Takeo walked into his room and immediately locked the door behind him. He threw the chain lock into place as well, then took the extra effort to drag the room's safe in front of it as well. It required him cutting through the chain normally securing it in place in the small cubby where most people hung their jackets and stowed their suitcase. Luckily, he carried a small torch in his bag for just such purposes.

He didn't worry about checking for cameras - Kasumi had thoroughly swept the entire building, again - and, true to its claims, this little B&B was as quaint and unassuming as the 80-year-old grandmother that ran it. Betty was an American ex-pat who'd bought the CCD dream hook, line and sinker. She had beautiful, long silver hair - a thing Takeo usually found grotesque on most older women, and on all older men. Like walking corpses, clinging to their last vestiges of life through their thin wisps of dead hair. But not Betty. Hers was long, wavy, and lovely.

Takeo had used this establishment for years. Betty and the various staff of the Clinton Bed & Breakfast knew who he was - it was hard not to know the faces of each of the Ascendancy's Priveleged these days. But, he tipped extremely well, and he was courteous. And, it certainly didn't hurt that Betty was such a devout Brandonian. They all thought he was writing his memoirs, or some other intimate tale. He always carried a tablet, for that purpose, and rarely left his room during his stays.

Tonight would be no different.

After returning his torch to his bag, Takeo took out a face mask and moved over to the bed. He had much to think on - the dranaika, Aria, and that woman she'd pranced off with to name a few - but he glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight - he was late. He left the light on to give the appearance that he was awake and lay on the bed, fully clothed, with his shoes on. Jun and Kasumi were out there somewhere, but he wasn't taking any chances tonight. He kept the curtains drawn on the one small window to his room and slipped on the mask and lay back on the soft, downy pillow. His memoirs would have to wait.

Within minutes, he opened his eyes, and the world was different. It was the same, but different. The mask was gone, and the room was lit by a low, soft light no lamp could emulate. Everything he'd brought into the room was gone as well, including his bag, his tablet, and even the safe - which was once again resting in the nook from which he'd dragged only a few moments before. The bed was made, and Takeo was standing now, but the covers and pillow cases often changed or shifted, usually when he looked away from them. It was the same with the drapes. When first he looked, they were burgundy, and matched the striped comforter on his bed, but when he looked again, they were cream, then white. Fortunately Betty rarely made drastic changes, so the room did not shift often. Most people wouldn't even notice the changes, but most people were not Takeo.

Takeo was in the Dream World.

Looking down at himself, Takeo found he was - as per usual - dressed in his old gi. All blacks, snug to fit, and completely soundless, no matter how he moved. He wore a black mask as well. It was soft, but covered his head and all of his face. To anyone who saw him, it would look like he had been kidnapped, with some shroud covering his head and disappearing into his shirt. No one could see his face, but he could see out as if he wasn't wearing anything on his head. That had not taken nearly as long to learn as his weapons. For now, he wore a pair of swords on his back, though that would likely change involuntarily as the night progressed.

At a thought, he was gone from the Clinton and suddenly standing atop a skyscraper, peering down over Moscow. Another, and he was in a rice field. A third, and he was standing on the side of a mountain. Mount Fuji. It was still and serene, and, although he was now very late, Takeo was the only figure in sight. His swords shifted to a pair of holstered guns, then a belt of throwing knives as he waited and the timeless seconds ticked past. He began to worry he made a foolish mistake in being late. He knew it could not always be helped - the live of a Privelege was rarely his own, after all. But, he also knew there was no explaining this to the one he'd come to see. In here, he was on borrowed time. On her time.

She appeared, not a meter in front of him, with her back to him. Her long, golden hair was tied in an intricate array of braids that could not have been replicated in the waking world. There was something impossible about the way the hair twisted - like some Esher drawing, and it too shifted every time the eye left and returned to it. She wore a gown, as usual, this time in a stark white - all the starker in juxtaposition to his black - and just a little too bright to look at for long. Unlike Takeo, she did not bother with weapons in this place. Her hands at her side were bare, and her dress was just short enough that he could see that her feet were bare as well. She made no move to turn around, to speak, or even to acknowledge his presence. She just waited.

Takeo, however, could wait no longer. He flashed, as he called it, and was in front of her, facing her, and kneeling on one knee. "Forgive me, Sensei, I was detained."



Edited by Takeo, May 16 2014, 07:30 PM.

Since in some cases there has been a bit of confusion about which monsters are the same and which are not, it was thought to be a good idea to have a thread that tracks the monsters.

So if you have a monster encounter then post your information below. If you feel up to it lol post the threads they are in so we can read back easily.

Updating as people post:

Jann/Ghul : Hood's bio - most dead (possibly some still at large)

Rougarou: Bathhouse in the Underworld - a few dead potentially still a nest left living (Aria, Hood, Rune, Jaxen and MickeyV)

Bannik: Bathhouse in the Underworld - dead (Aria, Rune and Hood)

Ijiraq: Novodevichy Monastery Cemetary - assumed dead (Aria and Dane)

Ijiraq: Streets of Moscow - dead (assumed to be the same one Aria found at the monastery) (Aria, Jensen, Giovanni and Connor)

Drakaina: Alleyway of Moscow - dead (Aria, Takeo and Dane)

Domovoi: basement of an apartment building in a bad part of moscow - alive (Katya and Jensen)

Ijiraq, Guardian Metro Station. Fled the scene after feeding. Displayed cognition not yet seen in ijiraq. Has promised to come back for Elias. (The Divine Truth: Elias, Tehya, Connor)


The Mecca Ijiraq -
- attacked Michael at Mecca, then assaulted by Michael unsuccessfully.
-Visited Hasan but passed by. Too many people around, it had a more appetizing target.
- Attacked Andrew while fleeing the assassination attempt on Hasan and threw him through a window (IIRC).
Currently at large.

Three Dreyken in Italy from Nikolai's biography, deceased.

Dreyken in Moscow, from Alla, at large.

Harpie, in Moscow, from Not that kind of help, by Jensen. - at large.

Was there ever another harpie sighting?
*last updated on 5/13/14*


Edited by Aria, May 15 2014, 06:45 AM.

Hi guys,

I will likely be unavailable for a couple of days this weekend (the 10th and 11th) as I will be traveling for the holiday.

If anything comes up, feel free to email me:

ascendancynikolai@gmail.com

Such as if you're dying to post but are worried your work is questionably too dark *winks at Dane*, I'll try to get back to you pretty swiftly via email.

Otherwise, have a great weekend, everyone.

-A

Somewhere above DV, bound for Dubai

Jacques sat in what amounted to his own private jet, going over pages upon pages of legal rigmarole and red tape. His various contracts in DV had turned into a nightmare of red-tape with the increasing violence in the region and the CCD's crackdowns on travel and movement through and into the region. Unsurprisingly, they had some qualms over letting a few hundred heavily armed private security employees into the region, especially since most were identified as Muslims.

The meetings in Jerusalem had gone well enough really; even in light of the growing tension, the companies whom had sought to hire him had still been eager to finalize their ends of the paperwork. They had even agreed to the increased costs of their contracts, in light of the current risks. Légion Première came with a very well earned reputation, and they were willing to fork out the cash for it to be in their service.

He set the stack of papers aside and glanced out the window, squinting against the bright light of the sun, unfiltered by cloud at this altitude and barely held in check by the tinting of his window.

A second stack awaited his attention; Sierra Leone. He had a few hundred men on the ground there, and it too was falling apart from the inside out. He'd already received reports from his field officers of the outbreaks of violence. A few had even already begun setting up refugee camps within the fences of the mines and plants they were contracted to protect. Not the most hospitable places for civilians to live, even temporarily, but it was better then being on the receiving end of a machete because of your last name. He was already planning to deploy the rest of his men in the Casablanca barracks to the region; contracts there had been much easier to ratify with the foreign companies. They stood to loose billions of dollars in infrastructure and profits should the situation spiral any further out of control, and Jacques was more then willing to take their money to save lives.

His mind wandered for a moment, staring at the distant earth through the thin wisps of cloud the desert heat allowed to form even at this altitude. Roads and villages doted the landscape far below a midst vast swaths of open dead earth. Dead from the air, at least. There was no abundance of life below, but it was there, hidden among the rocks and scrub brush. And people, of course.

It was a strange life they lived; ruled by religion and fear, barely eking out a living by the standards of most of the CCD, although that seemed mostly brought upon themselves by themselves. He couldn't fault them for clinging to tradition of course; who was he to look down upon such loyalty? Légion Première was but a shadow of it's origins, but they clung to their traditions no matter that they were forsworn by their homeland and birthplace.

His Wallet chimed to life suddenly, and he returned to the moment to see what it had to offer.

It was bad news.

DV was aflame with insurrection and murder on all fronts. It was happening far too quickly for the CCD forces to respond. Terrifyingly efficient and coordinated, with huge swaths of religious extremists popping up armed and ready throughout the region.

Over the next two hours, based off civilian news reports, he was already beginning to piece together an understanding of the situation on the ground. When word that Dubai was teetering on the edge, Jacques gave the signal to change their destination.

It was back home to Casablanca for him and his. He would have to cancel the contracts, or at least put them on hold. There was no chance the CCD would allow him to put his men on the ground in their territory in the current political atmosphere.

(from Calling in Favors)

The woman pulled Aria through the door way, she nearly fell into the other woman as she tripped over the broken floor board in the entry way. The woman giggled, "Opps sorry about that.". Aria pulled her hand free of the other woman's grasp and looked up the stairs. Words didn't come out, Aria just nodded towards the entry way up the stairs. She could feel the world closing in on her, Aria sought peace and calm. Not expecting to find Dane so close, Aria latched on to him and prayed it would be enough. The reverberation of her own self was nearly too much. She felt like exploding, nothing keeping her inside her own self. The bubble she lived in was far gone, and completely unreachable.

Aria wondered if the woman had offered her name, in all honestly it didn't matter Aria would not be offering her own. She smiled down brightly at Aria "Lock it for me." And then she started up the stairs.

Aria nodded, but for some unfathomable reason she didn't follow through. Aria turned to shut the door, noticing the street for the first time. This reporter must truly need a good story, she lived in a rat trap. The street lamps lit the garbage from the dirty globes of yellow light. A bug skittered across her boot as she shut the door with a distinct thud, but she did not lock it. Something inside said don't. Instinct, fear of being trapped, it didn't matter, the door remained an exit she intend to use with ease.

Aria closed her eyes and took a deep breath, there was much more pain and pleasure to be had that night, and Aria didn't know what would win out in the end as she ascended the stairs after the down and out reporter.

Upstairs was not any better than the street outside. The windows were covered with make shift curtains, that looked like they could stand on their own. The kitchen sink off on the far wall was full of disgusting dishes, as if she had no time to do them. Empty take out boxes sat on the counter, the floor and just about every possible flat surface. The blond standing in the middle of the room stared back at Aria with a fire in her eyes Aria had not seen the likes of ... ever.

The disgusting details gave Aria a moment to snap back to some sort of herself. "Bathroom?"
Her new found 'friend' pointed in the direction of the bathroom with a satisfied smile.

Aria opened the door and was so very glad she did not live her, the bathroom was tiny and it only had a shower. Aria sighed as she shut the door. Annoyed at herself and her actions but she had to get the wallet. She was thankful for the break, what little good in the end it would do.

Aria grabbed her wallet and sent a text for clean up. Telling them to hurry. It was important that it not be there later. So very important.

Aria looked at herself in the dirty brown mirror. And turned away with distaste, not for herself but the state of the apartment, she was afraid to touch anything. What she did for the Atharim!

Aria took off her coat, and removed the single sword that sat at her waist and put the gun in her coat pocket so it didn't drop to the floor. She hadn't intended to wear anything that looked attractive to anyone but herself, but then all her clothes fit to her curves. The black t-shirt clung to her body and the jeans were very close fit as well. The only thing out of place for bar hopping or clubbing was the combat boots she wore.

Another deep breathe and Aria opened the bathroom door to find the blonde wearing nearly nothing at all. Aria tried to pretend she was interested. But from the look on the woman's face she had failed miserably. Aria stepped forward and caressed the woman's cheek and found the emotion she wanted, Dane wasn't far away, it wasn't hard. The memories flooded in and she drank them up. The woman smiled and handed Aria a bottle of beer. "It's all I have."

Aria was thankful it was a bottle and took a long drawl of the foulest thing she'd tasted in forever. The woman giggled and touched Aria's cheek. "It'll taste better after a few more." Aria didn't hear a word, the world flew around in circles. She barely noticed taking another drink. Aria ran her hand over the soft skin of the woman in front of her. Her desires were elsewhere, but she was here touching and being touched.

Aria's hands mimicked the half naked woman's in front of her. Very little registered with Aria, the longing turned to desire and the desire into something far more stronger. There was nothing else, except for the seemingly close calm center she truly sought, this woman was just a mere echo to what she wanted.


Edited by Aria, May 8 2014, 03:53 PM.

The King Abdulaziz airport was locked down tighter than a nun's virtue when Nicholas and Reed arrived. It was an obvious show of force. The self-proclaimed Mahdi's announcement had spread across international news like a firestorm - Nicholas himself had already made his opinion known. The fortifications were a dare. If Al-Hasan wanted the Custody out, he'd have to pay the price in blood. Perhaps Brandon should have simply avoided attacking a preacher on the pulpit.

On a night such as that, the Custody forces strengthening the airport's security detail did not take chances. Nicholas's press corps badge only moved him to the front of the line; it didn't spare him being felt up by a sweaty, overweight man who smelled vaguely of cottage cheese. He supposed it wouldn't be a true airport experience without that special feeling like all the showers in the world would never make you clean again.

The press corps followed Brandon wherever he went, if not on exactly the same schedule. Embedded within it as he was, and with Brandon's departure from Mecca, Nicholas had little choice but to follow. Or rather, little choice but to follow or return home and start doing useful things. It was getting harder to justify staying.

Perhaps it was an unconscious desire for one last hurrah before he gave up his freedom in service to something greater. It wouldn't be the first time. Of course, a road trip filled with underage drinking didn't exactly equate to running around inside the greatest threat to free society the world had ever seen. Not on a one-to-one scale, at least. The drinking was legal, now.

Speaking of that, Nicholas was just about to grab a drink at one of the airport's bars - thankfully, the Custody had done something good to Saudi Arabia - when the first explosion rocked the terminal. Then another. And another. He seized the power on instinct. The only proof he had that the thunder outside wasn't mother nature playing tricks was the lack of rain or wind. It took several minutes for the booming to subside. With his suddenly sensitive ears he could easily hear the screams of the hurt and the moans of the dying. And then the shooting started.

The high-pitched, rapid thumping of Custody rifles formed a wall of white noise that drowned out everything else. The defenders were trying to get some breathing room; likely to pull back deeper into the terminal. But it was quickly made clear that the suppressed, modern rifles were heavily outnumbered by older AKs. Their shooting quickly died to single shots, picking out and eliminating individual enemies as entire magazines of surplus ammunition were expended, likely fruitlessly, in their direction. The dull thumping of autocannons soon joined the Custody troops' rifles, but even that was too little, too late.

In the bar, panic reigned. Half the people were diving under tables and the others were part-sprinting part-stumbling out the door. What had been a quiet, relaxing atmosphere just minutes before quickly devolved into chaos once the explosions subsided. The noise of several dozen frantic phone calls almost disguised a particularly unsettling fact: the gunfire was coming from all sides.

Nicholas slammed back the last of his drink, though the power made it useless to quell a heart trying desperately to beat its way from his chest, and stood up. There was a trick he'd been meaning to try, and now seemed the perfect time to do it. With a particular coiling of air, he was able to amplify his voice - essentially like a magical megaphone.

"All of you need to shut up, right now."
The fact that every head in the room turned toward him instantly made him wonder if he'd done too much. He was surprised how calm his voice sounded. Nicholas just hoped nobody wondered why he could talk louder than most could scream. He had their attention.

"Hear that gunfire outside? The Custody is losing. They're going to pull back to someplace defensible, and try to hold out until help arrives."
Nicholas just hoped help actually would show up. If Al-Hasan could bring this kind of force to bear elsewhere, anything the soldiers in the airport did might just be delaying the inevitable. But that wasn't worth thinking about. "If we all sit here crying instead of figuring out where they're going to stand and getting there, then the next time our families see us we'll be hanging from some street lights on the morning news."
So, for once, the Custody was the good guys.

Everyone stood still for a moment, and then one man raised his hand. It was strange that in the most stressful of times, people fell back on grade school manners. Nicholas pointed, and the man spoke, confusion plain on his face and the accent of Scandinavia on his tongue. "Wh-what gunfire?"

At that, Nicholas almost smacked himself. Of course they couldn't hear it. The building was sound proofed, and the bar was closer to the center than the sides. He was only able to pick out what was happening because of the power. Luckily, that awkward moment ended quickly as shouting in Arabic filled the terminal. A moment later, glass skylights shattered as AK rounds were fired into the air. Fuck
, he thought. Where in the hell is Reed?
She could take care of herself. He'd probably find her with the soldiers.

"That gunfire. Any more questions?"
It was strange. The last time he'd been in a situation like this, he was embedded with the Marines. And he'd been terrified. This time, his heart still thudded in his chest louder than the autocannons outside - but he had the power to protect these people. He still hoped to avoid letting them know exactly what kind of power that was.

Edited by Nick Trano, May 15 2014, 09:08 PM.

Civil War breaks in Sierra Leone
<small>December 2045 | Jennifer Rankin</small>

Following a coup in the Sierra Leone capital of Freetown, including the destruction of the city's main hospital, the country has been declared in a state of civil war. Renowned philanthropist Eleanor Northbrook has reportedly donated in excess of a six figure sum to emergency aid work in the area.

"We're very saddened by these turn of events, and will do everything possible to help the innocent civilian population," she says. "The loss of a hospital at such a time is very concerning."

Ms Northbrook is a staunch advocate of the Red Cross, and the charity has been involved in various health and educational projects throughout the area.

In recent years the discovery of rhodium rich areas in the south has brought unexpected economic boom to the country, but some minority groups are dissatisfied with the distribution of wealth.

It has been nearly fifty years since the last civil war.

Ms Northbrook confirms that the Red Cross will be aiding an appeal. If you wish to donate, you can do so via the Red Cross website
.

Comments: OPEN

Short of Allah Himself sending down an angel to see it done, there was no way Hasan was going to see sleep this night. Across the city chants and cheers echoed against explosions and gunfire as the cleansing continued. Some elements of the CCD and its cronies wanted to hold onto power by a fingernail, a hair, a breath. The harder they tried to hold on, the more fiercely they resisted, the harder God's wrath came down on them.

Those who made the first step on the path of righteousness -- admitting they were infidels, throwing themselves upon the mercy of God -- those had a much greater chance of being spared the birth pangs. For that was indeed what was happening tonight, the Kingdom of God springing forth from its womb into daylight and taking its first breaths. And the new child of the world was glorious.

No birthing was bloodless, and the afterbirth was not nearly as pretty to behold. This birthing would cause serious wounds that would take time to heal. Battle continued to rage as pockets of resistance at the airport held out, and clashes sprang up between followers and CCD soldiers who were caught outside their perimeter. Hasan traveled to the Um Salama hospital near the airport to see to wounded as they were brought in, and perhaps help as needed. Medical teams were strained tonight, and there were some wounds that the Keramat could heal when medicine and science failed. God was never limited.

Reports trickled in to him as the night wore on. Baghdad, Karabala and Basra had fallen, as had most of the Arabian peninsula. The Emirates remained divided. The Port of Dubai and parts of the city center was still in CCD hands, though only barely. The air port had fallen and Al-Jazeera News had defected. The capital of the Dominance was teetering on edge and it was only a matter of hours, maybe, before it fell. Kuwait City remained firmly in control of the CCD. The tiny country would wake up in the morning to find itself besieged.

Hasan let these thoughts stir in the back of his mind as he focused on the unconscious man before him. He placed his hands upon the man's skull and let the Gift of Keramat flood through him as he drifted into the man's mind. The man had no visible wounds, but Hasan suspected he had taken a severe traumatic brain injury from a concussive blast. This was one of the areas where opening the man up on the operating table could still do more harm than good. While he delved into the man's mind, he could not only see but feel where the injury had happened. He focused, and fed the power into the wounded man.

His eyes snapped open. "Allah be praised!" the man exclaimed. He tried to stand.

Hasan held the man down with a gentle but firm hand. "Rest easy, child of God. You have done well and Allah has willed you be healed. Now you must recover your strength."
He signaled for two attendants to take away the man on his stretcher.

The man laid back and let himself be carried off. Hasan stood and released the Keramat. He was growing still stronger and more gifted, but he knew God's mightiness was still too much -- would always be too much -- for his limited body to handle without serious restraint.

Commotion down the corridor caught Hasan's attention. Two men were trying to carry in another stretcher, and a third man was arguing with them. "--him, I don't care! Get him out of here. Don't bring him before the Mahd--" The man cut off as Hasan approached.

He knelt. "Glorious Mahdi," he said.

"Praise and glorify Allah only,"
Hasan replied, but made no other effort to stop the man. He looked over the stretcher. A plainclothes man who looked like he'd lost a boxing match with a tiger lay unconscious in the stretcher. He was tall and his face was distinctly European in heritage. He didn't seem mortally wounded. "Why do you not want me to see this man?"


The one who'd protested stood. "Mahdi, I do not want to trouble you with such filth. This one is obviously a foreigner and an infidel. A shame on our land and an insult to God. We would do better to just throw him out with the refuse and not waste time treating him."

Hasan shook his head. "Allah is ever merciful. The infidel cannot come to believe and submit if we do not give him the opportunity."
He stretched out his hand and prepared to offer a prayer for receipt of the Keramat, but the foreigner stirred.

BREAKING NEWS

<small>Al-Jazeera LIVE</small>


Good morning from Dubai, this is Samir Abdukhaliq and you're watching Al-Jazeera LIVE.

For five years now I've had the privilege of anchoring Al-Jazeera LIVE. I've come into your homes and places of business as we share and discuss various news topics of interest to the Arab world within Dominance V. And, although I may have fallen short at times, I've always prided myself on integrity and impartiality, as has your entire Al-Jazeera news team.

This morning, as we wake up to find the major cities across Dominance V in a state of revolt ********

(muted crosstalk)

My apologies for misspeaking. This morning as we find major cities across the former Dominance V undergoing its "transitional process of purification" to announce the coming of Muhammad al-Hasan al-Mahdi's prophesied Kingdom of Allah, it is my duty to announced the owners of Al-Jazeera News are shutting down operations. They, and select members of the Al-Jazeera news team, will instead be coming to you live in all media as Kingdom of Allah News. Here you will be able to find all the news that's fit to print, broadcast and blog. I will not be joining this news team at this time and instead will be leaving for Moscow where I hope to see some of you watching.

Thank you for watching, and may God help us ***

<small>
</small>

Please stand by
Thanks for watching Kingdom of Allah News
God is Great


Copyright KOA News 2045, Dubai, D.V.

Comments are: OPEN

<small>((Comments are anonymous unless you state your character's name in the time tag:

Comment: "NAME" (TIME TIMEZONE) ))

Your experience may vary depending on your physical location and content posted </small>

Hasan nodded to the attendant, who clicked a button that stopped the feed of Nikolai Brandon's latest ultimatum. So. Brandon decided of his own accord to come to Mecca and hold a summit, and because Hasan declined to personally attend he was canceling, thus rendering his entire trip moot. The irrational behavior of the man failed to surprise Hasan as it did the faithful who were gathered around the table with him. What else could one expect of a man who looked only to himself? Nikolai Brandon was a deeply flawed, weak and mortal person, and left to rely on himself would fail, and if the world relied on him it would fail as well.

This council – such as it was, an organic thing of politicians, businessmen and imams who sought out Hasan's guidance – would do so to remember this of Hasan. He was merely God's servant, the lowest of the low, not some king to curry favor with or please by satisfying demands. All he could do was help them live holier lives more closely aligned to God's will.

Allah guide me. Allah protect me. Allah show me the true path.


Bashir finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Mahdi,” he said, “What can you tell us about the Ascendancy's claim to have captured imposters?”

Hasan fixed his beloved friend with a stare that would freeze fire. “Do not call him the Ascendancy. Nikolai Brandon is ascendant of nothing. He is as descended as shaytan, who in his hubris thought he could replace the Almighty One, and tempts others to believe they can as well. Only with the blessing and will of Allah can you ascend to be with Him.”


Bashir drew back and shut his eyes. “I am sorry, Mahdi.”

Hasan's heart trembled as he felt the sting of his own rebuke. He should not feel pain for speaking truth to his friend and setting him straight, but he still did, and that was a shameful reminder that he still had his own failings. He needed to strip even those away until nothing remained but a will totally and completely submissive to the will of God.

He gave Bashir a small smile. It was good that Bashir was always ready to submit himself. “Be mindful that Allah is ever merciful and forgiving. As for your question, I have dwelt on this for some time. Two things to remember are that the truth of man is always imperfect. Truth only comes from God.


“We have no way to verify the truth of Nikolai Brandon's statements. There is nothing beyond his word that places his 'captured' as the same devils who attacked us. We also cannot trust our senses which tell us they were sent by Brandon's machine. Therefore we have two conflicting possibilities here that are equally likely in their unlikeliness. These devils were exactly as they appeared and were sent by the CCD to capture or kill me – or they were sent with intent to deceive us and provoke us against the CCD.”


Achmed Pashta, a sheikh of Basra, spoke up. “What if it was the CCD, thinking we would never believe it was the CCD because nobody could be that stupid --”

Hasan put up his hand, cutting Achmed off. The man wasn't wrong in his thinking, but he missed the point Hasan was trying to make. Not wrong, but limited in his thinking, then. “Did I not just say the truth of man is imperfect? We could spend from now to eternity debating the possibilities of who was behind what. What we do know is that there are demons among us that seek to separate us from God. They seek to lead us astray. And for the sake of security, for economy, for safety, we have allowed them access to our lives. Is it any wonder when the way we live causes us to be at the mercy of demons?”


There was silence for a moment. Then Bashir Kalid Abdullah spoke up. The reporter had become an influential member among the news media after he had come to believe in Hasan's holiness. “Are you directing us to secede?”

Hasan took a breath. “I am merely here to give you the advice you seek. God is allowing these things to happen because he is calling you to submit to him. You must make your lives and your world a holy place to prepare for his kingdom on Earth. You must purge your land of temporal influence over yourselves. Even at the cost of your lives. Divine revelation is clear on this. It is better to die this instant in service of God than to live a thousand years apart from him as the demons do.”


Bashir bit his lip. “Mahdi, this is all well and good, but I find it doubtful that your followers can withstand the war that will come. The CCD will have pretext to overthrow you by claiming that the Dominance lawfully belongs to them. We're not ready.”

Hasan stood and walked to the balcony. He swept back the curtain, and light spilled into the room. He threw open the doors and voices spilled in. Chanting voices. Voices lifting up their prayers. It filled the room, drowning out thought. The power of God filled him with ecstacy. Hasan let his soul drift on those prayers, as if they would carry him to heaven right then and there.

He laughed. “Bashir, bless you. You believe because you have seen. I tell you now to believe in what you have not yet seen. If we could do everything ourselves, what need would we have of Allah and His everlasting grace and mercy? The only way we can unite ourselves to the will of God is to trust in him. We cannot do it without his help and without trusting in him.”


One by one, they agreed. And set for themselves a plan of action.

***

At 6 p.m., Hasan stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the Kabbah and delivered his address:

“Faithful. I come to you today not as one to be followed or held up over men, but only in submission to God and to serve you.

"We are God's humble children, like sheep seeking to be led to the green pastures. Some years ago we despaired of a pasture and turned to the offer of a man to lead us to the grass. All this man asked was that we submit to him. It seemed so simple a thing to do. So we chose a man and we bought his promises.

"Why should we be surprised to find out these promises are false when we have turned away from God!


"We have only ourselves to blame. Why should we be surprised that promises of lasting goodness brought of things of this world are false? Why should we be surprised when we find only barren rocky soil instead of green pastures? Why should we be surprised when there are devils in our midst?


“No man can serve two masters. You cannot love God and the CCD. We must turn to God and God alone! If we submit to God and beg his forgiveness for our sins, the devil will flee. Let us reject the false promises of fair-weather friends, corrupt nations and the false idols of temporal rulers. Let us purge ourselves and cleanse ourselves of things that have pulled us away from God.”


It was time for God's kingdom to be realized here on earth. If he thought earlier that he was going to be carried away by the prayers of the faithful, this time Hasan really was disolved in their midst. His identity was stripped and he was no longer him but an empty vessel.

“The CCD forfeits any and all claim to Dominance V. They and their idolatry of their ruler have failed to bring their utopia. We declare the contract with them null and void.”


He raised the flag. It wasn't his flag but rather others who called it the flag of the Mahdi. White from the west, black from the east. White on black, black on white. There is no god but God and Muhammad is his prophet.



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“This is the sign of the faithful. Mark yourselves with this. The faithful proclaim the world for Almighty God. All ports of entry are to be seized. Any police or military force that does not bear this emblem are to be resisted! All heads of household and faithful males ages eighteen to fifty are to report to their community leaders if you have not already received notice to report for duty.”


He raised his arms. “Let us finish God's plan for freedom. Let us build a kingdom of God and be truly free!”


There it was. He had taken the leap of faith.



***



There were very few employees at the Mecca airport, even among the security detail, who were loyal to the CCD to the point of death. So it wasn't difficult for a band of Mahdi sympathizers to gain complete access to even the most secure areas. By the time any of the CCD leaders knew something was up, the armories had already been looted.

The evening meal had already been served to the staff at the airport dining facilities by the time Muhammad al-Hasan al-Mahdi delivered his address. Additionally, the meal had been served at the CCD base of operations at the airport. Mahdi sympathizers were among workers who prepared both meals. The meat was prepared with a sedative that induced lethargy over the few hours after taking it. The faithful were instructed to abstain from meat that night.

There were likely about five thousand involved in taking the airport. Actually taking control of the airport was relatively easy. Car bombs stunned the CCD forces at the checkpoints outside the airport, and they were quickly overwhelmed. Untrustworthy security forces were dispatched from within. They took over the tarmac and control towers, and began to clear the terminals. They quickly broadcast the message to any inbound air traffic: Turn around. Attempt to land and we will shoot you down. The perimeter of the CCD camp at the airport remained intact but the soldiers there found themselves quickly surrounded. The faithful had made no attempt – so far – to overrun their camp, only to contain the CCD within their own perimeter, to turn their base into a prison.

Fighting within the terminals continued throughout the night.