The Calamawy Saga

Ch.1: Fates Collide

"sad memories are bad but good memories are the worst" - Unknown

It had, unfortunately, been a dark and stormy night. In the back of the mind, Calamawy wasn't sure if the cliche setting made the situation better or worse. She'd felt paralyzed with - no, not fear - anger. Months of hell had led to this standoff and she'd been feeling vengeful.

If only her body had aided her in her mission to take down the traitor and his monster, but she'd felt deafened by her heartbeats and breathing. She'd been losing lots of blood. She'd been losing sight of her targets.

There'd been faint bang, and whizzing whistle sound. Calamawy knew that sound too well; she'd shot 2 shots in return. She'd felt a force push her, and her feet had slipped. Before she knew it, she was falling over the decayed railing.

Calamawy woke up with a jolt.

'First the whole dark and stormy night thing and now the nightmares; when did my life become such a cliche-filled over-dramatised cheap cop show,' She thought to herself as she turned over in bed to look at the ceiling. 'And what's wrong with drama, Karla?' her late grandfather's voice sounded in her mind. 'You've always been too hard on yourself, ya rohi. Nightmares are normal'

"Nightmares are my normal," Calamawy muttered to herself as she got up and started going through the motions of her morning routine. It's been 11 weeks since the nightmare ended, and today was the final meeting of the Internal Review Board Hearing. Calamawy already knew the verdict since day 1; nonetheless, the higher ups liked to be cliche, too. 'You know how I feel about that word, Karla,' her grandfather's voice chided in her head. Calamawy just sighed. "Get on with it, Calamawy," she muttered.

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"Ah, Agent Calamawy, right on time as always," Barton's smarmy voice greeted.

"Yes, and yet, you feign surprise," Calamawy's uninterested monotone snarked, "where is everybody?"

"I'm afraid today's meeting is just us two," Barton's tone was peak polite professionalism, but there was glee in his old, pathetic eyes. A glee that put Calamawy on edge. She raised an eyebrow in question, but he just gestured for her to take a seat.

As each took their seat, Calamawy decided to cut to the chase: "Am I being terminated?"

"You've always been quite impatient," Barton chuckled in response.

''Oh, how I hate you, Barton," Calamawy thought as she gave her boss an unimpressed look.

"No, Agent Calamawy," Barton continued, " The situation isn't that easy. You're being transferred."

"Transferred?"

"Yes, given how hard and true you've given yourself to Interpol during your time here, especially these last few months, we've managed to pull some strings. Get you transferred to the US," Barton spoke with a hint of benevolence, "The FBI in particular," he nodded.

Calamawy saw through the bullcrap: Interpol wanted to get rid of her, but she was 'too dangerous' if left unmonitored; therefore, a transfer made sense. But the fucking FBI?!

"Why?"

Barton let out an unbelieving, slightly offended, scoff disguised as a laugh, " 'Why' ? What do you mean why? Agent Calamawy, you should be grateful," his faux friendliness dropped, "After this disaster, you're lucky we've been so gracious, considering your past and behavior."

Calamawy raised an eyebrow in skepticism, "You're sending me to the FBI, that's eight thousand kilometers. Are you that scared of me?"

Barton snorted, "You've also always been arrogant," he said under his breath. "Agent Calamawy, this is the best option you have right now, otherwise; you will go to prison."