He awoke, and found that a thin layer of dew had formed on him as he slept. He sat up,
and listened to the chirping of the birds who made their home in Anderson Park. The sky
was blue, the air was brisk in the early spring, and the sun was making its way up in the
eastern sky. Lancaster Tate rested against the back of the green park bench, knowing that
today was going to be an excellent day to be alive. He lit a cigarette, stood up, and
continued on his journey to save the world.
( FIN. )