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Saturday, August 3rd, 2019, 9:35 AM Riverside Park, Near Hamilton Planetarium Claude dialed back his pace, slowing down from the jog he was at to a more sedate walking speed. Ever since getting his current gig, Doc had drummed into him the importance of about getting a bead on your environment. Especially if you were going to be somewhere for any length of time. Coupled with wanting to get out of Jules' apartment for a bit Claude had chosen to take a morning run through the local park. His attire of jogging shorts and a simple white t-shirt kept him comfortably cool, while his headphones pumped out tunes to run to. The Bostonian had to admit it was a decent park, but the rookie guardian preferred unspoiled nature than carefully tended and shaped artificial constraints of man-made natural engineering. Still, the statues were nice and the Sentry Statue was an iconic landmark, even in the future. What wasn't nice was the oddly prevalent minor temporal anomalies he had ran into during his circuit of the park. The one nearby marked the third he had found today, this one in a flower bed that was doing an excellent job of confusing the local bee population. On their own, these minor anomalies didn't do much. They might make it feel like earlier in the day, temperature wise or slow down time so the plants matured slower. What made them truly dangerous is that they tended to move about and were attracted to each other, and when you got enough together that's when time storms started to form. Claude had once queued up temporal meteorology with the repository and it was like trying to piece together the remains of a taco warping through a tesseract: messy and disturbing. But when caught before then like now, they were easily dispersed. Stopping in front of the flowers, he knelt down as to tie his shoe and brought out his Isochronon. A button press later, the bees were now appeased being able to find their target. Mischief managed, he thought. A wry grin graced his features at the mental turn of phrase as Claude discretely pocked the Isochronon, went through the motions of checking his laces, and then stood back up.

Saturday, November 8th, 8 AM. Claremont Gym. Bam. BAM BAM! Bam bam bam bam! Fists hit bag, footwork ensued, complicated, as the bulky Benny D'amato changed center line, stuffing his leading left hand at the face level in a drill that would make sense with someone else, as his right hand did two neat, sharp uppercut like hooks right at the floating rib area Then came a quick four punch flurry. Though him getting someone besides staff tended to prove tricky, and the fast kid showed why. He wasn't just quick. He was damn near sudden, and he hit hard. Precise. And he did this routine upwards to six times a week. The run. Then the drills. More running. More drills. This one changed though, as he wheeled to the human shaped dummy that was used for grappling, as he threw a feinting punch at it's face, and then shot down for a double leg take down, that he immediately floated over the dummy on impact into a mounted position, and he hammered at the 'head' of the the practice thing, before he rolled away, and pushed up and off of his rear leg for a superhero punch at another training bag. This drill down, he stood there, breathing hard as the alert went off from his bag at a bench, and he moved over towards it. Wearing a tank top, a pair of shorts, sneakers, and wrapped up hands, which fit his workman aesthetic. He picked up the watch, and pushed the button to turn off the alarm, before he moved to lift his water bottle.

Lantern Hill, the Morgan House Corner of Newton & Salem Noon, August 31st, 2019 Weather: Partly Cloudy, 80 °F, Wind ENE 8 mph The historic Morgan House stands out from the normal colonial and victorian era architecture prevalent in the Lantern Hill district as a testament to the American Craftsman style. On June 30th, 1908 the original colonial structure was blown apart by an explosion and the Morgan Family ultimately chose to build a new house rather than try to replicate the old property. The cause of the explosion still to this day has never been fully explained, with the current owner Thomas Morgan saying that his grandfather told his father it was 'probably something he was working on in the basement'. The Morgan family has always been known as innovators of some stripe with the majority of their wealth coming from a variety of small patents and shrewd investments. Still, being one of the old families of Freedom City has caused no amounts of rumors to exist about both the house and the family that resides in it. While the Morgan House is on the national historic location list, it is still a private property and entry is only allowed for friends of the family or approved guests. However, the current owner occasionally hold exclusive philanthropic parties at the location and has recently worked with the Freedom City Historical Society to make a personally narrated virtual walkthrough of the house available at the Clark House. Today however, the fact of the gate to the property swinging open to admit a pair of teenagers on a scooter would have caused some on the historical society to weep bitter tears of jealousy as they putted quietly onto the property and parked near the detached garage.

Claremont Academy 10:30 am, August 28th, 2019 Weather: Sunny, 77 F, Wind E 15-20 mph The visitor's parking lot was packed. A sea of people bustled amidst vehicles and toward open, shining gates. Belongings, often with grunts of effort, were loaded onto carts. Laughter echoed from caravans trickling through the main entrance and the Quad. Hand-drawn signs pointed the way, each adorned with student messages. In time, the shadows of the twin dormitories provided respite to travelers. Staff and peer counselors dotted the trail, assisting overwhelmed students on their journey. Vice-Principal Dugan was the first new face to arrivals. Her table near the gates kicked off the journey. Mr. Marquez wheeled the circuit and kept visitors on course. Mr Kuzkin and Ms. Harcourt paced about the Kord and Carter dorms, respectively. Their task, to organize the move-in, appeared to have some success. At the very least, weary travelers could partake of cold refreshments and treats outside the main doors. While outside was organized chaos, the dorm halls were like herding cats. A din permeated the air. Dozens of students, parents, and guardians wandered in search of rooms. Boxes and bags transformed the hallways into obstacle courses. The excitement of new memories and old friends contrasted with worried hugs and goodbyes. If nothing else, the dorms were places of beginnings and endings. What are you doing this beautiful day? Moving into the dorm? Helping new students?

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