Istanbul, Turkey, 1:34 A.M. local time

Medina ran down the alley, her breath made ragged by exertion & fear.  She glanced backwards, & she saw them; figures in the darkness, at least three of them, running after her.  She began running faster, gasping for breath as she clutched at the wound in her ribs, trying to stem the bleeding.  She was pushing herself as hard as she could, but she knew she could not keep this pace up for long; the pain stabbed at her with every move, every breath she took, & black spots appeared in her vision.  Her foot caught something, sending her sprawling.  She tried to rise, to make one last attempt to flee; she couldn’t.  All of her energy had been spent.  Hands grabbed her from the back & jerked her upwards.  She found herself looking into the eyes of one of her pursuers.  They all wore black hooded shirts, with the hood drawn over the head.  All wore metal masks, showing only their eyes, with a series of bars covering the mouth.  Grasping her arms & shoulders, they brought her to her feet, facing another figure.  This one wore a black hooded cloak, the face hidden completely by the shadows.  It approached her, & paused, reaching outward & caressing her face, prompting her to shudder.  “Little woman,” it hissed, “you should never have gotten involved in the first place.”  She caught a glimpse of the palm, which had a long slit running through the center; it opened, revealing rows of small teeth.  It pressed the palm against her mouth, & the teeth bit into her lips.  She screamed, muffled by the palm & her pain.  Her skin turned a mottled grey, her veins turning black, her complexion turning dry & wrinkled.  Her eyes shriveled, her hair became brittle, & her body began to spasm.  She screamed one last time, & slumped as her body became a hollow shell.  The Silent Lord removed his hand, & the Demented released their hold on her.  Her body hit the floor & burst into a cloud of dust, leaving only her clothes.  The Silent Lord’s eyes began to flare a dull yellow, revealing a pallid, wrinkled face.  He closed his eyes, energized by the dead woman’s essence.  “Well, well, well.”  The Silent Lord’s eyes snapped open, & he issued an irritated growl.  A man approached them, wearing a grey business suit, with long black hair that had been tied back.  Dameon kicked the pile of dust, moving the jacket that lay in it, & chuckled.  “Ever the gentleman, aren’t you?”  “Hold your tongue,” hissed the Silent Lord, “it is not required for your line of work.”  “Of course,” Dameon bowed mockingly, “master.”  The Silent Lord ignored his arrogance, instead grabbing the dead woman’s jacket & reaching into the pockets.  He pulled out a folded piece of paper; Dameon’s eyebrows arched, interested.  The Silent Lord opened it; it read:

     Medina,

     The Shura Council has given its orders.  All available Mujahideen are to set aside all current orders, they are now considered secondary.  It has been confirmed.  The Mahdi has reemerged.  Find him, & protect him at all costs.  Do not share this with our allies; there are some among then who would rather see him dead.

The Silent Lord handed the note to Dameon.  Dameon read it, his eyes going over every word; a smile formed on his lips.  He let the note fall in the scattered dust, & the Silent Lord said, “You know what to do.”  Dameon nodded, & turned to walk off.  “Dameon…”  He turned back, & the Silent Lord said, “Remember your place.”  With that, he stepped back, into the shadows.  The shadows around him began to lengthen, darkening as they grew.  They stretched towards the Silent Lord, enveloping him, until they had completely wrapped around him.  Eventually they subsided, & the Silent Lord was gone.

________________________________________ ________________________________


New York, Manhattan suburbs, 4 days later

Sarah drove past the rows of pretty houses, past carefully manicured lawns, while humming Hava Nagila.  She turned into the driveway of the house she shared with her soon-to-be-husband, Nick.  She killed the engine & touched the locket around her neck.  She opened it; inside was a picture of her & Nick, when they had begun courting.  In the picture, she had her arms around Nick’s shoulders, & they were both grinning.  There was a white splotch on her nose, as though she had put on too much sunscreen; she hadn’t.  Instead, Nick had dipped her nose in his ice cream seconds before the picture had been taken, which he then took the time to lick off after the picture was taken.  She smiled at the memory; god help her, she loved the big oaf.  She closed the locket & let it drop, & began playing with the ring on her finger.  The wedding was less than a week away, & the very thought filled her with butterflies.  She opened the door & got out, still humming.  She approached the front door & jiggled the knob; it was unlocked, as she had suspected.  It was one of Nick’s few bad habits, one that she had been trying to change.  She stepped into the house, & called out, “Nick, I’m home.”  She didn’t get an answer.  She didn’t expect one; he was probably still asleep.  She closed the door behind her & locked it, making her way to the bedroom, saying, “Nick, you left the door unlocked ag-” she entered the bedroom, & froze.  There was blood everywhere.  Blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on the bedspread.  She stepped in, shocked.  She felt something drip on her shoulder, & she glanced at it, startled.  Blood.  She looked up; there was even blood on the ceiling.  On the floor, there was a trail of smeared blood that led towards the bathroom.  She followed it, feeling numb.  The bathroom door was closed.  She grasped the knob, then hesitated, afraid of what she would find.  She opened it, & all her thoughts stopped.  Nick lay against the wall, stripped of his clothes.  His left wrist had been nailed to the wall, & his throat slit open from ear to ear.  She looked into his dead, misty eyes, & tried to scream; all that came out was a strangled whimper.  Suddenly, she heard footfalls behind her, & she turned.  There was a man, with white hair; he wore a black trench coat, & sunglasses covered his eyes.  He smiled, & brought up his hand; it held a pistol, equipped with a silencer.  She struggled to speak, “Please-”  “Bang, bang!”  The man whispered, & squeezed the trigger.  The bullet discharged with a muffled bang, sending Sarah’s brains out the back of her skull.  She fell backwards, next to Nick, with blood pooling around her head.  The man stood there, still holding up the gun, & began to snicker.  Chuckling, he knelt down & dipped his hand in the mixture of blood & brain matter, then stood up.  On the wall, he smeared:

                                                       All hail the
                                                       Silent Lord

With that, he holstered the gun & turned to leave.  On his way out, he began humming, & sang, “Hava Nagila, Hava Nagila, Hava Nagila Venis’Mecha…”