Rashad's whole head felt tender, and the blazing afternoon sun only aggravated the pain. The sand particles seemed to attack the left side of his face only. The dust and dirt mixed in with the dry blood, and breaded the scar on his left temple. Rashad has now been a member of the Kabish for a couple of days.

Rashad was following Jaheim, who was leading him to some fancy caves carved into the sides of the cliffs where the women and young children retrieved water from the lagoon. Not only were the caves the best housing options in the village, but they were also kept constantly cool by the water seeping through the cracks on the cliffs and the shade provided from the blazing sun.

All the caves were covered not by doors, but by various colored curtains. Jaheim led him towards a white curtain. "Since you're family, you can start staying with me instead of out in those tents you've been staying in. Consider it your reward for making the right decision."

Jaheim pulled aside the tent and Rashad had to rub his eyes twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things—after all he hasn't been receiving the best sleep in those awful tents tainted with scorpions, the howling wind, and the freezing temperatures at night. But even after the blur—caused from rubbing his eyes intensely—dissipated, he still saw the waterfall pouring forth from the walls into a tub carved out of gray stone. He saw fine brown rugs and comfortable furniture covered in some type of yellow and black fur, possibly from the Arabian Leopard. He saw a shelf filled with books, a table loaded with maps and a spinning antique globe of the Earth. On the wall were verses from the Quran along with other mottos. One of these mottos stood out to Rashad: Fight. Bleed. Fall. Stand. Fight until the drops of sweat turn to blood. Fall, but never forgot to stand back up.

Rashad has had some experience with the latter half of that motto. He had fallen down recently and considered life meaningless. Life was still sort of meaningless, but he was able to stand back up with the help of the Kabish.

Rashad was knocked from his thoughts when a cotton and wool white robe was tossed at his face. "Shower and change. You will meet your fellow fighters soon."

Rashad didn't need to be told twice. The moment he caught glance of that waterfall, he was ever so tempted to jump inside. He hadn't had a good bath in a long time. His village didn't have running water. People usually had to go out of their way to shower by the river, but one faced the risk of many unpleasant sea creatures and insects crawling in places they shouldn't. Thus, Rashad showered rarely. Even the bathrooms were dangerous. They were simply troughs dug into the ground that reeked and were infested with all types of disgusting insects. Rashad had a fierce belief that roaches and beetles shouldn't be the size of a man's fist, and be able to fly.

Rashad was quick to undress and jump into the water. The water was neither cold nor boiling hot, but a nice cool, refreshing temperature that brought a tranquil equilibrium to his body. Jaheim disappeared behind another curtain that seemed to lead to some sort of kitchen area, allowing Rashad some privacy. Rashad was so comfortable in the shower he forgot all about the tenderness of his temple, even as he splashed his head beneath the revitalizing waterfall. After 15 minutes, Jaheim emerged from the kitchen and snapped his fingers loud enough to be mistaken for an applause.

"Come on soldier we don't have all day."

At the insistence of Jaheim, Rashad withdrew from the bath. Jaheim tossed him a light gray towel and Rashad proceeded to wipe himself down. Then he put on the clothing he was given while Jaheim took to the table to read the Quran. Once Rashad was done dressing he waited until Jaheim was done reading. Jaheim closed the book gently and turned his attention to Rashad, impressed at the way Rashad looked in his new robes.

"A very dignified look. You are on the path to becoming a true soldier for Allah. Come, let us now go meet your fellow soldiers in prayer."

Jaheim took Rashad towards the Prayer Grounds, where a mock Kaaba was erected to serve as a reminder for what they were fighting for. Although no one treated the monument as the real thing, many people did use the building as grounds for spiritual prayer. Many people came here five times daily to prayer in the direction of the true Kaaba. Some came here more than five times a day seeking a connection with Allah and extra guidance from Him.

A prayer is between a person and Allah alone. No one else is entitled to listen in on the conversation between the creator and his masterpiece. Rashad's thoughts seemed to have been shielded by the concentration of his conversation.

After his prayer, he and Jaheim left the Prayer Grounds, and gathered around outside the back of the building, forming a circle with some of the other soldiers in training. Many of the soldiers in training were as young as Rashad—some even younger. The youngest child he saw was only seven years old—no innocence, no smiles, just a blank stare waiting for the next order to be delivered.

Jaheim stood in the center of the circle, the children, with the oldest being 16, stared at him and waited for him to guide the meeting. "Today we welcome a new member into the Kabish. Everyone, let us accept our brother Rashad Hani into the Kabish."

The group held up a symbol with their hands, formally granting him peace and welcoming him into the family. The symbol involved a person's right hand. The index finger and the thumb faced upward towards heaven and the middle finger pointed outward away from the palm. Rashad didn't have a complete understanding of what it meant, only that it seemed to poorly resemble a "K." But he did remember a similar sign Ms. Reyes would use in class to signal peace. He imitated the sign poorly and they all withdrew. Not a single word of welcome was said because the sign was enough.

They each introduced themselves, but none took pleasure in it. They all knew they were here to fight for Allah, many as lone wolves, out in the western world. They had no time for any more attachments: the Westerners had taken that luxury from them. They all began to list off something the Westerners had taken from them. Many listed off family members, some listed off their villages or homes; but when the time came for Rashad to speak, he had plenty of time to think about what he was going to say.

He turned to the group and explained. "They took away my purity."

The group was slightly taken aback. Rashad could tell they didn't really understand what he meant by it, yet at the same time they subconsciously knew what he meant. So he added, "I have been polluted with hatred and loss because of their avarice."

The clarification was enough to get a couple of nods of both agreement and respect. Jaheim picked it up and sent them off. "On that note we will start your full training tomorrow morning at sunrise. Within a month or two you will be an instrument for Allah to rid the world of evil."

The group bowed slightly, and began to get up and return to their daily routines. Jaheim turned to Rashad and told him, "You're free to do what you want. You can look around some more, talk with your fellow soldiers, or head back to the house. I have some important matters to attend to. I'll see you later for supper at sunset."

Rashad thanked Jaheim and left. With a lack of clocks, time had three primary divisions throughout the day, sunrise, midday, and sunset. The sun was a little passed the halfway point in the sky. He had some time to kill before sunset. Yet he wasn't sure how to spend it. He looked around at all the children around him. He did not feel attracted to any of them. They all seemed just as miserable as he was. He didn't need any more negative feelings. Yet the village didn't send off any happy vibes around—except...

Rashad was surprised that the thought came to mind, considering he was such in a hurry to exit the room the last time he was with these two foreigners. But strangely, he wanted to go back and see what Richard and Raj were up to.

Before he knew it, he found himself back in the Hacking Department with Richard's yellow Joker smile. "Well shite, look what the dust blew in."

Rashad didn't say anything. To be honest, he didn't know exactly why he came. He felt there were no other people in the place whose names he knew, let alone whom he would rather be with while Jaheim was gone. Even amongst the many children introducing themselves in the group, not a single name stuck with him.

Richard continued. "See, I told ya he'd come back. That's five pounds."

"I'll give you the pounds whenever we step foot back in the U.K."

"Well now I'll never get my money at that rate."

"Tough," Raj grinned as he sat back comfortably in an old leather office chair that seemed like it had been used as a cat's scratch board.

Richard pointed towards the screen. "Hey kid, ya wanna see our next masterpiece?"

Rashad wanted to say no, yet something from within pulled him towards the computer screen. The last time he looked upon the computer screen he saw disturbing images that he wished he hadn't seen. Plus, the guys' laughter was completely inappropriate.

But now, Rashad had some strange desire to see the shrikes suffer, just like the people in his village had suffered. This strange part of him didn't seek simply revenge—it was more sophisticated than that. What Rashad wanted was justice.

So he gravitated over to the computer screen and waited for Richard to pull up the series of images of their next 'work of art.' In reality Richard just pulled up a news article that was entitled: "Terrorists Strike the King's Mall in PA: 30 Killed, 62 Wounded." [12]

Another article served as a sibling on the search engine besides the main article, and it read, "People Embrace Sayder's Proposal to Ban All Muslims from Entering the Country."

Rashad was surprised they weren't showing him any images. They probably thought he couldn't handle them, considering he ran out when he saw the hospital exploding. Rashad believed this was a good start. He'd rather read the synopsis than embrace himself in the gore of the full story.

"Neat ain't it?" Richard pointed out. "Take a look at this video we put together."

Richard pulled up a YouTube video that had thousands of views since it was posted hours before. The video basically was targeting African Americans and Muslims in the United States utilizing clips from Harry Sayder's call to ban Muslims from the United States, and the Muslimvilles that were approved in Texas. The video was over 45 minutes long and showed the institutional racism that America was known for, especially against blacks—and now Muslims. The video made the overall point that blacks and Muslims will always face discrimination in the United States, and that they should instead opt to join the Kabish to fight back against this unjust prejudice.

The video displayed examples of many Americans who had joined the Kabish, and died an honorable death fighting the institutional racism imposed on blacks and Muslims in the United States. They even utilized quotes by a guy named Malcolm X like: "Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you're a man, you take it." This quote was paralleled next to images of the Kabish training and fighting on behalf of Allah.

They even managed to include some images of the hospital bombing and the more recent mall murders in Pennsylvania. Another quote said, "I have no mercy or compassion in me for a society that will crush people, and then penalize them for not being able to stand up under the weight." Here they mixed in images of slavery before the civil war, the brutal oppression of blacks under Jim Crow Laws, and the poverty that many African Americans faced in the U.S., especially in the nation's capital. One picture showed the National Mall and Union Station with many poor African Americans sleeping in garbage bags on benches.

The video finished off with a final quote: "I don't call it violence when it's in self-defense; I call it intelligence." The final image showed two hands, a bare black hand with a diamond bracelet around its wrist shaking hands with a coffee colored hairy hand with a white sleeve stopping at the wrist: a call for blacks and Muslims to unite. [13]

At the end of the video Richard shook his head. "These bloody Shrikes—why right now neither a black man nor a Muslim man can walk the streets of any American city without being stopped and aggressively shaken down by the filthy police—and all because they think differently and look different from the color of my skin."

Footnotes:

[12] A copy of the article can been acquired via the FOS website and social media pages.

[13] The original video was forcibly removed from YouTube within a day of its posting. As a result, we have no access to this content today, even from data collected from the Kabish's strongholds.