Deadly Dumpsters

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Saajida walked through the streets of Chicago. Nothing more than just feeling like she wanted to take a walk. Though going into the rough part of town wasn’t on her to do list. Except, she had a tendency to get lost. While Shaahir had managed to get her to wear jeans, they were still a far cry away from getting her to take off her hijab in public. Right now, it provided her some warmth from the colder wind that came sweeping down the streets of the windy city. She heard rustling in the nearby alley and voices. What was she doing here?

Her GPS had gotten her lost. The last thing she wanted Shaahir to find out was that she was out in Chicago… alone. Though she was certain that it was going to be too late as soon as the security team tracked her down. She still had no idea how they managed to be so… discreet. She hardly ever saw them but when hell started climbing into the handbasket they were already dumping the basket out.

Saajida thought she heard some noise into the alley. The nearby dumpster shook into the garbage truck before clanging back in its place along the streets. It was getting later and the sun was creeping down on the horizon. Though Saajida didn’t differentiate the clanging from other loud noises and spooked she started running and breathing heavily. Not watching where she was going she tripped over some boxes in the alleyway. Stumbling and barely getting her feet under her before she ran into a taller figure.

Her brain didn’t process who was standing there and she shrieked loudly. Saajida wasn’t a very loud person but when she wanted to be… she could very well be.

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

The security detail had promptly notified him of the situation, but when you were protecting one of your principal's wives, prompt took on a whole new meaning. The phone call informing him that Saajida had wandered into a bad part of two had him hurrying out the door without his bodyguards in tow. Technically Shaahir didn't need them – his hand-to-hand combat training could get him out of most sticky situations – but the head of his detail would be absolutely irate. Shaahir could expect an earful later.

Priority one would be to find Saajida – he had every right to be upset about this. Shaahir had cautioned her that while they weren't in Palestine, America could still be a dangerous place. Yet he knew his wife. Knew she wouldn't intentionally wander into a bad part of town, or try to shake her security detail. Saajida had done that once, but both he and the head of his security detail had lectured her on why that was a bad idea. She hadn't done it since.

Saajida ended up finding him first. Sort of. Barreling into him, she screamed. Loudly. Undoubtedly assuming he was someone unfriendly. Placing a familiar hand on her cheek, Shaahir tried to calm her. "You're fine. Everything is okay." He reached up to free his wife of her hijab. "You don't want to be wearing that here."

Saajida Al-Hasan

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Saajida calmed down easily when she felt Shaahir’s hand. Though when he pulled her hijab down around off her head and ears, she shuffled it down on her neck like a scarf. Saajida looked down just under Shaahir’s gaze. There was a nod in acknowledgement that he had spoken, her arm wrapped around his back as she leaned on him taking a few breaths to calm her breathing.

Though Saajida looked in the direction where she had heard the loud clanging but there was nothing there just the sounds of the dump truck shifting into gear and driving off. “I’m sorry Shaahir. I got lost.” There was the part where she got spooked just by being in this part of town. It was then she took notice that her husband was here by himself. Right, probably shouldn’t open her mouth about this one but she was going to anyway.

“You forgot something?” She questioned. It was an innocent question of sorts but it worried her when her husband would do things like leave his detail behind. Saajida was vaguely away of his training but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about him. Her hand reached up to the side of his face. Her eyes while looking towards him didn’t lock into one place, they soon cast downward again as was her usual cultural way of things.

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

Shaahir considered himself fortunate – the choices his father had made for him weren't usually the ones he would have made for himself. There were exceptions to every rule and Saajida was that exception. The supervised visits with a woman their fathers had arranged for him to marry could have easily lead to a loveless relationship. Instead, in the process, Saajida had become one of his best friends. Someone he trusted. Someone he could confide in. Looking back on the entire experience, had Shaahir been given the choice, he would have chosen Saajida to be his first wife.

Raised in a traditional Arabic family, Saajida had certain habits that Shaahir was still trying to break. He had certain expectations that his wives were required to meet; however, she needn't be so submissive as to not meet his gaze. Tilting Saajida's chin up – so Shaahir could look her directly in her eyes – he allowed her to read the relief etched on his face. He would always be open and honest with his family. "You have no need to apologize. I'm just glad you're safe. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

Questioning whether Shaahir had lost something, Saajida made him chuckle. That was more sass than she typically showed, but coming from her, Shaahir knew it wasn't malicious. In fact, Saajida was one of the few people that could get away with that kind of comment. Because Shaahir knew she was just worried about his own safety. He covered his wife's hand with his own when she reached up to touch the side of his face. "You mean my security detail? I thought yours was enough for both of us."

Saajida Al-Hasan

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Saajida had never really been one to look her husband directly in his eyes unless he’d asked it of her or they were sharing intimate moments. It wouldn’t take much to tilt her gaze towards Shaahir, she quite enjoyed looking into his eyes. They were gorgeous. She could get lost in them, there was a sense of safety and love behind them and she counted herself thankful. Her dad could have thrust her into a loveless marriage; but she had her best friend instead.

There was only one security detail with her, usually there were multiples but Jafar had of course already filled Shaahir in on the situation earlier in the day. Though Saajida hadn’t noticed until just now when the comment was made about the security detail. The preceding chuckle made her smile some. No, Saajida wasn’t usually full of sass, but that is generally how she showed her worry when it came to Shaahir. If she could pass it off as a joke, she would. It wasn’t her place to tell him anything but she could still worry.

"Usually… but there is only Jafar.” She indicated her head in that direction. Saajida brushed her thumb across Shaahir’s cheek. “I was looking for the coffee shop.” Saajida fished her phone out of her pocket. “This thing was talking to me and stopped making sense... I ended up here.” Saajida always spoke Arabic with Shaahir; but the last sentence had been in English for emphasis (indicating the GPS seemed foreign to her). Chicago still made no sense to Saajida. She’d only been here a year and was still adjusting to the streets. Not that walking in Palestine had been much safer.

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

Directions had never been Saajida's forte. Sometimes Shaahir thought she might get lost leaving the house just to go outside, but he found her quirks endearing nonetheless. Made all the more so considering her natural innocence. GPS or no, if left to her own devices, Saajida would find new and exciting ways to end up somewhere besides her intended destination. Shaahir held out his arm for his wife to take. "Your favorite coffee shop? It's about five or six blocks behind you. Shall we have a drink together?"

Living in a foreign country brought its share of challenges; particularly in the United States. The Americans were notorious for lending their support to Israel, often in direct opposition to Palestine, which made the decision to open an embassy in Chicago all the more curious. However, this was the job Shaahir had been assigned and he couldn't leave his wives behind. All of them had been required to adapt, though Shaahir didn't have far to go, thanks to the obvious benefit of having studied at Duke University for four years.

For a traditionalist like Saajida, traveling without protection could be dangerous. Too often people here looked upon Arabs with suspicion, which made having trusted personnel like Jafar on hand all the more important. Saajida knew him only as the head of her security detail, but Shaahir knew the truth; had promised he wouldn't tell. Their relationship – half-siblings – through Naadir al-Malek made Jafar the logical choice to protect his first wife. The failings of the other bodyguard would be addressed upon their return.

Saajida Al-Hasan

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Right the other direction, not the one she had turned. That made sense. Though she map had told her to go this way and it… oh forget it. “Yes, that one.” Saajida replied looking over her shoulder and then back towards Shaahir. “Okay, you win.” She replied taking a step towards him and closer to him. Truth be told, she felt safer close to him. Not much could change that, though she had no idea what her husband was capable of.

When Shaahir didn’t respond, she did not push for an answer. Saajida would be a fool to think that Jafar had not already filled Shaahir in on the situation for the day. Her head of security was very thorough and on the ball. Saajida walked beside Shaahir in the direction he told her they should be going. She was quiet, not an awkward or uncomfortable silent but a silence that was fitting to just wanting to relax. She'd just been more stressed out than she cared for. Though Saajida was also one of those women who took things in stride. What use was worrying over something that you couldn't change anyway.

Point was that Shaahir was here now and that was all she needed to feel a little more... eased up and relaxed around the city. "One of these days I will figure out where I am going." The statement was more a matter of fact statement than it was just to make conversation. When Saajida made up her mind on things she could get very blunt but only with Shaahir and she had to be in a decent mood.

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

Shaahir smiled again to help put Saajida further at ease. Something about spending the day with his best friend – one of his lovers – never failed to brighten his day. Now that he was accompanying his wife, Jafar would know he could fall back – enough to give them some breathing room, but still close enough to jump in should he be needed. Ever since that Israeli diplomat had approached Saajida and Kalila, trying too hard to be friendly, Shaahir had issued new orders to the security detail protecting his wives: they were to walk with them, not just in sight of them. In truth, it was just one more reason not trust that distasteful country. Shaahir would have preferred to use stronger language about them but, as a diplomat, that wouldn't be very politically correct.

Days like today, however, didn't come as often as Shaahir liked. His job kept him extremely busy. So he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself. Not just to gently push Saajida towards a more… Americanized way of living, but to spend today with her. If they were going to be staying in Chicago long term, then Shaahir reasoned that she should enjoy the many things this country had to offer. "Did you have any other plans for today? Perhaps you'd like to go shopping? You know I like how you look in jeans."

Even as Shaahir chatted with his wife, he kept an eye open for any sign of danger. He knew the kinds of things to look for. His father, the head of Mukhabbarat al-Amma, had seen to that and more. With the detail short-handed, Jafar could use the extra pair of eyes. They were still in a rough part of town and Shaahir didn't intend to let his guard down – definitely not with Saajida nearby.

Saajida Al-Hasan ,

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Saajida content to hold on Shaahir’s arm as they walked in the direction of her favorite coffee shop. “The only plans I had were coffee.” Saajida’s soft tones responded to Shaahir letting him know that she was in fact listening to and engaging in conversation. She didn’t get enough days where it was just her and Shaahir much anymore. Their days were spent with him working and there was hardly a night that they had just time to themselves.

Shopping? He really was trying to Americanize her. “Sure.” She wasn’t going to argue with him. Jeans… they drove her up the wall and back down again. They weren’t something she was used to wearing. Though she had a pair on now, but it was her only pair. “I still don’t see what is wrong with a dress. There are some really cute ‘American’ ones.”

There were noises coming from an alley and Saajida couldn’t help but try and move away from the sound. She tugged on Shaahir’s hand as she got caught up in trying to scramble. Her breathing picked up and she started to look around and see if Jafar or Shaahir seemed worried about the noises. What in the hell was going on?

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

Shaahir had some work to do, if he hoped to get Saajida in jeans on a more regular basis. It was no small feat to accomplish, given her strict Arabic upbringing. Yet a part of him found her stubbornness to completely acclimate to American culture as endearing as the sense of direction she had a habit of constantly misplacing. Chuckling, Shaahir relented. He would just have to keep chipping away at her resistance to the idea. "As I said, they look good on you. How about I buy you some new dresses, if you pick out at least one pair of jeans you like?"

Work kept him busy during the day, making small moments like these all the more precious. Shaahir longed for more of them; difficult though it may to be to escape from his job. He needed to make a concentrated effort to set aside additional time, so he didn't forget how good this felt. "I know we haven't had much time to spend together -- just the two of us. I'd like to change that. Get back to the way things were."

The noises from a nearby alleyway were making Saajida nervous. Jumpy. Considering her encounter with those deadly dumpsters a few minutes ago, Shaahir recognized that his wife was still on edge. Perhaps to provide some reassurance, Jafar had interposed himself between potential danger and his principal. Remaining calm but cautious himself -- since noise didn't automatically mean bad things -- Shaahir would provide backup for the dedicated bodyguard, since they were down a man this detail. "There's no need to worry, my love," he whispered in Saajida's ear, continuing to speak in Arabic, as was their custom.

Saajida Al-Hasan

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

Jafar dropped to the ground, somewhere around the time that Saajida was about to respond to the comment about the dresses and jeans. “She has everything to worry about.” The person spoke in English but clearly understood Arabic. Jafar had been fighting with him. As evidenced by the marks on the guy’s face. Jafar had done a thorough job and there were a few bodies now laying around Jafar as well. His training had shown but he had been outnumbered.

Saajida took a few steps back into Shaahir, looking like she was going to run. She’d been conditioned to run if her security detail started fighting, she looked towards Shaahir not really sure what happened when someone grabbed her and pulled her away. Soon she had a gun under her chin. “One step and I blow her brains all over this sidewalk.” Saajida didn’t like the hand up under her, it was too tight and it was choking her. Eyes pleaded with Shaahir to do something. To do anything.

It was in that moment that others started throwing punches at Shaahir and aiming to incapacitate him in anyway possible. Jafar was trying to reach for one of the weapons nearby but the gun was too heavy. He was losing blood and fast. Where were they taking Saajida? He thought he recognized one of the men. He did his best to get a plate number from the van that Saajida soon found herself rolling around in. “Nadir you son of a bitch.”

Shaahir Al-Hasan

ulla

[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

The ambush had been swift and decisive. In a matter of a few, short moments, Jafar had been overwhelmed: at least five men on the ground around him, but the sixth had proven to be too much, even for someone with his level of training. Shaahir could see that the bodyguard was still moving, trying to reach for a gun, but he had his own problems to worry about right now. There were still active threats to be dealt with.

The man coming up from behind intended to incapacitate the Palestinian diplomat, but had assumed Shaahir a defenseless principal. The assumption had been a mistake. Tareq al-Hasan, the head of Mukhabbarat al-Amma – Palestine's intelligence agency, responsible for intelligence gathering, counter-espionage, and prevention of domestic subversion – had trained his son to protect himself through the use of lethal means, if necessary. Shaahir spun around, delivering a solid strike to the kneecap that put the hired gun on the ground. The loud screams indicated the convex bone in his leg had been dislocated or broken. Shaahir ended them permanently, planting the knife from his attacker's tactical vest deep into his throat.

Another man grabbed Saajida's arm, pulling her in the opposite direction and shoving a gun under her chin. Two more assailants intervened, stepping in between their comrade-in-arms and Shaahir. There would be no catching these men off-guard: they knew exactly what he was capable of now. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, filled with rage. It didn't matter. They stood between him and his wife. He would go through them.

Exchanging blows with his opponents would only end one way. Their training lacked in comparison to his, but Shaahir knew if these two men managed to wear him down, he was finished. He couldn't rely on a fallen Jafar for support – not when the bodyguard's first priority was to protect a struggling Saajida, who was being dragged further away. Another knife came up and, momentarily distracted, Shaahir almost took the sharp blade between the ribs. Dancing out of the way, Shaahir managed to get behind the attacker, twisting the offending appendage behind him. He heard the satisfying crack of an arm breaking, as Shaahir snatched the knife from his grasp and put another body in the morgue. Ignoring the remaining assailant to make a run for Saajida earned him a rugby-style tackle to the ground. Wrestling with and getting his hands around this man's throat, Shaahir left him alive, but unconscious. Then, just for good measure, stabbed him in the leg to keep him from running, but it was too late. The last of the kidnappers, for that's what they had become, tossed Saajida into a waiting van before jumping in himself.

Shaahir could only watch the van speed off down the street, searing the license plate into his memory. Unable to do anything for Saajida at the moment, knowing he wouldn't catch the vehicle on foot, Shaahir ran over to check on Jafar instead. Hastily bandaging the most serious wounds to stop her half-brother from bleeding out, he took a moment to examine his work. If Shaahir were being graded on his emergency first aid skills in a classroom, no doubt his father's tutors would not have approved, but under the circumstances, he considered them passable wrappings. Enough for help to reach Jafar in time. Then Shaahir dropped his phone in the bodyguard's hand. He was going off the grid, so no one would be able to get in his way; a cellphone made him trackable. "Call yourself an ambulance."

Marching back over to the one survivor, now awake and crawling along the ground with a knife stuck in his leg, Shaahir stepped on his hand. The part that came next was one Shaahir had always found unsavory, but when you needed information from someone unwilling to provide answers, asking nicely wouldn't get them. These less… pleasant methods worked well enough for Mukhabbarat al-Amma; they would work well enough for him. "You weren't thinking about leaving, were you? But we weren't finished."

Saajida Al-Hasan

[Saajida Al-Hasan]

[attr="class","Saajidaner"]

[attr="class","Saajidaner1"]

[attr="class","Saajidaback"]

[attr="class","Saajidanert"]Nadir’s smirk was something that Saajida had always disliked about it. Though it didn’t last long as she saw him move towards her. Moving almost an inch from her eyes, she soon found herself thrown against a wall. Saajida winced and didn’t move from where she was on the stone color warehouse floor. At least not under her own free will. It was only a matter of seconds before Nadir grabbed her by the pressure point and to her feet. He put his face back in hers, narrow his eyes into hers backhanding her with the other hand. “Your disloyalty to this family has consequences.”

Saajida gave him nothing in response, not even a wince. Though clearly Nadir wasn’t finished with her. “Your silence speaks, tramp” Nadir grabbed her around the throat until she could feel herself gasping for air. “I brought you into this world, don’t think I won’t take you out of it.” Throwing Saajida into the back corner he watched as she landed face first on the cold concrete. “So you have nothing to say for your actions? You dishonor this family and then have nothing to say. Was Shaahir not good enough for you?” There was a chuckle as he watched Saajida curl into a ball. “It won’t be long until you are dead. Shaahir can have his other tramps then and the family honor will be restored.” For someone who talked about family dishonor, he was one to talk. Though Saajida knew nothing about Jafar’s true identity.

Nadir walked over to his daughter and raised a knife at her. The blade stabbing into her thigh she let out a piercing squealing whimper but said nothing in response to him. “He’s Americanized you hasn’t he? Don’t lie to me Saajida hasn’t he?” Nadir’s voice demanded answers.

“No, I swear he hasn’t.” Saajida’s only response. Shaahir had been trying but Saajida had been fighting against it, so it wasn’t really a lie.

“You are a liar.” Nadir narrowed his eyes, twisting the knife blade in her leg satisfied only when she started whimpering again. “It’s a pity, he ruined a perfectly good woman.” Nadir whispered in her ear. “You are dead before sundown.” He yanked the knife out of her leg and left her there on the ground. Saajida still had the use of her hands and did the only thing she knew to do, tie her leg off to stop the bleeding. Nadir had since left the room. She leaned against the wall. Childhood memories playing with Shaahir crossed her memory. Happy ones. And now all roads pointed here. What had she done?

∵ Shaahir Al-Hasan ∵

[attr="class","Saajidaner2"]

[attr="class","Saajidanerlyric"]حقك يا قلبي توعدنا
ليالي حلوة وتسعدنا

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[Shaahir Al-Hasan]

[attr="class","Shaahirnah"]

[attr="class","Shaahirleft"] [attr="class","Shaahirleft2"]

[attr="class","Shaahirright"] "Nadir," Shaahir snarled. Saajida's father had done this? Somehow the newfound information didn't come as a surprise, even as Shaahir knew it to be true. Nadir had always been a fanatical traditionalist, but also a hypocrite. Tareq, for all of his failings, would never resort to such tactics with his own family. Shaahir let the body fall limp to the asphalt. For someone so adamantly against torture, Shaahir had extracted the information he needed, then ended the other man's life with a blade across the throat. To the less pragmatic, it might have seemed a questionable decision, but it actually made all the sense in the world. A dead man couldn't call Nadir; couldn't caution his employer that he'd given up their location; couldn't finish off a badly wounded Jafar. Shaahir glanced over his shoulder at the bodyguard: one final moment of regret. The man was still on the ground behind him, but there was nothing left that could be done for Jafar. If he weren't so badly injured, Shaahir wouldn't have minded his assistance. Instead Shaahir would have to stick to his guns: do this alone. He projected a quiet thought, willing Saajida to be safe -- not that she could hear it. But it was his way of telling his wife that he was coming for her. The odds would be against him: one against an undetermined number. That was one thing his victim hadn't been able to tell him. So, when Shaahir marched inside to confront Saajida's father, Nadir could have ten men, or he could have one hundred men. Something else that made no difference. Shaahir only saw shades of red -- more dead bodies to drop. Saajida Al-Hasan [attr="class","Shaahirright2"]

deltra of gangnam style

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[Saajida Al-Hasan]

[attr="class","Saajidaner"]

[attr="class","Saajidaner1"]

[attr="class","Saajidaback"]

[attr="class","Saajidanert"]With her hijab being the only thing she had to turn into a medical tool to stop the bleeding she tried to focus. In theory, this was in every medical text she’d been dealing with thus far. But it was hard when you were the one injured. She knew Jafar had been hurt, she’d seen her security detail laying bleeding on the ground and so many men coming for Shaahir. She’d only a brief glimpse of the fight that had started. Right now all she wanted was Shaahir, to see his face to know he was still alive. The floor felt good to her bruised up face. If it was one thing Saajida knew it was that Nadir followed through with his threats. She could hear the voices outside discussing what would happen if Shaahir showed up.

There was no way to tell her husband there would be fifteen or so waiting for him. She didn’t know that oher father in law had people on the way. Tareq was already aware and Jafar had called for help which would send HRT into full operations. A missing diplomat’s wife was hardly a thing that the HRT was going to leave alone. In Jafar’s delirious state, he’d mentioned that Saajida was missing and had forgotten he’d called Tareq.

Saajida could only hope that Shaahir knew what he was doing. She had no idea the extent of her husband’s training. He was a diplomat, not a fighter, and she’d never seen him harm anyone. Well at least not until today. Property if you asked Nadir. Despite her married status, he still insisted she was his property. One Saajida was willing to fight, if she was property then she was Shaahir’s property. Though she knew Shaahir didn’t see her as such. For the first time in her life, she feared for the safety of her best friend. Tears fell as she finished tying up her hijab. She was going to need medical attention but she knew there was no way out. The moment she tried anything she would be dead.

∵ Shaahir Al-Hasan ∵

[attr="class","Saajidaner2"]

[attr="class","Saajidanerlyric"]حقك يا قلبي توعدنا
ليالي حلوة وتسعدنا

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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