[Jennah] in the the dark, hidden in a soul

[Iskander Rafel Azizi]

Jennah, I don't know if my emails are getting through - and if you're not Jennah, it's not polite to be reading this. But I'm going to type them anyways. Life has been okay, I guess. It's getting chilly outside. Not so many kites out on the field. I've been watching the news, and I admit, sometimes it scares me. But that's life. I suppose. More anti-Islam rallies, and graffiti over it in Riverdale, of all places! I don't know why, either. Me and mother are the only people I really know of around here that are in any way affiliated with Islam.

How have you been? I've tried sending letters, but you've never responded. Lump's being Lump, as per usual. She's been trying to jump the fence recently, and I think that's because the lady down the street is feeding her treats when she passes. I haven't caught her at it; this might make Lump less of a guard dog, but she's a smart Lump, after all. I still haven't located your dagger, but I have a lead on it.

- Iskander Rafel Azizi

PS: If you are one of Jennah's parents, which I suspect you may be, I'm sorry you think I'm not good enough, or whatever you may think. my grades are good, and I'm not into anything illegal. I'd gladly prove myself, if you give me the chance, and I wish you would.

Iskander ran a spellcheck, reread, and sent. Jennah had been cut off from him, by her will or otherwise, and he hoped it was otherwise, not her will. She might not be getting them, they might be deleted or do to some junk inbox. But he typed it anyways. It kept him sane. Saladin was not a romantic sort. But he was a reflective sort. A brilliant tactician, yes, but had there not been crusades, had there not been the military life since he was very young, only a child in reality, he might well have gone down as a philosopher. After all, while Europe was int he dark ages, the Middle East was a flourishing center of culture. And he knew writing it would keep him in one piece, even if he wrote daily for months and never got a response. He needed to collect himself, and this was how he was going to do it.

Ever since Jennah left, he'd been a bit of a wreck, he'd admit it. He moped around campus, and lost his temper not only at the kleptomaniac whore, Bonnie Parker, but also at Joan of Arc, which was worrisome given that it was typically very hard to get bitch slapped by a saint, even if one was a Muslim warlord in a past life - and yet he's gotten slapped not once, but twice. He did deserve it, though, blowing up in front of a normal. A normal he scared the crap out of, but still. He'd only done it once before. His mother had been bleeding on the floor, and his father, the scum he said was dead (expect when he told Jennah), and Iskander, at the age of ten, had a knife. And aside from court procedure, that was the last he saw of his father.

The last he saw of Thomas Sureson, who was probably about fifty by now, and out of jail.

And and incidentally, in Riverdale with five buddies.

The man was caucasian, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Eighteen years ago, he'd have been handsome, and wrapping a new immigrant around his finger would have been a piece of cake. But now his face was weathered and rough. He hadn't expected the girl to be so much trouble. He hadn't expected her to get pregnant, though after forcing the subject of sex more than once, he should have anticipated. He did not expect a bastard son that didn't look like him at all, like some outside force had shaped him; one look into that boy's eyes and you saw some sort of old monster within. An old soul. And old fighter. And he didn't like that in the eyes of anyone with Iraqi blood. He didn't like the look of it in anyone but a good, proper American. Not a Muslim bastard. He had to deal with his son. That useless spawn left him scarred, all across his torso, arms and one that ran along his cheek to his ear on the same side.

So he'd amassed five friends, and they'd been in Riverdale. They'd found the Azizi bastard, they'd found his home, where his mother was everything. He might not have gotten away with murder before, but he'd do it tonight. He had been worried, since the boy was no longer ten, but eighteen, but all of his buddies and him and guns. And knives. Not overkill, since they planned on looting the small, lower-middle class home for whatever it had, and that was why they parked the black SUV across the street, by a vacant lot, and got ready. It was midnight. Time to act.

Iskander, meanwhile, had sent his message and was kicking around his room, which looked a little like a typical teens and a little like that of a grown man's - not grown as much as phD dude's room, with books on philosophy more than books on...any other stuff a teen boy would read, really. That was not to say it wasn't a mess. He heard knocking at the door, and left his room. Lump was milling about the door, and he pushed the massive white great dane out of the way, as the knocking went on. It wasn't so much knocking as...he was just in the entrance hall when the door came down, and he came face to face with a man he had never, ever hoped to see. There was a moment of silence, and Iskander looked horrified. Then he turned tail and run, straight for the kitchen, and the knives, which he got a hold of. "Attack, Lump!" He ordered, as he heard the first spray of gunshots, half silenced rounds. At this time of night, with his mother out (doing what, he didn't know), it was up to him to end this. And end it he would. He might die tonight, but Saladin feared not death.

Neither did Lump. The dog, now snarling savagely, went for the second of Thomas's friends to enter the door. He screamed and went down as the great dane shook her head viciously, and Iskander threw himself into the fray. But it went sour. Six men with guns against a dog and Saladin - yes, even Saladin, was a mismatch. There was a gunshot and Lump whimpered. The dog, in either a sudden fit of knowledge or self-presentation, managed to scramble out and away, bleeding from a wound near her back leg, out the broken in door and into the street, looking down the road, ears pricked forwards. Lump was no Lassie. But she just had this feeling.

Iskander, meanwhile, was in a very bad situation. One of them had hit him with the butt of his gun, and the other had tripped him, even as Iskander inflicted several wounds. Thomas grabbed his once he was down, and dragged him, struggling, into the living room. This was not what he wanted to happen. He wanted to die fighting, not dragged around, but with a gun at the back of his head, there was little he could do. "Now you listen to me, this is very good father son bonding time. We didn't have much of that, you little bastard, did we?" His father hissed, and then looked up at one of his friends. "Get me a knife!" He barked, as a third opened fire on the mantle of the fireplace, shattering the pictures and memories on there, and effectively destroying the wall.

"And what do you hope to accomplish, o father dear?" Iskander asked, satire in his words. "I'm not afraid to die." He never had been, but he was sad thinking he'd just sent his last email to Jennah. If, that was, he couldn't work this out.

"I'm cleaning up my bloodline." Thomas chuckled. "And making it known your kind is not welcome here. Surely you watch the news, boy. Iskander tried to turn around to see his father, but the next thing he knew he'd been hit hard with something, possibly a baseball bat, to the back of the head and he lurched forwards, onto his hands. "Kneel." Iskander knelt, since it was better than being on his hands and knees. "C'mere, men." Thomas ordered, and Iskander smiled. His home was a wreck, there was graffiti on the walls and blood on the floor (the man who Lump had bitten left a lovely smear as he dragged himself up again), but he still had words.

"The term 'men' or 'man' is not one that is useful to you. You are boys, not men. Boys who come in to a house and think they are powerful, but if I'm not afraid, what power do you have?" Iskander asked, only for the gun to be removed. He was surprised, but he stood and tried to fight; only to find himself held back by three and forced to his knees again.

"Think you're funny? Well, Daddy's got to punish bad boys, and you are a very dirty-blooded, bad boy. My blood is good but clearly you got none of it." Thomas rested a knife against Iskander's throat, bending down in front of his son. He met the teen's eyes. "Every boy always wants to be like Daddy, does he not? Otherwise he's not a good boy..." And slowly, carefully, he drew a line across Iskander's neck with the blade. Not enough to slit his throat, but enough for blood to drip down Iskander's chest and to the floor. Iskander struggled, but he couldn't break free.

Lump, meanwhile, saw the figure coming up the walk, with a suitcase. The door limped over, fur stained red, whimpering. She knew the smell of this human girl, she knew it well. Her tail wagged just a little, just a little, as she limped alongside Jennah to the Azizi home, which was being trashed by the fellows not holding down Iskander. The big dog limped to the doorway and stopped, looking up at the girl who had walked with her with big, woeful eyes.

Iskander twisted in futility as Thomas lined the blade up against his throat again. "Blood is great," He grunted, gasping as one of the goons hit him with the but of his gun. "But it's the soul that's more important." He gulped as Thomas gave a practice swipe across Iskander's neck, drawing more blood, but again not slitting his throat. He made a motion to draw his head up, and saw his dog in the doorway. No, no, Marshmallow, He mentally told his dog, as if she could hear. Go find mother, or they'll kill her too. Go! But the dog was not moving. "My soul is true, and strong, and good..." The sultan's brown eyes got wide and he trialed off, and not because of the bloody metal again pressed to his neck. "It knows how to love. And it does love." It was the best he could say, given that he did not want to expose Jennah at the doorway. But he did want to say "I love you", since Thomas was preparing for the final strike, and he hoped Jennah would get it.

"Adorable. But you're not capable, you little bastard. So I'm going to try and make this nice for you, I'll make you go just like you tried to kill me." He stood up, and for all intentions, seemed about to dig the knife into Iskander's throat with the force of a two handed blow when a second warrior of old entered the fray.

And that, my friend, would not just even the odds, but tilt them.

-------------
words| 2145 - all time record
tagged| Jennah / Tina
notes| =D But it's probably error ridden. I apologise. xP

[Jennah Raine Advani]

Makoto and Lisa cut Jennah off from Bhuvan and Latika. She wasn't allowed to speak with the people that had been more like parents to her than her real parents were. They didn't want her to bask in the days of when she was an "animal" (at least, that's how they put it). They also didn't want her using her name 'Jennah' any longer. She was to be known as Ami Xi...since that was apparently her real name. It broke Jennah's - or Ami's - heart to have to tell Bhuvan and Latika to step out of her life. But what could she do?

What hurt even worse, though, was when they forbade her from speaking with her beloved, Iskander Azizi. Her parents didn't like him because of his ethnicity and because he was something that represented her old life. Her old life was over. It'd like she'd been reincarnated again...but this time into a world with no color.

They were cutting her off from anything she used to be and slowly, she began to lose herself...and not in the way Eminem raps about. Jennah was forgetting she was Jennah. She became Ami. And why not? She was cut off from everything and mocked in her private school every single day. What part of Jennah was left for her to hold onto? She became Ami, a submissive and painfully shy, quiet girl who never smiled. There was no light in her eyes of life in her voice.

What was there to smile about anyway? What good was there in the world? If there was a God, then surely he was dead!

She missed him. She missed him terribly. Sometimes, when she knew everyone was sleeping, she'd take her sword out of hiding and hold then close, sobbing for him. She didn't want this. The Big Apple was rotten and all she wanted was to go home.

One bitterly cold fall night, she had locked herself in her room as usual with her laptop as her only friend. Since pretty much everything but youtube was blocked, that's how "Ami" passed time. On this particular evening, one of the reccommended videos for her was called "Warrior Women - Mulan (1)". Intreguied, Ami clicked the link. She soon found the story told in the documentary was not about Mulan. It was about Wang Cong'er. It was about her. Wide-eyed, she watched as every detail of her life was covered, from begging with her mother on the streets, to street performing, to her husband saving her from rape, to marrying him, to his death, to her take over of the White Lotus and finally her own death. Memories hit her like thick bricks as she watched, her jaw dropped slightly. She'd gotten so lost...she'd almost let this go. Her parents had almost won in breaking her spirit.

And what would her husband say if he saw her like this, her spirit beaten out of her and a permanent state of submission? Why, he'd be ashamed! He'd be so disappointed in her! ...This was not who she was. This was not how she was supposed to be. What would Iskander say if he saw her being as pathetic and weak as she was now? This wasn't her.

She was not Ami.

She was not a submissive school girl who listened to her parents pass naive judgement on everything she had once been.

She was not even Jennah.

She was Wang Cong'er. Pronounced SONG-er.
She was Wang Cong'er. She was a rebel. She wouldn't stand for this opression. She always fought for what she wanted. She wanted to be home with Iskander. She would not be caged. So it was time to fight back. Not with swords, of course...but with actions.

Shutting her laptop, Wang closed her eyes and knew what she had to do. It was time to go home. She respectfully told Makoto and Lisa that she was Jennah Advani and they couldn't change that. She also thanked them for their hospitality...but new york wasn't where her heart belonged. She then added that she was in love with Iskander and didn't "give a damn" about their opinion on him. Then she added that she had a bus ticket for the ride home.

And right now, at this point in time, thats exactly what she was doing. Though it was late at night, Jennah refused to sleep on the bus. She watched the world zoom by the whole way, cofee in hand. What was left of her coffee was cold now, and making the bottom of her cup kind of soggy. She looked down at the cup for a moment before she saw out of the corner of her eye a sign that said "Welcome to North Carolina". Jennah snapped at attention again. North Carolina. She'd be home soon. She'd be home soon!

It seemed like another life time before the bus finally came to a stop at the Riverdale bus stop. It really had only taken 45 minutes, but Jennah was anxious to get off the bus. She climbed down the stairs of the bus, beaming. Home. Little quiet Riverdale. Home. She stood on the pavement, just taking in the town for a moment. She took a deep inhale of the non-polluted crisp night air. She felt like she could breathe again, not only because of the clean air, but the weight on her chest had been lifted off and she was now free. The ghost of a smile was on her face as she picked up her bags from under the bus. With her back pack on her back and her bags in her hand, Jennah set off, her boots barely making a sound on the pavement...almost like a spirit. Jennah Raine Advani was back.

She let her feet do their walking, not really focusing on where she was headed. Her dark eyes flicked back and forth, taking in all the familiar sites of Riverdale. The park, the currently empty fields where kids flew their kites. The lake. The cathedral. Everything.

She soon realized she was walking towards Iskander's house on instinct. She stopped for a moment and looked at her cell phone to check the time. It was late. It was midnight. Perhaps it'd be rude to go visit. Oh, but Jennah longed to be in his arms again. Perhaps he could ignore her rudeness just this once? She doubted he was alseep anyway. Teenagers have the most abnormal sleeping patterns. She also had no where to go. She hadn't yet re-enrolled in the school. She didn't mean to be inviting herself over, but he did say that if she came by, she could sleep on the couch or something. She didn't have money to pay for a hotel, otherwise...

Whatever. Things will work out, she told heself as she went into the inbox on her phone. To see to it that she didn't catch him off guard, though, she quickly texted him.

Iskander, my darling, I'm back. I'm home for good, now. I'll never leave against my will again. I'm coming by...if that is alright with you.

-Jennah Raine Advani

She clicked the send button and dropped her phone back into the pocket of her black pea coat. Her black Ugg boots were silent on the pavement as she continued walking. Her shoulders began to ache with the weight of her bags. She shifted the weight, but she kept walking. She couldn't stop now. Something as trivial as baggage wouldn't stop her. She would drop all of her bags and leave them in the street if she had to! She would be fine with only carrying her swords, new dagger (since her old one was missing in action at some pawn shop...thank you Bonnie Carter), her cellphone, and her i Pod. The night was getting colder as she walked on. She could see her breath catching in the air. But she still pushed forward. She heard a strange popping sound in the distance as she walked closer. It sounded like fire crackers. Jennah didn't dwell on it, though. Maybe some stupid kids thought it would be funny to fire some small explosives this late at night/early in the morning. Their parents would deal with them. Jennah's duty was to keep walking.

Finally, she reached his neighborhood. Not long after, she was walking down his street. She paused for a moment when his house came into view. His house was no Taj Mahal or Imperial Palace. This neighborhood was not the Imperial City, guarded with high walls and achers so only the greatest of people could get in. Jennah's old home in Manhattan was much gander than this. There was nothing glorious about this place. But, it still had the power to make her smile. It still put comfort in her heart. She still felt like she belonged. Like she was home. Like she was loved.

Her silent feet walked again, getting closer to his front door. But then her eyes fell upon the sight of the broken door and all warmth that was in her heart vanished. She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Something wasn't right. Jennah looked around, for what, she didn't know. She was about to creep up to the door when out limped a large, white great dane. Jennah froze and her heart ached when she saw how pathetically Lump limped. She gave the dog a sad smile and scratched her behind the ears as her tail wagged. But then Jennah saw the deep red blood on the beast's leg. Her dark eyes widened and she went pale. She took her hands off of Lump and crept past the dog, looking inside.

It took all of her strength to hold in a scream at the scene she saw. The house was trashed. Graffiti stained the walls and blood was smeared on the floor. But that's not what Jennah noticed. She could care less about his home. Her eyes were on Iskander, kneeling and waiting to be executed at the hands of a rough-looking blonde man while his men watched. She saw Iskander's blood slip down his neck, much to her horror.

For a moment, Jennah was no longer in 2010. She wasn't Jennah either. She was Wang Cong'er once more. This scene brought back flashbacks of the ambush gone south which lead to her husband's capture. Like a coward, Wang watched as her handsome, wonderful husband and a few of his men were arrested for treason. That arrest soon lead to their execution. When Wang heard of her husband's beheading, her world was shattered. She knew she should have done something to protect him. She shouldn't have hid when he was arrested. She should have run forth from the shadows and killed every last guard herself to see to it that her husband was protected. She was a coward! She didn't deserve the title of warrior when that guilt was upon her shoulders.

And right now, once more in shadows, she watched as Iskander prepared for his own execution. She turned away and walked out the door. Though it appears that she was fleeing, she wasn't running away. His blood would not be on her hands as well. She dropped her things on the ground and opened her duffel bag quickly. She removed two sharp swords and a dagger. Unsheathing both swords and holding them in one hand (and holding the dagger in the other) she turned back towards the house, a fire burning in her eyes. Wang Cong'er refused to lose another loved one like this.

She snuck back in and stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed as she listened to Iskander's speech and "last words".
"Blood is great," Pure hate for the man who hit Iskander crossed her beautiful features. "But it's the soul that's more important. " Her eyes slid over to the bastard with the baseball bat. He was closest. She'd take him out first. Iskander continued, "My soul is true, and strong, and good..." Her eyes went to him when he paused, almost afraid they had already killed him. And then they made eye contact. For one magical moment, their dark eyes met. Wang's features softened when she looked at him and heard him say, "It knows how to love. And it does love."

She got it. For a moment, Jennah smiled. He loved her. She had known it all along, but he finally said it...or came as close as he could to saying it without alerting everyone of her presense. Love was so different when it was finally admitted through more than gestures and the look in someone's eyes.

When the man holding the blade to Iskander's throat spoke, Wang snapped back at attention. "Adorable. But you're not capable, you little bastard. So I'm going to try and make this nice for you, I'll make you go just like you tried to kill me."
That was her cue. Wang pulled her arm back and then threw the knife with perfect accuracy. The blade flew forward and landed in front of Iskander's knees for him to pull up out of the floor and use to protect himself. Jennah let out a fierce cry, the fire in her eyes flashing. The point of the cry was to distract and get the attention off Iskander and on her. That was the point of any battle cry. To distract your opponent. With her two swords in hand, she rushed forward and sliced the man with the bat's hamstrings, making him fall like a stone to the ground where she'd let him bleed to death unless he could crawl away. She looked right at the blonde man, fury and black hair in her face as she growled, "If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me, too."

And that wouldn't be an easy task, now would it?

[/font]


WORD COUNT: 2328. best post i've ever done.
LISTENING TO: nothing. i have to get ready for work now
COMMENTS: if jennah and iskander were attacking me, i'd probably go into the fetal position...[/size]

[Iskander Rafel Azizi]

Iskander, my darling, I'm back. I'm home for good, now. I'll never leave against my will again. I'm coming by...if that is alright with you.

-Jennah Raine Advani

If Iskander had been able to see the text, he'd have been absolutely thrilled. He'd have been ecstatic. He'd have been the happiest man on earth for a time, but as it stood, red flag, by billy talent, began to play, and there was no Iskander Azizi to pick up the phone. Red flag indeed;just below them, Iskander was fighting for his life, and for all the skill of the sultan, one swordsman was not enough to overcome six gunmen. It wasn't the twelfth century, anymore, that was for sure.

If Iskander had read the text, he wouldn't care bout having to explain to his mother who Jennah was late at night, and why she was in their house with all her worldly belongings. It would have been awkward, but he wouldn't have cared. Besides, what was his mother doing out at twelve at night? Teens had odd sleeping habits, yes, but she was not a teenager. All things considered, though, it turned out to be a very good thing that she was not in the house. They'd have killed her, raped her, or something. Iskander had not a doubt about that. He would at least serve as a warning to her mother. Wherever Lump went after she was shot, he hoped it was away. The blood, the broken in door...it was all a sign for her to stay away, right? All a sign to be careful, to call the police. With some luck, he'd be able to spare his mother the same fate he might well receive. He would receive, he came to realize as he was beaten.

This was probably the end of life two. He was forced down to his knees, held down by some, as other trashed his mouse. One man went upstairs, to try and find any cash reserves. They'd need it, to get out of here in one piece, after a murder. But after that, they were free. The Azizi family was a son-mother thing. No one else. Iskander, meanwhile, was more concerned about dying an unpleasant death. He had died before, yes, but that wouldn't make it much nicer. He didn't want to die at eighteen. He wanted to live another full life, he wanted to go to Mecca (something Saladin had ever gotten around to) he wanted to have kids, study philosophy, so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to see Jennah again, as well. How could he not? She was an amazing young lady. Brave, kind, respectable, smart, and a sparring partner that he admitted, could best him as far as hand to hand combat was concerned (or at least, when she went about doing all that kung fu stuff) and just....he didn't know what more to say. She was amazing. More than that. She was so much to him. And maybe she'd read about this in the news, maybe now. Maybe her parents would be relived.

Whatever the case, Saladin was in trouble. He watched them helplessly as they destroyed his home, the home his mother had worked so hard for. So hard or away from Thomas. That man was the bastard, not him! That man was as bad as Reynald, and that man had been a royal pain in the ass. But he had not been Saladin's father, either. Iskander typically said his father was dead. His first father was, so it wasn't totally a lie.

Unfortunately, the past always came back to haunt people, one life or two. But as the past came back to haunt him, the past had come back to haunt Jennah, and as inexplicable as odds could sometimes be, that was what saved his life.

When he first started his 'last words' he hadn't seen her. He just had wanted to say something. But midway through, he saw her standing there. His heart faltered, as did his words. He had wanted to see her again, but not while he was so powerless! At least he sort-of got to say he loved her. He wanted her to stay out of it, though. He didn't like the odds very much, he didn't want both of them to die...but he'd be joking to say that that was the way of Wang Cong'er.

He saw her smile at his words, and almost returned one. The corners of his mouth twitched, as he forced himself not to one more out of line and he was dead sooner than he ought to be. Even his mouth moving brought repercussions. "What're you laughing at?" Thomas asked his son, with a snarl. "You think this is funny? You think this is a game? Playtime's over, son. God will deal with you now-"

And for all they knew for a moment, God threw a dagger, that landed point first into the floor, placed perfectly for Iskander to grab it, then someone fell with a thud.

It was almost comical, the way everything ground a to a halt when Jennah joined the fight. Iskander supposed it made sense. None of these men had expected some girl to walk it, never mind a girl with dual swords that had just sliced one of them. It was an awkward silence, and Iskander too the moment to rip free of his captors, grab the knife and stand.

"Dad," Iskander was remarkably collected, barely realizing the pain of his sliced neck, "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jennah. Jennah, this is dad. Dad brought some friends, too-" The niceties were now over. Even before he fully finished, Isaknder had spun back, and stabbed one of them men, twisting his arm behind him and ducking as another came for him. "Leave Thomas for me!" Saladin demanded, as the first of gunshots tore through the house, shattering glass windows. Lump barked her great, low bark, and sat herself down on the man Jennah had cut down, chewing one of his arms and watching the scene play out with doggish amusement. That amusement turned into anger when she was sot at again, a bullet embedding itself beside the light switch near the door. She got up and limped back to the outskirts of the fray that Iskander and Jennah were in the middle of.

Her master was in his element, though. The fighting arts was something Saladin had trined since he was a child, and disuse of it in the life after death by no means ment he had lost the skill. He knew it well, and he could tell from the random gunshots and the failing round of thier own knives that the men had no prepared for two teenagers with a strange look in thier eyes and an uncanny knack for hadn-to-hand combat. They shooting but since their advansaries were close, but were doing more damage to the house (there went Iskander's savings) but thankfully none had killed him yet. As soon as there was an opening, he lauched himself at his father. Incapactiate him, and the other might back off....

But this fight was far from over

-------------------
words| 1272
tagged| Jennah / Tina
notes| That only took some time. XP

[Jennah Raine Advani]

Jennah just wanted to run to him. She’d broken the chains that had once bound her and thrown them away. She wanted to run to his home and fling herself into his arms, hopefully to never leave again. But he hadn’t replied yet. Maybe he was asleep after all…
Had she known the seriousness of the real situation, though, Jennah wouldn’t even be running. She would be sprinting to him, hoping he was still alive. If he was, she’d protect him. If he wasn’t, she’d avenge him. She wouldn’t rest until every last drop of blood was spilt to avenge Iskander’s death. She didn’t even care if she got in a lot of trouble if Joan of Arc or got kicked out of the RSOR. She didn’t even care if she went to jail for it. She wouldn’t regret it.

The door was broken. Jennah saw it. And she saw the blood. She saw the SUV across the street. She saw the look in Lump’s eyes. But none of this was a warning for her. None of it inspired her to turn on her heels and flee. None of it inspired her to call the police either. The cops wouldn’t get there in time and a phone call would give away her hiding spot easily. The scene around her did not serve it’s purpose as a warning. It merely rekindled a fire inside of her that had long laid dormant. The battle called for her once more. It was time to take up her swords and put on her battle face. It was time for Wang Cong’er to rise from her grave and show these gentlemen how a true warrior fought. Because clearly, they had no clue. Wang was more than happy to teach these brutes a lesson or two.

She didn’t even take a moment to consider the possibilities of what could happen to her if the fight turned on her. She didn’t fear death, but as she looked over her opponents, Wang knew she wouldn’t die today. Jennah may be a humble girl, but Wang had her cocky moments. This was one of them. These bums didn’t stand a chance against her and Saladin.

Jennah didn’t want to die, anyway. She had a whole life ahead of her. She wanted to get married. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to grow up — something she’d never gotten to do before. But above all, the warrior wanted something very soft and tender. She wanted something that wasn’t too stereotypical of your average general. She wanted to have kids one day (three to be specific). Jennah wanted to be a mother very badly one day since she was cheated out of that in her past life. Jennah wanted two sons and a daughter. They’d be strong, beautiful children. Equipped with the fighting skills of their mother along with the wisdom of their father…whoever he may end up being (though Jennah hoped for someone in particular).
Jennah and Iskander had more days to spend together ahead of them. She knew Iskander didn’t want to die either. No one would steal time from her again. Not a whole Chinese army. Not this grumpy looking blonde guy. No one.

But for a moment, Jennah forgot all her anger and silent promises of revenge. Their eyes met and she could see the hint of a smile on his handsome features. For that brief moment, there was no danger. It was just the two of them, lost in each other's dark eyes and in love. She was happy in this sweet nothingness of just staring. She was so happy. She wanted to spend forever, however long it may be, in this happiness.

However, it was cut short by the blondie. She glared at him, hating him even more for ruining her and Iskander's moment.

And then God sent down his dagger and with it, an Angel of the Battlefield. Crimson blood already strained one of her shining blades. Her expression was dangerous and angry, but not psychotic. She glared at the blonde guy and waited for Iskander to stand. She took the awkward silence as a moment to survey everyone there with the sharp eyes of a warrior. She quickly judged them. Which ones would go down easily? Which would actually fight back? Finally Iskander broke the silence and the attention shifted back to him.

"Dad," Jennah's eyes went to blondie. THAT was Iskander's father??? Well...that's....weird. But this situation made a lot more sense to Jennah now. Mr. Iskander's Dad was here to collet his son's life to clean up his bloodline of whatever he thought he was doing. Jennah gripped her swords tighter. He'd have to try again another day. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jennah." She gave a polite nod for hello accompanied with a sarcastically sweet smile. "Jennah, this is dad."

"Pleased to meet you," She said to Thomas, her tone sickeningly sweet and a mocking smile still on her features.

"Dad brought some friends, too-" Wang's attention were no longer on Saladin's words as he turned and stabbed someone and then ducked to avoid another attacker. That was Jennah's cue. Gracefully, she dove forward, her hands landing on the shoulders of a man who was going to attack her. She used him as support as she flipped herself over him. When she landed, she spun around and slammed her foot into the man's spine, possibly breaking it. Then she turned her attention to Thomas, her swords raised. She was just about to attack when she heard Iskander's demand.

"Leave Thomas for me!"

Damn it. Fine.

Gunshots sounded and Wang ducked, covering her head on reaction. She watched as the shots flew and embedded themselves into walls rather than flesh. But then she saw one embed itself by the light swtich, and Jennah got an idea to put an end to these annoying bullets....or, at least make them less frequent. But first thing's first. Jennah turned upon the man who hand just fired those shots. His gun was pointed at her now. As a natural reaction, she swung her sharm sword and cut off his hand holding the gun pointed at her. A bit of blood splattered onto her with the slice. Before his hand and weapon hit the floor, Wang Cong'er drove her two swords into his feet, just like the Chinese pirates used to do to their victims. With her hands now free, she grabbed the man's stump of a wrist, forced his arm to remain outstretched and slammed the heel of her hand into the bend of his elbow, shattering it. She ripped her swords out of his feet and let him crumble, craddling his stump and useless arm.

Dodging attacks, Jennah moved towards the light switch. The slammed her hand against it before flicking it down. Darkness swallowed the room in an instant. Now let's see these bastards try to aim and fire. Jennah was a master at fighting in the dark. Attacking in the dark was practically guerilla warfare, which she had mastered back in 1796. Darkness didn't phase her. It was welcomed. However, her boyfriend, who stained the Arabian sand red with the blood of his enemies? She didn't know if he ever attacked at night. She hoped she didn't put him in danger by bringing on the darkness.

Jennah looked back down at the bleeding body of baseball bat guy and then at her swords. She knew she really wouldn't be able to use her sword to the fullest. Too much meddling with the law if she decapitated someone...not to mention RSOR. They probably wouldn't be pleased with her. She drove her swords into the useless legs of baseball bat man for safe keeping and took up his bat. Jennah swung the bat around to feel it's weight and balance before turning and slamming it against the head of the man behind her who thought he'd been sneaky when he snuck up behind her to stab her in the back.

[/font]


WORD COUNT: 1366
LISTENING TO: it's not my time - 3 doors down
COMMENTS: damn, i wish i could kick this much ass xP [/size]

[Iskander Rafel Azizi]

The men who attacked the Azizi household did expect a teenager who know how to handle knives. Thomas had told them his son was a freak. But they didn't expect two teens that knew how to use knives - not just knives, but a dual-sword, and the one using the dual-sword was a pissed off girlfriend. They didn't expect a bloodbath, but that was what they were receiving. They tried spray painting, they tried just about everything, tough Iskander attacked with no urge to kill. That would be too much to explain in court these days, unlike his time where such an incident would have been comprehended better than today, where no end of questions would be asked about how he came to know how to use a knife.

The sultan played games with his father- now he was just playing, not acting out of sheer desperation like when he was small. He was toying with Thomas, playing a game of cat and mouse. Normally, Saladin did not smile when he fought. Normally, he was stony and determined. But now he was grinning like a maniac, now he was in charge. He shared no blood if this man. It was like a soul of Saladin had shaped how he looked, not the genes of his father. And did not most reincarnates bare at least a little resemblance? The soul of a person shaped that person, and here he fought alongside Wang Cong'er.

And then there was a spray of bullets, and someone shouted; the lights went out. For a second, Saladin was stunned, just as everyone but Jennah (who he had seen, out of the corner of his eye, make for the lights) but he recovered. He'd never done any major battles at night, this was true. But he was quick and adaptable. Light filtered in through shattered windows and the broken in door,making the ruined home seem haunted...and if you wanted to consider the fact long-dead people were in the room, it was. He launched himself at Thomas again, playing, but he didn't realize his father had a plan. "Nice to meet you, Jennah." He wasn't even panting as he said it, he was clearly fit...maybe years of prison did it. Maybe his father was some construction worker once he got out. Frankly, Iskander didn't care. But he did care about what happened next.

What happened next made him cry out; not in pain, but in rage. Thomas shot the gun, but not at his son. At Jennah. And from the sound that came next, he'd hit his mark. Iskander's dark eyes went from the calm, battle-wise Saladin to the enraged one that was rarely seen or commonly discussed in history, for that matter. But it very much existed, and it just came out. The look in his eyes scared his bastard father - he was no bastard son, he had a useless father, that was what -, it said he was done playing. He was finished with playing around. He was out to do some serious injury. He didn't notice his father slash him across the chest, since the cut was not deep, and in a moment Iskander had knocked him down. He wanted to kill Thomas, so, so badly...

But he couldn't.
Not in 2010.
This, sadly, was not the Third Crusade.
So, Iskander settled for grabbing a lamp and hitting his father squarely in the face. Thomas went limp, conked out.

Everyone wasn't doing good, either. "Jennah, are you all right? Jennah?" The concern was evident in Iskander's voice. He was still feeling the buzz of sheer adrenaline, but concern trumped that. If Jennah was not okay, he did not know what he would do. He needed her, he loved her. He just....it made him happy when she was around.They didn't have to so much as touch, he just...he loved her, there was no other way to say it.

Meanwhile, outside, Lump had limped down the street again, to meet an Iraqi woman in her early forties; Iskander's mother. Her eyes grew wide as she crept towards the house, seeing a suitcase at the sidewalk and SUV across the street, a broken in in door and no lights on inside...she opened her cell phone and called police, as as a coupe figures came out of the door; one she knew to be her son, but the other, she had no idea.

-------------
words| 778
tagged| Jennah / Tina
notes| Poor Jennah...

[Jennah Raine Advani]

In the defense of the poor buffoons roped into helping Iskander's dad on the racist quest for revenge: how the hell would they know two warriors of old would be revealed in this small house? How could they have known Saladin and Wang Cong'er would be together under the same roof, madly in love and determined to protect each other? These men expected an easy fight. Ideally, they should have been done by now. They really weren't expecting their asses to get kicked. Especially not by a thin, pretty girl doing frilly little flips and a Muslim terrorist of a boy.

Yet, that's how it was. Things were getting worse for them with each movement the teenagers made. Saladin wore a crazed smile on his face as he challenged his father. Wang Cong'er had an oddly playful smirk as she got more confident with this battle. She ducked under bullets, getting confident none of these guys could lay a hand on her. As the lights went out, she was borderline cocky.

Cockiness lead to her downfall in her past life. Everyone had told her not to lead her troops through the pass, yet she did anyway. She had gotten too confident. And it was happening again. The lights creeping in through the darkness from outside cast mysterious shadows over her face as she moved swiftly and silently in the darkness, bringing her wrath down upon her foes without a trace of mercy. She was a blur of black hair as she moved, like a black panther moving in and destroying her prey.

But even the strong and swiftest of panthers can be brought down by a single bullet. One bullet could end any life, no matter how powerful the person. No one was bullet proof, not even an ancient Chinese warrior.

"Nice to meet you, Jennah."

It was merely a reaction to spin around and face Thomas when he spoke her name, her bat raised and a fire in her eyes. Her body prepared for her to spring forward and attack him next, but a loud bang ruined that idea. Jennah didn't even know the gun was pointed at her until she felt something rip through her flesh and embed itself in the right side of her chest. Had she remained with her back to Thomas, that bullet would have been in her heart. But that's not what Jennah was thinking about. Rather she was focused on this burning sensation in her right side. She had never felt something like this before. It was like someone inserted a lit match into a wound. She didn't mean to, but Jennah cried out in pain. Upon reaction, she dropped the bat she had been holding and pressed her left hand over the wound. She felt her own warm blood spill scarlet onto her hand. She had never felt a pain like this before. Just like Lump before her, Jennah backed to the wall, bowing out of this fight. Unlike Lump, however, Jennah was more than willing to throw herself back in. She would ignore this pain for him. But on a side note: Jennah knew there was a reason she disliked guns. Now she hated them.

Trying not to whimper, she watched him attack and take down his father with a lamp. Jennah couldn't help but notice the difference in Iskander's attitude and face when he attacked. That wasn't the straight-faced warrior she knew. He was outraged. He wanted revenge and Jennah could tell he was holding himself back. That side of him frightened Thomas...and even Jennah. She watched in pain as his father collapsed to the ground in a useless heap. The fight was over. They were torn up, but they were alive. Welcome home.
Suddenly, Jennah realized how tired she was. She looked at the warm blood flowing from her wound that had pooled in her hand. Feeling week, she leaned against the wall, her knees threatening to buckle. She whimpered very quietly and took her hand off of her wound to look at it. She took in a shuddering breath upon seeing it.

"Jennah, are you all right? Jennah?"

She could hear the concern in his voice. She didn't want to tell him how much she was hurting. He didn't need to worry that much; she doubted death would come for her from a bullet wound in her chest. She sucked in a breath and said to Iskander, her head hung and her black hair curtaining her face, "I'm fine." She looked down at the dark blood in her hand again, "I-....I'm fine..."

She pushed herself off of the wall, her hand still pressed over her wound and her chest heaving as she held back the pain. She preferred getting sliced with swords. Jennah looked over at him and forced a smile. "I'm home," She said, walking over to the man she had left her swords in. She ignored his cries as she pulled the blades out of his flesh and used her swords as a crutch. "C'mon," She said to him, eyeing the slash on his chest and neck, "You're hurt. We gotta get you to a hospital..." Yeah. He was hurt.

She walked as she spoke, blood dripping down her body. Jennah got to the door way before exhaustion took over her. She leaned against the door way before sinking to the ground, dark red blood soaking her shirt and the ends of her hair. She let her swords fall to the ground beside her. And then she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and forget the pain. Jennah looked up at him, just looking for a long moment before she said very softly, "My soul also knows how to love, Iskander. And it does love...very, very much."

Seeing something out of the corner of her eye, Jennah grabbed her swords again and glared over at the figure, ready to scramble to her feet if she had to and fight again. Her dark eyes went wide when she saw Mrs. Azizi. Well...this was embarrassing. She put down her swords and bowed her head slightly. How would they explain this?

[/font]


WORD COUNT: 1029
LISTENING TO: EMINEM.
COMMENTS: ^_^ BANG BANG. JENNAH GOT SHOT *sadistic*[/size]

[Iskander Rafel Azizi]

((This is just Dante being odd with a thread-ender. Anywho.))

The night at the Azizi household was...an eventful one. Miss. Azizi didn't expect her guard dog to have a bloody rump, or, or that matter, her son to be standing around bleeding, with his arms protectively around a girl about his age, who was also bleeding, quite badly from a chest wound. She did not expect to have to call an ambulance, but an ambulance she had already called by the time her son and this girl - who she assumed the bags at the curb belonged to, had gotten halfway down the walk.

"Mother," Her son began, sounding incredibly awkward. "This is Jennah, my girlfriend. She moved away for a bit but she's back now. Dad came back, too. Jennah came back at the same time and saved my life, and you remember the first time..." It was blurry - she'd been stabbed badly, but she knew what had occurred. "Well, it's kinda like that in there, on a bigger scale." Given this Jennah was using swords like crutches, she could hardly say she was surprised. She could hardly say a thing, just nodded, stunned. When the ambulance and police arrived, they found they needed a couple more.

Three hours later, she was in a hospital room with her son, his girlfriend she didn't know he had, and an awkward silence commenced. "Well." Miss. Azizi dared break it. "This should be a lesson to you, Iskander." Her face was stern, but her eyes bright.

"You have a really lousy idea of what constitutes a romantic evening."