Without breaking stride, without even seeming to look at the gun, Nightwalker field-stripped the weapon. Worked the action, examined the chamber, checked the barrel for obstructions. "Mint, or close to it," he remarked, reassembling the piece. "Fired just enough to work the parts in. You got a good deal after all, chummer." He checked the load, his big hands dwarfing the magazine. Then he slammed the clip back into place. "Ever fire that zip gun of yours?" Falcon shook his head. "Ever fire anything ?" Another shake of the head, this time more hesitantly.