'Hey Kid! Whatayah fightin fah?'

Gerald saw the hurt in the kid's eye. He swung back then lept forward with a tight right jab to the kids left abdomen. 

The kid collapsed. 

Gerald himself was winded and fought the gushing eyebrow with his shirtsleeve. The kid had an amazing uppercut. He left it so graciously it was like an invitation to a party.

'Whatayah fighting fah kid?' Gerald spit through the grit in his bloodied teeth.

'Respect?'

'Honor?'

Gerald stood there noticing the kid kept eye contact. He wasn't blinkin or nuthin. The kid found his feet, slowly, like a downed gazelle in the African Sahara. The heat from his body formed a white Misty shadow as he heaved to catch his breath.

'Moxie!' the kid spoke breathlessly. 

The kid reached to his side. Gerald could not look away. He couldn't blink. The streetlamp in the alley cast a shadow as the kid's arm raised. There he held a 9mm simple revolver. He pulled the trigger.

'Bang'

'Moxie! You son of a bitch. Tha right thar was for my Dad.' The bullet hit Gerald square in the shoulder.

The kid fired again.

'Bang'

'Tha one. For Lucy!'

Everything stopped. All the sounds and movement crept by in a snail's pace. The kid rubbed his jaw and realized his hands were flowing a stream of blood down his arm and puddling beneath him.

The second shot: between the eyes. Gerald's legs gave out from beneath him and his body slowly fell, first to his knees, then his face kissed the frost bitten asphalt.