Chapter 1: Homeland - Part III

Ittehad City - destined to bring a nation together, failing gloriously in its purpose.

The city has changed since last I knew it - evolving into a terrible beast, tearing itself apart from within. I too have changed, and I return to it, not the broken soul that was banished.

For I am Salar and I descend upon this city, the very spirit of vengeance!

Thunder roared and lightning cracked, throwing into sharp relief the silhouette of a man leaning against the gatepost, apparently oblivious to the heavy downpour. Salar had been stalking him all evening, making sure no one had followed his quarry to the eastern cemetery. He crouched behind a tombstone now, looking for signs of company.

“You can come out now,” said the man, looking directly at where Salar waited. “I doubt anyone would brave this infernal weather simply to eavesdrop on an old man.”

“When the old man in question is you, Süleyman Baştürk,” grinned Salar, “one can never be too careful. You make entirely too many enemies, and not enough friends. You should not have come to Ittehad.”

“I come to warn you, son,” said Baştürk, as the two men embraced. “I hear the drug lord Doda is on the warpath and that he’s placed a bounty on your head. I believe you have disrupted a few of his operations. How is the shoulder now?”

“It tickles now and then,” shrugged Salar, looking quizzically at his friend. “You could have sent word through Maryam. Isn’t that her job description? Why risk coming here yourself?”

“Because if you are to fight a war, Salar,” replied Baştürk, withdrawing a long bundle from within his overcoat, “you will need proper weapons, not wooden sticks. And I could not entrust these to anyone else.”

Salar unwrapped the bundle, revealing two magnificent swords. He gazed at them almost reverently, running his thumb along one blade. “The swords of bin Qasim himself,” he whispered. “Our enemies shall learn to fear these. There is one more thing I need.”

“I know it,” said Baştürk. “The arrangements have been made. Maryam will have the address before you get home. When you get there, ask for Zaray.” He paused, then put a hand on Salar’s shoulder, and said quietly, “Be careful, son. You have made a lot of evil, powerful people very nervous. Doda will not be the last, and he is not the worst. They will come after you with everything they have before they relinquish their control of the city.”

“This city’s criminals think they can play God,” said Salar. He stepped back and drew the swords, weighing them, checking the balance. Then he laughed. “I, Salar, shall play the devil then, and I will send them all to hell!”

Sketch n' Design: Nida Asim - Photo Credits: 6 Mile Productions

x---------------x

Salar found Maryam pacing the apartment’s length, wide awake at the break of dawn. He noticed the rather large, empty pot of coffee and he could smell the stale smoke. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“I do when I’m nervous, or excited. Don’t you?” she replied curtly, now standing in the middle of the room and wringing her hands together. “Is he here? Did you meet him? What did he say?”

“I quit, a long time ago,” he said, giving her one of his quick smiles, “and I will answer all your questions, but right now, sweetheart, your life may be in danger and I need you to listen to me, alright?” He waited for her to nod, before continuing, “I need you to pack everything you can fit into a bag in ten minutes, and I need the address that Süleyman sent to you.”

Maryam blinked up at him once. “Okay,” she said, moving towards the coffee table, “I’ll get my laptop and then I’ll pack.”

It was Salar’s turn to blink. “That’s it?” he asked, surprised at how calm she was, “You’ll just go? No questions, no arguments?”

“What, you think I’m one of those annoying blondes you see in TV shows who are so stuck up they can’t tell common sense from a Botox?” she replied, concentrating on the screen as she typed. “I am not that dumb. When someone like you tells me to run, I do. Are you sure this is the right address? What did Süleyman tell you?”

“He told me to ask for Zaray when we got there,” said Salar, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, crap!” said Maryam, reaching for another cigarette. “I guess it figures. You should get along with her well enough.”

“What are you talking about Maryam?”

“I thought I recognized the address,” she said, looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Now I know. This umm, Zaray we are going to see, well … she is kind of my sister.”

x---------------x

Adeel Doda took a seat at the head of the conference table, joining his top six lieutenants - three on either side. Sitting across the table from him was one of a hundred lowlifes who peddled his drugs around the city. They had been streaming into his office for days, trying to claim the bounty in exchange for information about the vigilante. Not one of them had been useful so far.

“Before you open your mouth, kid” said Doda, “Know that I’ll personally rip out your tongue if you feed me anymore false information.”

“I don’t want any rewards, boss,” said the peddler. “I just want you to kill him dead, boss. He broke my arm, you see?” He raised a plastered arm as evidence. “He busted up one of our stash houses, destroyed everything, and he put Rashid in the hospital.”

“Is that it?” growled Doda.

“No, it ain’t,” replied the peddler smugly, “I know his name, boss. He said his name to Rashid. No one else could tell you as much, could they, boss?”

Doda sat up straighter, paying more attention now. He would slit this smug bastard’s throat later, but for now he needed to hear the vigilante’s name. “Well, what is it?”

“His name, boss,” whispered the peddler, “His name is Salar.”