No more Heroes: Similarity and causality

Rank 25/24: Legion

Jordan groaned as he arrived home. Vespia was long since gone and he was worn out from his long battle with the bullish foreman. He took a quick shower then flopped onto his bed and fell asleep. His dreams were much better than the previous night's. He was thinking about the televised battle. Would it make him famous? Could he become the rising star of the UKAA? He hoped so… ever since his high school days, he'd dreamed of fame. Not that he was ever going to get it when he got a C in Maths and a D in physics. Now his dreams wandered onto his earlier years… he'd had a nice little life there. How had he lost it all? Then his mind turned again… to that court case. He'd been accused of smuggling drugs into his college… and was booted out with a £500 fine. His parents abandoned him… that was when he moved. The memorable dream showed him his journey to his new home and taking his new job and getting his apartment… boy those were some shit times.

His alarm rescued him from his sombre dreams for the second night in a row as he sat up in his warm bed. His head tiled to the left for a moment before snapping back into place. He got up and found something from a previous night to eat for breakfast. He was wondering whether he should go buy some real food when suddenly a brown envelope slid underneath his apartment door. It was addressed to him in big bold letters. Jordan plucked it from the dirty carpet and opened it up. And out flowed at least 10 £100 notes. Jordan's eyes widened. That was more money than he'd ever seen in his life. There was a note alongside them and another envelope but Jordan ignored them as he picked up the cash. He examined it in his hands, turning the bills over and over again and again. Then he finally took a look at the note. It was from Melissa, and written neatly.

"These are your winnings from last nights fight. This should be a good start to the £3000 you owe us from the expenses of your current ranking fights."

Jordan's heart sank. He should've known there would be a catch to this. How was he going to earn £3000? And how come he was being charged to kill people? This was bullshit! Out of annoyance, he ripped open the other envelope. There was another letter in it. Again from Melissa.

"Your next ranking fight has been arranged, and it's slightly different from the others. Head over to the museum of human history to the north east. Also there's no fee for this battle. Good luck, From Melissa."

Jordan ripped up the letter and snatched his blade from the floor. All this rage would help him in this fight. Whoever was waiting at the museum was going to regret the day they were born.

The museum of human history stood out like a sore thumb. It was an ugly building with thick garish concrete that looked ready to fall down. There were some tattered banners advertising various exhibits, dotted around the from of the building. Its doors were aged and oak, reminding him a little of the chapels doors from his fight with the priest. He pushed on the doors and entered the empty foyer. There was only an information desk and some doors in view. That was weird. This place clearly didn't care about first impressions. Jordan shrugged and began to wander around the hollow halls, searching for his target. The exhibits were very unappealing and looked long out of date by today's standards. Why did this place still exist? Did society just forget about it?

These thoughts kept ringing in his head as he scoured the vast museum. He didn't like this. He was a moving target. If his opponents had long range weapons, they could be following him right now, taking aim at his head. He tried to ignore that idea as he came upon a roman exhibit that was… stained in blood?

The whole hall had splatters of blood painting its walls, floors and even some of the artefacts. The gruesome roman artefacts looked deadly in every way. There were sharp short swords, strong stalwart shields and amazingly crafted armour. There were also chariots, toga's and a model of Julius Ceaser, looking smug and in control. Quite fitting that he was surrounded by a pool of blood really… Jordan's mind snapped to attention as he remembered that his opponents were most likely waiting for him in this room. He trod forward gingerly, trying to avoid stepping in the pools of blood to little avail. Whoever these killers were, they were very efficient at getting rid of the bodies afterward.

"For the glory of the empire!" came a pair of voices from behind Jordan, as he turned to see two Romans running at him. Well, men dressed as Romans anyway. They played the part well, wearing full roman battle dress, billowing red cloaks flowing behind them as they ran, wielding the classic sharp short swords of the time and also clutching rectangular shields. Jordan had little to no time to draw his sword and block the incoming blows but he somehow managed it, putting some space between him and his attackers.

"What the hell are you two?" he inquired. The two Romans clashed swords as a sign of brotherhood.

"We are the Legion! Carrying on the legacy of ancient Rome!" sad the first.

"We fight to defend our region from intruders such as you!" the other one continued.

"Intruder? Hello? I was sent here to fight you two cosplayers!" he yelled, already pissed off at this duo.

"All are intruders to our roman empire! They shall never strike us down!" retorted the first.

"Enough talk. Time to execute this peasant." Said the second as their swords clashed again.

"For the glory of the empire!" they announced a second time as Jordan groaned and redied himself for the attack.

The roman duo charged forward, shields ready to block any initial attack. Jordan remembered a few things about roman war strategies and knew how to stop this one. He waited until they were up close and just as they lowered their shields to attack, Jordan slashed swiftly. His sword bounced off against the tough armour, but it made both Romans flinch as they stumbled back. Jordan used this as an opportunity and began hacking at one with quick, rapid slices. The roman raised his shield to defend himself and slowly moved back. Suddenly, he pushed forward, ramming the rectangular piece of curved metal into Jordan, sending him reeling. Jordan realised the Romans plan just in time as he quickly moved to one side, not escaping the blow of the second roman that was waiting behind him, but reducing its impact on his back. He cringed as the blade cut open his shirt and the fresh wound bled. He shuffled to the left so neither roman could surprise him again. The Romans regrouped and charged again, shields ready to intercept. Hadn't they learned from that last attack? Jordan had a new plan this time, and as the shields moved aside, he swung his sword low, cutting the soldiers legs. They both grunted and one went to his knees. Jordan raised his sword to cut his head clean off but was intercepted by the other one, as the shield forced him away.

"He's mightier than we expected…" whispered the first roman to his compatriot.

"Yes… but we will defeat him. He's is one man and we are two" he whispered back, getting to his feet once more. The Romans locked shields and ran at their opponent. He prepared for them to lift their shields…but they did not. Instead they slammed their metal shields against him, forcing him to stumble back. Jordan grunted as he was easily overpowered by the two men and he fell onto his back. The first slammed his shield down on him, pinning him to the floor, drawing his short sword for a quick kill by slicing our hero's throat. Jordan struggled underneath the shield but to no avail. His sword arm was trapped and it looked like he was doomed…

That was when Jordan had an idea on how to stop these roaming Romans. Carefully, he positioned his sword arm just under the roman's leg and stabbed up as his opponent was about to strike. The roman cried in pain as Jordan found the strength to throw him off of him. He was back on his feet in moments, just as the second roman charged again. Jordan instinctively struck out with his sword, but the roman had his shield up.

CRACK! SNAP!

The sound of shattering metal rang in Jordan's ears. He watched in horror as his sword broke in half from the stress of this fight, and all those he had encountered. He was unarmed and his opponents were closing in fast. Jordan turned on his heels and ran. It was all he could do. He began to feel so helpless. He had been dependant on his sword to win his matches. And without it, he realised how weak he truly was. He needed another weapon and fast. He ran for a nearby display where a roman was proudly holding a spear. Jordan seized it and prepared for the advancing Romans. They were going to ram their shields into him again. But this time, he had a plan. With their shields in their line of view, they couldn't see past them. At the last moment, he side stepped the rushing steel wall and lunged out with his spear.

His newfound weapon was better than he expected. The spear entered the first roman, exited through the side of his stomach, and then entered the other one. Both of them were skewered like a shish kabob. Their weapons clanged on the floor as the two clutched their wounds. With a hefty shove, Jordan pushed the two over. The two cried out as they hit the floor but Jordan no longer cared. They'd broken his only weapon and they were going to pay for it. He sneered down at the two and snatched one of their short swords. He quickly brought it down into the exposed face of the first roman. His screams became gurgles as his tongue was cut by the sharp blade. He slowly stopped moving as his partner began moving more frantically. Jordan waited a few seconds before he brought the sword slicing down onto his face too. He gurgled and stopped moving. Jordan scowled down at his would be opponents and realised something dreadful. Had he enjoyed the thrill of mutilating their faces? Why would he enjoy that…

Legion

DEAD

Jordan tried to push the sickly thoughts into the deepest reaches of his mind and took the two swords as spoils of war. Maybe he could sell them for a new weapon...

"Good job Jordan. You are now ranked 24th." Came the oh so familiar voice of Melissa formn the door arch. Jordan looked at her inquisitively.

"24th? But I was 26th earlier…"

"The both of them occupied ranks 25 and 24." She explained and Jordan face palmed. He turned to leave when Melissa stopped him.

"Just to let you know, good move with that spear." She said sincerely. Jordan raised an eyebrow. This was new from her. A real compliment? How odd…

He continued to question it on his way home. He realised some people were staring at his torn shirt. But he didn't care. The loss of his weapon and the pain of his back was numbing his brain to the point where he was daydreaming of pie…

…mmm…pie…