Caius awoke with an itch. It was that same nagging feeling that always came to him eventually, sooner or later. The feeling that he'd been good for too long, that he hadn't taken risks, that he hadn't had any fun. And just as inevitable as the itch was the urge to scratch it. Sometimes he could resist for days, sometimes weeks. Sometimes, like today, he did not want to wait. The itch was too strong for him to ignore, searing him like hot metal. And besides, when the itch came he always had fun - just so long as he didn't lose control.

After getting dressed and washing his face quickly, Caius was out on the street wandering through the unfamiliar lanes. It was late afternoon already - he had been drinking long into the previous night - and the light of the day was already fading. He scanned the faces of the people as he passed, looking for something in their eyes, even he wasn't quite sure what.

One man looked Caius in the eye as he walked past in the opposite direction and instantly the young Roman knew this was it, this was the one. Caius stopped for a moment in the street, as if realising he had come the wrong way, before turning back and trailing the man he had seen. The man was short but stocky, and young, too. Normally, they were not so well-built as this, but sometimes the itch picked out someone that would be a challenge to him, who would actually put him at risk.

Now, the risk was in how and where to strike. This was on the fringes of the town, but even so it was not empty, and Caius would have to strike quickly and decisively if he was to avoid being seen. He quickened his pace, lengthening his stride and placing his feet carefully so the he was unheard by the man ahead. Caius could feel the blood rushing through his head, the steady thump thump of his heart as his body prepared itself by a sudden burst of action. Saliva gathering in the sides of his mouth with the anticipation of the moment to come.

The man ahead stopped for a second and made to turn round, when suddenly Caius had him in his grasp. Lifting him by his throat, Caius dragged the flailing man to the edge of the street and into the gutter. He even had time to notice the pink sky as the sun set over the houses, and thinking that it was a long time since he had seen the sky look as beautiful as that. Part of it was his heightened senses, awakened by the smell of fear and the touch of warm flesh. When he looked down again, the man's struggles were fading, and it only took moments more until Caius was able to remove his fingers from the man's neck.

With a cut of his knife, Caius removed the man's purse from his tunic, and walked away from the scene as calmly as if he had just bought a loaf of bread. When he reached the seafront, he tossed the purse into the water and looked out to the waves. "It's time to go back. Time to return home."