Chapter Text
There shouldn't be anyone in the room with him, but there is.
According to the heat-sensor watch he was told to not under any circumstances break by his highly competent albeit underfoot colleague and self-proclaimed child genius quartermaster, CEO, there shouldn't even be a single living thing in this room other than himself. Unfortunately, there, in the doorway, illuminated only by the light of the moon, is one very hot, very angry blonde and not the kind of doorway framed blonde Saitama usually deals with (although his clothes do cling to him in a very fetching manner).
Regardless, Saitama has his gun out (the other gun) and is shooting (now really) before he can blink twice.
Never trust a kid who eats lollipops the size of his head, Saitama thinks grimly as the blonde returns fire.
--
"I thought you said I was clear," Saitama hisses once he’d lured the blonde into the room and ducked past him, dodging the ricocheting bullets. He speeds down the long hallway of the mansion, the heavy silk curtains billowing in his wake. Really, why do rich people feel the need to have mansions, Saitama's been earning a 6 figure monthly salary and he's still got his studio apartment in the city. It's not like a human really needs anything more lavish than that.
He can almost hear CEO rolling his eyes over the earpiece, accompanying the more obvious and furious tap-tap-tapping as he turns back to shoot down a curtain rail. It hits the blonde in hot pursuit, and the garish curtains falls in a faint over his head. That should gain him a few precious minutes.
Except Saitama stares in very carefully concealed, professionally non-abject horror as the blonde explodes out of the trap Saitama laid out for him and then propels himself into the air by shooting fire out of his palms. What the fuck. If that wasn't incredibly hot, well it was obviously still incredibly hot. "Uhhh, any intel on guys with flame throwers built into their hands?"
There's a noticeable pause as he turns the corner down yet another long ass hallway. "Shit," comes the reply.
"Language." He warns automatically. "I'll tell your mom."
"I’ll say you taught me that," CEO snaps back as Saitama hits a dead end. He turns and charges into the nearest room. Another fucking empty study, how many studies does one man and a cat need?
Saitama casts about, ignoring the ugly desk and bookshelves gathering dust and setting his sights upon the balcony overlooking the tennis courts. He takes a moment to bemoan the fact that the proprietor wasn’t into swimming before the door slams open and the very attractive and very angry blonde is once again, seething in the doorway. The only difference is that he is slightly singed and though his hair isn’t as blonde, he looks just as angry, if not more, and his clothes cling even more desperately to his smoking hot (literally) frame.
There is a moment, well a second moment, really, when they’re eyes meet and Saitama feels a jolt through his system that only a pursuer who is very blonde, very hot (literally), and very angry at him can send down to his cock. He feels like they’ve somehow bonded over the course of him being chased through this ridiculous mansion and also the fact that he draped a heavy silk curtain and then watched him set fire to himself. Of course there’s no time for chit chat much less a quick soiree in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion or even just over that ugly as sin desk behind him because the blonde is already honing in on the USB stick in Saitama’s chest pocket. How he knows it’s there through a full tuxedo, Saitama can only attribute to the golden glint in his eye. He wishes everything weren’t so literal with this guy. Especially not when he’s on the clock.
Still, there is a time limit for the mission objective and Saitama’s nothing if not the best.
Fuck it, he thinks and turns, charging towards the balcony, arms crossed above his head as he smashes through the glass.
He drops into a roll onto the tennis court, scales the wire fence and disappears into the night. The last thing he sees is the blonde, standing in the crater formed on the court when he jumped down after him, eyes glinting golden as they furiously scan the mansion grounds. He's long gone by the time he hears CEO's high pitched voice finally squeak, "That's the Demon Cyborg."
He can only think how that means they might let him off the hook for breaking the watch.