The day had been going surprisingly well. Bill and you had checked out some panels, grabbed a few collectibles, and even managed to get a decent lunch without waiting in line for an hour. For once, everything was going smoothly.

Then Bill saw it.

A near-mint copy of The Incredible Hulk #181—the first appearance of Wolverine. The holy grail of Bronze Age comics. His breath caught in his throat as he reached for it.

And then—another hand grabbed it at the exact same time.

Bill’s grip tightened as he turned his head, locking eyes with a man about his age—thinning hair, smug expression, and the kind of confidence that only came from thinking he was the smartest guy in the room.

Bill already hated him.

“Let go,” Bill said, voice low and tight.

The man smirked. “I don’t think so. I saw it first.”

Bill barked out a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Oh, that’s funny. Really funny. Because I know I saw it first. I was reaching for it before your grubby little hands even entered my peripheral vision.”

The man tugged the comic toward himself slightly. “Well, possession is nine-tenths of the law, pal.”

Bill’s eye twitched. “Oh, possession? You wanna talk about possession? I will possess your face if you don’t take your hands off my comic.”

The vendor, an older man with tired eyes, sighed. “Look, fellas, maybe we should—”

Bill didn’t even glance at him. His entire focus was on the guy in front of him. His blood was boiling now.

“Tell me something, champ,” Bill said, stepping forward, closing the space between them. “Do you even know what this comic is? Or are you just some casual collector who thinks he can flip it for a profit?”

The man scoffed. “Please. Hulk #181—Len Wein, Herb Trimpe, 1974. First full appearance of Wolverine, even though some morons think it’s #180. What, you think you’re the only one who knows comics?”

Bill gritted his teeth. “Oh, so you do know your history. Good. That means you know exactly what I’m about to do.”

Then, in one swift motion, Bill yanked the comic toward himself with full force. The man wasn’t expecting it, and his grip slipped.

But he wasn’t backing down. “Are you serious?! What are you, twelve?!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Bill growled. He raised the comic up. “This? This was mine the second I saw it. You think I’m gonna let some second-rate collector with a wannabe hotshot attitude take this from me?”

The man lunged forward like he was going to snatch it back, but Bill was already moving—he spun away, holding the comic out of reach.

Bill and the man start punching each other hard with blood on their faces and on the ground.