Ahmed entered the room with a tense motion. “You asked for me, Iman?” he said humbly in Arabic.

A grey-bearded man sat behind an oak desk, studying various papers. Cigarette smoke clouded the air between the two men.

“Come in, Ahmed.” The man said pleasantly. “God has work for you.”

“I’m honored to serve Allah.”

The old man ruffled through some papers on his desk and pulled out a small stack of pages stapled together.

Ahmed studied them. A hand-drawn floorplan. Office building. Schedules. A street photo.

“You’ll be wearing a vest under your jacket. Walk to the second floor…here…then trigger.”

Ahmed looked down at the floorplan again.

“Yeah, fuck you.” he said matter-of-factly, sliding the papers across the desk.

The Iman coughed.

“If God’s calling is for me to walk into an office building of people and die to kill them, then fuck you. And fuck God’s plan.”

Ahmed continued, “Why don’t you take your holy ass in there and do it yourself, you pathetic little bitch?”