Repentance

[Confederal Republics]

"Fight against those who believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, nor hold that forbidden which hath been forbidden by Allah and His Messenger, nor acknowledge the religion of Truth, (even if they are) of the People of the Book, until they pay the Jizya with willing submission, and feel themselves subdued."

Two weeks ago
Muslim District, Lakhm
Lakhm Governorate, Anbat

His submachine gun safely hanging from a sling around his neck, Sergeant Mikheil carefully peered through the door's windows into the pitch-black entry room of their target apartment, as his comrades awaiting behind him on the stairway kept their guns trained upon their surroundings to cover every avenue of attack.

The door to what a rough sketch of the target had told them was the living room was open, and after the doorway he glimpsed what could have been a part of a couch. They had been told to expect five subjects inside, two adults in one of the bedrooms, the main subject and two children in another. No movement in sight, Mikheil noted to himself, and raised the thumb of his right hand towards his team leader behind him as an inaudible signal. The hold of his left hand tightened around his weapon's pistol grip as Mikheil felt the adrenaline in his veins.

* * *

A couple of quarters away in an unmarked Police jeep, Lieutenant Yusef's radio crackled into life as the leader of the entry team gave a "ready to go" report over the encoded radio frequency. Knowing that everything was in place, he gazed at the illuminated board of his wristwatch. It was nearly four in the morning, the time agreed upon beforehand.

Yusef didn't command the whole operation. Major Qaboosh Mashal, head of the Republican Police's Department of Activities Against Terrorism and Subversion for the Lakhm Governorate, exercised overall control from the Lakhm Police Headquarters. Republican and local policemen formed the bulk of the operation, and would be responsible for seizing the fourteen Islamic Brotherhood members picked as targets. Yusef's men and the Intelligence Ministry officers assigned as their support team would be responsible for the main catch.

He hadn't exactly been thrilled when Battalion had seconded his team to Major Mashal for the operation, as Yusef didn't like working with policemen. Still, he had to adapt to their orders, and had resolved to find a positive side in that his unit usually did not get a lot of work in a relatively peaceful locale as Lakhm. This was a breeze compared to their last operation up north in Subay against Islamist militants, even if Yusef knew that the men they were about to target would undoubtedly be as deluded by their faith in their false creed as those hardened killers calling themselves Islamic Formation mujahideen. But what they'd have in faith they'd lack in skill. None of them would know what hit them.

Lieutenant Yusef reviewed the plan in his head: The entry teams that had infiltrated the vicinity of the four target buildings through the dense back alleys of this portion of the Muslim District would storm their targets simultaneously, immobilizing the men each team had been assigned to capture as well as any others in the buildings. After that, the vehicle-borne support teams waiting farther away would move in to evacuate the targets and to conduct a preliminary sweep of the locations for evidence and weapons. Lakhm was fairly secure a city, so there was no indication that his men would be at risk at any phase after taking control of their targets.

Yusef raised his radio phone to his mouth, and pressed the "talk" button.

"All teams, commence."

* * *

The fist raised by his team leader behind him gave Mikheil the cue to break open the door window with his baton end and to reach inside, quickly finding the door handle and opening the front door to the apartment. Reminding himself of the brief period of time an element of surprise tended to last, he holstered the baton, then turning on the tactical flashlight attached to the barrel of his submachine gun and taking hold of the foregrip of his weapon.

Broken glass cracking underneath the pressure of the combat boots of Marwan and his comrades, the six-man team entered the living room of the apartment, scanning with their MP5's in all directions for any possible threats. Noting to himself that he neither heard or saw anything from the right, where the two bedrooms of the apartment were, Mikheil could only conclude that the inhabitants were far too talented at sleeping for their own good. Mikheil shifted right, leading the rest of the team towards their target.

They simultaneously entered the bedrooms of the apartment - Mikheil and three others to the room where the primary subject was with two of his siblings, and the remaining two to the room where the owning couple of the apartment was. Mikheil found their target in his bed, waking up to the sound of movement and to the sight of flashlights and automatic weapons pointing directly at him. Before the target, a young man, could react, Mikheil shouted "Subject visible!" over the screams of his younger siblings who were now waking up to the situation. Two of his comrades swarmed upon the man, forcing him down on the bed.

The present
Al-Hirmil Maximum Security Prison
Phezzan Governorate, Anbat

Besides assorted screams of pain, the shahada was the only thing that the government men had gotten out of Ahmed during the two weeks when he'd been held in custody, and Ahmed prided himself upon that fact. He was just a nineteen year old, and since his elder brother had introduced him to the other members of their group, he had wondered whether or not he would be able to handle the things he'd heard the government men do to their prisoners. Now he knew.

From the stretcher where he was firmly held down by cuffs attached to his wrists and legs, and on which he'd been again taken from his solitary cell to this room of torture, Ahmed glimpsed figures in green guard uniforms - one with a bucket in hand - entering the room. The government men wanted information about their group, and Ahmed did not know if the three of his comrades already in custody had talked. They said that they had, but he did not want to believe these Christians, sure that their words were lies just how Abu Zaid had told him and the others. Still, he did not know how long he could continue this way.

"I am not going to tell you anything", Ahmed said wearily as the uniformed guards surrounded him, as he had done in previous times even if that had not prevented them from torturing him, "This you should know by now."

As a response came a spit from one of the guards, who could not have been no more than three or four years older than him, upon his face and a shout, "Shut up, you Muslim dog!".

Another one threw a blanket over Ahmed's head, and he felt the spit spreading across his left cheek, though the notice of that soon gave way to the knowledge that something else was coming. He saw nothing, but he heard a water tap being turned on, and the laughs of his captors. This wouldn't be the first time they'd waterboarded him, nor would it probably be the last. At least it would be better than the electric batons.

And even if Ahmed would die in this miserable place, he knew that he would be a martyr.

 

[Confederal Republics]

The Present,
President al-Yasa Housing District, Ghassan,
Ghassan Governorate, Anbat

In the backroom of the shisha bar, Suleyman abd-al-Fattah Madani breathed in smoke from the water pipe in front of him on the floor, and contemplated. As a good Muslim and a follower of the teachings of the Quran, Suleyman had never touched upon alcohol. Like nearly all Anbati men, in his teenage years he had been introduced to the traditional habit of chewing qat, and for a while he had been fond of the drug. However, he could now see that the leaves were a tool of evil.

Since he'd rediscovered Islam, the water pipe had been the only one of the vices that he helped himself to. Suleyman had left his family in Lakhm to move North to Ghassan, after having first become immersed in the study of the Quran and then moved to the city to pursue its studies in one of the few Islamic universities of the country, but to his sorrow he'd discovered that the teachers there were nothing more than Phezzan's puppets teaching their own corrupt version of the holy scripture. And that had, at least if you asked Suleyman, why he had been expelled merely a year after his studies begun. If you had asked them, they would have told that the expulsion had been due to "extremist leanings".

Suleyman could have after that returned home to Lakhm, to his parents and to his siblings, but he had not. Why he had not, he did not know. Maybe it was because he did not want to come home in shame, or because he did not want to admit that his father who had wanted him to stay in Lakhm to help with running their small grocery store might have been right. Then again, his parents hadn't exactly been kind to him after he had left. The last time he had heard of his father, the old man had in fact told him to stay away from the family, in the knowledge that he had exchanged e-mails with his younger brother Abdel who had eventually followed his example and started worship at the same mosque where Suleyman had gone to before moving to Ghassan.

Since then, Suleyman had had his share of second-guessing about his decision to urge his brother to follow his foot-steps. Like the Movement had absorbed him, it had absorbed his brother, as far as he knew. Since Suleyman had moved to Ghassan and gone into contact with the people in the city whom his former imam had pointed out, he had essentially led a double life in the knowledge that should there ever be a traitor in their midst, or should there be a mistake made by anyone in the cell, he would face death or worse at the hands of the security services. He was not quite sure if he'd want his brother to lead such a life. But Suleyman knew that Abdel was a grown-up now, and old enough to make his own decisions.

It was curious enough that just as he was immersed in thoughts about his brother, news about the man came in from the door. Mohammad went to the same mosque with Suleyman, and like Suleyman he was also a member of the Movement. The back room, reserved to regular customers such as Suleyman, had no one in it save for the two so Mohammad could speak without whispers.

"Suleyman, friend", the man begun immediately after coming in, and Suleyman lifted his gaze from the shisha to the doorway, "They have your brother, and three others, in Lakhm. The government men are holding them in Al-Hirmil."

 

[Confederal Republics]

The Present,
President al-Yasa Housing District, Ghassan,
Ghassan Governorate, Anbat

Even before it had been taken over by Bashar Zureiq's Ministry of Intelligence and National Security, the Al-Hirmil Maximum Security prison had held a reputation of infamy among the Anbati people. But even so, its reputation had originated in the fact that it was the place where the most dangerous serial killers, rapists, criminal bosses and terrorist of the country would serve their sentences. During the Zureiq era, Al-Hirmil had become a synonym for political repression and torture.

Suleyman knew as well as anyone else in the ranks of the Sword of Truth that should he ever be captured, he would be sent to Al-Hirmil and tortured. He'd actually not experienced a lot of violence in person, having taken part only in preparatory stages of the few operations that the Sword of Truth had undertaken over the recent years, but the man who had trained their cell had told that ultimately torture was ineffective in attaining information. Beyond a certain point, one would say anything to end his suffering. However, the system didn't work that way. Government men cared about confessions more than they did about the truth, for they needed to show Anbat a threat. Suleyman was far from an expert of politics, but he knew well enough that such things were done in this supposed democracy.

He cast away the hookah before him and looked at Mohammed. Suleyman headed their cell, had headed ever since their former leader Rahim had been shot by the Republican Police nearly a year ago. They had been asleep since then in fear that the Police's investigation into Rahim would have yielded them some information. But no longer.

"I...I know what to do", Suleyman said, not and immediately afterwards chided himself for not sounding as convincing as he'd wanted to sound. "We need to activate our cell."

OOC:Sorry for the shortness, felt lazy.

 

[Confederal Republics]

The Present,
Al-Aziz Center of Islamic Culture, Ghassan,
Ghassan Governorate, Anbat

"Abu Zaid forbids hostage-taking in the cities except at his personal order, abd-al-Fattah, you and both know this", Mohammad told him with a low and quiet voice as the two walked away from the mosque at the heart of Al-Aziz, itself the heart of Islamic practice in Ghassan together with the Grand Mosque. Suleyman sighed in response. It had been a couple of days since Suleyman had heard about his brother having been captured, but

It was true that directions from Abu Zaid himself, the head of their movement who however communicated with his subordinates and the Anbati public only through occasional voice statements due to persecution of the security services, forbid hostage taking as a blatant waste of resources. Martyrdom was the objective of all of their movement, their elusive leader had said, but not blind martyrdom.

Abu Zaid knew well that the movement was small, and the security forces in the service of the unbelievers were experienced and disciplined. The Sword of Truth had formed as an urban splinter group only when the main wing of the Islamic Brotherhood had denounced violence, and the Anbati security services had grown competent at solving hostage situations by the time their group had made their first attempts. Invariably, the men involved in those incidents had martyred themselves, slain by Phezzan's thugs. Suleyman sighed again.

"We must do something, Mohammed. To presume that merely to plant a bomb somewhere would suffice in freeing them....", Suleyman said with barely contained fury, "I call that cowardice."

"I'm not a coward, Suleyman. You're just making this personal."

Was he? Perhaps. Certainly, Suleyman knew that his reaction would've been starkly different had the so-called Lakhm Four had just been four random members of their movement with whom Suleyman had never had any contact. But now, one of them was his younger brother, and though it was easy to assume that tribal traditions had no relevance in urbanized Anbat, they did. Anbati tribes had always held that it was the duty of a man to avenge injustice done to his brothers or sisters, and Suleyman knew that this responsibility now fell upon him. Maybe it was true that it was personal, and that the promise of martyrdom and the anger that he felt at the Christian rulers of their country was merely a facade. But still, he could not live with himself if he'd remain idle.

Maybe it was a crude kind of a subconscious defense that he chose to skip the prospect outright.

"We have plans, and we have enough weapons to carry them out, Mohammed", he said, noting to himself that he really should lower his voice as they discussed this in a relatively public place, "The rest of our cell should understand what I have to say, and understand we must take action. I'll call them to meet in the usual place."

"Fool", Mohammed shrugged, and turned away from Suleyman.

His friend was not quite forthcoming, Suleyman noted to himself. Perhaps it was because this was the first time their cell would actually take action. Their deceased leader Rahim had been with the Martyrs' Brigade in the Northwest, taken part in a few operations and returned to give them training, but during the year when Suleyman had been in charge of the cell they had merely slept. Upon reflecting on this, Suleyman could see the cowardice in his friend's thoughts and words. Hopefully the rest of their group would not be so foolish.