Adamus can’t help but think back to that day in Rome.

  He had ‘fought’ in the coliseum by unleashing that awful creature that lives inside of him, that tortures him, and after it had been sealed, he went to the top of the Division Pza to see…

  Her.

  Cassandra’s long bck hair was flowing in the wind as she read that book, the book he can’t remember the name of. He had said something stupid like, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” then she turned around, and he met her hazel eyes.

  Why am I thinking about that?

  Adamus clenches a fist and looks down at it. The beast has remained strangely silent since he awoke. It keeps going suddenly docile and then suddenly stirring inside him, over and over again, seemingly at random.

  It reminds him of when he was a child, his Father had gotten one of the first shipments of rubber door hinges to repce the ones destroyed by the Rusting. Adamus had spent the day ‘testing’ them by opening and closing the doors again and again.

  Open, close, open, close, open…

  Close, Adamus thinks as he ironically opens his hand, reliving it of the clenched fist.

  Strange. The only other time I can remember having a dream that woke me up in a cold and dazed sweat like that was right before I got the news that Davon died. The next thought hits him like a hammer to the skull. Oh… Oh, no…

  “Something wrong?” Marqus snaps him out of his trance. Adamus wipes his eyes and pnts his chin across his arms. “No, no, I’m just…” He searches for an excuse, “Just tired, I guess.”

  “Awwww, did the little prince not get enough beauty sleep?”

  “Shut up, Nesson,” Adamus huffs, “Shouldn’t you be dead anyway? There were close to a dozen guards in that hall.”

  “Indeed, and the fire didn’t help matters either, not to mention how quickly everything colpsed because of that creature inside of you.”

  Adamus rolls his eyes. He’s hardly spoken to anyone since the breakout. He’s had no desire to. Not even now that they’ve all nded on this pnet that’s coated in nothing but fungus and mud. He honestly doesn’t know if he’s been putting off the confrontations or if everyone has been avoiding him, save for Marqus, of course.

  The man is starting to remind Adamus more and more of Davon. He has the same stern and professional sense about him, but he is still far from an exact copy.

  Slumping on the makeshift table, made of nothing but a severed mushroom head, Adamus stares inside the small bowl of murky liquid, the thing that Marqus woke him for.

  Leo had found the water.

  He said it was drinkable. He said that Jasper told him so when he was on one of his many passionate expnations of pnt life.

  Adamus wants to spit in the thing. He needs something stronger to take his mind off his troubles, and he certainly needs an unsober mind to deal with Nesson.

  “What even is that shit anyway?” The mountain of muscle with a pebble-sized brain asks, “Is that how you knocked me ft on my ass the other week? It comes out of your arms, right?”

  “Why do you care?” Adamus wipes his palm over his eyes again, this time letting the damp skin cling to his brow.

  Nesson grins, “Got a bet with your halfbreed friend and some of the other boys. Thought is, I might be able to take you in a rematch.”

  Marqus huffs, “We don’t have time for such childishness.”

  “Well said,” Adamus snatches the bowl and swings it to his lips, swallowing up the water in one gulp before standing. “So let’s get it over with right now.”

  A confused look strikes Nesson’s face, then a smile. “You’re serious?”

  “You’re serious?” Marqus repeats the question in a far less enthusiastic tone than Nesson.

  “Of course I’m serious,” Adamus halfheartedly jokes, straining a smile. “I can’t wait to get my teeth knocked out.” That and I haven’t so much as heard a word out of Samend since the prison. If there’s a chance he’s been speaking to Nesson, like he says, then maybe I can try to mend that bridge at least a little.

  Nesson stands and rushes off to a clump of former prisoners gathered at the edge of the fungus-covered, muddy cliffside. Samend is among the group. Adamus spies the rge pitch-bck eyes of his friend, and soon he and the rest of Nesson’s cronies are eagerly converging on him.

  Marqus rises and separates himself from the showcase of unchecked juvenile testosterone. No doubt off to converse with the grand leader Leonidas, whose tactical strategies so far include having me kill all the Republic guards as he failed to find his lover. Adamus fails to be amused by his sardonic thought, instead finding himself thinking of Cassandra again. Didn’t she have a simir sense of humor, or am I misremembering things?

  He doesn’t have much time to dwell on if he’s mistaken or not, as Nesson’s gang has now surrounded him. They’ve all gathered in a circle formation to make an arena for the coming fight. More spectators slowly begin to join the fray as Nesson himself removes his shirt and cracks his knuckles.

  Samend is part of the anxious few making up the front bearing walls of the flesh arena. All of them are grinning and holding their arms out before them with their fists clenched, ready to raise them to the air or join in the coming violence.

  At least he’s smiling, Adamus tells himself that it’s better than the indecipherable look that pgued him after the whole prison debacle.

  “You ready, little prince?” Nesson taunts, adding to both Samend and the gathering audience's delight.

  Adamus shrugs, forcing another smile, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  What did Nesson even go to prison for? He was offended at the thought of me being a crazed murderer, yet he’s always itching to pick a fight…

  Was he right to fight me before? Why did I even agree to—

  Nesson’s fist sms into Adamus’s cheek. Blood and saliva fly from his mouth. His strained, dry eyes buckle in their sockets. The crowd roars.

  They roar that oh-so joyous roar. Adamus smiles, not even having to force it this time.

  That’s right.

  He stands firm and tall, not bothering to wipe the life from his lips. “That all you got?” He utters with that bitter lust the audience always goes wild for, and just as he predicted, the crowd ohs and awes at the words.

  Then Nesson hits him again, harder as expected. The onlookers cry out again. It is a great cry, a grand cry. There are so few of them, and yet it is still grand!

  Adamus staggers. His hands clutch through his wide, bloodied grin. He swipes at empty air, and Nesson hits him once more. The roaring cry that follows sounds better than anything Adamus has ever heard before.

  He struggles to keep his feet steady on the mud as he waits for what’s next. Nesson throws another punch, this time striking Adamus’s gut. Another punch? He grows frustrated, add in some variety! Spice it up a little! The crowd is gonna get bored!

  They all simply gasp this time, just as he feared.

  No. No! No!

  Adamus pnts his shaking feet in the mud. Keeping his fists clenched, he raises his knuckles at Nesson.

  Hit me, he orders in his mind. Hit me again, you lumbering oaf!

  The oaf hesitastes. The crowd’s grins are dropping. Samend’s smile is fading.

  Hit me again!

  Adamus swipes at Nesson for the final time.

  No reaction, only a concerned expression on the oaf’s face.

  “Hit me again!”

  He struggles forward, his dry green eyes searching the faces of the spectators. “What are you all standing around for? Am I not entertaining?”

  “Back off!” A young, defiant voice orders, “Everyone back off! What’s going on here?”

  The grand leader cometh. Leo pushes through the disgruntled gathering, coming face to face with Adamus and Nesson. “He asked for it…”

  “I don’t care who asked for what!” Leo scolds him, “As long as we're all together, I won’t have us fighting amongst ourselves, understand?”

  “Course I understand,” Adamus huffs, pushing past the thin blond twig that should be his peer, “The great Leonidas hates fun…”

  Leo hangs behind for a moment. Adamus thinks he hears him telling everyone to separate before he strides after him. “I’m no leader, y’know.”

  “Sure, you organized an entire prison break just for fun.”

  “You’re the one that won them over.”

  Adamus lets out a bellowing ugh, “You’re really pulling out that card? All I did was get them to agree they wanted out, wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do.”

  Leo pnts his feet down, his eyes wander until he breathes out a long sigh, “What’s gotten into you tely?”

  “You're pying the part of my Father now?” Adamus scoffs, “I thought Marqus was the one intent on doing that.”

  Leo folds his arms, “Are you an idiot? Marqus worships the ground you walk on.”

  Sure doesn’t seem that way after the old bastard saw me break down in a stone box and said the equivalent of ‘I’m stuck with you kid, so get your shit together.’ He keeps the private remark to himself, instead stating, “I don’t think you know Marqus as well as you think, Leo. You certainly don’t know me at all.”

  “No one does,” Another voice intrudes.

  Adamus looks to Samend and suddenly feels a sinking pit where his stomach should be. “You still upset with me?”

  The halfbreed shrugs, “You gonna tell me what that thing inside of you is?”

  “Sexual frustration and grief for my dearly departeds, now fuck off, the both of ya. I’m going for a walk.”

  Leo and Samend leave him to do just that.

  Adamus is about halfway down the cliffside when he begins to regret his decision, or put any thought into it. ‘I’m going for a walk?’ What am I, a cranky old man? Next thing I know, I’ll be carrying around a whittled cane, swinging it at troublesome youngsters, and asking how long till dusk! Thank the Gods Davon and Father were never like that…

  His stomach sinks further into a pit, shrinking in on itself as his feet shuffle downhill.

  Am I really that upset with everyone? Why? Because they didn’t cheer for me getting my teeth kicked in?

  The stinging pain in his mouth makes him correct himself. Nesson, they were cheering for Nesson, you idiot. Everybody loves to hate a vilin, so you became a hateful vilin just to feel…

  I don’t know, something?

  Gods, introspection is hard…

  “Grant me power,” Adamus makes himself grumble the prayer, if only to get his mind off things. “Grant me some… fucking, power, deserving the burden…” Of a crown?

  He chuckles. Why would I want a crown? Father’s supposed to be Emperor! And he was never happy about it!

  “Father…”

  For a second, he thinks he sees Gelmidas sitting over him. He’s at his desk with the crown on his head. Adamus stands gleefully next to him. He looks up at him and then—

  Then he’s gone, and he’s stuck on this pnet of mud and mushrooms. It was not his Father looking over him; it was the rge, rotting stem of a fungus.

  He kicks it. Hard.

  “Fuck you.” Adamus tosses his head back and sighs. His hands twitch, and soon his leg is swinging back again.

  “Fuck you!” He kicks the fungus. “Fuck you!” He kicks. “Fuck you!” He kicks.

  Why did he go for a walk?

  His hands twitch.

  Why did he agree to that fight?

  He punches the fungus. “Fuck you!”

  Why did he wake up thinking about Cassandra?

  He punches. “Fuck you!”

  Why did he release that creature back at the prison?

  Again, a punch. “Fuck you!”

  Why did he run away to Zamizer?

  A kick.

  Why did Rome burn? Why did Father have to die? Why did Davon have to die? Why did he have to kill Nadeden? Why do I have to have this creature inside me! Why did I get to live after burning alive! Why do I still have to live!

  Punch, kick, punch, punch.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

  Who am I? Now! Punch. What am I supposed to do? Now! Punch.

  The fungus hasn’t even been dented. The stem is sturdy, despite being a big, stupid pnt that lives off the dead; it’s sturdy.

  “Fuck…”

  Adamus lowers his head, presses his palm against the stem, and then walks past it, deeper into the muddy cliffside. He doesn’t notice that the tall, sturdy stem shifted at his gentle touch. Its fellow fungi have shifted as well, their heads flipping open.

  Adamus takes ten steps on the ground and then ten more in the air.

  He’s floating.

  The mushrooms have sucked in the gravity around him.

  A Qrow observes the strange sight from above.