(no subject)

[kayip]

July 16, 2012

Getting there was simple – staying inconspicuous about it was a little more difficult. Behrooz had figured what had already happened was a mistake – Valencia was not the most populous location they could have struck, and nor – perhaps more importantly – the most brazen. An awful way to think about it, and Behrooz knew it, but it was far too late to stop that. It made movement more difficult, though hardly impossible, as two of them didn't look 'inconspicuous' at all. And, as Behrooz learned, Malik had another tool – his old identity.

The streets of Washington D.C. were empty – the White House and Capitol would have been evacuated by now, and flashing red and blue lights frequently slipped in through the windshield. Malik pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex, handed a paper bag to Yasir and left the lights on until he was out of sight.

"What's he doing?" Behrooz had asked. Malik looked over the shoulder of his seat at him.

"You'll see."

When Behrooz opened his mouth again, Firuz interrupted – "It'll only be a few more hours – you don't need to be so impatient."

It was enough to silence him.


*


A few hours later was more like nine. Firuz told him to sleep, but Behrooz could only pretend to – his eyes weren't so important anyway, so he faced in the direction of the wall and kept every sense heightened. Even if he'd wanted to, there was no way he could have forced himself to sleep. When the sun came up, he stopped pretending – and he doubted Firuz believed he had ever been asleep, but would just chalk it up to nerves. Which wasn't entirely untrue.

It was eight-thirty AM when Yasir knocked on the window, holding what appeared to be the same paper bag. Malik looked inside the bag, and seemed satisfied, handing the bag back to Firuz before pulling out of the parking lot.

"You can work with this?" called Firuz, looking inside himself.

"If Yasir's mechanic is as good as he says he is," Malik replied, though upon catching the look on Firuz's face, he added, "Yeah. It's fine."


*
10:52 AM



Where the fuck are they?



"Get out." Firuz is looking at Ahmed, who just nods as Malik stops the car, shortly after putting on a friendly face for the surprised guard at the parking lot. He'd used a Midwestern accent Behrooz had never heard before, wearing his glinting dogtag on the outside of his shirt and saying something about making a delivery, coming to work despite the danger. The lot guard had just nodded, letting him in quickly.

Now they were a couple flights up, and Ahmed opens the door to the back of the van, jumping out. Yasir joins him shortly, and the doors slam closed behind them, and Malik drives the van to the edge, next to the short wall that Behrooz abruptly realizes he can see the Washington Monument in the distance.

"Within a two-mile radius – there's the White House, the Monuments, the Capitol Building –"

"Not as many casualties," Malik interrupts, getting out of the car and coming around the back. Behrooz looks from him to Firuz, noting again the gun that's hidden somewhat by his jacket as Malik opens the van's back doors. The two get out, Firuz pulling up the silver briefcase and handing Malik the paper bag.

"Destroying glorified depictions of this country's bloody history is well worth it," Firuz says in a reminding tone. "How long will it take the program?" while he asks, Behrooz takes three careful steps behind him, almost feeling like his words slow down as he does so. Malik takes something – it just looks like a small black box – out of the bag.

"Ten minutes or so, but I have to do it right –" he sort of waves them away. Firuz doesn't turn, but stays silent, as Malik leans over the two devices.

And Behrooz looks over him – two places – head and heart -
(don't think about it)
- he's almost silent when he comes forward again, aware of every point in the set up, hearing nothing in the distance, and the (prey) men are completely distracted by their work –

(no honor)

- and one hand quickly takes the gun from Firuz, and before he can react –

(snap)

- he's shot - onetwothreefour - and Malik has crumpled onto the concrete, bleeding from the head and chest. The silencer dampens the sound, so that it only dimly resounds against the walls.

There isn't time for Behrooz to realize what he's done, before the other man is on top of him, and he knows if he turns, Firuz will wrestle the gun from him. So instead, he just jumps forward like he's trying to escape, and throws the gun forward – it easily brushes over the top of the short wall, and Behrooz, at least, can hear it smash against the pavement below.

By this time, Firuz has thrown him against the ground, landing him facing Malik's bleeding skull.
(I don't want to get shot in the head, either.)
Almost panting, in Arabic, "What – is wrong – with you?" Behrooz looks up at him without speaking, and then tries to kick him off, forcing his leg into Firuz's chest. It only works for a moment, allowing him a few seconds to try to pull himself forward, but Firuz grabs his arm and twists hard enough that Behrooz hears something snap in his shoulder, and can't stop from crying out at what feels like a sharp pieces of glass under his skin. He's dimly aware that he can still hear Yasir and Ahmed below, not running up or even calling out, and Firuz takes his other shoulder and forces him up on his knees.

"How did I not see you…" Behrooz's eyes almost go down, but quite abruptly, he meets Firuz's gaze.

"You needed him. There's nothing you can do." That's it. He doesn't look down, and tries to push him off – though he more succeeds in pushing himself away – standing – but he can barely move his left arm and Firuz takes his right –

- and finally, he hears it, as Firuz pushes him against the open door of the van, over Malik's body, and takes a small knife out of his pocket – there's gunfire below, but Firuz puts the blade against Behrooz's neck for a moment –

- but he seems to hear it, as well – the voices in English, too many cars – and turns instead to the opened case. And all in one moment, there's realizing how a constructed nuclear device is still dangerous, and ducking in front of it – and two more shots, followed by a spray against his face, before Firuz collapsed against him and they both dragged down onto the ground.

He doesn't see anything until the body's rolled off of him, and he wipes off his face with the back of his hand and sees blood there. Someone grabs his left arm, and he hits someone's face, and quite suddenly he's against the door again.

"Don't fucking touch him –" Behrooz recognizes his handler's voice – the man, before there's a hand on his right shoulder this time, and their eyes meet.
if anyone saves a life,
"It's ok - come on, it's ok –" Another voice he'd never heard before.
it shall be as though he had saved the lives of all mankind.
He doesn't have time to nod before he's being dragged toward the black cars and now-flashing lights.