Fuck You, Pay Me!

19. Gutter Trash

"Don't you think that you maybe went a little overboard? Just a bit?" 

Hitoshi barely even offers his father a pause as he hauls the rather heavy body up from the dirty, filthy alleyway to toss it into the nearby dumpster. It already smells like a fucking septic tank; what's one more sack of shit to the pile? 

"As opposed to what? Splattering his fucking brains everywhere with my gun? I thought that we were supposed to be all inconspicuous and shit about this." He counters, face scrunching in disgust as the dumpster lid slams shut and blows a gust of smelly wind their way. Shota is, more or less, amused with his son's lax and casual tone. 

"Gary wasn't even on our kill list." 

"Really? You know, I really could've sworn that he was. How unfortunate." 

"You're full of shit. I told you twice that he wasn't, you brat." 

Hitoshi turns on his father with a heavy sigh of annoyance. "Oh fuckin' well. What am I supposed to do? Un-dead the fat, greedy fucker?" 

"All I'm saying is that you didn't have to un-alive him in the first place. That's gonna be really suspicious when the rest of the Hassaikai come back here looking to do business with him." Shota points and Hitoshi, like an unruly teenager, just shrugs at him again. "Not my problem. This greasy fucker had beef with more than just me or the league---no telling how many of these girl's he's trickin' out on somebody else's block. He won't be missed." He says, grimacing at the tuft of hair attached to his crowbar by bits of flesh and blood. He tosses it, too, into the dumpster and plucks his gloves from his hands to burn once they've finished with the task at hand. "Besides, crackin' his head like a Wonderball was way more satisfying than just shooting him between those beady ass eyes. Maybe, while he's burning in hell, he'll have time to reflect on why he ever thought it was a good idea to even insinuate that he'd put his craggy cock anywhere near my Kitten." 

"Oh, so that's why he's dead." 

"I like the term 'un-alive' so much better. Sounds way more badass." 

"What are you, twelve?" 

"No, apparently I'm just cooler than your lame ass. Who's next? I'm running outta places to put these bodies." 

He's ended seven lives so far, a feeling of unbridled satisfaction blooming within himself as he's managed to do so without ever being seen. He does take pride in his work, after all, no matter how unethical it may be. 

One murder weapon. 

No prints. 

Just a normal Thursday night for him.

"All that's left is Kurono, now that his backup has all been disposed of and the landlines have been cut."

A devious grin curls at Hitoshi's lips. 

"Bout time we got to the main event. I've been itching to make this fucker deep throat the barrel of my pistol all night long." It's only a partial lie. He hadn't actually become so enthusiastic about murdering Kurono until he'd made the grave mistake of propositioning Katsuki with the exchange of sex for money. For fuck's sake---he's a stripper, not a goddamn prostitute.