Surviving on Your Own
Kleptomania
With everything done, I'm literally twiddling my thumbs in my lap as I slouch at my desk. I don't think I've ever slouched before. It feels weird. How did Duo sit like this all the time?
A knock on my open office door, it's Randal, one of my "teammates".
"Hey, Heero?" He asks.
"Yes?"
"Uh, could you.." He pauses and stares at me. "Nevermind." And he shuffles away.
What, is there a "don't ask me for help" sign on my forehead. Maybe I'm glaring without realizing it. Probably that. I rub my hands across my face, massaging my brow and forehead. I need to stop being so unconsciously intimidating, or else no one will ever speak to me again. Maybe that's not such a bad thing. I wish I had something to do. Someone who needed something from me. Maybe Relena will get kidnapped again, and I can come out of "retirement". But that's unlikely. This peaceful world doesn't need weapons like me anymore. No need for broken soldiers.
Well no ones coming here, so I might as well explore a little. I've worked here for months and have only been to my office, the gym, and Commander Reyes' office, he's our L1 HQ commander. Une likes to keep tabs on me via him. I've got access to everywhere in this place, so I'm going to check shit out.
After meandering through HQ's weapons depot - yes that was my first stop, big shocker, I know - I walked through the cafeteria. People who recognized me and know me were stunned to see me there since I always bring my lunch and eat in my office. I left quickly.
Hmm, three forty-five now, where else to go. There's the evidence room in the basement, and then there are floors, on top of floors of offices. I am not going to walk aimlessly through other people's work space.
So I make my way down to the basement via elevator. Get out, walk past the guard while flashing my I.D. badge, it shows the highest clearance level there is guard doesn't say anything, and neither do I.
This place is huge. I roam through the aisle until I come up to a very large industrial furnace. This is the thing we use to burn drugs that are left over after a criminal case has gone through the courts. There's crates and barrels of shit. I don't even know what some of this stuff is. Contrary to popular belief, my training only ever involved increasing my physical strengths, and being immunized by any and all truth serums. Herb looking things, pills, and powders are stacked him front of me. Looks like they're planning on burning soon, like now. I can hear footsteps coming.
And then I do something stupid. I grab a baggie full of something that's closest to me, shove it in my jacket pocket, high tale it and leave. What the fuck am I doing? My mind is racing. It's like I just watched someone else grab that bag of, whatever it is, because I sure as hell wouldn't! I don't do drugs! Maybe I'm turning into a kleptomaniac. I hear people do that when they're bored and think they can get away with it. Which I am. Great, so I'm a thief. I think my emotions, bored, lonely, whatever they are, are finally getting the better of me.
This thing in my pocket is burning a hole, and my heart is pounding harder than when I workout, and my palms are sweaty. Adrenaline, I've missed you. I don't dare remove the bag from my pocket until I'm safe in my office. There are cameras everywhere and I have no idea what I snatched. Again, I scream at myself mentally, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!
Finally at my desk, door closed, I pulled out my stolen item. It's a baggie full of, what looks to be, smaller baggies inside full of white powder. Shit, I think I stole cocaine. Turning the bag over there's a label. Heroin.