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Iblîs wasn’t the sort to get himself in a situation he couldn’t handle. Indeed, four billion years of existence made him resourceful and, if not clever then cunning. He knew how to keep himself out of danger and he knew how to twist a dangerous situation into something beneficial for him. There were two times in his entire life that he felt completely defenseless and helpless. There were only two – out of all of those years of existence.
The first happened three thousand years ago with the reign of the king Solomon. He was wise, sure, and perhaps fair to the humans. But he was a wicked man to the Jinn. He enslaved them, and he was responsible for the death of billions. Iblîs could still hear the agonized screams of his siblings, of his parents, but their screams had been cut short by death. Not to mention that Iblîs could hear his own choked sobbing, feeling every shred of dignity being stripped away as they put their filthy fingers on him.
The second was unfortunately happening at the moment. He was trapped in some sort of clear… box. He had split apart and tried to escape as energy, but the box seemed to be infused with salted steel, and he drew back with a startled yelp of pain, going back to his human form. He had turned into the largest animal he could, but the box wouldn’t split, instead growing around him. Claustrophobia was beginning to make him panic, but his facial expression remained blank and detached. He wasn’t terrified. He wasn’t.
He crossed his arms, curling up on one side of the box. Games weren’t fun when you were on the losing side. The woman who had trapped him had known his weaknesses – she had known the songs of Solomon’s reign, and she had known how to trap him and what to put him in. She also wasn’t human – she had been a Time Lady. Iblîs rubbed his fingers over his chest, resting his forehead on his knees. “I’ll be fine,” he told himself shakily, keeping his voice to a low murmur. After all, they had to let him out of the box eventually, even if just to try to murder him.
"My boy, talking to yourself quietly is rude. At least share with the rest of the class~!"The Thief lowered her shades at the Jinn, waving her hands around to the empty space around her. It had all gone rather smoothly. She had no idea what all the fuss was about. This was a child. Never mind the demonic insides of the child. It was still a child. And children could always be sent to their rooms. Never mind how difficult it was to acquire such a "room".
"You're a Jinn, hm? Not very impressive, I must say. Can't even get out of that little box. Maybe, if you say pretty please, I'll think about it really hard, and give you an answer. But I can't promise you anything." She was simply messing with him. Of course she was. She knew how difficult it was to capture a Jinn. Especially this one. This little child better be worth the trouble it went through to get. If not, she might threaten to release him. See if that got her some money. But, nothing ever went as planned. Which was why she always kept several failsafes. But, since everything was great...
The Thief pulled out a microphone, twiddling it in her hands. "Any requests? I hear I have an excellent voice." She laughed lightly, leaning forwards. "Well, you already know that, don't you?"
Rest of the class? Iblîs rolled his eyes. Wonderful. He had been kidnapped by a Time Lady with a ‘sense of humor’. Wonderful. Really, just great. Didn’t he get enough of that from The Reaper? Thankfully the Reaper wasn’t such a jokester – at most he sometimes got a sarcastic drawl, perhaps an ironic statement, or a gentle teasing about knowing more than Iblîs about their personal time line. Iblîs tried to ignore such jabs, just as he was trying to ignore this woman. He didn’t need to pay attention to her.
His eyes narrowed as she declared that Jinn weren’t very impressive. He ignored her petty jabs at him, closing his eyes and thinking back. Would the Reaper be able to run the Council without him? Would he even want to? Who would lead them if he weren’t to come back? His fingers itched to pull out the fob watch and hug it, but he couldn’t risk them taking it to spite him. If there was anything that Iblîs would put up a fight over, it was that watch.
“Maybe if you say pretty please, I won’t kill you when I get out of this,” Iblîs returned drily, his pupils dilating to pinpricks as he stared at her hatefully. His fingernails were sharpened into claws and his teeth had become jagged and sharp. The fingernails tapped against the box, agitated. As she pulled out a microphone and took even more jabs at him about singing, Iblîs scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard better.”
“As for requests, I do have one. Why would you kidnap me?” Iblîs asked. “You obviously aren’t a Muslim. You’ve never met me. You didn’t go for my Lamp, so obviously you don’t want to own me.”
The Thief sighed, tapping the microphone to her palm. She didn't appreciate the singing comment, but... "I meant songs. But, if you really must know, I was hired. A pretty penny it was, too. Probably wouldn't have even gone for it... But those were a lot of zeroes..." The Thief smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Anyways, I didn't go after your lamp, because my employer never mentioned it. Why should I care, if they didn't?
The Thief sang a few words in Arabic, reminding him a little of her earlier performance. She took great fun in taking slight jabs at him...
Hired? He leaned back thoughtfully, his energy rolling off him in thick green ways until he couldn’t see out of the clear box and he was satisfied that she couldn’t see him. It made it easier for him to think without feeling as though he were a pinned butterfly on display. Her singing sent a jolt of repulsion through him, his upper lip curling into a snarl. Wonderful. His hand rubbed at his chest, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
Who would hire someone to kidnap him? And why wouldn’t they be interested in his Lamp? Clearly they didn’t understand that to fully have dominion over a Djinn a Lamp was needed. They couldn’t keep him in the box forever – if he really was just to be a collection piece, they would at least move him to a better box. The energy crackled about him, steadily humming. “You’ll be lucky if you live to regret this. I’ll see to it you don’t receive payment.”
His words were like a fly, buzzing in her ear. An annoyance. The Thief took great pleasure in singing once more. She'd outlived worse. And she'd been stiffed bigger payments. So, this was just another job to her. "How little you must think of me. You must see us all as ants under your foot. If I live to regret this, then may I say that I just might go mad. I don't regret a single day of my life. However big or small."
The Thief glanced down at a datapad, pressing a few buttons. "My payment shall be met, whether or not I regret this day. My employer has a price on their head, and they think that I don't know. If this goes sideways, I'll just pick up that little bounty and be on my way." Actually she was going to get her payment when this worked out, and then turn in the bounty anyways. One never had too much money.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iblîs scoffed. “Ants are admirable creatures. You are not.” He would have been content with ignoring humans had they not enslaved his entire species. That tended to make a person harbor a grudge. And yet, people still sided with the humans though they detested human enslavement. Iblîs was more than aware of the double standards and that his own actions were morally ambiguous. “There is no ‘if’. You won’t. At the very least, you’re going to regenerate.”
Iblîs rolled his eyes. “You don’t think I’m going to kill you and not your employer, do you? And I’m very skilled at what I do. No body, no bounty.” But he couldn’t do anything in this damned cage. New tactic. “As it happens, you didn’t plan thoroughly when you didn’t take my Lamp. Someone else has it, and they can summon me out of your silly box. And even better than that, he can find me.”
This boy was getting on her nerves. And he seriously underestimated her. "My boy, I said that I didn't go for your lamp. I didn't say a thing about anyone else. My employer may not care, which means the Lamp has nothing to do with my contract, but..." Normally she didn't work well with others. But, this was her first time in awhile, and she thought she'd give it a chance. "Once I turn you in for the money, I just get that Lamp, and bring you right back. Then I can sell you again. Wonder how many times I can get away with it."
Iblis' threats fell on deaf ears. And whoever this he was, she'd welcome a challenge. It'd been awhile since she'd had a challenge. Things were simply too easy. The Thief pulled out the Declaration of Independence from her bag. "Oh, don't mind me. If you're not going to play nice, and talk with civility instead of threats and pompous behavior, then I'll just do a little light reading. 'When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands...' blah, blah, blah... Get to the good part... 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal-'" The Thief broke into laughter. "All men might be created equal, but they don't stay that way."
Iblîs scoffed at her words, feeling more comfortable as she began to threaten him. Obviously that meant she had no idea who had his Lamp, or who she was up against. He settled down, far more comfortable now. All he had to do was wait for her to release him to the person ‘buying’ him, and he could escape. Simple. He never stayed trapped for very long, no matter how many people wanted him to. He ignored her as she began to read the American’s declaration of hypocrisy and blatant lying.
He snorted in derision at her little interjection. “And how long did it take you to think of that one?” he asked scathingly, his fingers trailing the shape of his Lamp. Enough. If the Reaper could save him, then it was time for him to do so. There were plenty of other opportunities to reclaim his dignity. ‘Playing nice’. He’d done that for far too long.
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