A few days later, at Norfolk Navy Base in Virginia, a destroyer sailed into the port, preparing to dock. This vessel, the USS Porter, was returning from a long deployment in the Persian Gulf, and the crew were all looking forward to a long break in the United States, before returning to duty in other parts of the world. The ship approached the dock, and briefly stopped.

"Papa Charlie, this is Charlie Oscar of USS Porter, requesting permission to dock, over."

The radio onboard the destroyer crackled into life. "Charlie Oscar, this is Papa Charlie. You are cleared to dock, over."

"Charlie Oscar to Papa Charlie, which berth are we to dock in, over?"

Charlie Oscar, this is Papa Charlie. You are cleared for berth two one, repeat, Two One. Papa Charlie Out."

Once the radio signal had ceased, the vessel sounded its horn, a loud, bellowing tone that warned all in the area to stay out of the way, lest they get hit. It sailed into the dock, engines reverberating, and then stopped completely. The boat would be there for some time, and once the jetty was connected and the ramp secured, three sailors stepped off of the ramp and onto the port ground. The three looked extremely cheerful, and this being the world of the Jacobean saga, this rendered them prone to breaking into song at the most bizarre of moments.

"New York, New York!" the first one started.

Before the first had finished, the second then followed. "New York, New York!"

Then the third came along. "New York, New York!"

Then they all sang together. "It's a wonderful town!"

A member of dock crew sighed at them. "This is Norfolk, geniuses," he said, with his face in his palm. "New York is 293 miles north east of here." He then walked on to connect up a fuel line.

The first sailor looked at the others. "Does Norfolk scan in terms of the lyrics?" he asked.

"I don't know!" said the second, a Lieutenant Hopper. "Don't look at me, Jackson." Jackson held the rank of Petty Officer Third Class, putting him pretty below Hopper.

"Well, New York is two syllables, and so is Norfolk," said the third, Chief Warrant Officer Second Grade Wilson. "So yes, it scans. But we can't repeat the musical number, as the ship is closed for cleaning and maintenance. So we need to find something else to do whilst on the mainland. Got any ideas?"

"Well," said Hopper, "I was thinking of perhaps visiting my home town, Manteo."

"Manteo, North Carolina?" asked Wilson. "The one the military is keeping a constant eye on?"

"Yeah," Jackson sighed. "Home of 'subject X', whoever that is."

"You know talk of that doesn't leave this base, right?" Hopper reminded them. "'Subject X' is a top secret, highly classified individual. Had something to do with Midwest Airlines Flight 405, once we'd finished analysing the black boxes."

"Yes sir," Jackson replied. "Speaking of this 'Manteo', what is there to do there?"

"There's some sort of outdoor show on just outside the town. Something like 'the Hopeless Case'?" Wilson suggested.

"The Lost Colony," Hopper corrected him. "Something to do with the past of the area, Roanoke Island. I should know, but I don't."

"Well, gee whiz, Lieutenant!" Jackson said. "That sounds like fun! Should we go and give it a try?"

"All right," Hopper said. "And why are you suddenly talking like a character out of South Pacific?"

"At least the dames here don't wash men out of their hair," Wilson joked. The men laughed at how very funny they were, and went off to get changed into civilian clothing.

It was a long journey to Manteo, but at long last they got there, as the sun was beginning to fade and artificial light was rolling in. The trio arrived at the sight for The Lost Colony, and did what all reasonable sailors did when on shore leave; they went straight to the bar, with an appetite strong and hearty.

No, not that kind of bar. Anyway, they picked up some beer, and headed off toward their assigned seats. They were outdoors, which would be mildly annoying if it started to rain, but there were no clouds, so that wasn't a worry. They took their seats, and suddenly overheard a conversation.

"Well, isn't this week odd!" a man remarked to his wife.

"Why so?" his wife asked.

"Normally by now, that James fellow would have returned. But he hasn't been seen in four days!"

"That is strange," the woman said, putting a hand to her chin. "Remember that time when a massive parade of animals ran through the town?"

"How could I forget?" the man replied. "Or that business with the hat, or how about the sun?"

"I bet he uses sunblock!"

Wilson looked over to Jackson. "What's that all about?" he asked.

Jackson shrugged, much like Atlas. "Beats me," he said.

Later, the performance got under way, and all seemed pretty normal at first. However, midway through they spotted something odd. Jackson indicated to Hopper. "Third performer on left, standing," he whispered, in an incredibly quiet voice.

"What about them?" Hopper asked, not entirely sure what Jackson was getting at. In truth, he was having difficulty telling everybody apart, and he had little clue of what was going on.

"Skin tone is a bit off," Jackson said quietly. "Light pink."

"Sunburn?" Wilson suggested.

"Seems unlikely in this weather," Jackson noted. "But the hair colour is off, too. Green. That's not a natural hair colour."

Wilson then put all the pieces together, and realized who it was he was looking at. Subject X, seemingly out and functioning normally in public without causing any problems at all. Which was a first, as usually Subject X entering the frame led to all sorts of unwanted problems. But little did those three sailors realize it that dark night, but they would cross paths with Subject X again. And that would be much sooner than they could even imagine.

Author's Note

2 things:

1. Anyone here spot a shout out to a Musical in this chapter? Here's a hint: It's one of my Editor's Favorite Musicals.

2. I hope y'all like that ending part for of this chapter which foreshadows for next week's story, which y'all will see which character it will be that I will transform into in due time