He pulls back his bat, anticipating the ball to come, he swings the bat he found outside of Camp McCarran, it connects with the skull of a fiend, a concussion, a broken jaw and a damn homerun.
He crotches down over the fiend smirking.
"Drink it in pal, That's how failure tastes, Betcha got a REAL good of my bat hittin' ya."
He then swung up and delivered the coup de grâce, sure it was hypocritical that he taunted the man, caved his skull in with a bat instead of a bullet, but he felt they deserved no better than they give.
He saw another fiend running towards him, once again taking his stance, he winds back for the pitch, OH IT CONN