People were on the streets again. The negotiations between the government and the revolutionists had failed. The government escalated the situation and used brute force to find the revolutionists, resorting to savage means, breaking into people's homes in the middle of the night, conducting random arrests and investigations. When no one was proven guilty, the government decided that everyone was guilty. Everyone was accused of being a rebel unless they pointed to someone and called them a rebel.
Abo Bilal and his men had to act. They started a series of rebellious acts: attacking officials, hacking governmental websites, and urging people to protest and strike. The situation was chaotic, and the government's unwillingness to change only fueled the people's anger.
___
Over 50,000 people filled the streets, fed up and angry. Many hadn't heard from a family member or a friend in months; others had relatives who had disappeared years ago. They were all protesting for one thing: freedom. They demanded freedom for prisoners and for everyone in the country, freedom from fear, from the military, from oppression, and from this cruel government.
Hasan and Maher were among those people. Hasan had come to do his job, treating the wounded, while Maher came simply as himself, a 27-year-old man who had lost hope years ago. Anger and a deep grudge festered in his heart, driving him to stand on the right side of history. Ironically a few years ago, he had been on the opposite side. Now, he was grateful for what had happened to him. He was thankful to have escaped that fate.
Maher shouted at the top of his lungs alongside the other protesters. When he told his parents that he was joining the demonstrations with his cousin Farid, their hearts dropped. They begged him not to go, warning him that if the other police officers recognized him, he'd be in serious trouble—they'd arrest him on sight. But Maher didn't care. He didn't care about any of that anymore. He had only one thing in mind: freedom—real freedom.
Farid was younger than Maher - just 25 - yet he had seen so much. He had endured endless suffering; he knew pain intimately. So he made the same decision as Maher: he would fight back. He would do what he could. Things couldn't go on like this. Enough was enough. Their life was too cruel.
Hasan ran as fast as he could through the streets alongside other paramedics. The police were as brutal as ever, but the overwhelming number of protesters proved too much for them. No matter how many rubber bullets they fired or how much tear gas they deployed, the people kept returning—angrier than before. Hasan worked tirelessly to help; he'd been doing this nonstop for a week straight, and he would continue for years if necessary.
____
Omar adjusted his bow tie in the rearview mirror as the car idled outside the General's villa. Beside him, Ghazi drummed his fingers against his phone.
"You remember the plan?" Omar asked, his voice low.
Ghazi smirked, tucking the notebook into his inner pocket. "Write every name. Charm every dignitary. Don't let the General's party make us forget why we're here."
"And if someone asks why you're on the phone?"
"I'm texting my sick Auntie in the hospital " Ghazi deadpanned, straightening his cuffs. "Though God help me if the General wants to meet her."
Omar exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel. The General's trust had taken months to cultivate—weekly chess games, shared cigars, even that disastrous fishing trip where Omar had pretended to enjoy it. Tonight's the test, he thought.
As valets swarmed the driveway, Ghazi leaned closer."You're sure he doesn't suspect anything?"
"He invited us, didn't he?" Omar said, but his knuckles whitened. The General was a man who'd once boasted about smelling lies like gunpowder.
Ghazi caught the tension. "Then we'll give him nothing to smell. Just two loyal friends celebrating their patron's birthday." He flashed a grin too sharp for the tuxedo's elegance.
"And if we're lucky, the names of everyone in there will assist the revolution ."
Omar killed the engine. "Ready?"
"For freedom?" Ghazi palmed the notebook. "Always."
They stepped into the golden light of the villa, where laughter and orchestra music drowned out the whisper of pages turning.
Omar and Ghazi found out that the general was connected with many important people, Omar spied on him when he retreated inside the villa to check on the food, Omar followed him and saw him talking to his wife and telling her that the prime minister will be here, when the minister arrived Omar shook his hands and placed a tiny microphone on him, it was one of the plans abo bilal told him to execute if he ever got the chance. And it went well.
A few hours later Omar and Ghazi left the party, when they arrived at Omar's home they went to his room and closed the door, they were ready to see the results of their plan and report it to Abo Bilal.