this is the guy? you sure it's the guy?
the kid with the million-dollar arm?
shit. he don't look like much. i wouldn't pay no million dollars for this bozo.
wow. tough guy stuff. must have caught it from his buddy hallenbeck.
mr. marcon sent us to teach you a lesson, jimmy. something about keeping your big coked-up nose out of his fucking business.
i think he's awake.
you nearly broke my wrist, man.
fuck that. look at him. he's nothin'. guy's a piece of shit.
sure, buddy. i got a cigarette. he reaches into his shirt pocket. extracts a marlboro. hands it to hallenbeck. takes out a lighter. hallenbeck places the cigarette between his lips. leans forward for a light -- and chet slugs him in the face. the cigarette goes flying. hallenbeck's head snaps back. blood creeps from his lower lip.
hey, baby, i thought you were tough. see, pablo, he ain't so bad. hallenbeck's eyes glint fiercely. he takes a breath. leans forward and says:
sure. sure thing, buddy.
baby! two for two! the laughter continues. hallenbeck takes a deep breath. stands up. strikes with a flattened palm. breaks chet's nose. drives it up into the brain. chet stands, pole-axed. blinks once. pitches over dead.