He picked himself off the ground for the second time in as many hours. He could never get used to being thrown down in the dirt, or punched in the gut, or locked in a chest, no matter how many times it happened.
He stood up, his vantage point rising while his emotions fell further. He was in no condition now to present himself. He closed his eyes as visions of revenge and retribution filled his head, his dark visage triumphantly standing tall over his tormentors. He basked in the fiery glow of a thousand cuts returned to sender.
He opened his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, knowing that retribution would never come.
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