The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 14 (Patreon)

Sapientia Oromasdis 14: Remember, No Dictators

In the end, it wasn’t the Demi-Goddess of Death, the newly born Dendro Sovereign, or even the foreign powers that began the final destruction of the Ba’ath Party. They would all have their roles to play in the coming days and weeks, but at the time, Farasha was still hours away, Tess was still speeding over Europe, and the Protectorate, Knights, and Sentai were still unsure of the situation. 

No, it was something far more appropriate for Nahida. 

It was the ordinary people whose lives she had changed. 

It began first with a crying little boy, clutched in his parents’ arms. Rasab could still barely walk, but his body was recovering rapidly, especially thanks to Nahida’s Dendro infusions and the help of the Aranara. Still, when the alarms had sounded, Rasab had been picked up by his terrified father as his family sprinted to the nearest shelter. It wasn’t an especially good Endbringer Shelter, being essentially a cheaply remodeled Cold War era concrete bunker that was a mere 7 meters underground. It would never have survived an attack by Behemoth, much less the psychic assault of the Simurgh. 

Still, the bunker had been crowded to overflowing, with the acrid stink of fear heavy on the air. Rasab clutched at his father Emad’s chest, while his mother hugged him from the other side, his two older brothers holding on to each other as they wept in turn. At first, all hope seemed lost, and they would surely die. 

Then, Rasab felt Arabalika begin to sing. He ceased his tears, wiggling out from between his parents, and staring wide eyed as his little friend appeared and sang a song of comfort and reassurance. 

Come Nara, do not weep

Dream, peacefully sleep

More Aranara came, and the children in the shelter all stopped crying, sitting up and looking as the place began to transform into a peaceful garden. 

“What is happening?!” his father cried, but Rasab smiled and reassured him. 

“It’s the Djinn! Nahida must have sent them, they’re here to protect us!” 

“I…I can see them,” his mother whispered, clutching at Rasab’s arm. “They are like little plants. Are…are they evil?”

“How could you ask that?” Rasab asked, horrified at the very thought. “Arabalika is my friend! He helped Nahida heal my leukemia, singing to me every night and making the cancer go away!” 

“Patient Nara, there is no time!” Arabalika said, zipping over on his whirling leaves. “The Hopekiller comes! We must take all Nara into the Mahavanaranapna! There, Nara will be safe. Come, quickly! Sarva Nara commands it.” 

“Nahida?” Rasab asked, standing up and hauling his parents to their feet despite his feebleness. “Where is Nahida?!”

“Sarva Nara fights Hopekiller. She wishes for all Nara to be safe, but especially the Little Nara. Come, Arabalika will keep Patient Nara and his forebears safe,” the forest spirit said, turning towards a passageway that had opened up in the walls of the shelter. Other children were urging their families up and towards the crack in the wall, but most families were resisting, and some people were trying to shoo the Aranara away, shouting about evil spirits. 

Looking around, Rasab’s father’s expression firmed. He stood up on their bag of possessions, and shouted. “YOU CAN TRUST THE DJINN!” 

There were a few cries of protest and several insults, but Emad ignored them, pointing to Rasab. “The djinn healed my son, cured his cancer! They were called by Nahida Saeed, daughter of Dr. Bashir Saeed! He is a good and pious man, and his daughter just as much! We can trust these Djinn! And besides, would you rather risk the Simurgh herself?!”

There were uncomfortable mutters, and several people hesitated. Rasab tugged on his father’s leg, then lifted his arms to be picked up. Emad lifted Rasab up to his shoulders, and Rasab tried to raise his voice. “Please, you can trust the Aranara! They are Righteous Djinn, and simply want to help us! You normally cannot see them simply because you are too old, but the rest of us children have for months!” 

There were quick shouts of agreement from the other kids in the shelter, and soon, reluctantly, the people in the shelter began to filter into the crack in the wall. To Rasab’s surprise, they came out into an underground garden that was roughly the same size and shape as the shelter, but filled with glowing mushrooms. The atmosphere was tense at first as the people settled in, but the Aranara brought fruit and water, and things relaxed. They sat in tense silence for long minutes, until the Aranara suddenly all sprang into the air, letting out a trilling cry of victory. 

“Sarva Nara has won! The Hopekiller flees! Nara are safe!” Arabalika cried happily, bobbing up and down in celebration. 

There was shock for a moment, then Rasab let out a whoop of joy, and the other children began to cheer and dance. Soon, fear and tears were replaced by joy and laughter. But just when everything seemed like it would be alright, the Aranara let out a wail of fear and cowered down. 

“Sarva nara is hurt! We must help!” Arabalika gasped, raising the little wooden stick he carried. 

“Did the Simurgh hurt her?” Rasab asked as the others in the shelter fell into fearful quiet again. 

“No,” Arabalika said with a shake of his head. “The Scary Nara wishes to… to take her as mate. She…she has been hurt, badly. We must help Sarva Nara!” 

“What? But she is younger than Rasab!” his mother gasped, horror on her face. “She is five! Just a little girl!” 

“Her birthday is today,” Rasab said with a shake of his head. “She’s six now.”

There were angry mutters at that from all the parents at the shelter. Rasab knew you had to be old to get married, at least 15, and Nahida wasn’t anywhere close to that since she was smaller than he was. 

“We have to do something. Who would attack that poor girl, especially if she saved us from the Simurgh?” Rasab’s father demanded. He looked around at the other men at the shelter. “Would any of you allow your daughters to be married when they were six?”

“No!” a man with a daughter who looked to be about that age cried. “I’d kill any man who would touch her!” 

“Hurry, we must go to help Sarva Nara!” Arabalika urged, pointing back through the crack. “It is safe now, quickly!” 

Rasab and his family were the first back through, emerging first into the shelter, then back up onto the surface, where they found a quiet city, and a blessedly empty sky. 

“The Simurgh really was defeated,” Rasab’s father gasped, shaking his head. They had made it to the shelter just as a white figure had been seen falling from the sky, and all had feared that they would all soon be driven mad and killed. But there had been no Song of Death.

“You! Back in the shelter! The all clear hasn’t been given!” a soldier shouted, and a man in a military uniform with a rifle came over, waving his gun. “Back into the shelter!”

“Why, the Endbringer has been defeated!” Rasab’s father demanded. “We heard that Nahida Saeed had triumphed!”

The guard grew red in the face and shook his head. “The President has ordered that everyone remain in the shelters! Everyone is to remain underground until-”

“Why, so the bastard can rape her!?” someone in the crowd shouted. 

Rasab shuddered at that, not knowing entirely what that meant, but it was clearly Very Bad. The crowd was growing angry and restless, having been recently in fear of their lives, and cooped up underground for far too long. The soldiers were growing angry and panicky, surrounded by furious citizens. 

One of them fired into the air, and the crowd flinched back as he yelled for everyone to get back. Then someone threw a rock, which struck another soldier on the arm. He wasn’t seriously hurt, but the others raised their rifles, pointing them at the crowd, one of the guns right at Rasab, who gasped in fear and ducked his head. 

“Bad Nara! You will not harm Patient Nara!” 

A burst of green light flashed so bright, it leaked through Rasab’s closed eyes, and he opened them in shock. When he looked up, the soldiers were screaming and dropping their rifles, which were rusting away to nothing and sprouting flowers as Arabalika raised his little staff and huffed proudly. Another soldier pulled out a pistol and tried to point it at someone, only for Arabalika to fire off another bolt of green energy, and the weapon began to turn to grass in the man’s hands. 

With an angry crowd before them and no weapons left, the soldiers turned tail and ran for their lives, several angry men in hot pursuit. Rasab felt his head swim as his mother picked him up and carried him, the crowd swelling with more angry people flooding into the streets, most of them led by their children and little Aranara that were encouraging them to “rescue Sarva Nara.” 

It didn’t take long for thousands of people to fill the streets of Baghdad, some celebrating at the simple fact that they were alive, others simply to find out what the fuss was about, and more than a few children and their families demanding that “Sarva Nara” be set free. 

It was bedlam, and it was what the world had expected to see.

Though not through the madness of the Simurgh, but with the old, buried anger of a people who would be heard.

The two potted plants that Nurse Hana had dragged into Nahida’s room were helping, but she was still dangerously low on Dendro Energy, as well as mentally and physically exhausted from first her 10,000 battles with the Simurgh, then the confrontation with the King of Demons. 

Closing her eyes, Nahida allowed herself to fall into the Dream, drifting away from her physical form and over her city. To her sorrow, she saw the distress and fear of her people, as well as the sheer panic of the Aranara. She also took inventory and realized that Tessa had received a Vision from her, something she’d recorded but not really processed. Based on the information echoing across the internet about a giant enraged flower monster flying over Europe, Nahida was fairly certain that a livid Tessa was currently heading for Iraq with all speed. 

That left aside the reports that Farasha was rushing to Baghdad with murder on the mind. She took a moment to mull over a few of the radio calls she’d intercepted between Saddam and his top enforcer. 

“Saddam, you have exactly four hours to let my husband and daughter go, or so help me, I WILL BURN YOUR FUCKING CITY TO THE GROUND!” 

“Farasha, my niece, why do you threaten me? We have always-”

“You know exactly why the fuck I’m threatening you, you son of a bitch. You’ve wanted something to hold over my head for years! Well congratu-fucking-lations! You found it! But I’ve put up with your shit for way too long to let you DARE threaten the only good things in my miserable existence!” 

“Be careful with your words, Farasha,” Saddam growled, his voice suddenly ominous. “I do have Dr. Bashir and this new Endslayer. I have not harmed them, nor do I intend to. But it is time we re-thought our relationship.”

“You mean you’ve got hostages and if I don’t behave you’ll ice them.” 

“I would not put it in such terms. But I would fear for their safety if you were to do anything…rash.”

“Fuck you, and just know that if anything DOES happen to them, there isn’t a hole in the ground deep enough for you to hide in.”

“I would not say such things, Farasha! You will listen to me, or-” 

Saddam ranted for several minutes, but Nahida could tell Farasha had turned off her radio and wasn’t listening. 

Frowning, Nahida began to work towards a plan. She was still weak, barely able to maintain her connection to the physical world, but she knew now she had friends. She would have to rely on them, weak and ineffective as she was. 

The first step, of course, was dealing with the interlopers who had just set foot upon her people’s lands. 

Everyone in the control center sat in stunned silence as they watched the blip labeled EB-002 exit Baghdad airspace at speeds they had previously never seen from the Simurgh. Someone raised a faint cheer, and there was scattered applause, but mostly no one seemed to know what to think. 

“Doctor, what do we do?” the director on duty said, looking to Fatoumata for guidance. 

She shook the daze from herself, and began issuing orders. “Get a black ops team on the ground there. Who do we have that can speak Arabic?”

There was hurried activity for a few moments, but Fatoumata’s mind was racing quickly. Archon. It was the only possible explanation. And she had a fairly good idea of which Archon it was. This was going to upend every model they had. “Never mind. Get me Miss Militia and Asset Tyche. The three of us will be the ones to take the field.”

“You, Doctor?” that got a look of surprise from the others, but Fatoumata had no time for this.

“Yes, me. I’m a Vision holder. And we specifically need a Dendro Vision holder. I speak Arabic, and I can pass for Iraqi with a burqa on. Miss Militia is Kurdish, and she still speaks Turkish and some Arabic. And Asset Tyche will be invaluable for recon.”

Not to mention she’d need to grill Fortuna on just what the hell was going on here. They hadn’t seen this coming, not even close. An Endbringer didn’t just leave. Especially not the Simurgh, who had never quit the field until the body count had piled so high that a city was practically depopulated. This was only her fourth attack, but already she had been shaping up to be the most terrifying Endbringer of them all. 

“Is…Is Vision Holder an official term now?” someone asked, looking confused. 

“That’s not important,” Fatoumata snapped. “We’ll update the models later. Right now, we need information. And to find out just what has happened in Baghdad.”

It didn’t take long to rendezvous with Miss Militia and Fortuna, who was clutching that stupid toy of hers and biting her lip nervously. Upon seeing Fatoumata, she turned away from Miss Militia mid sentence and ran over, blurting, “It’s the Dendro God! It has to be! We don’t know anything about them, but every question I get about the whole situation is fuzzy, just like it is for-”

“I had gathered that already,” Fatoumata said, putting a calming hand on Fortuna’s shoulder. She looked to Miss Militia, who was looking rather irate with her arms folded over her chest and her brow furrowed in irritation. “Something wrong, Miss Militia?”

“I don’t like this. Baghdad is The Bitch’s territory,” the cape said with a shake of her head. “As much as I’d like to put that monster down for good, I certainly can’t take her one on one. And no offense, whoever you are, but I don’t know of anyone with an Emerald Totem that can manage it.”

“Dr. Fatima Tabib, and it’s a Dendro Vision,” Fatoumata said with a shrug. She motioned to the other two women. “Come, we’ll need to change quickly. We’re going in undercover. You’ll need to lose the bandana, Hana, and the hat, Contessa. We’ll need to pass for Iraqi women, preferably not Iraqi capes.”

“Into the aftermath of a Simurgh attack. Are you insane? We should be going in with a full Protectorate strike team, at minimum. I’m good, but I’m not ‘fight a whole city’ good, especially not if Farasha’s alive,” Miss Militia said firmly, ignoring the use of her original name. 

“Farasha was out of the city and won’t arrive back for several hours yet,” Fatoumata said with a shake of her head. “And the Simurgh was in the airspace for less than ten minutes. No sign of the Song.”

Miss Militia digested that, tapping her foot thoughtfully. At last, she shrugged. “How much field experience do the two of you have?”

“Enough,” Fortuna said with a shrug. “We’re not new at this.”

Well, Fatoumata was, but no sense in telling Miss Militia that. 

“And how’s your Arabic?” Miss Militia added in that language, her accent and diction rather poor.

“I am from Morocco, so better than yours,” Fatoumata stated.

“Fine, though I think my accent’s better than either of yours,” Fortuna said with an impudent grin. 

Miss Militia just grunted. “Three women. You sure we don’t want to bring at least one or two men with us? Three women alone will be suspicious.”

“It’s what we have for now, and this is just a scouting party. If there’s danger, we contact our teleporter immediately and get yanked out,” Fatoumata said firmly. “Any other objections?”

“No, ma’am,” Miss Militia said with a heavy sigh, fingering the American flag bandana around her face. “Well. I suppose I’d best get changed.”

Five minutes later, they stepped through a door and into the warm desert afternoon air. 

They arrived a mile from the city’s outskirts, on a low hill to the east of the city. Fatoumata took out a pair of binoculars as Miss Militia took up a watch position, and Fortuna wandered over to a rock to sit on and start muttering to herself. 

“It’s like the satellite images suggested,” Fatoumata said, scanning the city. “There’s people in the streets and some rioting, but it’s not the bloodbath you’d expect.” 

“If it’s the Song, that will change,” Miss Militia warned darkly. “I was at Madison. That was a cluster fuck.”

“In Arabic, if you would,” Fatoumata chided, which earned her a grimace and a tight nod from Miss Militia. 

After a few more moments of study, Fortuna spoke up. “It’s an uprising.” 

Lowering her binoculars, Fatoumata turned to Fortuna. “What?”

“It’s a popular uprising,” Fortuna said, standing and dusting off her skirts. She frowned. “I hate having to walk in these. Once you get used to pants…” 

“Arabic, dear,” Fatoumata said with a heavy sigh. 

“No one can hear us, it’s fine,” Fortuna said with a shrug, and proceeded to continue in English. “They’re mad that someone was taken to the palace and are demanding she be freed. Someone called… I’m not sure? I’m getting ‘Sarva Nara’ and ‘Nahida Saeed.’ It’s very unclear, Sarva Nara means… every person? No, that’s not right. The whole person? The entire person? Hmmm. Nahida Saeed is just a normal enough Iraqi name.”

“I know that name,” Fatoumata muttered, shaking her head. “Where…”

“Doctor Bashir’s daughter!” Fortuna interrupted in that incredibly irritating manner she had.

“Who?” Miss Militia demanded, sticking to Arabic. She, at least, knew how to follow orders and maintain OpSec. 

“A colleague of mine, a Parahuman researcher,” Fatoumata explained. She racked her brains for what she knew of the girl. An orphan who was some sort of parahuman, Bashir had been somewhat vague on her origins. She’d helped him with creating a cancer therapy using his Dendro powers, so a Thinker of some variety. Very intelligent for a child, but…

“She couldn’t be,” Fatoumata said, shaking her head again. “She’s only six or so. It’s impossible.”

“What’s impossible?” Miss Militia demanded, but Fortuna was shaking her Magic 8 Ball.

“Without a doubt,” Fortuna said seriously, holding it up. “She’s the one. She’s the reason they’re rioting. She’s the Dendro God. She chased off the Simurgh. Not Farasha.”

“We need more information,” Fatoumata said firmly, but her heart was pounding in her chest. A child? A child had chased off the Simurgh? How could an Archon be a child? But that voice in her head…that of a little girl…

Swallowing, she turned towards the city and headed down the slope. “Come, quickly. We’d best get walking.”

After a few minutes of walking, Fortuna led them to a car with the keys in the ignition, then grinned and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Absolutely not,” Fatoumata said firmly, opening the door and hauling Fortuna out by her collar. 

“What?! It’s faster!” Fortuna protested.

“Yes, but I’ve seen how you drive. You might have prescience dear, but my heart doesn’t know that when you’re behind the wheel. How are you as a driver, Hana?”

It took Miss Militia a second as she processed the Arabic, but she nodded. “I can drive just fine, Doc.”

Fortuna sulked, then perked up and cried, “Shotgun!” and raced around the front of the car to slide into the passenger’s seat. 

Sighing, Fatoumata slipped into the back seat. 

They drove for about twenty minutes, following Fortuna’s directions to get around traffic jams caused by angry rioters, before Fortuna suddenly screamed, “STOP THE CAR!” 

A gigantic pistol fell into Miss Militia’s hands with a green flash as she slammed on the brakes. “What!? What is it!?”

Fortuna didn’t answer, scrambling out of the car and running over to a small tree, where she began to babble in what sounded like her original language, Attic Greek. 

“What on Earth…?” Fatoumata asked, watching as Fortuna kicked off her shoes, then hastily dug out several bags of snacks and a bottle of juice. She knelt on the ground, holding up the snacks in one hand and the open bottle in the other, then bowed her head to the ground three times. 

Slowly, Fatoumata and Miss Militia exited the car, watching as Fortuna looked up, cocking her head to one side as she apparently listened raptly to the three. She bowed her head again, then poured some of the juice into the bottle cap and set it at the base of the tree, along with the bag of chips. She then whispered, “Does anyone have any milk? Or mushrooms?”

“What? Why would I-” Fatomata began, but Fortuna held up a hand. 

“Shhh! You do not look at the dryads! Turn around, or they will take your faces and turn you into a tree!” Fortuna insisted. 

Mystified, Fatoumata quickly spun about, motioning for Miss Militia to do the same. 

“What is she doing?” Miss Militia whispered as Fortuna dug out a pouch of salt and began to carefully spread it in a line around them before backing away on her knees. 

“I haven’t the faintest clue, but she’s a Thinker 12. Do what she says, even if it seems insane,” Fatoumata whispered. 

Fortuna babbled a bit more, then stood up and handed both of her companions a large pinch of salt. “Throw it over your shoulder! The left one, mind!” 

Miss Militia gave her a skeptical look, but complied, while Fatoumata just did as ordered. 

Fortuna let out a heavy sigh. “The dryad was merciful to us, though it is very angry. It told me that Sarva Nara was harmed by the Scary Nara, and imprisoned. It has requested we help free her. I promised to do so, and to give it a proper offering of milk and mushrooms, but did not tell it my name so it cannot steal my face.”

“A dryad? A biological construct? Do we have a biotinker on our hands?” Fatoumata demanded. That would make sense for the Dendro Archon…

“Don’t be foolish! It is a faery, a forest spirit! You see, this is why I always carry salt with me! Quickly, back in the car! I knew I should have brought some cold iron with me…” Fortuna muttered. 

“Tyche,” Fatoumata said, feeling exasperated. “You can’t just-”

But Fortuna stuck her finger in Fatoumata’s face. “You ignorant uptimers are always telling me that I’m just a superstitious fool! Well, could you even SEE that dryad?! Hmmm!? NO! Because your eyes have been blinded by your unbelief, and deluded by this magic of science! Well, I saw the fae, and I know exactly how to deal with them, as my grandmother taught me! Only the most ignorant child wouldn’t know how to appease a dryad and risk  harming a dryad’s tree without proper offerings! Now do as I say, or it will steal your face and you’ll turn into a tree, or have all your milk spoiled and your hens stop laying eggs!” 

Then Fortuna stalked back into the car, climbed into the passenger seat, and slammed the door, a smug look on her face.

“Is she…?” Miss Militia asked, glancing uncertainly over her shoulder at the completely innocuous tree. 

“Insane? Think about the Thinker’s you’ve met. Even the low-rated ones aren’t sane by most standards. She’s a Thinker 12. Don’t even bother trying to figure out what’s going on in her head,” Fatoumata sighed and got back in the car. 

With a shrug, Miss Militia climbed in and started the engine. “So, you see forest spirits often?”

“Don’t be silly. It is rare and very good luck to see a dryad like that,” Fortuna sniffed.

“Uh, don’t they steal your faces or whatever?” Miss Militia asked as she began to drive off. 

“Only if you are an ignorant child who has no doll to fool them or proper offerings, and you are stupid enough to give them your name. You are fortunate I was here. Most of you uptimers are so addled, you don’t even believe in faeries and spirits,” Fortuna huffed. “Now turn left, we can drive for a bit further before we have to abandon the car in about half an hour.”

“Why should we abandon the car?” Miss Militia asked as she turned. 

“Oh, because that’s when Farasha will return, and we don’t want to draw her attention. Give or take fifteen minutes. The Scary Nara kidnapped her daughter, after all,” Fortuna said flippantly. 

“Well. Shit,” Miss Militia growled, and stepped on the gas. 

Which was when the giant biomechanical dragon swooped down, let out an earth-shaking roar, and nearly caused Fatoumata to wet herself.

WHERE IS NAHIDA?! 

At first, the guards at the palace had tried to resist as the hordes of angry rioters descended. They’d hastily erected barricades, gotten out the riot gear and tear gas, and of course, the machine guns and tanks. Several T-72s rolled up to the palace gates and prepared to quell the riot, one way or another. 

Then one of the tanks froze solid, along with its entire crew, and another tank started oxidizing while the crew was dragged screaming into a nightmare by unseen hands. The crews of the other two tanks hastily abandoned their positions and ran for the hills.

They were spared. The tanks were not.

“Shoot her, you dogs!” Major Waleed shouted, pointing at the rioters. “She’s just a little girl!” 

The major was practically frothing at the mouth as he hid behind a dozen of his best men. But Qiqi still saw his familiar and feared face. 

“Bad man,” Qiqi said from her position at the head of the riot, flanked by a dozen aranara who had on their game faces. Which in the case of the forest spirits, meant they had painted angry eyebrows in red juice on their faces. It would have been ridiculous and hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that they were suddenly remembering that they were fae, and no mortal has ever come out of a battle with faeries unscathed. 

Major Waleed had just enough time to sense a faint chill before every molecule of water in his body froze at once, causing his body to explode into icy chunks. The rest of the soldiers threw down their sprouting weapons and began looking for the nearest hole to crawl into. 

With their last obstacle removed, the crowd was able to demolish the barrier, then spill into the palace grounds, all chanting “Free the Hopebringer!” a moniker some rather clever little girl in Nahida’s class had come up with, and had spread like wildfire thanks to her father’s widespread contacts. 

The people were just about ready to begin the process of tearing apart the palace brick by brick, when the skies darkened, and turned red. There was a gasp of fear, and many looked up, expecting to see the Simurgh descending.

Instead, they saw something far less merciful and dangerous come fluttering down: a swarm of burning butterflies. 

WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!? A booming voice demanded, the butterflies flying into the shape of an angry woman’s face with great eyes of flame. 

Many in the crowd thought they were going to be turned to ash, or worse, more crimson insects, but Qiqi toddled forward, looking contrite. 

“Qiqi here, mommy. Qiqi sorry. Qiqi was bad.”

In an instant, the fiery face went from fury to shock to weeping, and the flames collapsed into the form of a young woman, dressed in black clothes. She ran forward, wrapping Qiqi in a hug. “Shhh. It’s OK, Qiqi. Mommy’s got you now. You weren’t bad. You were good.” Farasha stroked Qiqi’s hair and kissed the top of it. “You were very good.”

“Mommy…not mad?” Qiqi asked, looking up with more than a little worry, then glancing nervously at the melting puddle of blood that had been Major Waleed. 

“Hey, I’ve wanted to ice that fucker for years. Good job, Qiqi,” Farasha said, grinning and rubbing Qiqi’s head. 

Qiqi brightened considerably at that, then repeated, “Ice that fucker!”

Farasha winced. “Uh, I mean, kill the bad man. Maybe don’t use that word around daddy.”

Standing up, Farasha looked around at the crowd. “What are you all doing here? Where’s Nahida!?” 

“We came to save her!” Nadia squirmed her way between two hulking thugs with scarred knuckles and faces, resting the rifle that looked comically oversized in her hands on her shoulder. “She saved everyone at school, and beat up the Hopekiller, and then we heard that she was kidnapped by the president! So, we came to rescue her!” 

A slow grin spread over Farsha’s face as she stood, holding Qiqi’s hand tightly in hers. “Well, Viva La Revolucion! Or however you say that.”

“You’re…not going to try to stop us?” one of the thugs said uncertainly. 

Nadia kicked him in the shin, which made the much bigger man wince. “Quiet, Fiddtan! She’s Nahida’s mom! Of course she’s going to help us! Right, Mrs. Saeed?”

“You’re damn right,” Farasha agreed, turning back towards the palace. “Now, anyone else have any objections? Remember the rules, folks. First, rescue Nahida! THEN the looting and burning!” 

Author’s Note:

Yes, you can post that meme now. Just once, mind. We wouldn’t want dear old Saddam to be overdone. 

COG: Not quite the same as 500 Kilotons of Democracy, but it’ll do. Say, is there a Democracy Archon? ‘Cause I’d dedicate my life to that one in a heartbeat!