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((Wayne Cox continued from Morphogenetic Fear))

He had thought he had heard Darius's voice at one point, carrying over the sound of wind and waves, as he began to pass the building that had a helicopter dangling off of it. But perhaps it was just his imagination.

Wayne walked, because when he put one foot after the other, he didn't have to think. That was what he had always done - not think. He hadn't thought about tests he had to study for. He hadn't thought about homework he'd put off. He just fired up a video game and lost himself in it until it was too late. Then he filed his failures away. Pretended not to care.

There were no video games here. He'd settled for walking.

It wasn't good enough. The thoughts still came, now that the panic had retreated to the edges of his mind. He'd mugged someone - or would have, if she'd been closer to her bag and able to defend it. The distance between his intentions and his actual actions didn't matter. He would have mugged her. With knife, if necessary. Just because he had happened to only steal her rations didn't lessen his intended crime.

There were no excuses, really.

So when he walked much too close to a group of people that he could have rightly avoided if he hadn't been wrapped up in himself - he thought he probably deserved it.

He couldn't very well pass by unseen. So he moved closer, his hands held up halfheartedly, as if to show he meant no harm. Asha. Alex. Some junior. They could kill him. Easily.

Perhaps he deserved that, too.
The Present

The Past
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