NOTORIOUS // TFP Arcee X Reader

Back in the real world

CHAPTER ONE
2ND POV
6 / 19 / 19
/ / /
   "Just because you have stolen someone's heart, luckily owned and occupied as a home, doesn't give you the audacity to enforce hurtful policies."
      – Michael Bassey Johnson
/ / /

   Thievery, petty thievery, criminal trespassing, breaking and entering. Assaulting police officers, more robbery, pickpocketing, black market activity.

   Crime had kind of been your thing. After your family kicked you out for being too much trouble, it's what you'd turned to make a living. Taking people's things and selling them, straight up taking their wallets.

   Briefly, during your growing up, you'd considered joining a gang. You'd decided against it. Too violent. You weren't violent, despite that assaulting officers charge. You'd been defending yourself, you swear!

   Finally, after three years in prison, you were going to get to live a normal life again. Or at least, about as normal as it got for you. You were going to put your past behind you now. Well, not all of it, but some of it.

   You hadn't even gone to prison for all the robberies you'd done. It'd been the first time you'd been caught in your adult years. You'd gone to juvenile plenty when you were just starting out, still trying to slip items out of pockets without being noticed. Heck, you'd taught yourself how to pick locks and get out of restraints.

You were an escape artist. A criminal. Ex-criminal.

You regretted your upbringing, getting caught. You didn't regret learning all those skills though.

You sighed and shook your head, as if that would get your thoughts out of their messy jumble. You stared down into the plastic cup of my iced latte. You adjusted yourself in your chair at the local Starbucks, in a small city in Nevada, a state away from your prison. You looked up at your laptop screen where you'd been scouring for job applications. You shut it, places it in its bag, and walked out he door.

You'd managed to find a tiny but cheap apartment to stay at. It wasn't in a good part of town, unfortunately, but you could deal with that. Nobody had ever managed to steal from you in your career.

The laptop wasn't stolen. You'd purchased it yourself with money from your account, partially filled with money that'd been stolen. You'd done the same with the apartment.

You reached the apartment.

"There was a guy lookin' for ya earlier, Y/N," the old, pale woman at the desk said. Her accent was that of a New Yorker.

"Is he still 'ere?" You looked at her, pausing at the stairs beside the desk. Your hand gripped the laptop bag straps sling over your shoulder.

"Nah. I said you weren' 'ere so he said he'd come back later."

"He leave a name?" He couldn't be a family member. Or a friend. You didn't have any anymore.

   "Yeah. Forgot it." Wow, isn't that helpful.

   "What'd he look like?"

   "Middle-age, light hair." Still, not quite helpful. You sighed, "Thanks anyways, Ms. Kiefer."

   "The kid's in your room, by the way," the woman added, beginning to dig through her purse. You continued up the stairs.