Surviving on Your Own
Take Off
I've replayed what happened at Relena's over the past month. It took two days to wash Dorothy's lipstick off my penis. I felt filthy for a week. And now things have only gotten worse.
When I came into my office this morning something just felt off. Everyone seemed to be avoiding eye contact with me, or they would give me a wide berth as I strolled through the halls. About thirty minutes into my usual work day I was called into a board meeting.
It all kind of happened really slow, and really fast at the same time. I felt like I was watching everything happen around me through a fog. The board members told me they had watched how I spent some of the company's money. They knew I started gambling shortly after I took up the position of CEO. Apparently, I have lost a total of ten million dollars. Out of an almost five hundred billion dollar company, that's not so much, but they "don't want to see me escalate". They unanimously voted me out of my position, basically firing me. Since it is my father's company, they decided to give me a one hundred million dollar severance deal.
That's not so bad really. I feel like I should be freaking out, maybe I'm just numb. Two security personal have shown up to escort me out of the building, that's really unnecessary. Half way through the lobby I can see reporters, cameras, and microphones outside. This is when the panic sets in. Someone's already leaked my fuck up to the media, and now I have to face this alone.
The two men escort me as far as the door. Pushing it open, I'm instantly assaulted by flashes of light and questions.
"Mister Winner, do you have a gambling problem?" Obviously.
"Mister Winner, did WEI give you any kind of severance?" Yes.
"Mister Winner, what are you going to do now?" I don't know.
"Mister Winner, who's going to be taking your place? Is it one of your sisters?" I don't fucking know.
Stop calling me "Mister Winner"! I'm not my father. Just let me through to my fucking limo so I can leave!
"Mister Winner, how do you think your father, Zayeed Winner, would feel about your struggles with gambling?" I stare at the male reporter who just asked that question. Honestly, I don't even want to think about it. I've failed him in every way possible.
I don't answer a single question. Forcing my way through the crowd, I get to my limo and climb inside. My driver, Hank, gives me a pitiful look. *Are you ashamed?* Yes, of course.
I gaze out the window for a while, and I suddenly notice were halfway to my estate. "Hank," I call, "take me to the spaceport, to my private terminal please."
Hank eyes me from the rear view mirror. "Where are you going?" He asks.
"I don't know yet. Just take me there," I order. He nods and continues driving.
As we approach the terminal, I instruct Hank to drive up to my private craft. I climb out of the limo and into my Shuttle. Space suit on, everything checked and ready to go, command center gives me the okay to take off. The doors of the terminal open up, allowing me sight of the vast void that is space. Engines checked, thrusters on. I'm leaving this colony, but I don't know where I'm going yet. *You can't just run away* Watch me. I take off.