[ Billy doesn't have much time to assess anything before the fog creeps up on him. Though if he's being honest with himself, he's not really at his best right now, mentally or physically. He's pulled himself through some shit in Iraq and Afghanistan - no matter how bad it got, he knew how to keep his head clear and his eyes alert - but not like this. Not when he's not sure how he's even still whole, or alive, and he feels the screaming pain in his face and his body.

All he wants is to find a place to take shelter, to take stock of his injuries (of which there are more than he cares to count), and maybe even take a damn shower. He feels like he just stepped off the set of a Tarantino movie. But then the fog rolls in, and Billy doesn't even try to censor himself as he lets out a string of curses

Even squinting through the fog hurts. Billy thinks he saw a house or something directly in front of him. He walks, expecting to run into it, but it never happens. He should've run into something by now, right? And if he keeps walking, will he ever find something to make him stop? He wishes he had something on him. A gun or a knife would make him feel a hell of a lot better. This is the perfect set up for an ambush. He knows that because he'd do it, too, and the moment Billy sees a figure walking through the fog then he's sure he's right.

But the figure keeps walking. Billy cautiously follows, until he sees another, and another, and he's sure he's being set up. ]

Come on, you son of a bitch. [ He holds out his arms to the phantom figure lurking in the fog. ] Don't be a fuckin' coward.

[ Billy's broken into a house. It's empty, of course, which is for the best because it might not have ended well for the residents of it if they were there. With the door locked behind him and the house cased, he lets himself rest, passing out on the couch for how long he doesn't know. It's a nightmare that finally makes him jolt awake.

He hisses as the pain from his wounds comes screaming back to him. He thinks he needs a doctor. He thinks he needs a shower and to change out of these clothes, which are crusty with dried blood. The shower is brutal. Billy isn't kind to himself, blasting it as hot as the water will go. He holds himself up against the wall and watches until the water stops running red. On his way out of the bathroom, he spares himself a quick glance in the mirror and he grimaces. Somehow it's not as bad as he thought. Where there should be open, gaping wounds, and a face shredded by glass, his face is peppered with healing scars. He almost wishes it was as bad as it should be. He'd prefer to look like ground beef than have a constant reminder of what he's supposed to look like.

There's some clothes he finds that aren't a bad fit for him. A pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt and a flannel. He laces up the boots he arrived with and grabs a letter opener off a table near the door, slips it into his boot, and heads out.

Maybe you run into him as he's leaving the house. Otherwise, he finds himself gravitating to the library and the bookstore. When shit seems like it's hitting the fan, sometimes all you need is a good book to read to try and calm you down. And Billy really feels like he needs some calm. ]

[ Can't go wrong with town halls. By now, Billy's learned that wherever the hell he is, it isn't New York. That's not a bad thing, when he stops to think about it, but that doesn't mean he feels safe, either. The sort of people he's pissed off have resources to hunt him down. He knows how they'd do it because he'd do the same. But a town hall might at least have some answers, or be the place where Billy can connect with the other residents.

He's seen them around. His own paranoia makes him avoid them when he can, eyes constantly moving to make sure he's aware of his surroundings at all times. He wants to limit conversations until he gets a better feel for what's going on.

At the bulletin board, Billy's relieved to see he doesn't recognize any of the names. The more he glances at it, the more he comes to think that someone like him might be able to make a good impression on the town. He's a useful guy. He's a survivalist, and, reading these notes, it looks like that's what everyone's trying to do. Survive and get by. Billy can help with that, provided people are willing to look past his looks now.

That's when he sees it between the notices. Maybe it says too much about Billy, the way his brain automatically assumes that anything in red must be blood. He leans into look better, to see if his suspicions are right, but as soon as he actually gets a glimpse of the eye, he steps back. Billy doesn't like feeling perceived. His paranoia spikes as he looks around. Just because he can't see someone doesn't mean they're not there. ]

Choose your own adventure. Any locations across town are up for run-ins, or if any of these prompts don't float your boat and you wanna do your own thing, that's cool, too.