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"I've seen enough, I'm not giving up, on a miracle drug..." hummed Wisdom out loud as he walked down the quiet halls of the sub-basement towards the medical lab. "Get me a ear-ring, stubble, and a narcisisstic charity fetish, I could do a great Bono impression." It was far too early in the morning to be feeling as bad as he did. And why the hell are all the medicine cabinets upstairs lacking sodding medicine? I could bandage myself up enough to turn into a bloody mummy, but can I find some ibuprofen? Can I bollocks.
His lack of sleep, the headache from concentration on the inter-state drives he'd had to make, the headache from the booze he'd had the night before, and the still-aching throb of his shoulder where he'd been struck in Africa combined to make him, if it were possible, even more misanthropic than usual. His sunglasses barely helped against the minor glare of the underground facility's overhead lights.
At last, he reached the door and pushed it open, not expecting anyone else to be there at this time. After all, it's Saturday. Little tykes upstairs haven't had enough free time to break anything or each other yet.
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