Rebirth: President Fatah Escapes

The journey to the border was long and arduous. Not because I was driving, no, I hadn't driven in years. Last time I drove; I was a playboy millionaire with no care in the world as I cruised all around the beauties of the Maldives.

No, it was long because my thoughts were restless and arduous because as much as I wanted to press pause and consult the wicked game master for a retry, I couldn't.

My own self-deprecating thoughts extended time by a mile. I didn't know if all I was doing by visiting the men was just me hanging around a game I'd a hundred per cent completed with nothing to do but gaze at the aesthetics. Except this is a game that auto-completes the moment all is lost.

And all was lost.

This was my tenth life. Even if I managed to get out of the country before the Malagasy got their hands on me, I'd have absolutely no means of expansion. I was barely twenty. If I got asylum in a different country for about fifteen years, I'd be eligible to enter politics and began running for President. I would most definitely be at a disadvantage. Winning an election anywhere other than Schelar is a fantasy.

Once Schelar was lost, so was all my hopes of permanent death. I couldn't begin to fathom what Being X would subject me to but I knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

The road on way was terribly bumpy and almost nonexistent. Though I didn't quite notice being tossed up and around whilst in the vehicle once we got out I felt a shot of vertigo.

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We'd stopped by a structure that resembled an outpost. It was obvious war was brewing so some arrangements had taken place to make the place suitably serve the needs of the Army.

As it stood, only tents, a few lampposts and generators littered the place. From the fading memories of my time in the military, I knew there would be many more outposts like this one being set up across the border, with supply lines being carved up anew and a means of communication with the central command being set up.

The outpost I was at now would likely be the largest. It held much of the nation's army equipment, tanks, armoured personnel carriers, infantry fighting vehicles and even the old ragtag guerrilla-style trucks equipped with machine guns, anti-air, missiles and more. The outpost would serve as the command centre, where all the major decisions would be carried out. It was where Luciano would be for some time.

Before I walked in to meet the men at the highest positions in the army, I was fitted with a bulletproof camouflage vest and thrown in full army garb, even given a gun as afterwards I'd be heading to the lines. I idly fingered the gun as we entered, the last time I'd held one was at the Chief's execution. It seemed that every time I held a gun I was bound to use it. I hope this time would be different.

As we walked in the men jumped to their feet, shutting up and leaving whatever it was they were previously doing to stand at attention and salute my arrival. I wave my hand and they are set at ease.

I stand beside them, Luciano at my right-hand side, unlike me he wasn't covered up in military garb but suited in his Generals uniform. I let out a sigh as I notice the men around me save for Luciano were either relatives of mine or veterans from when Schelar was simply a rebellion.

"Good morning everyone," I begin as I place my hands on the head of the wooden chair set in front of the wide oval table covered in maps, teacups and play pieces. "I'm aware things seem terrible bu-"

"But nothing Hasina!"

Before I could come up with any lies of hope and courage to feed the generals, I'd been rudely cut off by none other than my eldest cousin, Loup Fatah, a thirty-seven-year-old man by my count had a burly look about him, suited immaculately for the uniform he wore. His face was squared, scared by a slick line that cuts through the middle of his temple and flowed down to his left eyebrow, nearly touching his eye, the man nearly towered over me as I could almost see beneath his heavily bearded chin.

His eyes shone with unbridled anger and his face did well to show it, "First you cast us aside the moment Uncle dies and then you call on us to fill in spaces in the chain of command hereafter that rather embarrassing chiefs event. What did you amass so much power that you went into a food coma?!"

I wanted to stop him there and put him in place but I could see he wasn't anything from done with his rant. I let him go on with a steel face and a hand pressed over Luciano who'd been ready to tackle him the moment he'd interrupted me.

"You go ahead with your fancy visitors and throw parties at the expense of the dying nation you're supposed to be serving, and now because of your incompetence, being so slow to make a simple decision! You've brought us all here to die at the hands of the damned Malagasy!" he slams his fists on the table, rattling it and toppling several teacups, "You know, there've been rumours within the family about how you violently took charge, how you didn't mourn, how you went straight to making decisions about the nation. They say you killed Uncle, your own father just to have a try at being a leader you goddamn psychopath!"

He heaved and huffed his breaths after he screamed the last word coupled with a strong slam onto the unfortunate table. But I'm sure he endured much more pain as the moment he did I'd activated pain-infliction and induced to a terrible feeling of a broken hand on him.

His face scrunched up but he showed great endurance for a pain he wasn't expecting, I was impressed.

I looked around the table, at the faces of the other generals. Two of them also being my cousin and the other two being veterans like Luciano. My cousins, although much younger and not from the same side of the family as Loup and I, had their eyes narrowed with blatant suspicion. It seemed that what Loup spoke of was indeed true, the family did suspect me. Unfortunately, they had little to no political power. All that was invested in me. Even the rather limited military authority Loup and my other cousins had could be revoked at a word.

"Are you done?"

If he is taken aback by my simple and rather emotionless question, he doesn't show it. He only nods and steps back, setting his hands at his back.

"Good. You're fired."