The sun was starting to set, though it wasn't much of anything through the brown-stained blinds of the single window in some run-down motel room; or rather, Isaac’s home for the night. The carpet was a dull beige, matted and worn from overuse, and the walls were made of poorly painted cement blocks, vaguely reminiscent of that one brief visit to a jail cell not too long ago. The bed was a double, or a full or a queen or whatever size they usually placed in such a room – Isaac wasn't familiar enough with large mattresses to name the exact kind. The sheets were average, with a plain white with a sort of egg-wash wool-cotton blanket between them and the reddish flowery comforter. It wasn't glamorous, but then again, he wasn't used to glamour, nor had he the money for much past a cardboard box, so it would do. Besides, though the air conditioner box beneath the window was rather loud, and sometimes paused between wheezes of warm air, it worked much better than any cardboard box.

The young man himself was perched at the edge of the old bed, unlacing his sneakers and unceremoniously dumping them to the side before ripping off his socks and marveling at the freedom as he wiggled his toes. It had been too long since he were able to do that, as shown by the putrid smell that closely followed the unveiling and a few shallow blisters on the balls of his feet. He prodded at them experimentally, still getting used to the fact that he couldn't feel much pain on his grotesque skin. He hadn’t known until now that he had any blisters at all, but he couldn't be too surprised. It had been maybe a month and a half.

Isaac shrugged off his thicker brown jacket, followed soon after by a tugged off thin grey hoodie, and then finally a black tee. He gathered up the items, minus the jacket, and started towards the small bathroom near the entrance of the room. Making sure to grab the previously discarded socks on his way, he walked through the open door and placed the clothes on the counter space near the sink. The bathroom was about the same level of impressive as the room – water-stained metal, cheap plastic, and stained tiling – but again, it would do. Isaac turned on the sink, thankful that the water appeared clean, and proceeded to wash then wring out each article of clothing before hanging them on an empty towel rack. He then shed his jeans, repeated the washing, wringing out, and hanging process with his boxer shorts, and pulled back the shower curtain. Fairly certain that the warm water might not work, yet content with any shower regardless of the temperature, he quite literally tested the waters. 

It turned out not to be as cold as Isaac predicted, but rather lukewarm, and a pleasantly surprised nineteen year old stepped inside. He pulled the curtain closed and tilted back his head, allowing the water to fall over his face and then trickle down over the rest of his body. He reveled in the feeling of grime washing off of him, and greedily used up as much of the little soap that was provided as possible. He could have easily spent hours in there, enjoying the one luxury that he rarely had, but Isaac wasn't one to waste time on anything. Had he not required sleep and shelter in the first place, he wouldn't be there. 

He’d be on his way to the Ark. Unfortunately, it had taken him much longer than anticipated to get there. Before, he and his father had taken a near direct flight to their location, having no time for subtlety and not wanting to stay in the country for longer than a handful of days out of fear of being caught. Now, although Isaac would prefer to be quick and just rush, he now required the subtlety and indiscretion he did not have time for the last time as his intention was to stay in America. So because of this, his initial flight had landed nowhere near the Ark and he had been forced to make his way across the country by foot or hitchhiking or whatever method he could afford by taking a few odd jobs here and there – which is how he was in the motel in the first place. 

But now, he was nearly there, and he had another thing to ponder.

Not too long ago, Isaac visited a local library in the area he was in and logged onto one of the computers to check his location in relation to the Ark. Somehow, someone managed to contact him and extend an invitation for a ‘job interview’. Said person claimed to be Sarah Blackburn, the first successful person like him who – according to his father – had supposedly been kidnapped as a child from her father – a coworker of his father – Dr. Blackburn. Considering that this is exactly what he had been looking for, Isaac was obviously skeptical. It could be a trap. He’s had people chasing him for as long as he can remember, and although they may not know his motives entirely, it wouldn't take a genius to realize that perhaps Isaac would want to find others like him. Another option could be that it [i]was[/i] Sarah Blackburn, but seeing as how she was kidnapped from such a young age, she could be on their side – whoever ‘they’ were that wanted Isaac so badly – which would be equally as bad.

But then there was the third possibility that the messenger who claimed to be Sarah Blackburn was telling the truth and that his best bet for completing the little quest of his was to go to the location she had given and actually participate in the ‘job interview’ she had planned. Still, though he wanted to believe it, the last seemed unlikely. And yet, of course, there was a draw to it. Isaac was conflicted. So far, he had spent a week mulling it over, and as he drew closer and closer to the interview location, and as the interview date itself grew closer and closer (tomorrow, to be precise), he became more conflicted. By going to the location but not the interview, Isaac could easily put himself in as much danger anyway. Of course if it was a trap, they would be on the lookout for him, even if he didn’t fall for it entirely. He could already be in danger by just being in this city.

Grunting in frustration, Isaac leaned his head on the wall of the shower. What would his father do in a situation like this? Would he want his only son to take this risk? The answer wasn't clear for the first question, but it was for the second. While Isaac was his father’s only child, he also had a responsibility that most children didn’t, and while his father loved him and didn't want anything to happen to him, he would still remind Isaac of this responsibility. 

With a sigh, Isaac reluctantly turned off the shower, pulled back the curtain, and grabbed a clean towel. He quickly dried himself and, pursing his lips in contemplation, stared at the wet clothes on the towel rack. He knew, technically, he wasn't supposed to put them on the heater, but it seemed to him that they wouldn't dry quickly enough on their own, so he did just that. Nodding to himself with a sense of approval, Isaac went over to the light switch and flipped it down. Instantly, the room was cloaked in darkness, though it made little difference to the enhanced human in the room. His vision was clear enough for him to easily make his way to the bed, even stepping over his shoes as he climbed in. Trusting his internal alarm clock as well as his survival instinct should anything go wrong, Isaac settled in and closed his eyes. His last thought was more of a feeling as he drifted towards partial unconsciousness – a feeling of finality in his decision and a desperate hope that he knew what he was doing.

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The next morning, just after dawn, found Isaac awake and already lacing up his sneakers. His clothes had still been damp, but dry enough so that he wouldn't catch a cold or be too uncomfortable, so he donned them anyway. His heart and mind were buzzing in unison with the day to come and his fingers fumbled a couple of times as he tied the last knot. He made a promise to himself a little while back that when he finally came to a decision, he wouldn't go back on it. He couldn't take the chance of flip-flopping and so couldn't turn back any longer. He was going to the interview. He was going to – hopefully – meet a Sarah Blackburn that was on his side. 

Releasing a breath that he hadn't realized he held in, Isaac stood from the bed and used the momentum to carry him right out of the room, grabbing the black backpack by the door as he went. Initially, the bag held money, some snacks, and the hoodie he was now wearing, but currently it was empty. Still, he carried it on the off-chance he had something to put in it. On a couple of occasions he did – he didn't always need his jacket or hoodie, so he’d put it in there, and occasionally he wouldn't finish food, so in order not to waste, he’d wrap it up and put it in his bag. He no longer kept his money in there – opting for his jean pockets instead – as he had in fact been pick-pocketed of $20 a couple months back and had learned his lesson. 

Pulling said money out of his pocket, Isaac paid for his room and walked out the entrance of the motel. He walked briskly, pushing his hands into his pockets and adopting a posture of ‘don’t f*** with me’. His hoodie was up and he stared at the pavement as he walked, so no one who got close enough could gawk at his skin. It wasn't a constant occurrence, but it wasn't uncommon. Often it was children who walked at their parents’ side down the sidewalk that would stop and point, or odd stares from various strangers that bumped into him and got close enough to notice his ailment. He never met any trouble for it – it wasn't all that noticeable – but he always had one or two ‘incidences’ in each city. 

Coming up on the building marked by the number given to him in the message, Isaac slowed his pace. A nervous bead of sweat rolled from his forehead, glanced off his eyebrow, and continued until it dripped off his jawline. No going back. He slowed to a full stop at the base of the building and chanced a look up at it. Enormous, like the other skyscrapers around, and entirely impossible to escape from should he be farther up than maybe the third floor. He took a deep breath – no going back – and without releasing it, walked briskly through the doors. There was nothing off about the establishment, as far as he could tell. It looked like any other office building on the outside as it did on the inside. For a moment, he stood there dumbly before realizing that there was a front desk and someone behind it. Releasing the held in breath, Isaac approached the desk and again, stood there rather dumbly. The lady behind paid no mind to him, apparently busy with something or another on her computer. He opened his mouth to say something, but as he did so, the woman spoke. 

“Are you here for the job interview?” She asked, not even looking up from her computer. Isaac nodded, mumbling a quick “yes” before coughing, clearing his throat, and uttering the word again with a bit more volume. Without missing a beat, the lady then asked “Name?” and Isaac was faced with a short wave of panic before he ultimately decided to give his real name. The woman stopped her typing and looked up, skeptical. She didn’t seem too surprised at his appearance, or maybe she didn't notice, but she did appraise him for a moment before pursing her lips. “Someone will be with you shortly” she finally responded before returning to her task, “Please take a seat.” Again, Isaac nodded, feeling a swell of anxiety as he took a seat closer to the entrance of the building.

He could run for it now, before it was too late. Whoever was coming to collect him could very well be associated with whoever had chased him since he was a child. Wiping a bit of sweat off his brow, Isaac knew he couldn't leave now. He made his decision, he was going to see it through, and if anything bad happened…. He would deal with that when it happened. No going back.

Several long minutes ticked by before a clean shaven, suited man appeared. He didn't say much other than the initial “Please follow me” before leading Isaac towards a row of elevators. Upon one arriving, the man ushered Isaac inside and pressed a button for the twenty-third floor. [i]Twenty-third[/i]. Again, anxiety swelled as Isaac realized that now he could truly not go back, but he quickly stifled it. When the elevator reached its destination, the man spoke again. “To verify your identity, a skin sample will be taken before you are to enter your room.” His tone left no room for argument, nor did he imply that the sample was anything but mandatory. All Isaac could do was nod, a bit surprised but when he thought about it, smart. Were he in Sarah’s position – and he had all that Sarah had at her disposal – he would have most likely done something similar. 

Without a doubt, as they approached a seemingly random door among others, there was a fingerprint scanner – or what looked like one. Before Isaac could do it himself, the man took hold of a finger and forcefully pressed it on. The young man flinched, expecting pain, but after a moment of seemingly nothing, the machine beeped, and a click in the door announced its approval. Without pause, the man ushered Isaac inside. Had there been another measure of security, Isaac did not see or feel it, nor did the man mention it, so he relaxed a bit. The inside of the room was small and simple, having a sort of interrogation feeling to it as there was only one desk and a chair, along with a security camera in the corner of the room. Without a word, the man left, closing the door behind him.

A subtle ‘click’ made it known that Isaac was locked in, but instead of panicking and attacking the door as his first instinct was, he simply sat down. Not too long after, a female’s voice appeared over an unseen speaker. “State your full name please.” And then silence. Taking yet another deep breath, Isaac cleared his throat and in a clear, confident voice said:

“Isaac Connors”