This is a bit unlike anything I've written before in that it's largely plotless and more about the relationships between characters. So if you are looking for something with an exciting plot, a lot of action, and a big adventure, I'll say this probably isn't a good candidate. But if you like a sort of slice of life thing and like Cammy, Vega, or Delta Red, you may enjoy this?

I changed Cammy's age from 16 to 19. MI6's age requirement is 21, but I could find a two year gap more believable than a five year one. Also I am not English, never even been to the UK, so if I get some things wrong please feel free to correct me about it!

The subject is unknown. She studies us with violet eyes. Peculiar features, but beautiful. "You've made the right decision, bringing her to me," she says finally.

He speaks next. "Don't make me doubt it." A warning, threat. But she is much, much stronger than he is. Her readings mirror a pattern found in the general, indicative of something analogous to psycho power.

I try to speak but can only manage gibberish. My movements are sporadic and random. There is constant pain. The general warned me of the price of my freedom but I would not listen. Couldn't listen. I wanted this more than anything, from the first time I learned how to 'want'.

"He did something to her," he says. I know that he will leave me here.

I muster up every ounce of strength I have left and force it out through my mouth in a shriek, "Traitor!"

He ignores me. "Fix her."

"I will." Unidentified female takes my hands. It stings. Hands are shaking, uncontrollable, my body was mine for such a brief amount of time, and that has passed. So it goes, one of the books would say. I am always, always the general's slave. She tries to reassure me with her eyes but I do not know who she is and can not yet trust her. She looks back to him and he is sad and this angers me. That he could be sad to abandon me when it is his choice to do so.

"Liar!" I say to that illogical sadness. She holds me back first. Slip wrists from hands. Stumble towards him, movements aren't certain, always trembling. Shaking fingers ball to fists. Knuckles make contact with sternum, but the blow is not strong enough for any damage to occur. I feel tears, I hate these tears, the general's parting gift. The cost of helping others is pain. "You-ended-I-I-I-" I stop and try to fix my voice but I have so little control over myself.

"Stay here." He says this like an order but I no longer take orders. Free people do not take orders. "She will fix everything." He looks at her and it is because he isn't sure. He doesn't know if she will or not.

"You!" I cry because it was supposed to be his job!

"I can't!" I feel emptier than I ever have. Everything is gone. My life is meaningless. Purposeless. I have no home. I have turned against the only leader I have ever known. I have lost my squadron. And my only friend is abandoning me. He pulls my hands off of him and I don't have the strength to fight back. The woman takes me back into her arms and I don't want them. "She will be safe?"

The woman nods. "I will do what I can. But hear me when I say this: do not seek her out. Do not involve yourself in her life again. It's hers now. Let her live it." Why is she telling him that? I don't want him to leave me! I shake my head because I can't make the words now, it's too difficult.

He nods, slow, hesitant. Won't look at us. I want for him to say no, to take me back. But he leaves without saying good bye, without saying anything and I can only stare at the door hoping he'll come back through and fix this like he promised he would. He abandoned me instead and I have lost everything-

Brrrt brrrt brrrt!

I need a new alarm clock. I need a new just-about-everything. That's all right though. One step at a time. I yawn after I smack the noisy little bastard quiet again, and I stretch. I feel a little low. Something to do with that dream. Can't even remember what it was about but I can remember how it feels. How do you figure that works? Brains are strange, especially mine.

My name is Cammy White. At least, that's the name I've been given by the government. A sort of combination of things. White is just a fairly common last name, guess it could've just as well been Smith or Jones or something like that. Cammy might be my real name, because when I was taken to the embassy in Italy, I only had on my clothes-a loose olive t-shirt and a pair of jeans-and these dog tags. On the dog tags it said 'CAM' and my birthday, which is January 6th. So I mean my name might be Cameron, or Camilla, or Camille. But I think Cammy could be short for all three so I'll go by that for now.

I get out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Brush out my hair and braid it before splashing a bit of water on my face. Time to start the day. The first day of work. It's a bit of a hard thing, to stop that squeamish sort of feeling in my stomach. I'm nervous about work. Just a bit.

What do I mean about being left at an embassy in Italy? Well, truth be told, I can't be sure. I was found there by the workers. No notes on me, no belongings, not even in my pockets. Just the clothes and dog tags. I don't know what I was doing in Italy. Someone suggested I was kidnapped, and they said maybe I should look into missing persons reports to see if someone back home is looking for me. I've done that, you know, but none of the pictures were of me.

I change into nicer clothes. Nicest clothes I could find at the nearest thrift shop, anyway. My shirt is a bit big, and the pants are maybe a bit high at the ankles, but it's probably better to have something professional on than the jeans and t-shirt. When I have some money and live in a proper flat I can go to real stores and buy clothes that fit me. But that's not important at the moment.

Here's the most difficult thing about all of this. I don't remember a damned thing about my life. Not a tic. My name is part guesswork, part random assignment because, well, everyone's got to have a last name. I know at least my birthday and that I'm nineteen. Technically I might not even be a proper UK citizen, but given how I was left at the UK embassy above all others, and that I speak with an English accent-someone told me I sound like a Londoner-I guess that's as good a guess as any. Nobody in the government has really got any records on me, though. I try not to let that bother me, but it really is a bit overwhelming sometimes to feel like I don't really exist. That there might not be anybody out there missing me, or if there is, I don't know who they are or how to find them.

My aren't those heavy thoughts for my first day of work.

I make sure I look put together and all. No rips or tears in my clothes. My shoes are tied. My hair's neat enough. With all that done, all that's left is to grab a cup of tea from the place up the corner. I leave and you know, a lot of the time I forget to lock my door so I'm trying to be better about that. Not that anyone would find anything worth stealing in there, unless they're a bit hungry but if that was the case I suppose they should take it anyway.

It's nice out. It's going to be fall soon, is what I hear a lot on radios or televisions and stuff. I think that means that the temperature is falling, so they call it fall. The streets are always busy but it doesn't bother me. More to see that way. I wonder about other people a lot, where they're going, what they're up to, what's it like to have a head full of memories and stuff. But I try not to dwell on it too much. Maybe I'll get my memories back some day, or at the very least, I can start making new ones, so there's that to look forward to, right?

The tea place is really a tea and coffee place to be exact, and they also have all these nice little foods but they're a little expensive for me to buy. The first day I went there I got a black tea and a black coffee because I didn't know which I liked. Let me tell you this. Coffee is the foulest sort of drink on the planet. It's the bitterest thing I've ever tasted. Maybe I've tried it wrong or something, but I'll leave coffee to everybody else. I quite literally tried-I wanted to give the rest of my cup to someone, but no one would take it so I had to toss it out. I figure a tea every day in the morning's not so bad a cost, and I read it's got loads of healthy things in it like flavoraids and anti-toxicants. And caffeine makes you perk up a bit. I get in line and put my order in and look for the clock. Still got plenty of time to get to work.

Oh, right, work. Well, when I was found at the embassy in Italy, it happened to be the same day as an apparent terrorist threat. Those don't happen often in Italy, so far as I can tell, so the timing is a bit odd to me. I tried reassuring myself it's just a coincidence. Nobody was trying to kill me or something by leaving me in a building that was going to be bombed. It's not worth worrying over too much because there simply is a lot I don't know.

"Cammy!"

Oh! That means my drink's done so I go and grab it.

At any rate, I was sitting in a room in the embassy, quite confused and trying to convince an official I had no idea how I got there, or who I even was. That's when all this commotion starts, people are shouting out about an attack, there's gunfire, people screaming and running everywhere. Really I feel like I should've been terrified like everybody else, but I wasn't. I got up to leave with some other people, just because it's senseless to sit stock still in the middle of something like that. We're confronted by some folks with guns and I just...beat them up. Like it was nothing. Disarmed them like I'd been doing it my whole life, got them down on the ground, and had a second or two to wonder why in God's name I knew how to do any of that. It just came to me, natural as breathing or something.

A man named Keith Wolfman happened to witness this. It was his job to take care of the intruders, so that's why he was there. After the situation was all resolved he asked to speak with me. I was shocked to find him offering me a job. I mean, who am I? Some kid, barely nineteen, don't even know my own name and he wants to recruit me into MI6. I stammer through an explanation about my odd situation, how I just have too much on my plate at the moment. He says oh that's understandable, but you'll need work one way or the other, so once you've got as much of yourself sorted out as you like, call me. At first I was just too overwhelmed by everything else. Getting back to the UK. Shaking off the shock of going toe to toe with armed terrorists like it was just a walk in the park. Having no idea who I was, where I came from. All manner of things to deal with really. After a few days of beans and toast at every meal with nothing in my tiny dingy flat but a bed, I figured, this Wolfman fellow was right. Whether I know who I am or not, one thing everybody needs is money. So I went to his interview, even if it felt a bit silly since the answer to just about every question was 'I don't know, sir.' I'm not even old enough to be working with them-two years shy of the requirement. But he said not to worry about that.

He hired me because he said he saw how I responded in a crisis situation, and that he'd never seen someone move as fast as me. Why though? Ugh, no, not going to keep going back over this question. Just take things as they are. It took a bit of convincing from him to his superiors, but he won them over somehow. I've got a lot of training to go through yet, and regulations to learn, coworkers to meet. But it's something, and when you have nothing, it means everything.

Anyway, that's where I'm coming from, and that's where I'm heading.