Tweren't easy bein' the guy with the fastest hands in the sector, but most days Fisk was up to the task. Hell, he'd best be. Weren't a week went by somebody didn't get the hankerin' to test him.
He was enjoyin' himself a second of some real enjoyable Malgorian jova when the man walked in. Was an all-too-familiar scenario unfoldin', it were.
The challenger, some bright-eyed lad with dreams, done swaggered up and issued him a challenge. He done so in the usual manner, spoutin' some disparagin' insults and such. Fisk, he was expected to take umbrage, ya see. Once them customaries was satisfied, well then it was all over but the dyin'.
So, Fisk done stood up and stared that buck square in the eye. Real easy, Fisk done raised up his hands with his palms upturned. He spoke all slow and calm like.
"This ain't gonna go well boy. Don't make me teach ya an ole lesson."
The kid smirked, "Gonna school me? Sure you are, tough guy. Lemme guess. Shouldn't go lookin' fer a fight lessen yer ready? Well I AM ready ole dog."
A wry smile come to Fisk, "Naw. Lesson were: Always watch yer back."
The lad went from confused to face-down and smoldering as Fisk's dwarf companion, Harker, unloaded the neutronic shotgun into the kid's back.
Harker grinned like a Tergovian lemur-cat, "They never learns does they Fisk?"
Fisk set down and drunk himself some more jova. "Naw", he whispered, "They never do."