12-25-2013, 12:58 PM
Their arrival in Kuwait City was an unexpected turn of events as far as the local authorities were concerned. However, the Ascendancy's plane touched down with adequate security measures having already been undertaken. Surprise visits were not out of the ordinary for him, as sudden changes in plan generally served to heighten his safety, but by the time Nikolai walked the tarmac at Kuwait City International Airport, his motorcade was ready to be on the move.
By then, his presence was no longer a secret. The press corps that traveled with him snapped pictures up until the very moment the door wrapped him in the sleek steel tank that was his limousine. He heard no shortage of speculations spoken hastily into a dozen ear pieces along the way, each expanding on his destination. Almost everyone uttered the words 'Bayan Palace' at one point or another- and he could picture reporters coordinating with their local correspondents to prepare for a massive showing in the city center. However, from the quiet comfort of his vehicle, he took the time during the drive to study up on conditions, events, and specifics of the actual destination: a residence south of the city wherein lived an ordinary family placed in extraordinary circumstances.
Mubarak Al-Kabeer Governorate was vaguely as he remembered. The district consisted of a narrow strip primarily made up of residential neighborhoods positioned between the Persian coast to the east and empty desert to the west. He did not recall, however, there being another Hard Rock Cafe last time he was here - and unlike the popular franchise in the city center, this one was designed in the shape of a mosque. At that, he smiled briefly to himself.
A couple of men had appeared in the doorways to their homes by the time their vehicles rolled to a stop. They stopped in the center of a street which was little wider than an alley. Early morning sun had yet to crest the tops of the modest, two-story homes that ran the length of the block. Trash bins were shoved to the curb, awaiting trucks that had yet to empty them. Otherwise, the street was tidy, but barren and aged. The pairs of heavily armored cars were quite out of place here, gleaming black and pristine while surrounded by sandy stone and white-washed walls.
Alric stayed with him while agents from the adjacent car knocked on the appropriate door. They spoke briefly with the man who answered it, but when he peered around their shoulders, Nikolai could tell the exact moment he recognized the dual flags positioned proud on the hood. Though the standards hung limp in windless air, the familiar star of Dominance Five on the left swayed, fringed in blue, while the Ascendancy's Double Crescent fringed in gold waited on the right.
He emerged at that very moment, and from the distance, immediately met the man's eye. But this was no game. It was one thing to speak of someone, to hear their voice - but it was life changing to look them in the face. The man visibly paled.
The atmosphere indoors was quiet, but promising: a pot of water immediately before boiling. After sharing firm handshakes with everyone in the room, the Ascendancy shared a few words of comfort with the men of the house. The household was otherwise extremely hospitable and generous. He accepted a cup of tea, but was careful to sip only enough to not be disrespectful, but hopefully not swallow enough to kill him should it be laced with poison. The concern was nothing personal, but try to kill a man enough times and he generally assumes a certain, baseline level of care.
Amira herself was walked in while balanced on the arm by one of the young men Nikolai recognized as an infamous cousin. It was her that he'd really come to see, but to witness with his own eyes her general state of health was only part of the goal. She'd survive, he quickly deduced, but if a woman with a limp was as good as useless, then it was a fault of a perverse and backward culture that Nikolai could no sooner alter than he could the brightness of the sun. He could, however, give her a gift no other could present: the attention of the media - by the time Nikolai was back to his plane, Amira would likely be the recipient of a movie contract - do with it as she will.
She was otherwise a lovely young woman with a narrow, thoughtful face and wide eyes emphasized by a silk draped hijab. Nikolai bowed his head for her, and once presented, strode across the room rather than force her to take another painful step. He clasped his hands over hers in greeting, and expressed a desire that she heal swiftly. He was careful, however, to share concerns rather than apologies. Though unfortunate, her injuries were not the Custody's fault no matter who fired the weapon.
By then, his presence was no longer a secret. The press corps that traveled with him snapped pictures up until the very moment the door wrapped him in the sleek steel tank that was his limousine. He heard no shortage of speculations spoken hastily into a dozen ear pieces along the way, each expanding on his destination. Almost everyone uttered the words 'Bayan Palace' at one point or another- and he could picture reporters coordinating with their local correspondents to prepare for a massive showing in the city center. However, from the quiet comfort of his vehicle, he took the time during the drive to study up on conditions, events, and specifics of the actual destination: a residence south of the city wherein lived an ordinary family placed in extraordinary circumstances.
Mubarak Al-Kabeer Governorate was vaguely as he remembered. The district consisted of a narrow strip primarily made up of residential neighborhoods positioned between the Persian coast to the east and empty desert to the west. He did not recall, however, there being another Hard Rock Cafe last time he was here - and unlike the popular franchise in the city center, this one was designed in the shape of a mosque. At that, he smiled briefly to himself.
A couple of men had appeared in the doorways to their homes by the time their vehicles rolled to a stop. They stopped in the center of a street which was little wider than an alley. Early morning sun had yet to crest the tops of the modest, two-story homes that ran the length of the block. Trash bins were shoved to the curb, awaiting trucks that had yet to empty them. Otherwise, the street was tidy, but barren and aged. The pairs of heavily armored cars were quite out of place here, gleaming black and pristine while surrounded by sandy stone and white-washed walls.
Alric stayed with him while agents from the adjacent car knocked on the appropriate door. They spoke briefly with the man who answered it, but when he peered around their shoulders, Nikolai could tell the exact moment he recognized the dual flags positioned proud on the hood. Though the standards hung limp in windless air, the familiar star of Dominance Five on the left swayed, fringed in blue, while the Ascendancy's Double Crescent fringed in gold waited on the right.
He emerged at that very moment, and from the distance, immediately met the man's eye. But this was no game. It was one thing to speak of someone, to hear their voice - but it was life changing to look them in the face. The man visibly paled.
The atmosphere indoors was quiet, but promising: a pot of water immediately before boiling. After sharing firm handshakes with everyone in the room, the Ascendancy shared a few words of comfort with the men of the house. The household was otherwise extremely hospitable and generous. He accepted a cup of tea, but was careful to sip only enough to not be disrespectful, but hopefully not swallow enough to kill him should it be laced with poison. The concern was nothing personal, but try to kill a man enough times and he generally assumes a certain, baseline level of care.
Amira herself was walked in while balanced on the arm by one of the young men Nikolai recognized as an infamous cousin. It was her that he'd really come to see, but to witness with his own eyes her general state of health was only part of the goal. She'd survive, he quickly deduced, but if a woman with a limp was as good as useless, then it was a fault of a perverse and backward culture that Nikolai could no sooner alter than he could the brightness of the sun. He could, however, give her a gift no other could present: the attention of the media - by the time Nikolai was back to his plane, Amira would likely be the recipient of a movie contract - do with it as she will.
She was otherwise a lovely young woman with a narrow, thoughtful face and wide eyes emphasized by a silk draped hijab. Nikolai bowed his head for her, and once presented, strode across the room rather than force her to take another painful step. He clasped his hands over hers in greeting, and expressed a desire that she heal swiftly. He was careful, however, to share concerns rather than apologies. Though unfortunate, her injuries were not the Custody's fault no matter who fired the weapon.