"As if Gladiators are meant to have memories," Maximus grumbled bitterly, though relieved that Wyatt was aware enough to be able to speak, and joke, however morbidly. "Besides, my English... is terrible..." He grunted as he shouldered past the make-shift door, as he nearly dropped Wyatt to the ground but managed to slowly lower him instead.

"What happened?" He asked quickly as he was already pulling Wyatt's head forward to get a look at the gash on his neck. Animal bites, of some kind.

In the pit of his stomach, he pictures his son morphing into a rabid dog, attacking--

But why would his son lead him to Wyatt to help him, then? His son would want him to help, not betray his friends. He --

Wasn't real. He was dead. Maximus just had to keep remembering that.