Ultimate Vendetta
A Kim Possible Fan Fiction based off World's Best Assassin, by Pat Squared
By Uru Baen
Hello, 4 things before we start:
1. Mega, ultra sorry for having no updates. I know y'all don't want to hear excuses, but, life poked me with its evil stick of doom
2. If you want a plot summary, PM me. I don't want to bore y'all, or steal the thunder of Pat the Mighty.
3. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Pat Squared for beta-ing this story. My writing would be nothing without you (as evinced by my one – shots - written relatively well, but organized like crud and with no character depth) If the characters feel at al real, that's his doing. The greatest majority of Hussein's speech is his.
4. Please, if you liked this chapter at all, click the little button below, make up a name, and say so. If you hated it, say so. If you want me dead, say so. Just review. It's no good writing if you don't see your readers. I honestly and genuinely care about and respond to each review.
Now, on with the show!
Beijing, 2036
Back, farther back than almost anyone could remember, there was a place called "Pine Crest Park." This place housed an organization called Global Justice. Employed in this place was a man called "Ronald Dean Stoppable", known to most as simply "Ron." However, the stress of saving millions of lives daily- on a slow day- slowly drove him insane. In the end, his wife- Kimberly Anne Possible- tried to help, and Ron raped her for her trouble. She, however, never blamed him, even after he died. She blamed his job.
Therefore, she formed the CVB to combat Global Justice. With the death of Director Betty in prison, Global Justice fell to Will Du and his white sword- who took ever greater emergency powers in order to catch the CVB leader who controlled the day to day operations- to Melody, the eldest daughter of Ron and Kim and she held a red sword.
Their operative in China was about to fulfill his objective.
A cold wind was blowing through the streets of Beijing. Kong Zeng Sheng, Zeng Sheng Kong, in the Western order, barely noticed. He carried the briefcase like it was his God, eyes darting around and down to make sure no one would dare steal it. They finally arrived at Tienamen Square, and he laid down the briefcase. He ran off- it would take roughly an hour for the "surprise" to arrive. He found a quickly made altar, and began to pray.
After he left, a few people around the briefcase paused and looked around at the architecture, and, sensing something amiss, some paused to reflect as they saw a white streak in the sky. Others turned their gaze a second later, and these had a moment's warning before a fiery glow embraced five thousand feet of their town. The earth quickly protested, as in response it rose up into waves as an ocean, cresting and breaking in that same familiar way. A million lucky souls died instantly. Nine million more condemned souls would not have the mercy of a quick death.
Paris, 2036
Meanwhile in Paris, negotiations were continuing, after a break for Ramadan. The world watched with bated breath as dignitaries and representatives from many nations were seated at a large negotiation table. However, even the U.S. ambassador to France was cowed by the dialogue that the two main parties were exchanging. At one end of the table was the French ambassador, Jacques Dumas, was talking rapidly in French on a cell phone. The Secretary General banged his gavel, to open the meeting.
Ambassador Dumas, who'd won the coin toss to decide who goes first, stood up, saying, "We are here today to negotiate peace in le grand dame, France. To have peace, we also must negotiate the disarmament of the rebel group 'Allah's Love'. We must as well force the return to work of the Muslim people in France, who are in a state of active rebellion. All due to the declaration of their militant head cleric in our country that our laws to keep their radical, sexist, genocidal religion out of our school schools and government buildings are a violation of Allah's will. Not to mention his inane claim that the fact that there are a minority of Muslim parliament members, when they are in the majority in the country denotes discrimination against his 'distinguished' people. They are here to redress us for the grievance of 'oppressing' their crazy religion which forbids them to wear gold, and have their women to wear T-shirts."
A few of the representatives looked appalled, and the Secretary General had to rub his eyes because he could've sworn he'd seen green lines dripping down Dumas's jaws.
Hussein Thierry, the senior representative for the 'Allah's Love' Movement, was carefully listening to the ambassador's opening statement. When the long winded ambassador finally finished his insulting remarks, Hussein, drawing upon a youth in high school theater, stood up and used his rhetorical experience to reply to the insulting ambassador.
"With all due respect to Ambassador Dumas, the statement the French Muslims blindly follow the will of radical militant clerics is a plainly racist sentiment. Monsieur Abu Mohammad was the first to call for peaceful dialogue between the Muslim community and the French government. Spewing out hatred is and loaded rhetoric is not a way to open negotiations or encourage civilized dialogue. French Muslims have reluctantly raised a militia to protect law abiding French citizens from the French Army's efforts to pry hardworking Frenchmen out of their homes and imprison them because they have honest complaints about a corrupt government, which trampled upon their inalienable right to peaceably exercise their freedom to worship their god."
Thus far his speech was fairly controlled, and completely genuine. But it was time to ratchet up the drama.
"Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God that reveals himself to Abraham in the Canaan wilderness five millennia ago. The Jews call him Yahweh. The Christians call him God. And we Muslims call him Allah. Despite the chances in name, He is still the same God and his love embraces all his children, not a select few. Allah's Love embraces us all. If you have not seen, there are a good many Christian Frenchmen who I personally am proud to call my true friends. From around the globe, Christians, Jews, and even the Dali Lama have expressed doubts about the current French government actions to maintain order as well. Please note, that many of these so-called religiously affiliated parties have never won a control of Parliament."
Hussein was a righteous man; and he has worked beside Jews and Christians all his life. He was certainly more tolerant than that gas bag at the other end of the table; but he can't say that out loud. He was, however, starting to lose himself in the passion of his speech.
"Contrary to what others say, Allah's Love is not here to convert France to Islam. We did not form to wage some so call holy jihad. We are not those radical Muslims who race to martyr ourselves and our children. We did not race out and killed Christian clerics in an attempt to make their followers despair. We did not retaliate and attack churches and synagogues. We did not plant bombs or fly airliners into the Eiffel Tower."
This was half bluster, and half honest outrage. He had to keep talking, and keep the meeting going. Thankfully, France had a number of sticking points, due to its choice of ambassador- an old racist swine. And how dare that Dumas...
"When we were oppressed, we chose the route of civil disobedience over the reign of the mob. We followed the difficult path of peace that Thoreau, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Jesus of Nazareth set for us. We did not sheathe our blades in the flesh of our oppressors, but instead merely peaceably protest and petition for the redress of grievances as is our right as Frenchmen."
He recalled how ironic it is that a man of the race that once tried to subjugate the world, who killed thousands of innocents in their revolution nearly three hundred years ago was now calling him a militant.
"Current polling data from other countries says that Muslims now have the highest election participation percentage of any demographic segment. It's no accident. When your rights are being denied, you exercise the right that you have to protect the future of the nation you love."
"My father's family has been French citizens for six generations. My great-great grandfather, Henri fought along his Christian Free French brothers against Nazi tyranny in North Africa and Europe. His father, Abu, died defending France from the Germans in the First World War. My family and many other French Muslim families have more than earned the right to vote and participate in the French political process. I, myself, bled for France when I served as a combat engineer during the Battle at the Kennel Runs twenty five years ago."
His family had given more to France than anyone - and that is what made him feel like if anyone had the right to change France, he did. And so he would, through his mission; at this very moment, the elections were going on. They had a man on the inside, who was hacking constantly, who needed complete control over the network to do his job so that no one would notice. As long as this meeting was going on and isolated, their network security people were working on the independent U.N. server. The authorities might have one man left in the workplace who could discover their man; but he was an extreme slacker. He ran one scan at the beginning of the day and at the end of the day, and called that network security. If all went according to plan, the oppressed would soon have what was rightfully due them.
"Many French Muslims families have willingly sacrificed sons, fathers, brothers, grandfathers, and uncles defending our homeland of France. We have sacrificed our loved ones to protect not just the geographical concept of France, but the ideals of equality, liberty, and fraternity that are the core of France. Being French is not a matter of DNA, but living your life by these three values."
Now his honest outrage was talking completely; all thoughts of a mission had been washed away. He had the right to call himself French, as much as his friends and employers had the right to call themselves Native Americans; how many lives must you save, how many years must you be there, how much must you give before you earn that right?
"Now the old guard are condemning French citizens for exercising the right to participate in the political forum that our families have paid for in blood. The Allah's Love Movement doesn't want a return to the 7th century and the dark ages. We are not here to make Islamic Law replace the Napoleonic Code like some accuse us of planning. Radical jihadists condemn us for not pushing an Islamic theocracy. However, we are proud of that condemnation. France stands for liberty and what good is faith if it's forced upon you?"
"We don't want to fight our fellow French brothers. All we have asked for and all we will ask for is the opportunity to have our grievances fairly dealt with."
The representative from the French government was flustered. Hussein had carefully prepared this opening statement not to negotiate, but to make an appeal to the world to see French Muslims as members of a democratic society seeking to participate, not an Islamic religious movement. Hussein started driving a wedge between the old government of France and its Western backers.
"Quite frankly, Hussein, the only reason you are at this table is because of those parliament members you demean. They are the ones who pleaded that we open negotiations with you. Moreover, as your stranglehold on our economy started to show, we had no choice but to agree. Not even soldiers march on empty bellies or with empty pockets. You are nothing, but an economic terrorist, and you deserve to be buried in pig carcasses!"
Hussein took in a deep breath. He had to remain calm no matter what the provocation was. He had to play the role of the suffering martyr fighting not with barbs, but with love and reasoning. This was the gravest insult that the ambassador could make; to as much as touch a dead pig is a sin in Islam. Yet, Hussein played his role perfectly and did not rise to the bait.
"If I was still a youth, I would proclaim that you are the daughter of a racist French whore, and your age has past! However, having once personally witnessed the horrors of war, I realize that hatred and spite has no place among brokers of peace. All French Muslims have ever asked for is to be recognized as your equals. All we have ever wanted is to peaceably exercise our human rights. It is not our hand that strangles France; it is yours! As our common holy scriptures said about the Pharaoh who enslaved the ancient Hebrews - it is your own stubbornness and pride that reduces your proud kingdom to rubble!"
"This is not a fight between the French and some outsiders seeking to destroy the essence of France. My family has lived here for generations, and we love this land like any other Frenchman. We merely desire free, peaceable, practice of religion, and equal rights to participate in the political process - as the laws of le grand dame France dictates. Is not asking that a Western, democratic government follow its own laws unreasonable? One cannot be for justice without being against injustice. One cannot be for fraternity without being against prejudice. One cannot be for liberty without being against oppression. Mr. Secretary, and my fellow delegates, this conclude my opening statement."
Hussein felt completely drained; he had expended all of his will, passion, and knowledge, and most of the delegates had watering eyes, and looked like they wanted nothing more than whistle and clap.
At this point, the Secretary General intervened.
"Now, gentlemen, trading rhetoric is not the reason why we came here! Racism or not, discrimination or not, that is not the point of these negotiations. France is economically dying. We are not here to say that you, Hussein, are a terrorist. Nor are we here to say that you, Jacques, are discriminatory in your policies. The only point of these negotiations is a compromise that will make stable ground for a permanent solution, one that can come after France's economic pulse is restored."
Hussein subtly started to sweat. This was not good. He couldn't continue his dialogue under these conditions; the Secretary was just too good of a diplomat for him to continue raising Cain about this problem. His sense of worry started to heighten, and it was with no small amount of tension in his voice that he raised the concern.
"I wholly agree, and that is why we must initiate a policy of isolation during these meetings. No one can honestly make a decision with a phone ringing off of the hook in their ear. No cell phones, real phones, or TV's should be allowed in these premises."
Hussein expected that his group should start their surprise in a few minutes, and he had to beat the clock, had to beat mother Technology in a race against fate. Isolation was the only thing that would keep their technology personnel occupied through the night. He receded deep in thought, trying to figure out the possibilities that spawned when Hussein was forced to take this unexpected path. The UN Secretary General smiled and nodded.
"I believe that is a wonderful idea. I have rarely found serenity when I have had my cell phone on, or any of the devices you mentioned. Quite frankly, a cool temper could not stand up to a cell phone, especially under such condition as these where we are discussing the fate of a nation. I motion that we end debate and take a vote on it now."
The ambassadors from the western world stood up almost instantly, voting Yea. The eastern ambassadors followed, hesitantly, a moment later. Only Russia's ambassador, Grigor Romanov, stayed where he was.
"Okay that is a nearly unanimous resolution: again, who votes for an isolation policy?"
Just then, Jacques' cell phone started to ring. Jacques said, "Excuse me, but I must take this, and it is not yet decided on isolation."
"But, Jacques, it is impossible to continue these negotiations if you do not make the attempt to follow the spirit of our declarations. It may not yet be decided, but all of us agree that we would prefer it. If you leave now, you will be blamed for sabotaging these negotiations."
Hussein chimed in, "I agree wholeheartedly, Jacques, there are a number of concessions that I shall certainly reconsider if you sit down right now and turn off the phone."
Jacques said, "Gentlemen, I apologize, but I must take this or I risk losing things more precious to me than ground in negotiations. Excuse moi."
The French ambassador left the room. Hussein waited, not noticing as they took a vote on, unanimously agreeing except for him, to enact the isolation. Effective once Jacques got back. Hussein excused himself, citing a need to pray and a need to use the restroom. He bolted back to his room in the hotel, praying and using his bathroom. He hadn't lied; when he gets nervous, his bladder activates. However, he did something else as well; retrieved a small needle, filled with liquefied oleander extract.
He ran to the front of the building, and knocked aside the guards that motioned for him and his pass. Hussein took out his wallet and flung it onto the desk behind him. He ran straight into Jacques as he was watching for him. His mind started to race - the last time he'd killed was a generation ago - yet he needed to do it now for a cause no less important.
He saw a look of- horror? Awe? Despair? Maybe all of them, but regardless, he injected it into Jacques' chest. He felt like cheering, as he'd stopped Jacques. At the same time, he'd hoped to live up to his words earlier - his idols were Ghandi and Martin Luther King; which is why he joined PsyOps in the first place! His mind was at war with itself. There was plenty left in the beaker he had in his room, but he finally stood up and drug off the body, as he thought, and finally grabbed the cell phone off of Jacques' corpse just before he stuffed it into a trashcan. He made a call, as fast as he could, to his lieutenant.
"Achmed, we have a problem. The moron completed his call. Quick, get some men into his house. Have them call this number from there, and kill whoever else is in there."
Hussein quickly took out a cigarette... he hated the things, thought they were mankind's worst invention since bacon, but, he had to have an excuse for being outside. About the same time he lit up, the Secretary General went out the doors, and spotted him.
"Oh ho ho... so that's what you were doing, eh, Hussein? Wait... I thought that was forbidden in Islam?"
"Eh, I know, but I didn't when I was first offered one back in high school. I so wanted to fit in, that I did it... I got hooked. I've been trying to quit since I was seventeen, but, given all the prohibitions, it is still extremely hard for me to quit the filthy habit. This is my first one in two days."
Just then, his pocket started to vibrate.
"Excuse me; I've got to take this." He flipped his phone open, saying, "Hello? Oh, yes, I would have to say that that sounds lovely. Please, do me a favor; water the plants, because we're stuck in here for the next few days."
That was Achmed. "Jacques' family is dead"! Hussein Thierry now had the blood of innocents on his hands. The number that was registered as the last call on the phone was just the number that was needed. Question was: How to plant it on his body with the Secretary General was around.
Hussein finished his cigarette, and said, "Well, that's it for me. I've got to go to get something to eat; I saw Jacques walking toward a restaurant when he was trying to find a signal for his phone. You go on inside."
The Secretary nodded and left, still smiling. Hussein whipped the body out of the trashcan, saying, "That was close, eh, buddy?"
Hussein chuckled and walked forward, dropping Jacques' body halfway there, looking like he'd fallen from a severe heart attack, just out of sight of the trashcans. He took a cleansing breath - a trick he'd learned from Svetlana - and ran back inside, screaming. Guard rushed to him, and the delegates soon followed.
Hussein sobbed, "Jacques is dead!"
A collective gasp filled the room.
"I found his body around the corner. The phone was in his hand, and his hands across his heart."
Grigor spoke up.
"Well, the poor man did have a history of heart trouble... what was the last number that called his phone? Maybe the call he took gave him a heart attack?"
Just then, a guard walked in, and said, "The last call was from his house. I sent a unit to investigate, and they are gone, assumed dead because of the blood trail."
The meeting went on, unabated, for the rest of the night, and eventually, everyone was getting tired, when suddenly, there was a knock on the door. They opened it, thinking it might be catering.
Instead, an Arabic man wearing a hand tailored-suit came in and said, "I wanted to let all of you know two things: One, Abu Mohammed has won a majority in Parliament under his quietly formed Allah's Love party, and two, Ambassador Thierry is now General of the Armies, and is wanted back in the Capital for consultations as to prevent rioting."
Hussein was as surprised by this last announcement as anyone; he hadn't expected to be named General of the Armies. He had hoped that Svetlana would have selected another for that post. With a growing sense of dread in his already heavy heart, he took a slow walk outside to the limousine there waiting for him.