You should walk up there and open the locker like you're supposed to be here. After all, no one would be here unless they were supposed to be here, right? The guard won't even notice you if you simply pretend that you belong her.

Something stops you from immediately walking up to the locker. The guard is acting really weird and not in a 'this is simply how people are in this facility' weird. You've seen this type of weird before. Junkies.

His shakes and the fact he's muttering nonsense under his breath is enough to tell you that. You've walked past a dozen people like him before and now, they're giving people like him shotguns? Hilarious, really!

You might as well listen to what he's saying. You're not fully sure why but you think it might worth something.

"Hurts. It hurts. Can't stand it." The security guard hisses under his breath. "Can't stand that thing. But I need it, I need it so bad. So bad, man, it's worse than bad." His hands tighten around his gun. He bites down hard on his lip, immediately drawing blood from it.

"Need it coursin' through me. That candy green joy. Labcoat won't supply none, no no." You're starting to worry that if he tightens his grip any more, he's going to break his own shotgun. "Anomaly won't PRODUCE the raw stuff. Need more. Need more."

"GOTTA get it. He's selling it to others, I got to have it. He sells to the other guards. WHY NOT ME? WHY NOT ME????" Tears begin to build up in the guard's eyes. "Ashton, oh, she thinks she's SOOO perfect. Won't take what we take."

"FUCKING LIAR!" The guard slams his foot against the ground. "I know she takes shit like the rest of us. She won't admit it. Smell it in her VEINS, in her FLESH." Drool leaks out of the corner of his mouth. "I'd show them what's inside her."

"RIP her OPEN." He whispers with an almost religious reverence in his words. "TASTE her BLOODWATER..."

All of the nervous energy inside his system suddenly vanishes like a wind up toy running out of juice.

He focuses his attention back towards polishing his shotgun.

You can't help but to be disappointed and a little disgusted at what he said.
>-MENTAL HEALTH

You suppose it was inevitable you'd hear about some morally bankrupt researcher peddling junk to people. Ashton, though, she doesn't seem like the type to inject her stuff with that kind of junk.

Would she? The only weird thing about her is her oxytocin levels but it's not, say, anywhere near as bad as this guy.

You take a moment to calm yourself down. A mask of impassivity slips comfortably over your face as you step out of hiding. You casually stroll up to the contraband locker without any fear and hesitation in your movements. You belong here, after all.

There's no lock on the locker so you can easily open it up. Your best guess is that the junkie over there is tasked with guarding it.

"Day hasn't even started and it's been a long one, huh?" You rattle off some small talk, mostly out of instinct.