In the dome, he had been an attractive man. His hair a soft sandy brown, his skin a shade of white that only came around from living primarily in offices lit by electricity, and dinner parties in which candle light and fine wine are the standard. His eyes were a gentle green, his features male but in only enough that his gender and masculinity was assured, but soft enough so that it did not define his features. Clean, respectful, and content with his position as one of the beta class leaders of the city. Not too much responsibility, but enough to keep him busy. A marriage to the daughter of two Alpha class leaders was due to qualify him to the far removed high rises of the cities upper class pent houses. Dear Elizabeth, sweet sweet Elizabeth. What would she think of him now? Branded, cast out as a criminal. He hoped she didn't believe it, he hoped she would question. But... she was a good citizen, loyal, dedicated, she would no more think him innocent than she would shatter the dome's walls.<br/><br/>Stupid stupid stupid. How the hell could he have been so dumb. He knew the risks of the outside world, knew the dangers, the disease, the, the Filth! The slightest cut, the slightest wisp of outside air, any way to get into you, a dozen virus's that could kill you in minutes, and a hundred more that would kill you much slower, making you beg for death. And not just the viral enemies, savages in the outside wastes. Monsters, mutations, brutal criminals masking themselves as refugees. So many warnings, so much knowledge. Survival plans, educational films. All of that training, all of those little tips, and he trips on a pile of loose concrete and wreaks his knee.<br/><br/>He sat, back to the curved wall of the ancient sewer access route, praying that any second, he would hear the shouts of his people, muffled of course by their filter hoods. See the glare of a flashlight around the corner. He could already imagine it, they would tell him that there had been a mistake, they had the wrong man. They DID have the wrong man, they had to. Those crimes, no, no, the only blood on his hands was his own. Seeping quietly between his fingers, his hands pressed hard against the tear in his knee, trying in vain to hold the blood in, and the virus's, which he was sure coated every surface in sight, out.<br/><br/>"Dear god, why won't it stop," Of course, the tear was the least of his worries, it was what lay beneath. He had not tried to move the joint since he had hit it, but the fresh memory of the shooting, searing white hot pain made him content to never try moving it again. Less than two hours out of the dome, and he was sure that he was not going to last the next fifteen minutes. He was not sure how much blood the human body could loose, but his education in the dome has been the best, or at least, thats what they said in the dome. Whatever the truth was, he was sure that with the next drop, the next oozing lurch of crimson life force would run the well dry, that soon he would be reduced to nothing but a husk of a man, a pale pile of ash to add to the debris of ruined earth.<br/><br/>