No more heroes: Similarity and causality
Interlude II: Mastering Mojo
Jordan strode out of the building, cool as you like and flipped through the roll of bills he'd been paid for his job. A smile spread across his face. It was a sizeable amount of cash, around five hundred pounds. It was the most he had ever seen in his life, but given the nature of his job, he was guessing that fact would not remain constant. Now he could pay for all those ranked matches so far. But before he did that, there was someone he had to go and visit. He turned left from the offices, and headed up the high street. It was around four now, and the streets were busier, various people going here and there. He guessed it was because they finished their shifts at around three, like the students left school around that time. He wondered if anyone would inquire into the drug dealers death…
He shook the thought from his mind as he came across the coach in the fence. As usual, it was dilapidated and dusty, rust flecked over its shell. As he approached, he heard a thump, and a familiar tramp appeared on the roof.
"Whaddya want?" he shouted drunkenly, waving his silver wine bottle at him. Jordan couldn't help but chuckle.
"Don't you recognize me?" he shouted back. The hobo took a moment to identify him, and a sense of realization appeared on his face.
"Oh hey Jordan" he said at last. "Come on in and I'll put the kettle on!" he shouted, before vanishing over the roof, as fast as he had appeared. Jordan climbed the stairs into the coach and walked along the rubbery floor. He peered out of the big back window and saw the bum in the gap behind the coach. He was crouched over a small fire, burning through some newspapers. There was a tripod over the fire, with a small old rusty kettle perched atop it, whistling with steam as water boiled. There were two mugs on the left of him, stained from consistent use and a box of teabags that was most likely stolen. No sugar or milk though. Shame. Jordan sat down across from him as he poured out the hot water into the mugs and added a teabag into each. He passed one to Jordan.
"So…I heard you're doing well in the ranks. Ranked 23rd right?" he asked, sipping at the mug. Jordan nodded in reply.
"But I'm kinda worried about this whole "Battle Royale" Melissa has planned". He admitted, slurping at his hot drink. Dojo's eyes became more slanted and serious.
"She's playing that card is she? Then you need training if you're going to make it through that bloodbath." Jordan frowned.
"It really is serious huh?" Dojo nodded and scowled slightly.
"Kid, you're going into a battle against multiple assassins who are higher ranked than you. Statistically, you're the weakest." He concluded and Jordan sighed at his master's confidence in him. Suddenly, Dojo was on his feet as he poured his tea onto the grass. "Well! That just means you're gonna have to master your mojo."
"Master my what now?" he asked, as he was certain his "tutor" had lost the plot. A mad grin appeared on Dojo's face as he retrieved his wine bottle sword.
"Best way to learn is to see it in motion kid." Jordan got up too and unleashed Singing Death. Dojo hopped from one foot to the other, humming something unrecognizable. Jordan ignored it and lunged at his master…and instantly regretted it. Dojo's blade was glowing with the same blue energy he had seen when he fought West. The second metal hit metal, Jordan could feel his opponents energy as he was knocked backwards. Was this the power of Mojo? Dojo continued to advance on him and Jordan rushed in for another strike. Once again, the sheer power of the energy sent him flying backward. "See? This is Mojo. And from that look on your face, I'm guessing you've seen it before."
"Yeah. When I fought that girl…it was all over my sword." Dojo cracked another mad grin.
"As I suspected. Alright, remember how you felt when you used that power. Replicate that intense feeling if you want to beat me." Dojo lunged forward and Jordan only just managed to sidestep. He concentrated hard, trying to remember how he felt…he had felt…angry? Or was it…overwhelmed? Maybe it was hatred… Guh, he couldn't remember. Of course, all this distracted him from Dojo, who took this opportunity to slash across Jordan's arm. The long cut began to weep blood as its owner cringed and gripped it. His skin felt white hot, as if it were trying to cauterize the wound. His blood boiled…and then it clicked. This was how he felt. A mixture of anger, hatred and determination…and now that he remembered it, he was going to hold onto it as long as his arm bled. His knuckles went white as he gripped Singing Death. And the blue energy surrounded his blade, fuelling his strength.
He felt renewed. Strong enough to take on the world. But right now, Dojo was his target. He struck out at his master, the blades clashed and Dojo was the one to be sent back this time. But Jordan was not satisfied and he lunged at Dojo, aiming for the stomach. The wine bottle sword met his strike with equal force and the two exchanged quick blows, their weapons ringing out in the cold afternoon. Finnaly, Dojo backed off.
"Good job kid. You've just about mastered Mojo. For now anyway, we'll do more complex stuff at another time." Jordan finally breathed again. He sheathed Singing Death and ran his finger over his new scar, wincing slightly. "Sorry bout that, but I figured it was the only way to trigger your emotions."
"So…what exactly is Mojo?" Jordan asked.
"Well its hard to explain." Dojo began, settling back onto his grassy carpet. "You ever seen Star wars?" Jordan arched an eyebrow but nodded. He had seen it a few times, it was practically a classic.
"Well mojo is kinda like the force. It's an energy field that surrounds everything. It can be harnessed if you know how to." He went on. Jordan gave him a blank look. If he hadn't experienced mojo for himself the other day, he'd be calling bullshit right about now. "Of course, you have to be extremely focused to harness it, and even then it won't last forever."
"So it'll make me strong but only for a little while?" Jordan summarized. Dojo nodded and then gave something of a half-smile. "What?" Jordan asked curiously.
"I'm just glad there's someone else out there who doesn't think all this is crazy." Jordan stared at him.
"I don't think I can ever think anything is weird again considering I had to fight a mad forklift driver and a girl that can wield electricity to get this far." He joked. They both laughed at that, lightening the mood some as the sun continued its descent behind the hills.
"You'd better head home soon. Town gets real messy at night." Dojo warned as Jordan looked to the sky to check the time. He was on his feet and waved a quick goodbye to his "master" before heading back onto the main street. He would be heading home soon…but first, he felt like some new threads. That and the sweat patch under his arm wouldn't be going away any time soon.