Who: Bill Compton, Betsy Braddock When: Wednesday night, just after dark Where: Central Park What: Bill emerges from the ground Rating/status: Incomplete
The last few slats of sunlight had finally disappeared, and one by one, the streetlights of the city buzzed to life. The wealthier citizens of the city briskly headed home, stuffing hands into coats that were much too warm for the season, and the drunks and vagrants emerged from their various holes in the wall. It was a night like any other in New York City.
A few fingers poked gingerly from the soft ground of Central Park, in a secluded thicket of trees. They stayed still for a few moments, waiting. Suddenly, a dirt-covered hand, then an arm, and an entire man's torso emerged, clumps of earth and grass rolling away. Naked and vulnerable (well, as vulnerable as anyone would see this man), he stood, sensing the area for anyone who may see him.
He was fairly confident he was alone (though he had to admit, it had been a while since he had eaten and his senses were duller than usual). He dressed, brushing off what dirt he could. It would have to be another hotel. He sighed, resigned. He needed to find a basement to sleep in for a few nights - just for a few nights. With a clearing of his throat and a final hand run through his hair, he stepped onto the sidewalk and into the night.