Murder Spree
It's only been one week since Heero's left and I can feel my life spiraling out of control.
Mihael got his deal and his half of the drugs to disperse, but he's been hounding me for the past few hours for being friends with the "junkie who overdosed". I laid into him, and he backed off a little but that was the only the beginning of my troubles.
The deep sadness I feel is all thanks to Heero's brief emergence in my life again. To numb the pain, I drink whiskey, smoke cigarettes, and cruise for sex on my laptop. Don't worry too much with people coming over here now that there's nothing worth stealing except for a beaten couch, a stained coffee table, and a closet full of my dirty clothes. My search for partners has been limited to the same gender variety, mostly Asian guys. None of them can hold a candle to Heero's beauty, but that's to be expected. He's a mix of Western and Eastern features that meshed unbelievably well to create a striking person. So yeah, while Mihael is not loitering around my apartment, I invite any guy over and fuck them to my hearts desire. Don't let them fuck me, I'm not in the mood to bend over and grab my ankles for anyone right now.
Shit started to get worse this morning when I, in a drunken stupor, started to watch the news on my laptop while my most recent conquest got dressed. The days news revealed that there was a cop killer on the loose and that the police force was up in arms for losing another one of their brothers in blue on the bad side of the L2 cluster. Witnesses – fuck that means more than one – claim they saw either a robust woman attack the slain officer, or an androgynous man. Well, looks like my unorthodox appearance is benefitting me, haha. And how reliable can these "witnesses" be? Anyways, it's a bunch of bullshit that I don't need to stick around for. On the off chance they get me in their sights, I should be long gone. Get lost and find some other place to live. Fucking hate L2 anyways. Shoulda never come back in the first place.
Mihael has already made a decent dent into his supply by selling it off to every addict he can find, which isn't hard to do around here. No short supply of drug fiends in the slums of the poorest colony. But to sell the rest of his stash, Mihael wants to travel to Mars and disperse it around New Vegas to people who won't remember him or know where he's from. It's a good plan and couldn't have come at a better time. We both need to get out of here.
Unfortunately, I don't have a ship and neither does he, but I've still got my connections with Howard and the Sweepers. Fucking awesome bunch of dudes who just so happen to be loading up tomorrow at port on the other side of this floating hunk of space shit. So today I'll spend sticking my cock in some guy's ass – with a condom, I've learned that fucking lesson the hard way – and down at the bottom of bottle until it's time to go.
Sneaking past security at the airport is a breeze, almost pathetically easy. Would be even easier if freakin' Mihael wasn't freaking out every two seconds. I told him to follow my damn lead and he just can't get a grip on his bony ass. Anyways, we get to the right hanger at a painstakingly slow pace, and the second I see that old motherfucker: "Howy! Baby, how are ya?!"
"Well, well, if it isn't Trouble on two legs. Whatcha doing here, Duo?" he beams at me, wipes his hands on a dirty, grease covered cloth and gives me a warm welcoming hug.
"Aww Howard, I've missed you!"
"Missed you too, kiddo. How's the post war life?"
Shrugging, I lie, "It's good, it's good."
"That's great! Real good to hear. I worry about you mister former God of Death. So tell me, why are you sneaking around my hanger? Lookin' for a free lift somewhere?"
"Actually, yeah. I hear you're going to L4 and me and my buddy here," I slap Mihael on the shoulder, "are trying to get to Mars."
"You're in luck. After we land on L4 we're splitting into two groups. First one's going to a resource satellite and the second to Mars. You'll be slumming it with me and my gang."
"Fuckin' righteous! You're the best Howard!"
My ole wartime friend graciously gives Mihael and I a room to share on his craft, and now that we're on board all we have to do is make sure they don't find out about why we're going to Mars. Not such a hard thing to do seeing as how I've become so fuckin' fantastic at lying. Over the few days journey, I get to reconnect with the crazy old man in all his colorful Hawaiian shirt glory. I tell him that we're going to New Vegas for shits and giggles, relax and unwind, to gamble and party for the fuck of it.
I have yet to tell Mihael that I don't plan on returning to L2, and after he's sold his drug stash he can take a commercial flight back to that hellhole. Where will I go, you ask? Fuck if I know. Maybe Earth. Some place warm and tropical, or a different colony. I haven't made up my mind obviously.
Three days later and we disembark on the giant red planet. Saying farewell to Howard is never easy. In some lofty way he's been a father figure for me, well, since Father Maxwell passed away.
"Keep in touch, kid," he says as he pats me on the back.
"Course Howie, of course!" I boast. Not sure if that's a lie, only time will tell.
With my war funds I get us a swanky room at some ritzy hotel, might as well live large for the time being, yeah? Swanky ain't even the right word for this room, I opted us out for the fucking Presidential suite bitch! We each get our own beds and I take the master room of course, it's got the biggest fucking bed I have ever freakin' seen.
Mihael goes to peddle his shit on the masses and I raid the mini fridge for all its booze. I think I'll start with champagne! Haven't had the shit in so long! Popping off the cork top, I drink straight from the bottle and wander into the bathroom. Holy shit! There's a Jacuzzi tub! Oh my god I'm so going to use that thing at some point! I find my reflection in the large mirror and cringe. It's still hard to look at myself with shorter hair. Just because it reaches halfway down my torso doesn't mean I like it.
After killing the champagne, I go downstairs to the casino to try my hand at some gambling and possibly find some tail. Hey, its not like I have anything better to do and I'm sure a shit not going to help Mihael distribute his supply since he bailed on me the other night when Heero overdosed. Apparently, gorgeous busty waitresses hand out complimentary drinks to those who play the games downstairs, so that's a huge plus in my book. Since they're free I try a variety of different fruity drinks – the likes of which I would never order at a bar on L2 – cosmopolitan, lemon drop, audios motherfucker, kamikaze. That last one is my favorite so far. Sucking the last of the green liquid through a red straw, I glance over to the poker tables and spy a familiar face.
Quatre?
Oh, he's buzzed his hair completely off and is wearing fake contact lenses, but I know that fuckin' baby face anywhere. Looks like the billionaire heir has made his way to this crime ridden area of space to lose more of his daddy's money. I order another kamikaze from a passing waitress and keep myself seated at the light bulb flashing slot machines. When he finally leaves the table, I follow him out of the casino and into the streets.
To say that I'm surprised to follow him to the red-light district is the fuckin' understatement of the goddamn year! Little Goodie-Two-Shoes is looking for some ass! How motherfuckin' hilarious, right?
Sneaking up behind him, I whisper in his ear, "You know, if the wrong person found out you were trollin' for a hooker that could lead to some god awful press, Mister Winner."
He tenses up completely like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, ha! He turns his head slowly to look at me and his fake green eyes get even bigger. "Duo!" he gasps. "What are you doing here?"
"I think the better question is what are you doin' here? Paying for sex, Curly-Q? Tsk, tsk," I laugh.
He blushes and denies, "I-I-I wasn't d-doing anything of that sor-"
"Don't even try to lie to me buddy." I look around at the hookers, to the left are the boys and to the right are the girls. "So, which are we going for tonight? La ladies or da men?"
"Girl of course!" he squeals, his entire face ignites into a fiery flush.
"Geez, man don't get your panties in a bunch, I was just asking," I placate with my hands raised in a surrendering fashion. But then something dawns on me and I ask, "Wait, you mean you're not gay?"
"No, I'm not gay!" he responded defensively, his eyes glowering at me.
Have you ever known a gay person? Known them long before they knew they were gay? Well, that's my situation with Quatre, and I'm sure everyone else in his life. It's so goddamn obvious and clear as day to anyone who meets him. Don't get me wrong, he's no flaming queer, but talk to him for a while, get to know him and his mannerisms and ya just know. Poor dude is denying himself and I know if I try to pull him out of the closet he'll only hide deeper in it.
"By all means," I say, "Pick out your lady for the evening. As for me, Imma see what kind of man meat is available."
He gives me a shocked look, which makes me snicker as I bounce along my merry way to a particular guy. I spotted him before approaching Quatre and man is he a beauty. Resembles the real deal a helluva lot, but of course, no one could match the intensity of 'Ro. Now I know I said I never pay for sex, but this is different. I could easily find some nameless person to pick up on but this guy is just too enticing – I've already forgotten his name – so I'll pay for the sex tonight. Quatre has chosen an Asian girl and I convince him and our two pro's to come up to my room. His whore keeps trying to warm him up and relax him for the activities to come but it only tenses him up more. Hey honey, he's not into you unless you've got a cock under that tight mini skirt. My blond friend is surprised that I've got the Presidential Suite and once we're in the room I pull him into the bedroom and leave our hookers on their own in the living room area.
We have a long time talk. I divulge much of my troubles, Jack Daniels making my lips loose. Maybe I've wanted to talk about it. Maybe I needed someone to listen. Maybe the remnants of my soul wish to be vindicated. Whatever the reason, I tell him every damn thing.
Time flies by and a while later Mihael walks into the room and reminds of me the two people in the other room. Quatre gives me a poker chip to pay off his hooker even though he didn't do anything with her, but if you know anything about street walkers every minutes comes with a prices and since we've kept them here for about two hours, they're still expecting to get paid. Oh, but I'm not dismissing my guy. If Imma pay him, but I'm gonna fuck him first. Alright, back to the matter at hand: my argument with Mihael.
"That's a retarded idea dude! What the fuck made you even consider it at all?!" I hiss.
He argues, "It's easier this way! And a lotta the product will be off our hands."
"Your hands not ours!"
"Just be here when the guy comes by! I'm going back out there to sell more."
Mihael storms out, leaving me to deal with his fuckin' bullshit. What fuckin' idiot tells some gang thug to come to our room to pick up? If anything goes wrong Imma fuckin' kill that prick.
I have Quatre wait in living room while I take Mr. Whateverthefuckhisnameis into the bedroom. We get down to business between the sheets, well on top of the sheets actually. Twenty minutes later while I've got him on all fours a ruckus erupts from the other room. Shouting and yelling indicate to me that something's gone horribly wrong.
Hastily pulling my pants back up, I tell the hooker to stay where he is and keep quiet. Peeking out the door it's clear as fucking day that Mihael's little drug operation isn't going according to plan and he's stepped into someone turf who doesn't want him here. Through the crack in the door I see Quatre laying on the floor and some dude dressed in leather holding a gun at him. "This will teach yer fuckin' retard group to go steppin' 'round where you don't belong," the biker thug says and pulls the hammer back on the gun. The click echoes and before I can think I've drawn my switchblade, busted into the other room, and sunk my knife into the guy's neck. I give a good yank backwards before pulling it free. The guy falls on top of Quatre. His bellhop comrade makes a mad dash to take me down, but I kneel to floor, swipe the gun, twirl back up and fire three shots right into his heart. Less than three seconds. I'm fast like a cat. And I'm on a fuckin' murder spree. One last witness to get rid of and then we can F.O.
Quatre latches onto my arm, yanks on me and hollers, "What are you doing?"
"Imma kill that hooker and then we're gonna change and get the hell outta here!" Doesn't he get that this is what has to happen next? We can't leave anyone behind here, except for Mihael, but I'll deal with him after all this bullshit.
"Why do you have to kill him too?" Quatre squeaks pathetically, his light blue eyes big with disbelief.
God, how long has this kid been out of the game? Has he forgotten how we used to operate during the war? Leave no fuckin' witnesses is rule numero uno, bitch. "He knows our faces!" I scream back at him and jerk my arm free of his grasp. He's hot on my trail as I push back into the bedroom, gun still in hand and find the guy I was screwing less than five minutes ago cowering in the corner, naked and screaming in what I'm pretty sure is Vietnamese. Jabbing the side of his head with the barrel of the gun he begins to scream louder and wets himself. Besides that I've got Quatre crying behind me repeating 'stop, stop, stop'.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" I scream at the both of them but I keep my eyes on the sobbing guy in front of me.
Quatre leaves, thank fuckin' god, and leaves me staring into the weeping face that looks so similar to Heero's. I pull the hammer back and he buries his head between his knees, his body shaking with sobs and fear. Letting out a shaky breath I throw the gun onto the bed, kneel down and cup his face. "You forget our faces. Do you understand?" I snarl and shake his head roughly.
"Yes, yes, I forget! I forget!" he cries.
"You stay right here and count to one hundred after we leave, ya get me?"
He nods and buries his face into his hands that are still too torn up to quit the crying business. Guess I just can't put a bullet in that face.
Rummaging through my pack of clothes I pull out a black shirt and blue jeans for Quatre. He's soaked in blood from head to toe and we can't exactly make a clean get away if he looks like he just walked out of a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street. Quatre gets washed up in the kitchen and changes into my clothes. We make for the elevator and descend to the lobby. It's then that I notice blood on our shoes, but it's too late to do anything about it now. My blond friend shakes like a leaf beside me in the small, slow moving box that plays annoying jazz music that's suppose to be soothing. I know he's always been a pacifist at heart, so I'm sure he's upset about the killing and for almost being killed.
"I didn't do it," I mumble.
"Didn't do what?" he asks in a quiet voice.
"I didn't kill the pro. Left him trembling in his own piss."
"Where are we going?" he sighs.
"Dunno. You got a craft somewhere?"
"Yeah."
"Then lets head there first and then figure the rest out when we get there."
We get off the elevator and get into a cab. Quatre tells the driver where to go and we hang tight in silence until we get there. Pulling out a cell phone I text Mihael and tell him about what happened in the room. I advise him to get on a commercial flight back to L2 as soon as possible. I board Quatre's craft and get things fired up as he pays off the hanger keeper. Quatre takes the seat next to me and we sit in silence for a minute, letting the engine heat up.
"Where are we going to go?" he asks.
"We need to hide. We're connected to a couple of homicides."
"No, wrong, you are tied to a couple of homicides! I did nothing!" Quatre yells.
I turn to glare at him. "So? What're you sayin'? Ya gonna ditch me and disappear again? If you remember correctly, that guy was gonna put a bullet in yer fuckin' head. I saved your goddamn life, buddy."
That seems to shut him up. He's very different from the Quatre I once knew. Then again I'm not the same Duo anymore either. None of us are the same and that's probably why the rift between us is so wide.
Quatre clears his throat and says, "Our only real option is Earth."
"I know, but where on Earth can we go? I don't exactly want to be held up in bum fuck nowhere. Can't use any old safe houses, the Preventers know all their locations now," I grouch.
"Well, the middle of nowhere is all we have left," he argues and rolls his eyes.
Thinking quickly I add, "Not unless we know someone who is willing to help us and hide us for the time being."
"There's no one willing to do that for us and I'm not drawing the Maganac's into our mess."
I laugh in my head as one other person comes to mind who has all the resources and power to and resources to help us. Oh, and I think she owes us for making her dreams a reality. "Then there's one other person."
"Who?"
"A certain lil lady who wouldn't be where she is right now without our help," I snicker with a smirk.
Quatre's blue eyes widen. "You can't be talking about-"
"Oh yes!" I interrupt. He gets where we're headed.
I hand over the controls to Quat for a bit, not wanting to be stuck with the task of piloting when there's a kitchen to raid. Rich dude has one of the best crafts with all the bells, whistles, and amenities that anyone could want. Opening the fridge I find the bottom row on the fridge door lined with four expensive champagne bottles. I was kind of hoping there would be some rare scotch or brandy, something of the hard alcohol variety but I can make due. So I settle for the bubbly stuff, sit on a stool and enjoy, leaving Q-ball in the cockpit to be alone for a while. He ain't too happy with me right now, so I'm betting on him wanting some time alone.
I kill two bottles before passing out in the sleeping quarters.
My dreams are plagued with blue eyes and the mirror image of myself with red orbs. Heero's part in my dream doesn't last long; it only shows me a sad, dilapidated version of him that's become weak and tired of living. The rest of my subconscious shows me images of myself consumed by my inner demon and becoming a callous monster I don't want to be. I maim, kill, and rape with no remorse, completely lost in blood lust. The dream ends with me beating Heero to death with my fists, laughing hysterically before I wake with a jolt. Sweating profusely and breathing heavily, I come to still very drunk, but I'm so disturbed that I seek out my only source of relief. Stumbling back to the kitchen, I grab another bottle of champagne and stagger back to the bedroom to drink it.
When I fall back into slumber it's dreamless and quiet.
I wake a few more times later on. But I notice I'm in a weird place and have no control over my body. At first I couldn't tell if it was a dream or if I was really awake. I found myself in a wooden cargo box lying on top of hay with holes drilled into the top and sides. Sunlight filtered through the openings and I could hear the thunk, thunk, thunking of train tracks. Each time I awoke was only for a second or two, and I completely forgot about Quatre at that time.
When I finally regained full consciousness and mobility, I find myself lying on the dirt looking up at a clear blue sky and huge pine trees.