with no definite line.

I felt myself go pale was I leaned back against the back of my chair. "Ладно, ладно, не надо беспокоиться...мое тело превращается стекла... О, боже мой, я собираюсь стать стекла статуя! Нет...я создал стакан, прежде чем с Врагом...  Может быть, я должен просто--" Okay, okay, no need to worry...it's just glass...taking over me... Oh my goodness, am I going to become a glass statue? No...I did produce glass before with The Enemy... Maybe I should just--

My muttering for calmness was interrupted by my door opening and Andrea strutting in, shouting, "Russia, c'mon, training starts in like a minute, let's go!"

I yelped since I was half naked-half glass in front of her, and turned myself so that the back of my chair was facing her; I faced the wall with a frown and wide eyes. I sensed Andrea standing over me, waiting for a response.

"I'll be there," I told her after I collected myself in a few seconds, "I'm busy."

"Busy with your shirt off, okay...," she responded, dragging the word 'okay.' There was a pause. "Russia...are your fingertips сlear?"

I stopped breathing, rattling my mind on how the heck Andrea saw that. I then snapped my eyes to my hands, which were propped on the edge of each arm rest of the chair; with a crane of her head, Andrea could've clearly seen at least my pinky and ring finger. "It's nothing," I responded quickly. "I'm fine."

"No, fingertips are not suppose to look like that," she told me back with grave, yet concerned tone. "Russia, what's going on?"

"I don't know," I told her back harshly.

"Can you tell that to me by actually looking at me?" I heard her ask.

I clenched my jaw, not wanting her to see me the way I was. "No." I straightened up a bit.

I then felt my chair being swung around forcibly as my view blurred for a split second. Once my chair stopped, I was looking straight up at Andrea; she had a serious look on her face with her eyebrows knitted together; her hand grasped the back of my chair, notifying me that she was the reason why my chair moved.

Her eyes suddenly went wide with shock as she saw me fully. "Oh my goodness, Russia!" She stumbled back a bit with her arms out, hopefully not in fear. "Your body, what happened?"

"I-I don't know--!"

"It's practically made out of glass!"

"I know!"

"How did that happen?!" She extended her outstretched hands toward me.

"I just saw it before you came!!!" I shouted. "I didn't notice it until then! But-but..." My voice faded when I began to realize what I wanted to say next: my assumption, which is because of The Enemy 'unlocking the gift of the supernatural' in me.

"But what?" Andrea pushed on for me to continue my speaking.

I sat there in silence while thinking how to say what I was going to say. "...I have a thought of why this is happening..."

She nodded her head. "Well, um, that's good, but training is going to start like right now, so...are you gonna go or not?"

"Can I not?"

"Yeah, I'll let you sit out, let you figure out what's going on with you." She made small circles with her pointer finger that was pointing toward me. "I'll give Poncho a good reason why you're not there, okay?"

I smiled a bit, relieved that I don't have to go to training the way I was. "Okay, thanks."

"Mm-hm." Andrea nodded again. "Hope you get better." She then turned around and walked across my room, exiting it with the door closing behind her.

I turned around to face my desk and automatically tapped my fingertips against each other in thought. I immediately stopped though since it felt weird with them being made out of glass; there was no feeling when I was tapping them against each other, but they certainly did felt heavier. Then a risky thought came into my mind: What if I break the glass?

I gritted my teeth, thinking of the worst case scenario of losing my fingertip as a whole if I did that. But at the same time, I like I should, just to start off the experiment of what I can do with this glass.

I sucked in my breath and made a fist with my left hand, only having my pinkie sticking out. Then with lots of force, I slammed the tip of my pinkie against the edge of the desk, like opening up a bottle of champagne against the hull of a boat. The glass cracked, but did not shatter. I hit my finger again; the glass shattered spilled onto the ground with clatters, leaving me with a flat, jagged-edged pinkie. I did not even want to see what was inside.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of energy wrapping around the inside of my pinkie as a fuzzy feeling collected at the top of it. Glass began growing once again, taking form of my fingertip; but the base of it went further down, stopping at the top of my middle knuckle. "Итак, если я нарушу его, он будет вырастить с более стекла ... Я не должен нарушать его дальше," I muttered to myself. Okay, so if I break it, it will regrow with more glass...I shouldn't break it any further.

I then looked down at the broken glass, wanting to pick it up. The glass instantly rose from the ground and floated above it, like as if an invisible force was controlling it. I then darted my eyes over to the trash can that was on the left side of the desk. The shards of glass zoomed over to the trash and fell into it. "Я могу манипулировать осколки стекла... Это хорошо, чтобы знать!" I can manipulate glass... That's good to know!

Then something crossed my mind, something The Enemy advised me: You direct it, Sasha... You do it mentally... Picture it. Command it. But don't think too hard.

I nodded my head and stared at my fingertips. I closed my eyes and focused on picturing my fingertips growing back to normal with skin instead of glass. Please go away, please turn back to skin, take this glass away... I opened my eyes and was disappointed when I saw my glass-tipped fingers.

I letted out an exhausted groan and tried a second time of commanding the glass to go away. 'Уходи, уходи, пожалуйста, уходите глупый стакан.' Go away, go away, please go away you stupid glass-- I opened my eyes, but the glass was still there. I had to refrain myself some banging my fists against the desk's top since I would've broken my glass and it would've grown more, agitating the situation even more.

Then the last resort to find the solution of this problem entered my mind: "Я должен идти к Врагу, так как он был единственным, кто дал мне это..." I should go to The Enemy, since he was the one who gave this to me...

I didn't want to, that was for sure. But I knew I had to if I wanted my hands and upper body to look normal again. "В полночь, я пойду." At midnight, I'll go.