Fan Fiction ❯ Rebus Knight ❯ Demoneye ( Chapter 5 )

Rebus Knight..........................by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire

A raucous Palestinian boy finds that the projected "glory" of rioting, fanaticism, and killing isn't something he is willing to trade in his life for.

Note: I am not anti-Semantic, anti-Israel, etc. Caution for strong material later in the story. If you don't understand certain things in the story(ex. Hamas, PLO, PFLP, etc.), email me at broccoliforest@aol.com and I'll explain it. : )

Story, characters, etc. Ó 2002 by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire. All rights reserved.

-Chapter Five-

DEMONEYE

"So," said Jafar, staring the Hamas man viciously in the eye. "You've come back already."

"Yes, well, when someone heads to the bazaar to grab a few kabobs, you don't expect them to be gone very long. Especially when it's me." Kashim had never seen the Hamas man up close before, and never knew how pale and scary his eyes were. They were intensely locked in a deathgaze on Jafar. If he Kashim was getting that kind of a look from those eyes, he'd be so frightened that he'd scream like a little girl and take off like a scalded cat.

"Yes, Tahir. Yes. And....I will be leaving now." Jafar slowly left the study, never breaking eye contact. When he finally closed the door, Tahir turned to Kashim, who was, by then, very pale and uncertain. But he wasn't getting that intimidating look now. On the contrary, Tahir was offering him something resembling a smile! Kashim loosened up and smiled back.

"Kashim, I apologize for my colleague Jafar's behavior. I hope he didn't give you too much hassle."

"N-no, not at all," Kashim lied. "But may I ask a question?"

Tahir nodded. "I've seen you around here, but I've never seen...him. Where did he come from?"

"He has always been here, but he is always training young people such as yourself to perform...certain tasks important to the Palestinian cause."

Kashim nodded, not really understanding how teaching could take up so much of someone's time that they were rarely seen in their own camp. It aroused suspicion, really. Especially in someone that dark and sinister. "So what did you call me for?"

Tahir picked up the gun Jafar had thrown on the desk, examined it, wiped fingerprints off the barrel with the end of his shirt, then carefully put it back in the cupboard. "Ah yes, sorry for the distractions. I have been observing many rioters such as yourself for the past six months, and I am taking some new students of terrorism." He stared at him with those strange pale silver eyes. Kashim wanted to look away. "And, Kashim, I have chosen you and your friend Mahmud as well as four others."

"R-really? You're going to teach me?" Kashim could not believe his luck.

"Yes, really. I believe you will make an efficient, effective terrorist for Hamas, or the PLO, PFLP...whatever group you choose to join."

"I could?"

"Yes indeed." Tahir rose from his desk again, stared into the open cupboard, and chose a different gun. He held it out to Kashim with two hands, and Kashim slowly accepted it in the same way, like a knight recieving his first sword. "Is this for me?"

"Yes. I will teach you to use it properly. I would advise against using it in the riot tomorrow, or at all, until you know how to work it. Come here on Friday, at three in the afternoon. Don't be late."

"Yessir."

Tucking the gun under his arm, Kashim turned to leave the study. "Oh, one more thing," Tahir said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Terrorist instructors in this area are identified by code names, which the students and other instructors are supposed to call them. For the most part, we do not know each other's real names, and if we do, we rarely use them. When you address Jafar, you must call him Darktree."

That didn't surprise Kashim. Jafar was dark, and he was tall as a tree, all right. "What do you call me?" he asked.

"All trainees are addressed by their last names, Kashim. After you leave this study, I will call you al-Hussein and nothing else."

It made sense. He nodded, somewhat sad that such an air of professionalism must be taken. "And what do I call you?"

Tahir closed the cupboard and locked it, turned around, and sat down. "You," he said, "you may call me Demoneye."

It was three in the morning when Kashim arrived back at his home, where Mahmud was waiting. "So what happened? What did he want?" Kashim told him everything that had happened.

"Wow! You're so lucky! We're so lucky! Can I see your gun?"

The boys talked excitedly about their training for almost fifteen minutes when Kashim brought Jafar up, not bothering with codenames. "Did you see him? The tall and scary-looking one with the green turban?"

"How could I miss him?" Mahmud asked ruefully. "I don't think that a helicopter could miss him. He's scary!"

"Tell me about it. He was about to interrogate me when Tahir came back!"

"Eh, you got off easy. He was right behind me, breathing down my back the whole time Tahir was telling me about my training and stuff!"

"Ugh! You know, I wonder if he really took the pilgrimmage or if he's just pretending he did[1]..."

"I bet he didn't. He'd be a lot happier if he really had gone..."

They were shaken out of their irreverent conversation when somebody pounded on the door so hard the ancient, shabby lock was broken. Sadakah rushed into the house and up to Kashim and Mahmud.

"Sadakah, what's-"

"The...the Israelis are revolting!" she exclaimed, her voice immersed in the deepest kind of fear.

"Now there's something we agree upon," Mahmud said darkly.

"No! No! I meant they're attacking! Someone...started something in the Israeli establisment near Nazareth...and the settlers are here, now! They're here, and they're after blood!"

[1] the Pilgrimmage, pretending.... Every Muslim must make a pilgrimmage to the holy city Mecca sometime in their life, and when they do, they are given the honor of permission to wear a green turban, which lets the world know they've completed the pilgrimmage and earns them a certain degree of respect.