The Character Salahuddin Ayubi

A random morning, 8:00. Mr. Bee and Officer Swan sat at a table for two at a cafe, having tea with some biscuits. Mr. Bee looked at the newspaper while Officer Swan enjoyed biscuits on the other side of the table.

"According to a news article, there's a place called Guantanamo, a detention camp, a place where men with the 9/11 trial are put into custody, torture, and etc.," Mr. Bee said.

Officer Swan nodded, "Hmmm... I've heard about it."

Mr. Bee threw the newspaper on the table gently. "Don't you think it's wrong? I mean, innocent Muslims are being tortured there. Maybe ones who don't even know about 9/11."

Officer Swan replied chillingly, "Yeah, probably. And by the way, every clever man knows exactly that 9/11 was done by the U.S. itself, but what can we do about it... nothing."

Mr. Bee's eyes lit up. "Yeah, only if there was a man like Salahuddin Ayubi or Saladin, he would have fought against them, and every innocent man or woman would have been released, and the soldiers who do the torture, he would have smashed them like puff..."

Mr. Bee's head began to spin, and Officer Swan realized it. "Let me just save my babies!" Officer Swan held his biscuits plate tightly and the cup of tea too.

Mr. Bee's attitude changed into a warrior's one as he smashed his fist onto the table. "Asalam O Alaikum, you okay?" Officer Swan asked gently and fearfully.

Mr. Bee pointed at the paper. "You mean this one?... Guantanamo Jail and Afia Siddique. Muslim women... in Carswell... 86 years jail... innocent..."

Mr. Bee stood up sharply and quickly in rage. "Enough!"

The newspaper fell on Officer Swan's face. "Sir, is everything fine?" Officer Swan asked.

Mr. Bee stressed, "Nothing is fine. We have to do something about it... a war is the need of the time..."

The fat shopkeeper yelled, "Hey, looks like someone has spent a lot of time on PUBG. However, now stop it. You're threatening the customers and the children too."

Mr. Bee turned to the shopkeeper in rage. "What did you say to me?"

Officer Swan stood up to make Mr. Bee sit with him so they could talk calmly. "Look, sir, now that we've sat down, I have to tell you something. This is not the Muslim government, okay? And the news you read, we can do nothing about it today."

Mr. Bee looked at Officer Swan, shaming him. "This is ridiculous! Our Muslim daughter Afia Siddique is in jail! Muslims are being tortured at the jail... whatever its name was or is... and you're enjoying biscuits here."

Officer Swan replied, a little angry, "Because I can do nothing. The president is responsible for all this, Mr. Trump. Can you do something to him? No, can you threaten him? No... What do you think you'll be sitting here, playing with your long beard, and the president will come to you to say sorry so that you can make him release those innocent men, including Afia Siddique... Huh!"

Mr. Bee was stunned, looking at Officer Swan.

Suddenly, everyone stood up, yelling and surprised, as they saw Mr. Trump arrive to buy a cup of tea for himself in the morning.

Officer Swan's biscuit fell from his hand as he watched Mr. Trump while also looking at Mr. Bee's condition.

Mr. Bee took out his gun and moved towards the president. "You! Rascal!"

Officer Swan swallowed something in his mouth and took Mr. Bee out of the cafe, amidst the crowd, the president hadn't been able to hear anything.

Outside the cafe, at a very long distance, Officer Swan let Mr. Bee go, breathing heavily.

"Have you gone crazy?" Officer Swan asked, worried.

"Why did you stop me from killing this rascal?" Mr. Bee replied.

Officer Swan explained, "Don't you understand that rascal has it all... the army, the bulldogs... control over the agencies and all? And what do you think? If you'll kill him, everything will be okay? No, if you kill him, anyone else will take his place and will continue the same hypocrisy, and more Muslims will be destroyed on behalf of what you did or were going to do."

Mr. Bee put his gun back. "Then what can we do?"

Officer Swan replied, "There is only one thing: making connections through the Muslim world strong, and that can only be done by the presidents of the Muslim countries... if we choose the righteous ones... none will be able to stop us. So that's what we're supposed to do.

As Mr. Bee and Officer Swan walked away from the cafe, Mr. Bee's anger still simmered beneath the surface. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Let's just hope for better and try a possible way to raise our voice for Afia Siddique and people like her."

Officer Swan finally relaxed, taking a bite of his last biscuit. "Yeah."

But Mr. Bee's eyes were fixed on President Trump, who was now sitting in his car. "But for now, let me kill this rascal!" Mr. Bee's hand instinctively went to his gun.

Officer Swan grabbed his arm, worried. "No, no!"

Just then, a football kicked by a kid hit Mr. Bee exactly on the forehead. His head spun, and he stumbled back, putting his gun away. "Oh damn, my head!"

"Bee, you okay? Mr. Bee?" Officer Swan asked, concerned.

Mr. Bee nodded, still disoriented. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay... So, an eye-opening conversation, was it?"

Officer Swan took a bite of his biscuit, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, of course."

As they stood there, Mr. Bee's transformation seemed to have passed, and he was himself again. Officer Swan kept a close eye on him, ensuring he didn't undergo another transformation.