John had been on guard duty when he'd once again inexplicably found himself someplace new.
This left the pastor in the middle of a busy intersection dressed in as close to combat fatigues as he could find, collar, and with a long rifle slung over his shoulder. No exactly ideal for an urban population, though apart from a few worried glances he didn't seem to be terribly upsetting anybody.
The Texan made his way through the streets, trying to figure out what had happened again. But there wasn't anybody rushing up to him this time, explaining things and helping to reassure him. This time he was alone, in a sea of people, feeling abruptly like he had when he'd returned from the war zones and found himself amongst the oblivious masses of civilians.
He wandered aimlessly for a good ten minutes before he saw somebody he thought looked familiar. Nobody he'd met, but he was fairly certain he'd seen the man drunk at one of the bars in die Festung a few times when John had gone in for a bite to eat in a more sociable place than his tiny apartment.
Starting to get a bit frantic for any familiar sight, John approached the man, trying to make his big gun less noticeable.
"Hey, you're from die Festung, right? Did... did you just appear here a few moments ago, without any warning? Sort of like how we all got to die Festung's world anyway?" he asked, uncertain but unwilling to let his nerves get the better of him.