Cold, gleaming and shiny - those adjectives described the glass-top tables and polished marble floor surfaces of Ambrean Laboratories Inc. When you were younger, you learned that nothing ever came for free - not even a job while there's that idiotic revolt going on right outside the gates of the Laboratory, smack in the city centre itself. People refused to work because they wanted good pay, better health insurance, all that crap.
But as a thief, you've pretty much come to expect that there was nothing such as good pay or health insurance in your field of work. No - it always depended on whether it was a valuable object, or indeed not at all - how hard or risky it was to get. The riskier the better - if you came back with injuries, the pay was double. It was always the same. And you hated it so much, sometimes you wish you could let go. But you couldn't. You don't believe in the Revolution, but you work for it - because there's a little sister you've got who dying of a terminal disease, and heck if you care how you got the money, you needed to save your sister, you needed to pay for the darned treatment.
She's too young to die, and it's not as if your brother can do anything to save her, he's only an office clerk barely making a living. He's looking to you to get the money, and she's looking to you to save her. How on Earth are you going to get the money? By stealing, of course.
The Laboratory gives you the creeps. Maybe it's all that shine and polish gleaming so awfully brightly. Maybe it's the constant humming and bleeping sound of the machinery. Maybe it's all those strange looking chemicals sitting on top of the glass tables. Whatever it is, you don't want to stay here any longer. The target - a small vial of what looks to be purple liquid - is standing alone in the center of the room, quite unguarded. This is your lucky day, isn't it? No, you don't think so. You haven't had a lucky day since you spent your teens selling home-made food to bypassers, hoping someday someone will take notice of your skills. You wanted to be a chef - but where was your luck then? Nowhere. And you don't think you're going to be lucky today, either.
You deactivate all of the defenses one by one - the laser beams, the cameras, the robots, anything and everything that could be a potential security risk.
The vial is pocketed safely, and you sneakily climb out back the way you came in. Too bad you didn't think of the security risks outside.
One of the guards spots you and brings out a walkie-talkie, speaking to his colleagues. As he brings out his laser, you decide it's time to make your escape. You try to slink away, only to be spotted by another gaggle of officers. Isn't this your lucky day?
You somehow make your escape from the facility - despite a dozen guards chasing you - and safely make it back to the compound. The boss is being a usual grouch, but he lets you have your reward - a boot from the compound.
It is the wrong vial. A different shade, he says. But how the b***** hell are you supposed to know what shade it was? In the end, you don't know whether to protest or to give up. But you can't give up. You can't. Little Erines will die, and how can you endure leaving her to die like that? You can't. You couldn't.
And it wasn't as if your work wasn't rewarded after all. A few days later, an apology letter and some money worth half the price of job is sent to you. But it's not enough for the operation. It's never enough. And while Erines keeps saying that it's alright, she doesn't mind if she dies, you know that she doesn't want to die. And you don't want her to die, either.
Why, why, why does life have to be unfair?
This is supposed to be set in the future, but I guess I didn't describe it too well. My first time writing in second-person, so I hope it's okay enough for that. ^^
