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Army of the Damned, 73-71 BCE

This is about the slave rebellion led by Spartacus in the Roman Republic from 73-71 Before Common Era.  Spartacus was a real person, however not a lot about his actions is known. So people don't know why he made some of the choices that he did, that information is unfortunately lost to history.

73 BCE

Once there was glory. Honour and loyalty to the to a great nation. I had the simple wish of rising through the ranks. To have everyone know my name. I would ride through the cities to future battles, people were going to whisper my name. They would stop to stare at me, and the army at my back. "Spartacus, defender of our people." "Spartacus the Hero." I wanted fame, and I wanted glory. Who doesn't?
Yet those things didn't come, some might argue that I was to rash in my actions. That deserting wasn't the best choice I could have made. However, I argue back, we only live once. I didn't get what I wanted from the army, so why should I have stayed? Why should I have wasted my one and only life.
I haven't yet changed my mind. Even as I felt the cold irons clamp around my wrists. Even as I was pushed through the dirt and mud, dragged away into this new life of slavery. I won't deny that I might very well deserve this. It is what the law states, and could have ended up much worse for me. Even as exhaustion overtook me, I kept walking on towards a school, where I was to learn how to kill. Kill not as a soldier on a battlefield. But to kill those unfortunate enough to be forced into the same cage as me. And yet I was not afraid, I had no doubt that I would escape this future. And I had not yet changed my mind.
My throat burned, my heart pounded. Not with fear, with Adrenalin. The cold night air whipped us, as we ran from the gladiator school. No one could control us, I am going to live my life the way I wish. Even if I die doing so, people will know my name.

And I will not change my mind.

71 BCE

Now I sit in my room. Leaning over maps, trying to find a way, any way for my army to escape this situation. What then? Even if we escape this force,even if we defeat Crassus. There will be more. At one point there were over 90,000 men under my command, with Crixus and Oenomaus leading beside me. No longer were we to be ignored. They didn't see us as a threat, no not until we beat their army's. First they only sent small, useless army's. We beat them, battle after battle. More and more slaves joined us in this fight. Until we had reached the Alps, we could have escaped. We could have moved on to lands were Rome's controls did not reach. Yet we turned around. All the way back to the south. The slaves, the men in my army no longer wanted to just be free, they wanted to watch Rome burn.
So here I am again, the great Spartacus, in the army once more. However rather than a fight for glory, it has become a fight for vengeance. It is no longer even a fight for survival, the objective is not to change the system. It is to kill. To kill and kill and kill some more. To make people feel the fear of staring death in the face, for nothing more than being born in the wrong place, during the wrong time of history.
And yet I still haven't changed my mind.

Standing before my army, I raised my sword and not looking back, -No never look back, for we only live once- I charge, with an army at my back. For a cause that was lost along the way. Maybe I changed my mind again. It seems I'm quite good at that, this time it seems, that I can't run away. So instead I tell myself, I have not changed my mind, and I run at Crassus with an army of men behind me. I raise my sword as the Roman army surrounds me, I swing my sword and take down a man. Then the world stops. There is pain, so much pain. But for the first time I hear the screams. All around me, the screams of my men, fighting and dying. And for what? What reason could there be to create such a sound. The sound of so much agony, so I face the heavens, even as I sink to the ground. I look towards the immortal heavens and I smile. Smile for I have done what I had wished for so long ago. Now everyone will remember me, I am a warrior slays in battle. As I close my eyes, as I draw my last breath, I wish the question wasn't in the back of my mind. I wish I didn't have to doubt my life's worth. All I wanted was to live my life in a way that when it came to this moment, this very breath. That my last breath wouldn't be wasted on the question, of if it was really worth any of it, if I had done it right? If I had done everything I could do.

71 BCE

My name is no longer important. I have forgotten it, like I forgot everything else in that very moment. Or was it the next. How many moments have passed since I watched my commander, my Hero, being slain by mere foot soldiers. Crassus did not even bat and eye at the death of Spartacus. Did not even acknowledge it, when my world shattered. I am 16 years and I have spent my entire life slave. I have survived the mines, I have survived the Gladiators, even as I had no interest in living. I simply didn't, my life revolved around survival. So when I heard of the army of the damned, as this army no one took seriously passed by my town. I snuck away, under the cover of the night. I do not know why, I did not want to live so why would I try to find a way to a future that requires one to live, not just survive. So I joined this army of slaves, moving North. I would go over the Alps and then into Gaul, and I would learn what it is to be alive. That is what I thought would happen, but then we had reached the Alps. At this point I had already fallen for it, for all the snares put up by life. I had found comrades, a new family. One that would fight for me as I for them. It was all thanks to Spartacus, he had made it all possible. So when the army turned around, back to the south. Out of hate and spite and whatever else. I hesitated, but I followed the man that had given me the chance to learn what it is to live. I no longer wanted to settle for a life of servitude. So I followed the man who had not led me astray before. How foolish I was. Truly foolish indeed, and so greedy. I am nothing, I am nobody. I do not deserve to reach for the future. Not when I am still shackled by the past. So when I see Spartacus fall beneath the swords of men, I slowly turn and I walk. I walk straight off the killing fields. How I survived, I do not know. I do not care. I could no longer feel the pounding of my heart, the aches all over my body. I simply felt hollow. So I walked, on and on. With no destination. Why should I care about this world when mine had been damned the moment I took my first breath? Why should anyone care?

70 BCE

I did not notice when I passed out on the road. I did not notice when I was dragged away. I did not care when I woke up in a cart full of crying fools, crying slaves. Scared for their lives, I had no more life, so I did not cry. I felt nothing, nothing but a pulsing in my chest. Slowly, quietly it beat. It grew, yet I did not know what was building inside me. I did not care.
I do not know how much time has passed. How much blood I have spilled. I am standing in the middle of the coliseum. Drenched in blood, none of it my own. I felt nothing still, but the pulsing unending anger that courses through my veins. It numbs me to the world. So I do not care about the roaring crowd, that takes so much pleasure from my torture. I let this rage drive me to madness, that is what it has to be. Madness. All of this. This entire world. What else could it be but madness, what else could make me smile at the monsters. What else could make me raise my arms in victory at the animals all around me, practically foaming at the mouth as they watch me defeat the poor beasts that were caught and forced into this cage. It had to be madness that took over my being, as I turned toward the opening gate on the other side of the wall. Madness that made me charge at the king of all animals. Madness that the Lion charged back at me, and I was not afraid. Madness that my battle cry, my last sound, my last breath went unheard by the world, as the monsters stood from their seats and cheered as I at last was no more.