The next morning, Colney felt normal at first glance.
Same grey sky.
The usual buzz of staff and players arriving alike.
Same smell of cut grass drifting across the training pitches.
However, there were more suits than usual, and Izan wasnât oblivious to it.
Two men he didnât recognise standing near the reception.
A woman with a lanyard that wasnât Arsenal red and then another figure speaking quietly to one of the club doctors, eyes scanning everything with a kind of polite detachment.
"What is going on here?" he muttered right before an idea of what might have been happening popped into his mind.
Once he stepped into the locker room, William Saliba was leaning back against the wall while conversing with Rice, but Izan got his attention, not that he ever didnât!
"Youâre slipping," Saliba said without preamble.
Izan didnât look up as he dropped his bag.
"Morning to you, too."
"Seventh day in a row," Saliba continued.
"Since what?" Izan interjected."
"Seventh day in a row that youâve been late. That little vacation changed you."
"I am still earlier than Bukayo."
"He doesnât count."
"He does if he plays," Izan smirked faintly, then tilted his head toward the corridor.
"Those people," he asked quietly. "They the ones from UEFA?"
Before Saliba could answer, MartĂn Zubimendi stepped in from behind, pulling off his jacket.
"Thatâs what Heinze said," Zubimendi replied.
"Weâve got some extra eyes and some extra tests, though I doubt most of us will actually be involved in them!"
Izan nodded after Zubimendi finished, while from the other side of the room, where the door was, Bukayo Sakaâs voice cut through.
"Oi," he called out, drawing the attention in the room to himself!
"Iâve seen a lot of them men in black around, and I need you to be honest."
Izan turned halfway.
"You got some super serum or what?"
A few heads lifted, followed by some grins as Saka walked closer.
"Because if you do," he added, lowering his voice dramatically, "now would be the time to share so we can help you!"
Izan looked at him for a long second, then shook his head slowly.
"Even if I had it and gave it to you," he said calmly, "youâd still need me to score."
There was a beat before sniffles of laughter broke out while Saka just blinked.
"Damn," he muttered, hand to his chest. "You didnât have to violate me like that."
"Iâm still developing, you know," Saka continued, trying to recover. "Itâs a process."
"That process has been going on for 7 years," Nwaneri echoed from his locker seat, and that finally got Saka quiet as he also began to change.
A moment later, studs clicked against concrete as they began moving in clusters toward the tunnel, and once they got on the pitch, they saw that the scene was busier than usual.
On one hand, the Arsenal staff stood near the touchline, while on the other, a separate group, less relaxed and more observant, stood beside them.
Arteta waited in the centre, hands clasped behind his back, and when the players gathered around him, the usual pre-session hum faded.
"Today," he began, voice steady, "is just another training session."
"Only difference is... we have more eyes."
A few players chuckled at that, laughing at the reason that had gotten their manager more vocal that morning.
"Some clubs," Arteta continued, the faintest edge in his tone, "didnât enjoy losing to us and so they had to go and do something about it."
That drew fuller laughter as even one or two of the visiting officials allowed themselves a thin smile before Arteta gestured toward them,
"the group by the sideline,"
as he had stated earlier!
"These fine ladies and gentlemen will be joining us. Observing. Testing. Learning how we apparently bend the laws of physics."
"So," he finished, "letâs show them what we do."
"SĂ, mĂster," Saka replied casually.
"Yes, Bukayo, your Spanish is getting better," Arteta judged with a little smirk as the group began to disperse, but Arteta caught Izan with a subtle motion of his hand.
"Un momento."
Izan stepped over, while beside Arteta stood one of the UEFA officials, a man in his forties, composed but careful in how he carried himself.
"Mikel," the official said politely.
Arteta nodded.
"This is Dr Keller," Arteta said to Izan. "Heâll be taking a blood sample. Before the session. And after."
Dr Keller studied him briefly, as if expecting resistance, but he didnât even get a whiff of it!
"Okay," Izan said without complaining before he started looking around!
"Where do you want me?"
The official gestured toward a medical setup arranged discreetly near the sideline.
"Over there will be fine."
At the touchline, the process was efficient.
His long-sleeve training kit got rolled up before a tourniquet tightened around his arm.
Izan watched the vial fill without flinching.
"How is the training intensity today going to be like?" Dr Keller asked casually, as if making small talk!
"Like we always do," Izan replied with a little smile.
"You can stay close if youâre curious."
The corner of the officialâs mouth twitched, unsure whether it was humour as the bandage pressed into place.
"Thatâs it," Dr Keller said. "Weâll repeat after."
Izan nodded once and jogged back toward the group already moving into rondos.
As he stepped into the circle, Saka raised an eyebrow.
"All good, superhero?"
Izan trapped the first pass that came his way and flicked it back without looking.
"All good," he replied as the session began properly after that.
By the time Arteta blew for the final drill, the pitch looked carved up.
On the far side of the touchline, the UEFA officials stood in a loose cluster.
They werenât speaking much anymore.
Clipboards that had been held upright at the start of the session now rested against their hips.
Arteta gathered his staff briefly, offering a few final words before dismissing them, while the players began drifting off, too!
Saka fell into step beside Izan, slinging an arm casually over his shoulders as they walked toward the tunnel.
"You reckon they found it?" Saka asked, glancing sideways toward the officials.
"Found what?"
"The secret lab. The glowing potion. Whatever it is youâre hiding."
Izan followed his gaze and settled where the UEFA personnel were packing up now.
Saka tightened his arm slightly.
"What dâyou think theyâre thinking?"
Izanâs mouth curved, not quite into a smile.
"If theyâre able to think at all," he said evenly, "theyâre probably wondering why they bothered to come!"
Saka snorted, nodding repetitively while behind them, the officials began walking back toward the building, their steps slower than when they had arrived that morning.