Mykel had already begun gathering his things for the night, his knife, a field journal, some tools for a fire if need be. It was good that Sunset was willing to stay. Hopefully she'd be there when he got back. He trusted she would. "Suit yourself with the generator. Though I suppose you can keep warm with your glow if you need to. There's a chest by the operating table in the back with some food and water - mostly old military MREs, but a little bit of real meat. I'll see you tomorrow, then."<br/>With that, Mykel unbarred the door, and stepped out into the night. He walked back around the clinic, flipping a switch on the generator that powered it off, and he locked both the pull-cord and the gas cap. Making his way by moonlight, Mykel was able to find his secret spot after about a half an hour. Buried under a foot or two of fake rubble was a pretty new-looking hatch, which he opened and climbed into. Inside was a small room, the size of what would have been a college student's apartment. On a mannequin in the center was what Mykel felt to be his true identity. The real visage of The Good Doctor. First came the dark slacks, comfortable and quiet. Next was the sleeveless shirt, offering mobility and moderate heat. Boots, that allowed him to run, jump, and climb with impunity, and a long coat, under which he hid needles and bottles, and his knife, still smeared with arsenic. Last to be donned was his helmet, a remnant he found from decades ago, and the great beaked mask that gave his persona its personality. The gold-decorated mask's beak was atleast a foot long, curving downward to end at about chest-level. With the click of a switch, the goggles built in spring to life, and everything could be seen in bright shades of green, and a thick miasma began spilling from the end of the beak. This, truly was Mykel, The Good Doctor.