"I will count to three," [Cohen] said, in a friendly tone of voice. "One. Two." His bony knee came up and buried itself in the man's groin with a satisfyingly meaty noise, and he half-turned to bring the full force of an elbow into the kidneys as the leader collapsed around his private universe of pain.

"Three," he told the ball of agony on the floor. Cohen had heard of fighting fair, and had long ago decided he wanted no part of it.
--
Terry Pratchett: The Light Fantastic