Unholy!

Headache

Note: the chapter is a little different (and shorter), but it's important for the story :3

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Ring!!! Ring!!!

The nerve-shredding sound of his cell phone, way too close to his ear, tears him out of an amazing dream involving a big-breasted woman, and Toji's head snaps up. His first impulse is to drive his fist through the damned device and turn it into glittering plastic shrapnel. He stops himself just in time. Instead, he yawns – fifty percent sleepy, fifteen percent sulky, and thirty-five percent hungover – then thumbs the answer button without so much as a greeting.

While the voice on the other end rasps into his skull, he blinks up, and the face reflecting in the vodka bottles in front of him is somehow not his own today. On his right cheek the imprint of the wooden counter where he just peeled himself off is stamped deep into his skin. On his left cheek is something crusted that looks like vomit. Toji strongly hopes that it's not vomit, but leftover food. The air is stale with old smoke and disinfectant; his tongue tastes like pennies. He clears his throat, then wipes his face with his sleeve.

„Come again?", the groggy man growls tiredly into his smartphone. The sound coming through the speaker is warped, like someone speaking through a voice changer, and it's far too early in his resurrection cycle for him to parse a single coherent thing. But it's not just the filter that makes comprehension impossible, the words themselves are strung together like some sort of cryptic code, more nuisance than message.

When the person repeats the instruction in the same garbled way, Toji pulls the phone away from his ear and frowns at it, seriously contemplating – for the second time in twenty seconds – snapping it clean in half. Again, reason prevails and he exhales a long, theatrical sigh into the phone, not hiding his displeasure.

„Listen, Kong. I know it's you. Cut this crap and talk sense. My head's already buzzing enough."

A muffled groan answers him, followed by a shift. The voice is suddenly clearer and painfully familiar.

„You're not supposed to say my name on the phone, dumbass..."

Toji can't help but smirk. Of course Kong still wants to play things by the book, and that will probably never change, no matter how many wrinkles Toji gets. He's still the same old nerd he was years ago when they last had contact with one another.

„You've got exactly three seconds before I hang up, Kong. Three. Two-"

„Wait, please!", the man objects, tripping over his urgency. „It's for your own good."

„Oh yeah? And what's better than not wasting my time on you bastards?"

„It's not a waste in that case. That I guarantee."

Toji leans back on the unsteady chair, wood creaking under his weight. If Kong's calling, something must be brewing. Last time they spoke, Toji had made it very clear he'd never deal with one of those dirty pissants again.

„Is it about work?"

„Something like that. A new job came in."

„To kill someone?"

The beating around the bush is wearing Toji down, so he spears the obvious. His tone couldn't be more bored if he tried, while Kong on the line drags in a sharp breath, making Toji shake his head and roll his eyes in silent disbelief. After all this time, they still make such a fuss about contract murder. But what's the big deal? One less parasite crawling the earth never changes the math.

„Yes..." Kong finally says through clenched teeth. Apparently that was too direct, but Toji couldn't care less.. „Thought you might be interested."

A knot suddenly twists in Toji's guts, triggering a strange feeling and he frowns. „And what makes you think that?"

Kong hesitates and Toji can feel him groping for phrasing that won't spill too much information over an open line.

„Let me put it this way... Come here and hear the details. Just trust me."

„Trust you? Who on earth would be so stupid?"

„Well, listen-"

„Tell me, Kong", Toji cuts him off sharply, tired of the dance. Unlike Kong, he hasn't forgotten the past. „You still in cahoots with those rotten rats?"

His old kind-of-friend sighs. „Alright, alright. I get it. Not everything went perfectly well, but please hear me out, for the sake of the good old days, will ya?"

Toji barks out a laugh that startles a fly from the lip of a bottle.

„You mean the 'the good old days' when I let myself get manipulated? Or 'the good old days' when I used to beat up my client? Or when they slaughtered my wife? Those 'good old days'? Huh? The joke's on you, man!"

„Ok, scratch 'the good old days'!" Kong snaps, patience cracking. „Man, you really haven't changed a bit! I'm calling because I want to do you a favor. Call it making amends for all I care. Or kiss my ass. The target is Megumi Fushiguro. If you want more information about the job, you know where to find me."

With that said, the line goes dead. Toji glances up at the clock above the counter. The call lasted exactly two minutes and fifty-nine seconds. Exactly how long a call stays untraceable.

The corner of Toji's mouth curves into a grin. That old nerd will never change!