"Heavy"

The heft of my machine pistol threatens to bend my elbow. It takes every ounce of strength to keep my finger from twitching.

"Drop that gun or I'l split your fucking head open!" I say in clear, enunciated Tokoshi.

The hylotl in front of me doesn't even flinch. He just keeps his magnum pointed at the shopkeeper.

"What, you don't speak you own language?" I follow up in Intergalactic Standard English.

"Leave, gas-bag," the thief hisses in his native tongue, "Go back to your rock."

"I'm giving you five seconds," I bluff.

It doesn't work. He just keeps his eyes and muzzle on the trembling shopkeep. The storeowner scrambles to grab all the pixels he can to appease the robber. His life is on the line, he knows that. And if I keep my gun up much longer, his life will still be in jeopardy after doing everything right.

I'm not sure how many seconds have passed, but let's assume it's been five.

My hand nearly flies up from the recoil as I squeeze the trigger. A trill blasts from my gun and knocks the hylotl to his side, dropping him to the floor like a wooden dummy. His own pistol clatters to the floor, met with crimson blood and a torn-open skull. I let go of the trigger, and just as suddenly as it started, my barrage of death comes to an end.

---