Kingpin's Thug: Okay, Mrs. Fisk. Leave now or I'll pop you in the fuckin' jaw. Bullseye: That’s not a threat. This is a threat: Shut your fucking mouth or I will rip out your jawbone and beat you to death with itlike this was The Bible. See, that’s how it’s done. Here, let me handle the mademoiselle, you boys run inside and tell Mr. Fisk I’ll be up in a minute. Go on, be good little underlings.
Vanessa Fisk: If you’re here to kill me, I promise you I won’t go quietly.
Bullseye: Relax, Mrs. Fisk, I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless someone pays me to. I know who you are and what you’ve been through. I know you tried to kill your husband and that you’re probably already planning to try again. As someone who kills people for a living, I just wanted to offer you a little piece of advice. Walk away. Now. And never look back.
Bullseye: That wasn’t a threat. (How come nobody understands threats anymore?) You know what’ll happen if you keep chasing after your husband? Maybe you’ll succeed. Maybe you’ll kill him. Shoot him and see him fall over and shit himself and bleed out. Poison his food and watch him cough up bloody foam and chunks of stomach. Blow him up and see all the gooey inside bits of him exploded all over creation. You might stand over him the day he dies and feel happy. Feel glad you did it. You might even laugh, long and hard. But you know what happens then? Then you get the dreams.
The dreams and the sweats. And next thing you know you can’t look at someone without imagining them in pain. Without hearing their screams. It gets so you can’t have sex without feeling like you’re fucking a corpse. You start to see people as dead little puppets dancing on strings. You see all the strings, and how to pull them, and how to cut them. You wanna cry sometimes but someone might see so you turn off all the lights and you try to cry but you can’t. And you’re disgusted and wanna hurt yourself so you get a knife and you’re gonna slit your wrist, but next thing you know you’re stabbing someone and you don’t even know who they are or why but you just keep doing it and doing it and doing it until there’s blood and guts all over everything, you know? Do you understand what I’m talking about?
