Didn't want it, didn't need it, but we knew that we could steal it.
Rain spatters against the mud. Eyes open. Blurred vision. Two figures. Water rolls down his bare back, black hair hangs down his face. His blood mixes with the muddy waters beneath his stomach. His reflection stained and staring back at him. A cough; a stutter. Another fist connects with the side of his face, flesh ripples as a rock drops into a pond. Two figures watch. Watch him flop in the mud. A command, "get up." He pushes down against the mud; sinking to his shoulders. One figure places a boot against him; he rolls his victim on his back.