No more Heroes: Similarity and causality

Rank 11: Columbus Finnegan

Jordan was unconscious for a whole day. All those hits to the face had done him in good and proper, and as he woke up, he felt dizzy. Images around him were blurred and he couldn't tell where he was. It was like some kind of fever dream.

Eventually, the world settled around him, and he recognised where has was. The stylish furnishings, the warm lighting, the clothes draped over the armchair, the comfy sofa he was lying on. He noted he had an ice pack on his head too. Vespia's place. Vespia herself came into the room and set a cup of tea down beside him.

"Glad to see you're awake." She began with a little smile.

"What…what happened…?"

"You passed out when you came back from that Akashic point. You looked awful." She pressed the hot mug into his hands and he took a sip.

"Akashic point?" he inquired, ignoring his now burning tongue.

"They're gateways to alternate worlds." she said all too casually for his liking.

"Gateways to other worlds? You mean like, supernatural and shit?" He was having a hard time grasping this as it was, and his dizzy state didn't help either.

"Yes Jordan. Don't tell me you're not a believer."

"Weird…" was all he could mumble. His brain meanwhile still could barely accept the idea of something as supernatural as this. He decided to ignore it and focused on drinking his tea. "So…you brought me here?"

"Yup. What, should I have left you there?" she teased.

"No…it's just, it seems kind of weird you'd be in a place like that." She was silent for a moment, pensively sipping from her mug.

"I… I was just passing by is all." Jordan doubted that and decided to press on.

"That's not likely Ves. It's noisy and smelly there. You could've taken a different route." Vespia looked about sheepishly. Why would she want to hide something from him?

"Well..it…it was just tha-" the phone saved her, and she quickly snatched it up. "Hello? Yes, this is Vespia…" she stopped and handed the phone to him. "For you." Jordan glared at her slightly and took the phone.

"Yes?"

"Your next match it set up." The ever chilling voice of Melissa told him. Jordan groaned.

"Where at?"

"He's waiting in the slums. Get a move on." She finished quickly and hung up. Jordan looked back as Vespia suspiciously.

"When I get back, I want you to tell me everything." He stated and then headed out the door, feeling better already. Vespia frowned to herself as she heard the door slam.

"If only I could."

The outskirts of town consisted of a flimsy ring of dilapidated homes and ruined buildings, inhabited by the poorest of the town. As Jordan headed through them, he felt like hundreds of eyes were on him, watching from unseen nooks and crannies, waiting to pop out and steal from him. But Jordan tried to ignore the feeling as he continued on towards his opponent.

He found his opponent in the oddest of ways. As he was walking up a dirty street, rubbish strewn all over the road, he heard someone clear their throat behind him, deliberately trying to get his attention. He turned sharply and discovered a man standing behind him. Said man was dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, slightly unzipped at the chest to reveal his rough and slightly muscular chest. His arms looked like tree branches, and his legs looked like tree trunks. His head was completely bald and he had a scraggly black beard growing around his chin. There was a look of pure spite in his eyes, the kind you only got from hating the world and your life three times over. Around his left arm, Jordan noticed there was a heavy looking ball and chain attached to it, the ball currently resting on the dirty ground below them. He pointed an interrogative finger at Jordan.

"Hey! You here for a fight?" Jordan turned, hand instinctively going to his blade's handle.

"Maybe. What's it to you skinhead?" The man snarled at him.

"Maybe it's because I'm waiting for some fuckface to try and kill me?" Jordan returned his angry look.

"And I'm looking for some shit for brains assassin I'm supposed to kill." The convict's lips parted, showing his teeth grinding against each other.

"Fuck you, pathetic little asshole." He retorted. Jordan felt his blood boil.

"Pathetic? Coming from a criminal? You're not even an assassin; you're just a jailbird looking for protection!" The convict's eyes went bloodshot hearing that, his pupils dilating and his hands clenching into fists, one of them closing around the chain on his arm. He lifted it above his head and began spinning it above him, giving Jordan time to draw Singing Death. Just in time too as the heavy cast iron ball came flying towards him. He ducked and rolled on the ground, getting up and performing an upward slash. Unfortunately, the criminal managed to stop it with the chain, wrapping it round the blade and wrenching the weapon from him. Jordan eeped as he suddenly felt defenceless as the convict now held his weapon... and surprisingly, he just tossed the sword behind him as it clattered to the ground. He spun up his ball and chain and approached him slowly, a solid look of concentration etched into his stony face. He felt the space between them shrinking. One of them would have to make a move eventually.

Jordan moved first, ducking to the left to try and slip past him, only to barely be missed by the iron ball hitting the ground in front of him, leaving a noticeable cater in the pavement. He tried to use this to run to the left of him, but received a swift punch to the jaw, sending him flying and causing a little cough of blood to escape his lips. He grunted and got back to his feet as the jailbird advanced on him. His brain buzzed as he formulated a plan. Chances were he'd get his nut smacked in for it, but he was willing to risk it. The toss up between staying alive and getting punched was easy to decide upon.

Jordan tackled the man before he could bring his wrecking ball down, punching him in the face a few times before the stronger criminal took control, clocking him in the face and rolling him off. But Jordan took his chance and got to his feet, jumping for his blade. With Singing death in his hands, he was ready to fight again.

The convict growled and hurled the ball and chain at him, which Jordan only narrowly dodged, rushing up to attack the guy, rising Singing Death for a high strike. The convict brought his chain up and caught the blade mid swing, barely able to hold the murderous steel back. A swift boot to the stomach sent Jordan back, as the convict dragged his ball and chain back into his hands, and clutching it in one hand attempted to cave Jordan's face in with it. Jordan moved in time, and the heavy cast iron sphere smashed into his shoulder.

Jordan cried out in pain as he heard a crack come from his shoulder. His entire left arm felt numb in seconds as he attempted to ignore the pain. A task made more difficult as he began to feel surges of pain in his shoulder, shooting through his limp arm. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers into unbreakable fists as he glared at his opponent. He was done messing around, now it was time to kill. The familiar blue aura surrounded his sword as he lunged at the convict, scraping along his side and leaving an angry gash in his clothes and his stomach. The man roared like a tiger as the pain hit home, and he returned Jordan's glare. Both men's eyes were filled with hatred, blistering, white hot hatred. The battle was truly on now.

The convict ran at Jordan, this time spinning his ball and chain like it weighed nothing, crackling with that blue aura Jordan knew so well. Jordan struck Singing Death into the swirling chain vortex, watching as it wrapped itself around the blade. Summoning all his strength, Jordan raised the blade, slicing right through the chain and almost into the head of his opponent, who only just managed to duck away in time. A fist flew and smacked into Jordan's jaw, probably dislocating it, but the adrenaline rush of the fight meant he no longer cared for the pain. He lashed out at the convict again, who ducked under his swing and brought his fist up for another strike, only hitting thin air as Jordan ducked and rolled across the dusty ground. Once back up, their weapons clashed, the convict's fist pressing against the side of Jordan's blade in a battle of strength. Jordan felt his knee's buckle as he leant back, the criminal's strength pressing him down to the ground. It seemed like only a matter of time as his other fist raised and came flying into Jordan's face.

It was the kick to the solar plexus that stopped the convict, Jordan somehow finding the strength to kick him right where it hurt, knocking the breath out of him and sending him reeling. Whilst recovering, Jordan decided to end the fight there and there, rushing at his opponent one more time.

Two strikes, two vertical strikes and the man's muscular arms went sailing through the air, leaving twin trails of crimson fluids, staining the ground as they flew. The convict howled like a wolf in a bear trap, sinking to his knee's as his body bled from both sides. Jordan looked down upon the convict, feeling a sense of slight superiority, as he raised his blade and finished him off, sending the head flying. Another day, another head cut off.

Columbus Finnegan

DEAD

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief as he sheathed his blade, not before cleaning it on the criminal's jumpsuit of course. He felt tired now. Using his mojo so often was really taxing. An early night and pizza would be called for. Maybe even…

"Hey, you!" came a voice from behind him. Jordan turned, and standing behind him were three figures, standing in a line. The first was a copper haired man in a brown coat, a fedora adorning his head and his eyes were bespectacled. The second looked like a jail officer, dressed in navy blue and a set of keys hanging from a loop in his belt. The third was dressed in black, a hood adorning his head with two covered holes for his eyes.

"Was that man Columbus Finnegan?" The jailer asked, hands in his pockets. Jordan turned to face them.

"So what if it was?" He snarled, not in the mood for another fight. The three figures looked at one another and slowly nodded.

"Well, thanks for doing out job for us." Said the hooded one, and the three turned to leave. Jordan raised an eyebrow as they left, wondering briefly who they were…but right now, he had bigger fish to fry, back home to be precise.

However, once he arrived back home, Vespia was gone, as he'd expected. Nevertheless he face palmed and groaned, slumping on his bed to rest. He didn't remember falling asleep for those 30 minutes. It just came out of nowhere. It gave him a short boost though, enough to make him pick up the phone and call Vespia.

One ring…two rings…three rings…four rings…five-

"Hello?" she finally answered.

"It's me Ves." He said it was deadpan serious as he could. There was silence for a brief moment. "You owe me an explanation."

"Melissa asked me to, ok?"

"Why would she do that?" this was genuinely confusing. Melissa made it clear a few times she didn't care for him, so why send someone to collect him? Someone who didn't even work for her anymore, no less.

"I don't know, she just called me and said I should go to the underpass."

"Not even an explanation?"

"Just drop it Jordan, it's not important." And then the line went dead. Jordan sighed and sprawled out on his bed again.

"Not important…the way you just acted made it important…" he mumbled to himself. Then, he snatched up the phone and dialled up the pizza joint. He'd need a lot tonight.