Ibnat Ali

Andoche finds himself in some trouble while traveling. He's bored, he's also trying to build back his life, but has no idea how. He's always been so naive no matter what, used by people who took advantage of his yearning for something he doesn't even know how to name. But one night he finds himself at the wrongest place in the wrongest moment. Things get messy until he wakes up and discovers that he has been saved, but also abducted, by this cunning man with a strange name. Bonaparte has taken his vehicle and now forces him to stick with him as a sidekick to finish some business.

Junot is buff, and he needs further brawn to execute his brain's will. Doesn't mean that Bonaparte isn't someone to be underestimated, as Andoche himself discovers as soon as he tries to escape; he may be slim, but he's lethal in oh so many ways.

If he wants to stay alive, Junot must abide to his brief and unrelenting orders, putting himself in situations he would have never have imagined and also sacrificing a lot of morals. Desaster is just a hair below the edge of the knifeblade they are walking onto; but Bonaparte's breath never leaves his neck.

He may be the cause of all this trouble, yet he becomes everything safe and constant in Andoche's existence. Never in his life he had felt so focused and full of energy for one single thing. He feels valued, he feels useful, and this is so wrong.

Andoche can't help but admire him though; even if it's for a cruel business, he is a genius. His mind has made them escape the inevitable; he truly is a master of survival. And his discipline is impeccable in any given moment. Andoche is sure that, in a previous life, he must have been some glorious general, probably a Roman one. His small body is actually corded (he's caught some glimpses of it) and his profile looks like it was meant to be admired upon an ancient triumphal statue, in the shadow of the Colosseum. It helps that Bonaparte himself is fascinated by ancient history. That's the only age where great men could really be rewarded, he says, no matter their origin. Andoche smells some frustration in these words. Maybe he comes from a humble background and was never given nice opportunities. Or at least the ones his ambition required. He must have likely seized them up himself, no matter the nature as long as it gave him power, and now here he is.

Bonaparte is thrill itself. All of him makes Andoche's system come to life and be stricken like he was in a thunderstorm.

Bonaparte is sarcastic as hell at best, cruel at worst. Andoche wouldn't go as far as defining him sadistic, because that would imply being driven by pleasure. And there couldn't be anything more alien to this man than that. Any energy is efficiently channeled into his plans. He's pragmatism personified; constantly focused on what to do, never relaxing, never letting things go. Such and endangered existence, yet never a vulnerable moment. But the more high the wall, the more immense whatever's behind it, and Junot knows this very well.

Such unnerving coldness and rigor.

Junot seeks cracks all over his façade obsessively, channeling Bonaparte's same own relentlessness in this challenge. He wants to understand him, he wants to see him crack under the pressure like he does. It would be nice to be peers; Junot would like to see him relate. Maybe he once did have a normal life too, a family, a nice job, and he now misses it. Has he never been in love?

This quest for Bonaparte's face behind the mask becomes something hard to define. So much closeness in their line of work creates so much confusion. (their? Since when he considers himself belonging to such a criminal world?) So much fog in his senses. So much panic whenever Bonaparte's gaze pierces through his whole being. At every tiny compliment or aknowledgement from this man, Junot's mind falls in a loop of thoughts and euphoria. But he needs to calm down. He could unnerve Bonaparte with all this fussing.

What man would he be in a normal life? One without guns, negotiations, shady charges or car pursuits? What would they be?

Junot offers jokes. He offers purposeless chatting. Offers compassion and doesn't stop, no matter how sarcasm and mockery Bonaparte throws at him in response.

What man would he be in a normal life? Andoche would like to know so much. He wants to do something for him. He wishes he could take the two away from that rotten life. Seeing such a brilliant man stuck in a miserable and violent life isn't right.

But Napoleon doesn't want his help. He has made choices, and deep down he knows he's thrown himself in a bottomless hole. It's too late to get out. Even if he could, it wouldn't be right to let all his deeds stay unpunished. He couldn't live outside of his organization outside of prison as well. He couldn't live alone with his memories. He's also incapable of seeing himself have a quiet domestic life. Too much stress, too much addiction to adrenaline. He may have vaguely fantasized about a home, a spouse and children as a boy; doesn't remember anymore.

But he still can throw Andoche out of it. He's not too late at least.

But Andoche understands his intentions since the first instant. So trained to read his mind, so bent on deciphering his intentions and true feelings; coldness has come back, after that softening due to their increased closeness. But there's no sarcasm anymore. He's serious. He wants to create a crease, he wants them to fall apart.

But even Andoche can go back to normal now. He won't.

The only direction available is deeper. And deeper they will sink.

Together.