-How many heads today?

-Seven, we shouldn’t have killed that blonde girl, she was gorgeous.

-You’re in it for the women, aren’t you?

-You know how loyal I am to Irakeem.

-She killed almost one hundred of our brothers.

-Is there not a chance for repentance?

-Have you smoked too much hashish?

-I can’t get the look of her eyes out of my mind.

-She is an enemy of Irakeem.


-No, is, there is no redemption for infidels, not on earth, not in the afterlife, if there were, we wouldn’t be beheading them.

Hanzalah forced an agreeing nod to his Amir and went back to staring at the moon, the blonde girl haunted his consciousness, he saw himself and her getting married and living happily after the war is over.

-Tomorrow we capture Donoura, you can have all the girls and women you want, now try to get some sleep.

The Amir put out the fire and turned in, they were camping near Donoura.

Hanzallah sat in the faint light of the moon reflecting on his journey so far. Ever since he was a child power seemed glorious to him, he believed power coupled with a mighty will conquers all. His people, believers in Irakeem, are kind and pious, their love for Irakeem is pure, but they lack both power and will, they live between the hammer of Samasas and the anvil of weakness. The Slitters appealed to his admiration of supremacy, he joined them with content and willingness to die for Irakeem.

The ghost of the blonde girl had stolen his sleep, he sat on the ground against a huge rock caressing his scratched AK-47. His mind drifted back to school of engineering. He remembered when a student of physics explained to him how a bullet is fired, “all pure physics,” he said, now Hanzallah is using their physics to fight for Irakeem.

He still couldn’t sleep.

Come here. A soft female voice called. He thought it was one of the captured women restless with desire. The voice was coming from near a close by well. He headed there.

The ghost was sitting on the well. Hanzallah, paralyzed with fear, started murmuring some protective verses.

-Hanzallah, your Amir is dead.

She whispered.


-He was assembling a new RPG and it blew right in his face.


-His body is possessed by an evil spirit, that’s why his orders don’t make any kind of sense anymore, hell, they never would have made sense but for the cosmic stupidity of cretins like you.


-Here, look, if you and your fuck-head brothers continue killing people and spreading violence the Central Sector will turn into an area of war zones, there won’t be a kingdom, only a mushroom cloud.

Hanzallah stared mesmerized into the portal conjured by the ghost.

-I forgive you, Hanzallah, but you must kill your Amir by stabbing him in the ass, or I will stab you in your ass. DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME, HANZALLAH, IN THE ASS.

-Ok, ok, I will.

-Good, the Amir must be stabbed in the ass for the Central Sector to be saved from his dumb ass.

-Right, in the ass.


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