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Isaac woke from his own bed with a jolt, as if he had electricity running through his veins. It’d been a few days since he’d woken in the hospital and he’d made short worse of leaving without a trace. Unhooking himself, stealing his file from the nurse’s room and making an unceremonious exit between their nightly rounds out the window.

Since then he’d put himself to work on establishing himself once more in this version of Lost Haven. Again, he leased several properties under a wide array of pseudonyms, with rent funneled via an untraceable offshore account carefully selected for its own lax extradition laws. None of the houses or apartments were particularly fancy, but they’d all serve a purpose. A quick refuge and a way of splitting his time, leaving no set patterns in terms of his place of residence.

He’d learned a lot about how to protect an identity over the past decade. And in this world, he knew that there were no cost for those experiences.

He also had the pleasant surprise to find that his trip to Gunny Bracken had paid off. Presumably, the old man had seen his exploits on what they now called “D-Day” and packed a kit bag full of supplies, leaving at the previously agreed upon dead drop.

In terms of his other activities, and alternate “nightlife” he’d been pretty quiet since that night. The finger had been healing, and he knew his priorities should be towards setting himself up. Bouncing around fighting a one man war, unprepared, and with less than full dexterity did not seem remotely intelligent. He knew there were others who could pick up slack in the short term – it’s not like the world was going anywhere, not yet anyway – and he had no cover story. A stranger from a foreign land with little plausible reason or alibi for being anywhere.

That was what he was getting ready for now...

He dressed decently, Terrarian Warriors jersey his response to the bitter cold weather, and shaved to make his first impression a respectable one. He checked the mirror and straightened the crooked collar over. Big day this one.

Isaac pulled the car up into the Visitors car park of Lost Haven University and stepped out. He walked across to the main quad where a girl 5 to 7 years his junior stood with a clipboard and a bottle of water. 

A clipboard, a bottle of water and a group of kids closer to 10 years younger than himself.

“Okay! We’ve lot’s to go through today, and I have about 5 more groups to go through this morning!” she explained with far more enthusiasm than Isaac saw as necessary – or even possible – for what must surely be a tedious task at hand. The girl crossed off names on the clipboard and took off, with the group scrambling behind.

Isaac no longer had to ask himself the question of why she had the bottle of water on an otherwise cold and overcast day.

Isaac got dragged around several areas and sections of the school that had no relevance to himself. The sciences wing, dorms, had the odd frat house pointed out as they passed, the gymnasium. The girl pointed out a distant building as the Legal/Historic wing, which was of interest to him since he’d have a number of classes there, but was informed there’d visit that later in the tour.

“No time now! We hit that on the way back around!” she called back, zooming onwards ever faster. She had stragglers at this point, a few struggling to keep up with her breakneck pace. But the girl had a mission.

Liberal Arts building, more dorms, the on-campus post office, campus security building, Medical wing... Then Isaac saw something which took him back and gave him a nostalgic feeling he just couldn’t explain. The sports field they were passing. A dozen or so students playing rugby in the Maine mist and mud. Isaac gazed across the pitch with a smile crossing his face. He hadn’t played for years, but still it was something from home.

A mud-covered student limped to the side. Isaac looked for the girl leading the group but she was long gone. Apparently his wistful few seconds had been longer than they had felt.

[b]“Oi kid. Need one more? Which way were you going?”[/b]

The student pointed in a direction, but Isaac never saw. He was already 20 metres across the pitch, running towards the ball.