Roman looked over at the dusty old clock sitting on his nightstand. It's 10:00 PM.

After he escaped from prison, Cinder dropped Roman in one of his old apartments. No one kept it maintained in the time he was gone—three years—so Roman stepped lightly in the off chance any vacancies had been filled since he left. So far, no unwanted visitors were spotted.

Roman sighed. Neo was supposed to be here an hour ago. He should have expected this—she is often late. He wondered if she went to his old address, in which case, she would have pulled a 180 and went straight to Cinder for his new residence because his old place was bound to be swarming with cops by now. In hindsight, forged documentation probably wasn't a great way to rent. Thankfully, Cinder said she removed any incriminating evidence before the cops could show up to break down his door.

Roman instinctively placed his hand on top of his nightstand for his scroll, groping the splintering wood when he didn't initially touch it. That's right—he wasn't allowed to have one. One of the boys from work lent him some books, but Roman guessed he didn't notice that he was handing him editions that were translated into another language. The only book printed in English was a book on the history of Vale, incidentally a subject he hated in school. He might have made it past the first ten pages if it wasn't for the extremely small font.

Roman sat up on his bed. Some of his old belongings, like his memory foam mattress and down comforter, were still here. Someone replaced the wallpaper, though, and whoever did it threw out his oxblood for orange and red stripes. It was hideous. Roman would love to throw his younger self from three years ago down a flight of stairs just like the next person, but at least he had a sense of style. Apparently colorblind people can be interior decorators, too!

Roman heard a knock on his door. Neo.

He picked himself up off the bed and trudged to the front door. When he opened the front door, a short girl who stood lower than Roman's shoulders walked right in, ducking her head to walk under his arm. Neo set her parasol on the kitchen counter and held both of her hands up.

Sorry, I had the wrong address, she signed.

"How'd you figure it out?" he asked.

Detectives at the scene.

Roman groaned. "I'm too popular for my own good. You want a beer?"

Hell yes. I had a bad day.

"You and me both." Roman took a step toward the kitchen, but Neo beat him to the fridge, pulling out four cans of beer and a bottle of rose champagne.

"Hey, no," he objected, "that's for a special occasion." Roman pulled a chair in front of the counter. He knew that Neo would drink it either way, but he still felt obligated to say it.

Neo set the bottles where he was sitting and turned back to the cabinets to get wine glasses. After selecting two of the biggest he owned, Neo placed them on the counter next to the champagne.

Stop wasting time waiting for the perfect opportunity.

"I get a sense of accomplishment that way."

Getting drunk on overpriced sparkling water gives you a sense of accomplishment?

Roman scowled at her. "So what are we drinking to, then?"

How about escaping death?

"You mean Cinder's magic trick the other night?" Roman asked as he popped open a can of beer.

Neo shook her head.

I heard the detectives talking about the possibility of your execution. Ironwood submitted a request before you escaped.

Roman paused before taking a drink. "Damn. You would think the man would just give it a fucking rest. Can't he see that I have more important things to do?"

Neo rolled her eyes.

"So, what's Cinder's take on all of this?" Roman asked flatly.

She doesn't know. It hasn't been approved yet, but apparently, the council's about to give the O.K. on it.

"The last time we renewed the lease on this place in the past two years was last week."

What's your point?

"Isn't that setting off a red flag?"

I never would have expected to hear you say that. I always asked you these kinds of questions.

Roman grunted in frustration. He didn't know what his next move was, and that was a feeling that always threw him off his game. "Do you think I need to get out of here?"

I thought you were going to flee the city. I was surprised that you stayed, and in your old apartment, no less. I'm sure that if Cinder thinks it's fine, you're fine.

"Yeah, but now that I think about it, cops might figure out that I'm here."

Should I tell her?

"No," he sighed, "I wouldn't want Cinder giving you the I'm-the-fucking-boss talk. I'll figure out what to do. Forget I said anything."

Neo rolled her eyes and opened a can of beer, drinking in silence.

When Roman finished his drink, he got up to put it in the trashcan under the sink. "I think I'm gonna go to bed now. When you finish, please clean up. I don't have a guest room, so if you want to crash, you'll need to do it on the couch." As he turns to his bedroom, Neo nods out of the corner of his eye.

Roman closes the door behind him, locking the door as he pressed him thumb and middle finger into his temples. This isn't good, he thought. If he gets arrested again, Cinder might not be able to break him out in time. But if he wants to stay on Cinder's good side, he will have to keep going out and risking his neck to do her dirty work. He shouldn't even be in a situation like this. What the hell happened to him?

"Execution?" Roman muttered, his voice trembling with rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists pressed against his door. Knowing Neo could hear perfectly well, Roman restrained the urge to scream like a wild animal and throw stuff around the room, but he knew he couldn't stop himself for long. Roman couldn't find words to say, so he stood there, breathing quickly and shaking his head.

Roman started angrily stripping off all of his clothes and throwing them as hard as he could on the bed. The gloves. The coat. The shirt. The pants. All of it went onto the bed, whipped against the comforter with as much force as Roman could exert. He kicked off his shoes, sending them flying into the wall. When they made contact with the wall, Roman felt the slightest twinge of regret, but he decided not to give a fuck. Neo's seen worse. Though the walls, Roman heard the door to his apartment opening and closing. Thank God she knew when he'd want her to leave, but what does it say about him that he was pushing away the people he cared about with his violent outbursts? Roman didn't know. He didn't care.

When Roman was in nothing but his underwear, he marched into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He turned the dial it to the highest heat setting it had with one hand, fumbling to take off his socks with the other. Roman walked back to the room and stomped on the carpet. He wished he had hardwood floors; he'd be able to feel the pain as validation of the boiling rage in his chest. Roman walked over to his walls and started smacking the god awful wallpaper with the palm of his hand. His fingers subconsciously curled into a fist, and his knuckles connected painfully with the wall. He made a dent, but if he threw some money at it, he could have it fixed.

When Roman saw steam wafting out of the bathroom door, he hustled inside and threw open the door to the shower. He stepped in, but jumped back when the scalding-hot water made contact with his skin. Holding his breath, he stepped back under the stream. Roman clamped down on his bottom lip so hard that he drew blood. He turned around and pressed himself against the shower walls to bear it on his back instead. He opened his mouth and shouted for ten seconds, counting off in his mind. His skin almost felt like it was melting off of his body. Roman wanted to shout louder, but his vocal chords scratched against each other. He reached zero in his countdown and threw himself out of the shower.

He read somewhere that long, hot showers work well to calm someone down, but he needed to feel a dopamine rush now, not later. He kneeled down beside his bed and tried to control his breathing. He sat there for ten minutes, using the last shred of restraint he had to sit still. When he felt calm enough to behave properly, he spoke evenly, "That is the last time you think about your execution."

He pulled off his underwear and belly-flopped onto his bed, letting the air dry his red and raw skin. This is his fault, he realized. Sure, he may have ended up in a tricky position because of the people around him, but it was his choice to associate himself with them. Cinder, Neo, Junior, all of them. Some came with unforeseen consequences, but he didn't care. Sometimes, Roman hated doing this, telling himself that everything was just a consequence, but it was the best way to ground him after an unhealthy bout of blaming the world for the shitty hand he's been dealt in life.

However, it did make sense—nothing felt better than attributing the success in life to his own hard work, especially when life treats him unfairly. It reminds him that he's actually quite accomplished. He rose from a shitty childhood to a cushy lifestyle in only three months after he graduated from high school. He felt so far away from the hellhole he grew up in even though it was only about thirty miles from where he was right then. Sure, Cinder had to offer him his position in order for him to live like this, but otherwise, Roman would have found some other way in with his quick-wittedness and paramount intelligence. In fact, the only reason Cinder picked him up was because he'd gained quite a bit of street cred growing up in outer Vale. Getting on Cinder's radar wasn't sheer luck.

Roman especially loved to tell himself that Cinder was keeping him in the dark because she knew how smart he was. She didn't want him getting more out of it than he was promised. He knew he could, but Roman knew better than to push his luck with Cinder. He may have a higher IQ, but she is definitely faster on her feet, better in a fight. Roman would underestimate a lot of people, but never Cinder. Not for a second. If he did, it might be the last thing he'd do. Besides, sticking with Cinder for the long term and living the good life was probably better than blind-siding her once and running off with a pot of gold.

Roman knitted his brows together in frustration. Then again, not knowing what lay in front of him never led to anything good, so maybe it's in his best interest to figure out what Cinder planned.

He thought about all of the dust robberies. What's she going to do with a mountain of dust? Roman knew that Cinder embedded dust in her clothing and used it as her primary weapon, but she occasionally switched to her semblance in special circumstances. Even so, she would never need that much dust. She's very conservative of it. That's probably not the case, then. However, she does know plenty about dust, and she did assign him ultra-specific coordinates to move the whole lot of it to the other side of town. He's seen it—that much dust could be enough to blow up a stadium. But that wouldn't do much damage unless the population in that area was dense…like in the Vytal Festival.

That isn't good, he thought. If Cinder is willing to resort to terrorism, then she may also be willing to sacrifice Roman's autonomy in the process. Cinder spent five years on preparing for the execution of her plans. She's spent five years plotting out her moves, preparing for her finest hour. Roman knew only one thing for sure: whatever she's planning is going to change everything.

Roman crawled off of his bed and walked out into the living area. Neo was gone (and so was the alcohol), but in the place of her parasol, she left a note.

I forgot to mention: Junior wanted to talk to you tomorrow night about your game plan. Like me, he's not excited about the idea that you're staying in town, so he wants to hear it from you that your head's on straight. He said to go at 7:00 PM sharp so he can sneak you in without worrying about witnesses. Don't be late.