Photo Credit: My Right Side by karoomy, from DeviantArt, with model Ibrahim (Yes the model's name is the same as the character's). If you do NOT grant permission for your image to be used, please let me know and I will promptly remove it.
Ibrahim is an imposing man of average height, standing several inches shy of six feet even, with a long face and prominent nose. He has thick, dark brown hair carefully combed under a kufi cap, and a beard and mustache. His most prominent features are an aquiline nose and a protruding jaw, with a sloped forehead and an olive complexion. He appears to be of Middle Eastern origin, and is easily identifiable as a Muslim because of his zabibah, or prayer mark, denoting devotion to the five times daily prayer. He typically dresses in an Arabian thobe, sometimes called a dishdasha, but will occasionally dress in the shalwar kameez common to the Hindustan area. He is the kind of person whose presence is hard to miss, handsome, kind, and strong in personality.
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Ibrahim El Ghamry
"If you're talking to me, then chances are you already know who I am and what I've done. And if you're talking to me, then I hope to God you'll listen to what I have to say. It could mean the difference between life and death."
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Antagona
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Ylanne
Description
History
Ibrahim El Ghamry was born in 1955 to a wealthy, influential family in HarÄĢ, the oldest of three brothers. He attended St. Maryâs Mother of Hope Preparatory Academy around the same time as Tahira Ali, though he was not a friend of hers. He graduated with excellent grades, but discontented with the political climate in ÃnÃĄr Tynan at the time, was initiated into the developing Hataf organization as a young man, where he fell under the influence of Anoushiravan Kutchemeshgi, the original founder of Hataf, who engaged in a vicious brainwashing program of the Hataf youth. Kutchemeshgiâs daughter, Robabeh, was only four at the time, but would later become Hatafâs leader in Aliâs absence. Ibrahim grew close to Kutchemeshgi because of his powerful family, but was unaware that Kutchemeshgi was likely only using him.
Ibrahim fell in love with Ali within months of her joining Hataf, but she kept her distance, and Ibrahim soon learned of the other man, a European official, whom he grew to resent. It soon became clear that Ali loved Ibrahim too, like a brother, and after her graduation from school, the two were often co-conspirators in many of Hatafâs plots, Ali as a young woman spurned by a European a powerful public face for Hataf. Ibrahim came to espouse Hatafâs violent, apocalyptic ideology, to the point where he dreamed of dying in an attack against the enemy. They were involved in a number of assassinations and bombings as a team, often posing as a young couple before the deadly strike. Ibrahim rose to a minor leadership position within the ranks of Hataf, though he never quite made it to the top.
Later, his brother Isak would become a governor, and Ismail an engineer, while their brother was hunted by the police of several countries as a terrorist. Though not nearly as famous as Abu Nidal or Tahira Ali, Ibrahim was well known in national security and law enforcement circles. It was in 1979, shortly before Aliâs disappearance from Hataf, that Ibrahim finally became disillusioned with Hatafâs radical extremism because he could not see where Hatafâs ideology lined up with what he read in the Qurâan, and he confronted the senior leaders in one of their board meetings. After the confrontation, Ibrahim fled, turning himself in to the American authorities at their Afghanistan embassy, as a defector, relocating to America.
Since then, Ibrahim was granted protection and immunity from the United States government for his role in providing critical intelligence on Hataf. It was because of Ibrahimâs information that the FBI was able to create the beginnings of an organizational flowchart, and confirm the identities of many suspected Hataf members. In 1984, Ibrahim married a Muslim woman named Mariam, who hailed from Iran, and had fled after the Iranian Revolution. They have no children. He currently works on a consultancy basis with various national security interest groups, including the United States government, and lives under guard, for numerous credible threats on his life. His exact location remains undisclosed and is privileged information.
So begins...
Ibrahim El Ghamry's Story
- Seen 17 Times • Page 1 of 1
Ibrahim El Ghamry looked around before entering the bar, brow knitted in concentration, mumbling incoherently to himself as he walked inside, seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts and such things, rather than speaking to anyone else. When the bartender offered him a drink, Ibrahim shook his head, frowning, as he declined the proffered beverage. Instead, he took a seat at an empty table, near some of the other people, near enough to listen to their conversations. Ibrahim settled for a glass of water, which he kept on the table, reading a small scrap of paper in his hand.
[i]A fairly tall, Middle Eastern looking man appeared at the door to Gambit's bar. He pushed it open, stepping inside. The man could have been in his forties, mid-fifties at the oldest. He stroked his beard for a moment, soft brown eyes peering throughout the bar, analyzing the other patrons. The Arab man shut the door behind him. Dressed in a white, Saudi-style dishdasha, and wearing a hajji cap, it was obvious that he did not belong here. He had, in fact, never been to Gambit's before. But there's a first time for everything. He had been told that if you wanted to find someone or learn information anywhere near Wing City, Gambit's Bar was a good place to start. He looked toward the bar and then around at the tables. Anyone with a keen eye might have observed that the Arab man was armed with a handgun, though he seemed more interested in the people than his weapon. His face tilted toward the light, and he looked almost... confused.
Ibrahim El Ghamry took up a seat at one of the side tables, where his back was to the wall and he could watch everyone else. It seemed that not everyone present was even human. The Arab man's eyes watched the others with an expression of empty bemusement. Shallow, trivial things served to amuse him in the stead of more pressing, far more insidious and potentially devastating things. But he didn't want to think about Rabiya and her ilk. Unfortunately for Ibrahim, his religion kept him from drink, which might have provided a welcome distraction. He frowned, glancing up at the menu. Surely there was something he could order.
Ibrahim El Ghamry felt a vibration in his pocket. He slipped his phone out and flipped it open. "Marhaba," the Arab man said, holding the phone to his ear as his gaze scanned the bar. He noticed the doctor and the nurse heading toward the elevator, and cringed at their physical proximity to one another.
"Ibrahim, it's Hamid," came the response. "No salaam for me?"
Ibrahim smiled faintly. "Always a salaam alaikum for you, my friend."
"Walaikum salaam," said Hamid. Ibrahim could hear the amusement in his friend's voice. "I'm calling with news, and probably not the kind you want to hear. They suspect you're -- this is a secure line, yes?" Hamid sounded concerned.
"You encrypted it, Hamid," said Ibrahim, leaning back in his chair. He watched the soft glow of the bar's ambient lights. "It should be secure."
"Well, they suspect you're in Wing City."
"Ya Allah," Ibrahim breathed, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "I've only been here two days. Already?"
"I heard they sent an assassin after you too. Alexander? John Alexander I think is the name."
Ibrahim shook his head, his brow growing moist. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Allah protect me," he said.
"Ibrahim, it's Hamid," came the response. "No salaam for me?"
Ibrahim smiled faintly. "Always a salaam alaikum for you, my friend."
"Walaikum salaam," said Hamid. Ibrahim could hear the amusement in his friend's voice. "I'm calling with news, and probably not the kind you want to hear. They suspect you're -- this is a secure line, yes?" Hamid sounded concerned.
"You encrypted it, Hamid," said Ibrahim, leaning back in his chair. He watched the soft glow of the bar's ambient lights. "It should be secure."
"Well, they suspect you're in Wing City."
"Ya Allah," Ibrahim breathed, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "I've only been here two days. Already?"
"I heard they sent an assassin after you too. Alexander? John Alexander I think is the name."
Ibrahim shook his head, his brow growing moist. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Allah protect me," he said.
Ibrahim El Ghamry rubbed his hand against his beard, as if the gesture could soothe him. "But Mariam -- she is safe?" Anxiety wracked the man's voice as he spoke, eyes darting left and right for fear that someone -- anyone might overhear his conversation, especially one of them.
"Yes, Ibrahim. I've made sure she is safe. Umaymah is looking after her."
"Jazak'Allah khayiran," Ibrahim said, resting his head on his hand. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. "You've been a good friend. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Take courage, my friend," Hamid said. "Allah says 'On no soul do we place a burden greater than it can bear; before us is a record which clearly shows the truth. They will never be wronged.' These murtadeen may pursue you in this world, but you follow the true deen."
Ibrahim's eye noted Sam Adama in the corner. His palms grew moist. "Hold on, Hamid. There's someone watching me. Ya Allah."
"Yes, Ibrahim. I've made sure she is safe. Umaymah is looking after her."
"Jazak'Allah khayiran," Ibrahim said, resting his head on his hand. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. "You've been a good friend. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Take courage, my friend," Hamid said. "Allah says 'On no soul do we place a burden greater than it can bear; before us is a record which clearly shows the truth. They will never be wronged.' These murtadeen may pursue you in this world, but you follow the true deen."
Ibrahim's eye noted Sam Adama in the corner. His palms grew moist. "Hold on, Hamid. There's someone watching me. Ya Allah."
Ibrahim El Ghamry 's finger shot up to the "end" button on his phone as his gaze fell on Sam. "Assalamu alaykum," he managed, to which Hamid responded at the same moment Ibrahim disconnected. The Arab man looked at Sam, barely keeping an expressionless face. It might have been thirty years ago and in another life, but Ibrahim still remembered some of the tools of his previous trade, one of which was an affected nonchalance. He replaced his phone in his pocket and took a seat across from Sam, as it would have been painfully obvious had he ignored the man.
"Much happiness to your daughter, alhamdulillah," Ibrahim said, unsure why a stranger would ask about his daughter's wedding. The only plausible explanation would be that it was a code word of some sort among some underworld faction. After all, what other sort of people honed in on Ibrahim in a crowded location full of strangers? "May she give birth to many sons." He tried to be polite. It was the best he could do in this situation. At least Ibrahim was comforted by the fact that he was armed, and Hamid was outside. Yes, Mariam was home with Umaymah, far from harm. That too was comforting.
"Much happiness to your daughter, alhamdulillah," Ibrahim said, unsure why a stranger would ask about his daughter's wedding. The only plausible explanation would be that it was a code word of some sort among some underworld faction. After all, what other sort of people honed in on Ibrahim in a crowded location full of strangers? "May she give birth to many sons." He tried to be polite. It was the best he could do in this situation. At least Ibrahim was comforted by the fact that he was armed, and Hamid was outside. Yes, Mariam was home with Umaymah, far from harm. That too was comforting.
Ibrahim El Ghamry twiddled his thumbs, shaking his head. "Thank you, but no thank you. As a Muslim, I do not drink." Ibrahim offered a small smile, the kind of polite smile given to company and other unwanted associates when there was nothing else to do but to smile and nod. "I'm not sure how you received my name as a potential business associate," the Arab man continued, very aware that neither had he given his name nor had Sam addressed him by it, "but my business depends on your proposal."
Sam received a text message from the Hataf operative, saying, "My wife burned the falafel; it's ruined." This was a codeword requesting a kill. Ibrahim was, for the moment, blissfully oblivious to the fact he had been identified -- although he was distinctly uncomfortable.
Sam received a text message from the Hataf operative, saying, "My wife burned the falafel; it's ruined." This was a codeword requesting a kill. Ibrahim was, for the moment, blissfully oblivious to the fact he had been identified -- although he was distinctly uncomfortable.
Ibrahim El Ghamry didn't realize that the Hataf operative was sending another text message to Sam. "I caught my daughter sneaking out and must discipline her. I wish I could join you. If you have time, you can throw out the burned falafel." This was code to let him know that the other man was busy with important business that he could not interrupt for any reason, and passing on the Council's wishes for Ibrahim.
Oblivious, Ibrahim reached for the glass, taking a sip. "You can call me Muhammad," he said, giving probably the most common name ever. There would simply be no way to tell whether it was his actual name or not. "I've seen diamonds, before. They're beautiful." Mentally, he had begun to panic, although he kept a calm facade. For now.
Oblivious, Ibrahim reached for the glass, taking a sip. "You can call me Muhammad," he said, giving probably the most common name ever. There would simply be no way to tell whether it was his actual name or not. "I've seen diamonds, before. They're beautiful." Mentally, he had begun to panic, although he kept a calm facade. For now.
Ibrahim El Ghamry had already begun to move away from Sam, disgusted and shocked by the alcoholic beverage everywhere, narrowly avoiding having a major artery sliced, though the knife went into his chest. The Arab man's eyes widened. He stumbled backward, the red of his blood a stark contrast to his white dishdasha. His blood spread across his clothing in full view of everyone. Ibrahim grabbed the table for balance, staring up at Sam in shock. "Astagfir'Allah," he whispered. They had found him. Ya Allah, they had found him. Outside, a car door slammed. Hamid rushed toward the door.
Ibrahim El Ghamry stared up at Sam, leaning on the floor against one of the chairs. He brought his hand to his chest. It came away moist and bloodied. "Blood f -- what?" Ibrahim blinked up at the Ha'la'tha operative. "In Allah's name, who ARE you?" He honestly had no idea, as the Arab man had been out of the loop for at least a decade, and the alliance was recent.
Hamid appeared in the door, widened eyes going from Ibrahim to the waiter/enforcer to Sam, not sure who to rush toward first, or what to say. "Koss umak!" he swore violently.
"Allah sa'adidni," Ibrahim moaned, as excruciating agony overtook what was functioning of his mind. He didn't seem to notice Hamid, Andy, or Kris.
Hamid appeared in the door, widened eyes going from Ibrahim to the waiter/enforcer to Sam, not sure who to rush toward first, or what to say. "Koss umak!" he swore violently.
"Allah sa'adidni," Ibrahim moaned, as excruciating agony overtook what was functioning of his mind. He didn't seem to notice Hamid, Andy, or Kris.
Ibrahim El Ghamry gasped for breath, finding each inhalation a new experience in anguish. "La hawula wa," the Arab man whispered, his lips barely able to form the words, "la quwwata illah billah." He was dying. Across the room, Hamid attempted to force his way around the Ha'la'tha enforcer. Ibrahim was no longer able to prop himself against the chair. He looked at Sam, turning his head with great effort. "Yaar hamuk'Allah," Ibrahim managed to say, his tone suggesting less anger than some other emotion altogether.
It probably took less than two seconds. But Ibrahim wasn't aware of time. He saw Hamid as if from a great distance, stagger to the left with a wound to his side, clutching himself. He imagined he could hear Mariam, whispering Jalaladdin Rumi's poetry to him in a language he could only speak passably. What would she say if she saw him now? She would smile softly, and quote the Iraqi poet Rabiya al-Adawiyya. "I long to die so I can be with Allah."
His journey here had been fraught with adversity. Ibrahim would have been the first to admit he had not exemplified his faith. But Allah was all merciful, all compassionate. The forgiver. And Allah would judge his enemies, the kafirun who had killed him and the murtadeen who had ordered his death. The righteous would have their reward. That was what Allah had promised.
A small smile tinged the corners of his pallid lips, shuddering back to the present. "Ashaddu la illahah il'allah wa Muhammad ar-rasul'Allah," Ibrahim choked. Then Sam depressed his trigger finger and all went white.
"SHAITAN!" Hamid bellowed from across the room.
His journey here had been fraught with adversity. Ibrahim would have been the first to admit he had not exemplified his faith. But Allah was all merciful, all compassionate. The forgiver. And Allah would judge his enemies, the kafirun who had killed him and the murtadeen who had ordered his death. The righteous would have their reward. That was what Allah had promised.
A small smile tinged the corners of his pallid lips, shuddering back to the present. "Ashaddu la illahah il'allah wa Muhammad ar-rasul'Allah," Ibrahim choked. Then Sam depressed his trigger finger and all went white.
"SHAITAN!" Hamid bellowed from across the room.
The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Tech Con Terran Headquarters
Prachai Ranida had been taking a walk along the grounds of Fort Veritas when an enormous fireball appeared in the northern skies from the direction of Wing City a few miles up the road on the Wing City Highway. Just fucking perfect -- blue skies and sun peeping from behind the clouds and then suddenly an explosion, dots along the horizon -- vehicles of some sort, and then the unmistakeable outlines of gunships.
What. The. Hell. Then again, he did live in Wing City where, apparently, this kind of thing was just another average day. He sincerely hoped that Parliament would fucking do something about the senseless violence that fed off the city's negative energies. Ranida whipped out his cell phone as he ran toward the door, heading for the central command center. "Scramble a unit of airships to Wing City, NOW," he ordered, his words already taking shape in the form of a unit of five airships lifting from Fort Veritas's grounds and zooming toward the source of the altercation. It would take them another good sixty seconds to arrive.
What. The. Hell. Then again, he did live in Wing City where, apparently, this kind of thing was just another average day. He sincerely hoped that Parliament would fucking do something about the senseless violence that fed off the city's negative energies. Ranida whipped out his cell phone as he ran toward the door, heading for the central command center. "Scramble a unit of airships to Wing City, NOW," he ordered, his words already taking shape in the form of a unit of five airships lifting from Fort Veritas's grounds and zooming toward the source of the altercation. It would take them another good sixty seconds to arrive.
"Negative, Major-General," responded a man with slightly accented English over the comms system. "This is Admiral Fatih Sayilgan, commander of Fort Veritas. General Ranida just scrambled a unit of fighters to the source of the conflict. No military exercises have been cleared or scheduled for the next week; this is a terrorist attack or a violation of Terra sovereignty."
The five airships bore the seal of the Terran National Government, and appeared to be of an older design in contrast to the newer technologies other nations could boast. "Alpha One to Alpha team, site is Tech Con Headquarters," crackled the voice of the Terran point man as the airships bore down on Wing City. Each ship bore eight men and a pilot, and were intended for planetary combat. "Hold on, we got missiles incoming," he continued in a decidedly calm voice. After all, the military wasn't for the squeamish.
The Terran gunships split immediately, screaming upwards into the atmosphere above the Tech Con Headquarters and releasing chaff on board, twisting as they ascended in an attempt to evade the missiles. "Alpha One to CentCom, confirmed hostile presence, hostiles unidentified, request immediate assistance!"
"Affirmative," replied Sayilgan from within the central communications room, "Scrambling additional unit now." A second set of five gunships rose from Fort Veritas and headed toward the Tech Con Headquarters.
The five airships bore the seal of the Terran National Government, and appeared to be of an older design in contrast to the newer technologies other nations could boast. "Alpha One to Alpha team, site is Tech Con Headquarters," crackled the voice of the Terran point man as the airships bore down on Wing City. Each ship bore eight men and a pilot, and were intended for planetary combat. "Hold on, we got missiles incoming," he continued in a decidedly calm voice. After all, the military wasn't for the squeamish.
The Terran gunships split immediately, screaming upwards into the atmosphere above the Tech Con Headquarters and releasing chaff on board, twisting as they ascended in an attempt to evade the missiles. "Alpha One to CentCom, confirmed hostile presence, hostiles unidentified, request immediate assistance!"
"Affirmative," replied Sayilgan from within the central communications room, "Scrambling additional unit now." A second set of five gunships rose from Fort Veritas and headed toward the Tech Con Headquarters.
Terran civilians on the streets screamed, running for their lives across recently paved roads and weaving between parking signs and trees. Several were gunned down in brilliant flashes of fire and blood splattering the asphalt in a crude approximation of a Jackson Pollock painting. Acrid smoke and the bitter stench of blood arose from the street as one of the Terran gunships took a direct hit from a missile, spiraling downward and smashing into one of the nearby buildings, sending bricks and mortal in a shower of debris across the street.
Another Terran ship took the shockwave and shrapnel of a missile's explosion, tumbling and fighting to maintain position in the atmosphere. "This is Alpha Three," the pilot screamed, "we're hit, need to make an emergency landing!"
"Pull up, pull up," came the voice of one of the Terran pilots, a sense of urgency behind his words. "We have one ship down, nine men inside; take out those 40mms; they're targeting civilians!" The additional unit of Terran ships leveled their mounted guns on the sources of ground fire, targeting any remaining terrorists and batteries. "One one, we need med-evac of Alpha Three and Five on the ground!"
"This is CentCom, Sayilgan," came the Admiral's voice over the open channel, "who are the hostiles? Do we have any ID?" All the while, civilians fled in mass numbers and the NPA mobilized its tactical units to respond on the ground.
Another Terran ship took the shockwave and shrapnel of a missile's explosion, tumbling and fighting to maintain position in the atmosphere. "This is Alpha Three," the pilot screamed, "we're hit, need to make an emergency landing!"
"Pull up, pull up," came the voice of one of the Terran pilots, a sense of urgency behind his words. "We have one ship down, nine men inside; take out those 40mms; they're targeting civilians!" The additional unit of Terran ships leveled their mounted guns on the sources of ground fire, targeting any remaining terrorists and batteries. "One one, we need med-evac of Alpha Three and Five on the ground!"
"This is CentCom, Sayilgan," came the Admiral's voice over the open channel, "who are the hostiles? Do we have any ID?" All the while, civilians fled in mass numbers and the NPA mobilized its tactical units to respond on the ground.
Alpha Five made impact against the building first before crashing unceremoniously to the ground, dents in the metal bulk only hints of the depth of the damage done. Inside, the men were in various states of consciousness, with pilot First Lieutenant Haught slumped against the cracked cockpit window, blood trickling from a head wound, momentarily unconscious before his eyelids slowly slid upward to the chatter of voices over the comm. Down the street, Alpha Three had begun the process of emergency landing toward the end of Hagan, when the explosives detonated, piercing the gunship with the force of the blast and sending it shuddering with an enormous crash onto the street.
The remainder of the Terran gunships circled in the air. "This is Alpha One, we got a secondary explosion on Hagan, multiple casualties, but no sign of hostile fire," came Lt. Andric's voice over the comm, "maintain defensive position."
In the streets, the wailing of sirens announced the presence of both WCPD responders and the NPA special operations in their gleaming black vehicle, approaching the Tech Con district at high speed, but evidentally, not nearly fast enough. The moans of the wounded filled the air, and the heart-stopping, wrenching raw cry of a child gave Sayilgan pause, though he himself was far from the killing.
The remainder of the Terran gunships circled in the air. "This is Alpha One, we got a secondary explosion on Hagan, multiple casualties, but no sign of hostile fire," came Lt. Andric's voice over the comm, "maintain defensive position."
In the streets, the wailing of sirens announced the presence of both WCPD responders and the NPA special operations in their gleaming black vehicle, approaching the Tech Con district at high speed, but evidentally, not nearly fast enough. The moans of the wounded filled the air, and the heart-stopping, wrenching raw cry of a child gave Sayilgan pause, though he himself was far from the killing.
- Seen 17 Times • Page 1 of 1