Black Balloon

Chapter III – The Sandman

Heero stepped into the bare apartment to find Duo sprawled out on the couch, eyes glued onto the flashing television screen. His mouth hung wide open and he spooned himself another bite of Death by Fudge ice cream into his mouth.

"Oi," Duo spoke, turning his head around during the commercials, "They always cut off the good parts right at the commercial. Stupid censorship."

"Duo, how can you eat that?" he asked his roommate. He neatly hung up his leather jacket and tucked away his shoes in the closet.

"Eat what?" the braided man asked, wolfing down another large bite.

"Ice cream, in thirty degree weather…"

"Any day is good for ice cream," he grinned. His mouth was stained with the dark goodness.

Heero arched an eyebrow and sat down on the other couch, stretching himself out like a cat in the sun.

"So, you have another job today?" Duo asked.

"Mmhmm," Heero mumbled. "Another man after insurance, what a surprise."

"Bored, eh? Maybe she's into bondage," Duo joked. "I know how you love the kinky stuff."

Heero shot him a glare. "How reassuring," he sighed. Heero had an hour before he had to complete his mission so what better to do than work out? He had to keep his body in perfect shape – that's how the ladies liked it; hard, toned, sturdy. How simple it was to please them. He lazily rolled off the couch and walked into his room, where he changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He had ten sets of pushups, seven of curl-ups, and a few laps around the block if there was time. Heero sprawled himself out on the wooden floor and started his first set of pushups.

"One…two…three…" he grunted.

"Hey Heero," Duo yelled from the couch. "Do you mind if I finish off this ice cream? It's so damn tasty."

"Go right ahead, Duo. Gain twenty pounds for all I care," he muttered while pushing himself up.

"Sweet," he squealed. The sound of guns and explosions rang throughout the apartment, followed by a long chain of toned down swearing soon followed by what seemed to be Russian.

Heero ignored the television, focused on using his one-hour to tone himself up. It was the winter after all – no time to become sluggish. He could already feel the muscles in his arms tightening. The burn was want he wanted. The burn was good.

He stopped at a quarter to eight, leaving himself half an hour to shower and get to the restaurant. The muscles in his arms, legs and back were tense and throbbing after his rigorous excerices. He would care if he could feel the muscles. Heero hopped in the shower, scrubbed quickly and vigorously. He wore a pair of black slacks and a blue button up shirt, rolling up the sleeves and neatly folding the collar. A dab of Old Spice and he was good to go. Heero was a god of sex, a killer: it made no difference to him.

Duo was asleep and disheveled on the couch when Heero headed out. He grabbed a long trench coat from the closet and shook his head at the lump of testosterone. He left the apartment building and stepped into the alleyway where his motorcycle waited for him. A stray cat meowed around the corner and stared at the well groomed man with curious emerald eyes. She seemed to take a liking to him as well. Heero slipped the helmet over his head and sped off into the darkening skies. The streets were lit with tall lamps that were littered about, pigeons and crows resting atop. It was quiet tonight, with only the sound of his roaring motor ringing in his ears.

Heero pulled into the half empty parking lot a quarter before nine, exactly when he should have. He was always punctual – it was the least he could do for his victims. The restaurant seemed to be semi-formal, he gathered, switching the key off and letting the soft purr of the motor die out. He fixed his hair with a few runs of the hand in the rear view mirror and glanced at his watch. Looking through the large glass window in the front, he saw a woman sitting there in a skimpy red dress held up by two thin straps, with ebony hair tied up into a bun. She looked bored, and swooshed around the red wine in her glass. Heero smirked and let himself into the building. He casually sat down across from her and was met with a surprised stare. He smiled a charming smile and she smiled coyly.

Her clothes smelled of cigarette smoke and her breath smelled of alcohol. Soon after they acquainted themselves to one another, Heero felt a hand resting on his thigh. He glanced up at her and saw the lust that ran unbridled through her eyes. She licked her painted lips and ran her hand slowly up toward his groin.

He smirked – this was going to be easier than he thought.

"Oh my god," she cried, clenching onto the bed sheets and crying into the pillow. "Harder… HARDER!"

Heero complied and pushed harder, the beads of sweat rolling down his face, his neck, and his body. Damp clumps of hair stuck to his face as he could feel her tightening up around him. So close, he thought.

He tightened his grip around her waist, steadying her wildly rocking body. Their slick bodies rubbed against each other, the heat intensifying. She cried out at the top of her lungs and released, screaming his name. Heero withdrew from her, unsatisfied from the sex but completely satisfied for the earnings he would receive. It didn't matter if he didn't come; as long as his clients came, they wouldn't give a flying fuck about him. She flipped herself onto her back and breathed deeply, cheeks flushed and giggling madly.

"That… was… incredible," she slurred in between breaths. "Where did you learn that?"

Heero didn't answer, he merely smiled slyly. The clock on the nightstand red 3:36 P.M – the job had taken him longer than expected. First, they had talked for a few of hours at the restaurant before she invited him back with her to her penthouse suite on 3rd. Apparently, he had misread the signals: the woman, surprisingly, had wanted to get to know the complete stranger a little before banging him. There, he expected it to end quickly and easily. But instead, she started to weep, sobbing of how her life was nothing but luxury and wealth. She wanted love, purpose, everything she didn't have. For hours, she cried, her mascara running down the sides of her cheeks and lipstick all over her teeth. Growing impatient, he offered her another drink and little by little, she had become a drunken, raging nymphomaniac.

Damn her high tolerance and her incredible stamina. It was already late morning by the time she began to tire out from the sex.

Heero stood up and dressed himself, his muscles sorer than they had been after his workout. He adjusted the sleeves and collar meticulously.

"I want more," she said bluntly, lighting up a cigarette. "You're one helluva good fuck."

God, what a sick nympho, he thought to himself.

He pulled the trench coat up around him and reached inside the front pocket. "Sorry," he said coldly, "I'm tired."

She pouted and whined. "But I'm not done yet!"

"Well, I am"

Bang.

Heero left 3rd Avenue and found a telephone booth. He stepped inside the booth and deposited a couple of quarters into the slot. He punched in the numbers on a crumbled slip of paper and waited for a voice on the other end.

"Hello?" a voice asked cautiously.

"It's me," Heero spoke simply. "Where's the other half promised?"

"Good, good," the man laughed. "Don't worry. It's getting wired to you in as soon in a couple of hours."

"Good. It's been a pleasure doing business."

"The pleasure is mine," the man snorted before hanging up.

Heero hung up and walked back outside into the chilly afternoon and back towards the restaurant. His motorcycle waited for him patiently in front of the restaurant, unscathed and shining even on a cloudy day. Heero stepped on the gas and rode back to home, a little groggy from the lack of sleep the night before. The endless tracks of paved road almost lulled him to sleep, but thankfully, the cold wind struck in his face. He walked up the stairs and unlocked the door, stepping in and finding it dead quiet.

Odd, he speculated, even Duo would be awake at this time. Heero walked into the kitchen and saw a small note with messy handwriting and a smiley face on the tabletop.

Went food shopping.

- Duo

Oh god – he's going to buy nothing but crap again, Heero thought. He threw his keys down on the table and stumbled into his bedroom. The red numbers glared a little after 4:15. He stripped off everything except his undershirt and boxer and set his alarm clock for six and then threw himself under the heavy covers of his bed. He sighed contently, soon drifting off to sleep.

And to be woken up in what seemed to be minutes by the alarm clock.

He let out an exasperated groan and slammed down on the beeping contraption. His lids protested, acting as heavy weights obeying the law of gravity. Heero stumbled into the bathroom and found himself in the shower once again, this time on icy cold water. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he shivered and begun to wake up. His muscles twitched in protest and the aching pain numbed once again. He dried himself, the seemingly icy apartment much warmer than the arctic waters, and tied the damp towel around his waist. He stood in front of his closet, deciding upon an old pair of jeans and a shirt under an old grunge t-shirt he had found at a vintage store. He tightened the belt around his slim waist and rubbed his eyes. The shower was already beginning to wear off.

Duo had a job that night too, it seemed, as Heero found him in his room trying to find the perfect attire. He stood in front of his full length mirror and went through outfit after outfit. Heero grabbed his keys off the table and announced his departure to Duo, who was more intent on finding the color that would best bring out his eyes.

The library was substantial and old, made of multicolored bricks and rusting copper plates. He jogged up the steps, his keys jingling in his jacket and his cell phone tucked comfortably in the back of his tight jeans. A shot of musty air greeted him as he pulled open the glass doors, stepping inside into the heated building. He strolled up towards the second floor, a silent area where many other college students sat in cubicles and at tables, cramming for their exams in twelve hours. Heero spotted the blonde reading avidly at a table in the corner, with a large stack of thick literature next to her. Other people were slumped over their books, droll on the verge of dripping onto the crumpled pages but she sat straight up, composed and very interested. He twisted around the small maze of tables and chairs and sat himself down quietly.

"Hey," he greeted, looking at her studious face.

"Oh, hi," she whispered, looking up. "I didn't even see you come in."

"You were reading," Heero spoke, pointing at her book. "Good book?"

"Very," she responded. "Ready?"

"Yes," he nodded.

Relena cocked her head a little and gave Heero an odd look. "Um…" she began, "Where are your books?"

Shit. Shitshitshit. He knew he had forgotten something. He didn't even have a bloody textbook. "Ahh.. I forgot them at home," he lied quickly, flustered on the inside. Note to self: get a textbook, he mentally noted.

"That's okay," she laughed nervously, "You can share with me." She patted the empty spot next to her and he obediently got up again and sat down next to her in the uncomfortable wooden chairs. Relena had already gotten the wrong first impression, he observed. It wasn't something he wanted. She opened up a red textbook to where the post-it held her page.

"Okay, section five," Relena began, skimming down the page and thinking for a moment. Heero found himself watching her green eyes shift up, and then down. "Well basically, this section is explaining the incident seven years ago; the assassination of the Prime Minister in…"

The words are flowed together and sounded the same to him. His eyes became heavy and he could feel his muscles giving in. No amount of pushups could save him from the inescapable grasps of sleep…

No! Heero shook his head gently and focused on the lines of text and the sound of her voice.

"So it was really quite interesting, the conspiracy that is. Supposedly a terrorist group…"

Her voice. So soft, soothing.

Perfect for singing lullabies.

Perfect, he thought.

He remembered nothing after that thought.

"Hey, hey you," an echo rang through his head.

Heero groaned and felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. His back then arched straight up as he realized that he had just screwed up. He sunk down into his chair and saw that the janitor had found him asleep on the second floor.

"Are you okay?"

Heero nodded and swore under his breath, rubbing his now aching temples. He noticed that he had small pea coat around his other jacket. Hers, no doubt. The red textbook was still there, with a note jutting out from the middle of the book. "What time is it," he demanded to know groggily.

"A quarter after twelve," the janitor told him. "Look, if you need a paramedic…"

"No," he said quickly, "I'm fine." He opened the book and quickly skimmed over the note, his lips curling into a small frown.

Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Call me if you need help. Hopefully, you'll be awake to receive it.

- Relena

He stood up and mentally slapped himself. Heero tucked both coat and book under his left arm and thanked the janitor, who probably thought that he had a bit too much to drink or something along those lines. Thankfully, Relena had left a phone number, which would save him the trouble of stalking her again. He stared at the slip in his hand while he jogged down the front steps, hit with a cold chill from the midnight sky. It was silent on campus, the lights the only comfort in the empty acres. His breath puffed out in misty white clouds, and his fingers had begun to numb and turned a bright pink.

Hmm, he thought, I wonder what her favorite color is.

"I'm really sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay," she responded, "Really."

Heero had waited until the early morning crowd had dispersed and sat himself down at the bar in the café. She was surprised to see him, a little embarrassed even. He could sense that she was a little annoyed. "It's not okay," he remarked.

She shook her head, "I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. You probably had a long day and I know I can be pretty boring sometimes…"

He chuckled lightly, superficially, and took a sip out of his brew. "Please, let me make it up to you."

She subtly gave a sly look, holding onto two dishes with large muffins on them. "Alright," she smiled. "How about dinner?"

He smiled; dinner was good. Dinner always led to sex. "Where to?""

"The diner off of Route 72. I'm dying for one of their burgers."

"Alright," he smiled, flashing one of his sexiest grins at her.

"Excellent," she purred like a cat. "Let's say eight on Friday night?"

Two days, he thought. "Great."

"After that, we can head to the party at Beta Epsilon," she told him before she walked around the bar towards a young couple sitting at a booth.

Not good. Bad idea, Heero frowned. Frat parties always had horny boys, something he didn't need. But frat parties also meant alcohol – that was indeed a plus. He weighed out the pros and cons before he realized that it wasn't his choice to make.

She served their orders and gracefully walked back, wiping her hands on her apron. Relena then shot a weird look at Heero. "By the way… why did you fall asleep? Was I really that horrible?"

He rested his chin on the back of his hand. "No," he said. "I had work."

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