At night, after leaving Hanna's room, Assad first went to his room before retrieving the backpack Hanna had previously left there. He fills it with food: water, and durable food. In the bedroom too he took a set of surgical masks and put one on. Once armed with his bag, his mask, his cap, he waited until one o'clock in the morning before going out.
He thought before leaving that he could have leaved a note, but would a note be enough ?
How exactly did he feel when he walked away filled with uncertainty, worry, when his eyes betrayed him.
He closed behind him, scanned the surroundings, and began to walk along the street.
He walks without hurrying, calmly, he admires the night. Certainly, he has not seen them since a long time ago.
At least, the real night, not the darkness of his room. And now that he thinks about it, this life, which came almost suddenly, is gone; he realizes that today he is a wanted criminal. He is a wanted criminal.
"I am a wanted criminal." think Assad.
And that, when he walks, makes him cry. His heart aches at the memory of his hero. What did he become ?
Should he, for the better of justice, surrender? Because not to do so is to fit into this box of criminals.
He reassures himself to think that prison, will not be so different from the life which has just left him at the moment.
It won't be that different. But… how long? 5, 10, 20, 50 years ? What punishment will he receive?
But
"What am I afraid of? A lifetime in prison, or being another criminal? what cost to sustain my freedom and until when does it inhabit me?"
Assad is walking, it's night, the sky is black, the stars are festive, the wind wanders, the heart heavy, nostalgia, that which makes a man rehash and judge.
Its hero once said "Godliness is the key to heaven when sin is the way" and that "always be grateful for what they give you (sinners)" and finally, "if you're the one sinner, be grateful to yourself, to be your own key".
Assad wipes away his tears, the view, in this wide, clear shot of the road in front of him, the melodious nocturnal silence, this flickering lamp, hive of insects that are also nocturnal, where his walk fades to this telephone booth, are, all this, he believes his most ardent duty.
Phone in hand, number dialed, waiting engaged, voice heard: when he can still hang up, he refuses, but his heart is heavy, silence comes. He is afraid.
"Hanna..." Assad thinks back, she's afraid of ghosts she said. But she'll get through it, she's gotten through this so far...she's done well until...until...until what?
The young man, heart pounding, tries to remember, something is wrong, something is trying to resurface but what?
It is no longer a migraine but worry, stress that overwhelms him, his breathing increases, until he is audible, he perspires; in his veins, the blood rushes, the memories merge.
Shop, intersection, corridor, murder, pursuit, fire, massacre… the following pieces block. Assad tries to recreate the scenario many times but he blocks, but something forces him to force himself.
As his breathing is heard, he still does not hear the lady ask him if everything is fine, but when she says "Sir, sir, are you all right? Sir, answer, are you the victim of an assault?"
His heart stops at this hearing. " Assault ?" he thinks. He drops the phone.
He sweats a lot more, and breathes harder, he feels his body getting heavy, he raises both his hands, mechanically looks at his palms, and in his mind things clear up when he remembers the shed, but why a shed. The word comes back to him, he tries to remember when he remembers Hanna.
"Hanna" he thinks. "Hanna, Hanna, Hanna, assault!"
The pieces fit together and he is seized with a monstrous self-loathing.
How could he forget that he was wanted, but... how could he forget the sexual assault suffered by the young woman?
Everything is there, everything comes back to him. He remembers reality, everything!
The first time he woke up, Hanna's surprise seeing him standing was not just the stupefaction of seeing him standing, her look, everything indicated fear. He remembers that she was struggling to feed him, her hand was shaking, she had put a safe distance between her and him.
When he was beginning to be able to walk, she began to avoid direct contact, he had noticed it but thought nothing of it, of all, he thought nothing of it. But above all, what fills him with anger is that yesterday, when he came to knock on her door, when she had asked him to come in, she was not only as shaken as usual but on contact, he remembers that she hadn't gotten away with it as easily as he had thought.
He remembers the truth, the terror she had, the shivers, that if she let herself be held for so long, she was paralyzed, he only realizes it now.
May he also remember his gift, his pact, the reference to what he must now be heading for. He has a goal, and this goal will keep the police waiting, he can't, now let the young woman down. A young woman who, despite such trauma, deigns to trust him.
He clenches his fists and runs towards the young girl's home, he swears to himself from now on to keep the promise of his pact, to no longer abandon someone in distress and at the very end, to do himself justice.
But his race is interrupted in a bend when he bumps into an old man who was pulling his bike. Assad is a little shaken, the old man remains standing but the bottles of milk fall and burst. Assad gets over it, sees it and apologizes just as quickly.
The old man remains silent, and is still holding his bicycle when Assad bends down to check if there are still intact bottles.
"Don't bother" the old man said, straightening the bike and picking Assad up. There when Assad sees him, he is a man in his sixties, a slight afro cut between brown and white hair.
His face, although slightly wrinkled and dotted with spots, which Assad does not know how to define, testifies to a certain liveliness. He seems very robust, and all the more so as it is felt in the grip of the old man when he helps Assad to stand up.
His big hazel eyes stare into Assad's when the old man smiles at him. When he lets go of Assad, he can notice that despite the jacket the old man is wearing, he has an incredible build for his age. Could he, Assad thinks, be a former soldier? But there is no need to devote time to it.
"Excuse me, I didn't pay attention"
"I tell you not to worry about it"
" Whether it's my fault ! I don't have the money to pay more but..."
"I didn't ask for anything like that."
Assad sees him take out a napkin, bend down, take the pieces of glass one by one, he watches him do so
"You are in a hurry…" the old man said to Assad "So don't waste time…"
Assad wants to join Hanna but he hesitates, he has to help the old man. But his heart urges him to Hanna. His legs are just getting ready to run, he had even turned around that the old man whispers
"But when you're a muzhara, you don't rush!"
Assad freezes. When are we what?
Assad turns back to the old man who is still picking up; Assad, mimicking his stupor in turn.
" Sorry ? What did you say ?"
*
The old man doesn't answer right away, he puts the broken glasses in a plastic bag and wipes them with the napkin.
"Why hurry, when you are able?"
He wipes and gets up "the muzharas are muzharas because they can".
He holds the plastic bag, hooks it to the handlebar sleeve and prepares to continue on his way under the continued curiosity of Assad.
"Do you know the muzhara?"
"I wonder, but probably she's the one who knows me! Come on young boy!"
He advances, and the further he goes the more Assad's curiosity grows; but should he not forget Hanna. But this question still comes to him: "Wait"
" Can I ?" he said before disappearing around the bend.
Assad continues on his way to Hanna's house but this time what interrupts him is what he himself had launched, the announcement of the question of the leader of his three attackers.
Was Assad sure he could interfere in this?
As he ran, he barely noticed the black Mercedes parked by the side of the road. But the man standing in front of him cannot miss his attention.
The closer he gets, the clearer the threat becomes to him. Assad stops, sweat rolling down his cheek.
He doesn't see it, he doesn't see anything, but the threat is there.
A man, soberly dressed, wearing a long coat stands in front of him, hands in his pockets. On his face, a mark crosses his right eye, testifying to a big wound.
This outfit, this threat, it is clear to Assad that it is a member of the organization. But who ? One of the generals the man was talking about? Or would it be the famous chef?
Assad is overwhelmed by this threat when by instinct before any human reaction, he goes to seek the gift, now that he knows how to activate. Then in a single inspiration he thinks: "Muzhara of discernment!" and here are his pupils greyish. Assad is on guard, but the man doesn't say or do anything.
"Are you the head of the organization? asks Assad still on guard
The man is still peering at him silently.
Then when the man begins to walk, his guard and his fear increase.
"We've seen novices, new people who have just obtained their powers and who put on airs, but you... but you, you are the dumbest by your insolence." The man said, still moving forward, calmly. Assad knows the man doesn't appear to be under any power, but his instincts are crying out for him.
"You are as insolent as you are stupid. Putting your muzhara on display anywhere other than that place is truly the work of an idiot. But that's not why I'm here. Are you asking if I'm the boss? Speaking of him, so you want him to come to you? But really, are you something like crazy ? Do you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into?" the tone of the man rises in sermon when Assad is still sweating
"He heard your message, I don't know what he will do yet, but I came here on my own to see what it was about. Knowing him, he will eventually show up at some point. The time to let you progress, he is of this style."
"Progress?" Assad thinks. Progress in what? Once the host makes the pact, they are all-knowing about their power, they should have nothing left to improve.
"I'm here to give you a present. First of all, no I am not the leader, I am one of the three generals and it is in this honor that I have come to explain to you that the gift you have goes beyond what you think you know."
At these words Assad thinks of attacking but when the man stops a few steps from Assad, he closes his eyes, they open them, Assad lowers his arms, his eyes wide.
"Should I say it out loud so that you'll hear?" he said when the tint of his eyes changed from brown to yellow "Muzhara of Geography: Commandment Four Proxy."
Assad stands half awake when the dread of the ground shattering his feet fills him and he begins to fall down a dark tunnel. He ventures there when he hears the man say "Be worthy of your meeting"
Assad falls, the terror, the aerobatics make him scream while he knows not how much time passes when a snap makes him deaf before suddenly making him see the old man who was holding him.
Assad is held by the old man, the terror on his face as his senses return to him and the nausea, the pressure come to him.
"Are you okay my boy?" the old man asks him but Assad looks absent. He looks at him, blankly.
"The man" whispers Assad "the man"
"He's gone" reassures the old man "he's gone, he left you in a hypnosis but everything is fine!"
"Hypnosis? "Repeats Assad who wanders" No, no, no it was real "
"The muzhara is never real my child" replies the old man "There is only what is heard from what is said"
Assad doesn't believe it, it was true, however, the ground has broken under his feet, he's sure about it. It's not believable that... but is it believable that such a thing is so likely? Assad is lost in thought.
He thought he was powerful, even, Almighty, his power gave him a sense of control over the world, and people. But then, he feels tiny.
He still wanders when the thought of Hanna comes back to him and he rushes to his feet, the old man still stooping.
" I have to go !" Said Assad
The old man looks at him, stands up
" Where ?"
"where to protect. I am expected!"
The old man now mimics a more stern look
"Protect you say? Who is waiting for you?"
"A... someone!"
"Have you understood nothing of the favor that this man has condescended to bestow on you?"
Assad mimes as if he does not understand or really does not understand
" You are weak !"
He understood it, but also Hanna is waiting for him.
"I made my pact, I am strong enough!"
"The pact is not in any percentage of the power of the muzhara, if there were a thousand holders of this power, in a ranking of power, you would not even be in the millionth."
Assad's face tenses
"My doubts that I shattered in this place, according to you, are not enough?"
"Having the courage to go on a battlefield is one thing, being qualified is another and we have just proved it to you. If he came, it is mainly to tell you that you are not ready."
Assad's fist clenches in anger. He remembers the threat he felt. But Hanna is waiting for him, he can't... he doesn't even realize the anger he's bringing out on his face
"You need to get stronger"
He clenches his fists even more. He thought he would do it right now, that he was strong enough to kill them all, to protect them all.
" I thought that… "
"That you were strong, but the muzhara wants to make you live, it wants to consume you enough to succeed, so confidence, pride, are its tools, but you must have its true science, the science of you who control."
" Damn it..."
"This path is a relationship to maintain without ever failing to let it take itself for the dominant"
He then knows that if such powers really exist, it is because he has been way off the mark, that he is insignificant, but how to do it? Can he leave Hanna till later? He mixes the brushes when he received the reminder
"I thought the muzhara could as the host wanted?" asked Assad
The man smiles
"Yes, but if she can as you want, can you as you want her to be able when you are her and she is you?"
*
Assad told the gentleman his adventure, what had led him so far, he told everything without worrying about whether he should or not, whether he should be silent for Hanna.
The old man, concerned, asked him "What was the wish of your pact?"
"To be able to kill all criminals and save all souls in distress"
"What insolence" he said without judgment, he simply meant it "why?"
"That's what the situation, what my life suggested to me at that moment"
"I see" he thinks and starts to move forward, Assad notices that he is on foot, without his bike. " Follow me !" said the man
Assad remains frozen at first, before following him
"What appointment was assigned to your power?"
"The one of discernment" Assad did not see it, but for a moment the man was intrigued, he clenched his fist on his arm.
"Of course!" the old man whispered.
" Where are we going ?"
"I told you, you have to get stronger"
Assad stopped, he must not keep Hanna waiting any longer.
"She is waiting for me"
" Me too. Young Assad, I repeat to you: you are not qualified for the battle"
"She will suffer even more if I leave"
"Less or more than when you get killed by those men?"
Assad does not answer
"If you feel legitimate to be able to realize the wish of your pact, go ahead, save the millions of people who are at this moment victims of crimes, go kill the millions of criminals who at this moment are committing misdeeds!"
Man pauses on Assad's silence
"The muzhara will activate whatever your whim, but the pact will be nothing if you do not put in place the means to fulfill your wish."
"What should I do then?"
"You are a life, the world, you cannot turn it upside down; you are only asked to live with your surroundings, the best you will be capable of is the extent of your surroundings; including you. This girl, anyway is a muzhara, she has her own fight. When we are a muzhara, we exercise our gift with our own flame, she will have to be able to fight and overcome her demons, as you did, as you do. No one is asking you to give up; neither her nor the wish of your pact, only to give you time to earn it."
He starts walking again, Assad is silent, thinks, follows him. They walked for just a moment, two turns after the one where Assad bumped into him; in front of a small building by the side of the road.
Assad notices a gym through the glass. The orange lights everywhere, especially on the huge "Free" sign, attract his attention.
The sound of a bunch of keys makes him look at the old man who unlocks the room and ventures inside. Assad after hesitating get inside.
The room is quite large, He estimates it to be around 100m2. Although he does not know anything about it, he knows that the instruments that are there have something to do.
The old man is in front of a counter, he takes off his jacket and puts the keychain on it. While Assad still admires, he walks over to a long device that he plugs in and turns on.
"Young Assad!" he shouts at Assad who was visiting the room, comes to join him, curious.
"Take off your shirt, and your shoes!"
He is hooked up with electrodes, and the old man asks him to grab the sleeves.
"Alright don't move!"
Assad guesses on the screen that his muscular capacity is being measured. The old man watches in silence, Assad feels embarrassed, already fearing judgments.
"It's not famous," Assad hears as the electrodes are removed. He listens.
"You are 1 meter 81 which does not fit with your much too low weight of 62 kg. You are way too thin, how did you manage to be so malnourished?
Assad always silently listens
"How many times have you activated your muzhara to fight?"
" Twice. The first time was instinctive, the second time is after my pact."
"How long apart?"
" In the same day "
"How did you feel afterwards?"
"I don't know, I slept three days apparently"
"She did well"
" Sorry ?"
"Your muzhara. She did well"
" My muzhara ?"
"She's the one who made you sleep so much"
" Why ?"
"For your survival you guess well. As you said, the muzhara can do whatever you want, but what you did was suicidal, you went way beyond what your body could handle, you are definitely suffering from muscle trauma."
" What does it mean ?"
"That you will never again be able to exceed a certain level of muscular effort"
The old man detects the fear, the worry in the young man's eyes. He then goes to the counter
" At least in theory "
" In theory ?"
"Give me your time and effort, - he flattens himself against the counter - I should be able to do something about it"
"Can I heal?"
"It will depend on your will. But I warn you of two things: these men are dangerous and if they intend to let you progress, it is because they have an idea in mind; you know why ?"
He tries to see what interest they would have in letting him progress, but he sees nothing, no valid reason
"No, no, I don't know"
"I see"
Assad remembers the paper, the document he took, it is true that he did not read it, but if it was for it the general would have taken it. Assad is clearly not a danger to this leader, so why is the general saying that the latter would let Assad progress? No logical potentiality comes to it.
" The second ! Continue the old man: is that what I project you to is a performance of steel. We don't have much time to do great things, so I'm telling you I won't be easy, are you motivated enough to protect your pact?" Assad meets the gentleman's hard gaze when he replies in the affirmative.
"It won't be any harder than giving up now! When do we begin ?"
" Now." Smile the gentleman. "You are going to go up and rest this body"
" What ? Rest ?"
"Do as I say. Here's the stairs, go up to the first and on your right you will find a guest room."
Staying with someone is what he wanted to avoid, which is why he had first tried to leave Hanna, so as not to put her in danger. He hadn't thought that accepting the training would expose this gentleman to the same danger as himself. He refuses it.
" I can't. If they come, they will kill you too; and if the police find out, they will arrest you, I cannot put you in danger."
He think that he again almost endangered an innocent
"Look at me" said the man calmly "look at my eyes" Assad complies "do I seem to fear one of these two entities?"
Assad can only be silent, he does not know who this old man is, nor what knowledge or power he has, but he has shown enough to reassure Assad.
He breathes within himself, when his new resolutions are created; when he thinks of Hanna and swears to himself that he will become strong, that he will get back what he owes her; and that also, that he will clear the story with this organization.
But these are only thoughts; before that, there is a springboard of effort to put into practice. Assad is going to get stronger, for better and for worse.