The young man's body went rigid. His back arched off the ground, his mouth stretching open in a soundless howl, his fingers splayed against the cobblestones like claws. Then everything gave way. His body fell flat, limp, and the tension drained from him. His arms slipped away from his head and settled against the wet ground with the finality of something that would not be moving again.
The alley fell silent.
For a moment, even the air seemed to hold its breath.
The four hooded men stared at the body. The one who had delivered the final kick stepped back slowly, his shoe dragging across the cobblestones and leaving behind a dark smear. The one with the cigarette rose from his crouch and flicked the butt into a puddle, where it hissed before going dark.
"Why is he not moving?"
The tallest one spoke first, though his voice had lost the careless amusement it had carried moments ago.
He looked at the others. They looked at him. Then all of them looked back at the body.
