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Amira Qahtani

Acting Special Agent in Charge of the Wing City MEA Field Office. An Iraqi-American witch talented in the psychic arts, less so in traditional magic, and graduate of Newton National.

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Ylanne

Groups

Originally formed after the Tripartite Occupation of Terra, the TNG once controlled all of Terra. Currently, the TNG's jurisdiction includes most of Terra's territory, but not the entire world.
Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

Photo Credit: Ethiopia by Steve Evans (Flickr, attribution generic creative commons license). If you do NOT give permission for your photograph to be used, kindly inform me, and I will promptly remove it.

Agent Qahtani is a slender woman of average height and weight and an olive complexion, who typically dresses in tailored dark suits and hijab scarfs that complement the color of her dress shirts. For formal occasions, she dresses in formal abaya. Amira has an oval-shaped face, full lips, round eyes, imperiously arched eyebrows, dark brown hair usually tucked under her hijab, and pleasant features. Though she seems unintimidating and quite approachable, Amira's specialty is interrogation.

Personality

Image

Equipment

- Psychic abilities
Amira is able to manipulate psychic energy for the purposes of sensing others' surface thoughts, assaulting enemies' minds to incapacitate them, manipulating physics, and such things.

- A wooden wand
Useful for elementary level magic. Amira is not a spellcaster, but she can manage basic magic.

- An MEA issued magically modified gun
Has enchanted bullets with things like frost enchantments, fire enchantments, and the like.

- Cell phone
Who needs magic when there are cell phones?

History

Amira Qahtani immigrated to America at eight with her parents from Iraq, and was naturalized along with them at twelve, Amira's prowess as a witch was quickly recognized, and she was sent to Newton National Academy for the Magically Gifted, where she was a classmate of Ayasha Ziedins and Lisa Sheahan - Amira was a freshman while Ayasha and Lisa were seniors. After graduation, Amira attended Northwestern University with her nonmagical peers, and afterward, joined the MEA as a Special Agent. She was promoted to Asst. Special Agent in Charge of the MEA Wing City Field office two years ago, and in the wake of the Cameron Fields snafu, was appointed Acting Special Agent in Charge, pending his permanent termination.

Amira's magical specialty is in the area of psychic manipulation. She can sense another's surface thoughts, and in some senses, is an empath - outwardly displayed or strongly charged emotions will also affect her in the same way, whether she wants them to or not. She can adapt and focus psychic energies in battle as an attack, as well as subtly shape them during interrogations, to manipulate the subject at will. These abilities were enhanced while at Newton National, and later during special agent training at the MEA Training Academy.

So begins...

Amira Qahtani's Story

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The MEA had been watching the place nonstop. It was impossible not to, what with the constant magical activity flouting about inside the place. As SAC, Amira's responsibility for American interests in the area required her constant presence in Wing City, and she had found Gambit's to be, despite the constant level of violence, a good place to get a good drink, and perhaps meet a pleasant conversationalist.

She appeared just outside the bar, glancing into the windows before opening the door and stepping inside, her entrance nothing out of the ordinary. Probably unnoticeable. The witch was not into flashy entrances, unlike many of Gambit's patrons. Amira made her way to the counter, ordering just a glass of water as she watched the other patrons, trying to decide whether she was here for business or pleasure. The two were often entertwined.

It didn't help that she wanted to be on vacation, but had some of the guys across the street in her ear. Tuning out the voices in her earpiece, Amira sipped her water, crossing her ankles against the stool as she leaned slightly forward on the counter, brushing back errant strands of hair that had escaped the confines of her hijab.

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"Sitrep," came the voice in her ear. Amira ignored it. Jonathan could leave her alone, let her socialize. Why did any trip out of the office necessitate an entire team of agents? She made a mental note to revise her own policies on return, the next day.

"I'm not going back til tomorrow," she muttered, taking another sip of water before setting the glass down on the counter as she leaned forward on the counter, standing.

"Pardon?" Jonathan asked. Amira didn't respond, moving to one of the plush couches in front of the fireplace, where she lowered herself with great dignity onto the cushion, leaning back into the couch, letting the overstuffed pillows conform to the shape of her body. "Amira, sitrep, please."

"There's nothing going on," Amira mumbled, pulling a large book from her bag. She laid it on her lap, opening to one of the middle sections.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Amira repeated. "Absolutely nothing." She turned a page, humming softly as she read.

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"That guy... the one sitting at the counter. Looks a bit drunk?" Jonathan seemed to be waiting for a response. Amira resolved not to give him one. She hardly glanced in Jack's direction, seriously debating taking out her earpiece and never wearing one again. Ever. "Isn't his face on the wall?"

The Wall. The bounty board. The damn advertisement board for every fugitive in the history of ever. Where a new agent was instructed to add any of MEA's posters on a weekly basis, and remove outdated ones, though the latter duty was often neglected by whichever new agent was given the decidedly routine task.

"Yeah?" Amira asked, sounding more bored than anything. She finally glanced in Jack Calumet's direction, meeting his eyes as he looked around the room. She turned away, gaze sliding to the board of wanted posters. Sure enough, the face was there. "Not MEA, is it?"

"Don't know, but maybe you ought to do something?" Jonathan sounded almost cheerful. Cheerful. Amira wanted to punt him across the bar. Too bad he was across the street.

"I. Am. Reading," Amira practically growled into her mouthpiece. The astute eye would quickly note that the witch seemed to be talking to herself.

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So the man with his face on the wall was a fire-elemental, or something of the like. If he was sought by the Americans, the case had probably crossed MEA files. Enthusiastic as Amira might have been about apprehending a fugitive bold enough to patronize such a popular establishment, the last time she had attempted to take in a wanted person here, she had nearly lost two agents. It was understandable if she wasn't too eager to approach the man at the counter.

"Amira, reading takes a backseat to enforcement of the law," Jonathan said. His voice sounded almost patronizing. Did Jonathan ever, ever have the urge to sit down and read and not be bothered by the rest of society? Evidently not!

Amira closed the book, laying her hand over the cover. She sighed, turning to look towards the street-side windows of the bar. No doubt that was Jonathan, parked across the street, barely visible from here. She stood, slipping her book back into her bag and approaching the counter again, this time standing beside Jack Calumet, just out of arm's length, as she leaned on the counter. "Can I have another water, please?" the witch asked.

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"It's fine," Amira said, smiling politely. "I'll just have it plain." She reached for the glass, her fingers closing around it as she slid it closer to her, taking a long swig of water. Okay. She'd just check out the situation, decide whether or not she really wanted to possibly ruin any potential for a good day by taking in this fugitive. What did the poster say? Steve something, was it? The witch didn't particularly feel like walking over to read, nor looking over there now, not with the guy standing right next to her. But then, the bartender called him Jack. One was an alias, no doubt. Or both.

"What are you doing?" Jonathan again. She made a mental note to reassign him anywhere but near her. "Do you even know what the charges are?"

Do you? Amira asked mentally. Do you? Somehow, she doubted it. She turned to the man next to her, Jack, offering him a friendly smile. "Evening," Amira said, hoping to get his attention at least, so she could get a good look at him.

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"Wow," Amira commented, raising an eyebrow. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." She took another long swig of water. Jonathan, like some of the other assholes at the Wing City field office, often demanded to know why the witch wouldn't touch alcohol. Goody-two shoes was the nicer term. You'd think the hijab would be a tell-all, but some people are apparently so thick-headed...

"You sure you haven't had too many drinks?" she asked, tilting her head just to the side as she searched the man's face, for any hint of emotion, probing ever so slightly with psychic feelers for the same end, in the hopes of getting an idea of the kinds of emotions the man was washing down to the bottom of a bottle.

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"If you say so," Amira said, doubt practically lolling off her tongue as she played with the words, her gaze studying the man's face. He didn't seem to mind her at all. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to be polite," she remarked, taking another sip of water. "S'good, if you want to make friends, not enemies." Amira looked upward for a moment, then back down toward Jack.

"Are you going to confront him?" Jonathan again. Asshole, interrupting a pleasant conversation. Or, half a pleasant conversation. Not even. She was half-tempted to tell him to stuff it, but then the witch would really get stares.

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The way he held his fingers? Something struck her about that. She'd seen that somewhere, though Amira couldn't place it, not right away. Though the way he let the gesture disappear, seemed to suggest it was more than just an odd mannerism. Something to do with atypical abilities, more likely than not. He'd been guzzling flames earlier. Flames. Whatever he was charged with, Amira was certain MEA had a file somewhere, though she didn't recall ever having seen it.

"He usually like that?" Amira asked Dom, turning to watch as Jack left. The two men obviously knew each other, and from the way they spoke, it was more than a mere acquaintanceship. Seemed more like they were close friends, knew each other quite well.

"Go! Go get him!" Jonathan hissed, and Amira frowned. Jonathan hadn't been an agent more than two years, she was pretty sure. Amira knew what she was doing. She'd wait a minute. If the man started to run outside, Jonathan would pursue. If he returned, she'd be just fine.

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"No, I'm fine," Amira said. She finished the last of her water, setting the glass down as she slid it over to Dom, handing him a few dollars. "Thanks." The witch swept up her bag, and made her way from the bar, Jonathan sputtering in her ear.

"Where are you going? Are you following him? He'll see you!"

"I'm going home," Amira said. "It's not my case. Hell, it's not our jurisdiction, or I'm sure we would have received a copy of the damn file. I don't even know the guy's damn name. I'm not on duty right now, and I'm not supposed to be doing field work. Now let me do my job and live my life, and you yours."

Silence. Finally. She came up beside Valkyrie, nodding to the woman as she opened the doors, letting Valkyrie pass before she left, making her way for the government-looking SUV parked across the street.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Gambit's Hotel, 10th Floor

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Amira Qahtani strode calmly up the stairs of Gambit's Hotel, followed by two other MEA agents from the Wing City Field Office Fugitive Squad. Drakus Flavaar was reputed to be here, and she had been sent to apprehend him, again. Amira rounded the corner of the landing, pushing open the door to the roof.

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Amira Qahtani nodded, offering no expression on her face as she approached, hands in her pockets. "That would be correct," she said, her voice soft. "And it's Agent Qahtani to you, Mr. Flavaar. I do not presume us to be so well acquainted as to use our given names." The other two agents came in behind her, weapons drawn but pointed at the floor.

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Amira Qahtani nodded again. "Considering your antics the last time I apprehended you, it was a wise precaution on my part. I can ask you nicely, Mr. Flavaar, or we can do this the hard way. It's up to you." Amira arched an eyebrow as she spoke, though she kept her hands in her pockets, not moving aggressively toward Drakus.

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Amira Qahtani smiled, a gesture that was almost automatic for the MEA agent, given that she spent most of her time in interrogations, and creating rapport with the subject was her role. "It would be simpler if you just came in, Mr. Flavaar. If you cooperate with us, as you've said you would, the more serious charges against you might be reduced from kidnapping a public official to assaulting a public official, and US Attorney Umenyiora may decide to offer a reduced sentence as well. Instead of six to ten years, you may serve less than twelve months in prison, and have the remainder suspended pending supervised release and good behavior."

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Amira Qahtani slid her gaze over to Motoko, narrowing her eyes as she continued in the same soft voice. "I'm afraid the situation has already resolved itself, Admiral Kusanagi," Amira said, having familiarized herself with the dossiers on foreign personnel who had interacted with her government as of late. She stepped forward towards Drakus, taking out her pair of handcuffs as she moved closer, though she kept her eyes on Motoko, the other two MEA agents watching both of them.

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Amira Qahtani frowned, looking back toward Drakus. "I would prefer if we kept this simple, and did not complicate matters. I am not one for public opinion, Mr. Flavaar. Only results." She turned back toward Motoko. "I would suggest you holster your weapon, Admiral," Amira said, her voice gone dangerously soft as she began to prepare a psychic wave, drawing upon her mental reserves to power the rather defensive attack, if there were such a thing. "This came directly from MEA Director Ayasha Ziedins, at the behest of President Maynard, and your sudden involvement is... disconcerting.. to say the least." Amira's English slightly accented, spoken somewhat slowly, deliberately.

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* Major

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Amira Qahtani took a few steps backward as she clambered to her feet, pen still in hand as she narrowed her eyes at the shards of stone, wincing at the shots. She dropped again at the sight of the fireball. Frakking MEA should get involved. Natalie threw a glance toward the MEA agents, but they seemed preoccupied, oblivious to the DAMN MAGICAL FIGHT happening on the same frakking roof they were on. "What the hell?" she hissed at Vipteri.

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Amira Qahtani 's lips thinned with her displeasure. Her inaction toward Drakus would affirm the answer to his question without words. "I would hate to report to the Joint Chiefs of Staff that you were interfering with the administration of justice in American jurisdiction in wartime," Amira said dryly, one hand still in her pocket as she slipped her handcuffs back to where she kept them, though she did not draw her weapon. "And I am sure UCON would understand my concerns... this case being a matter of national security."

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Amira Qahtani stood back, just out of arm's length, one hand still clutching the pen, the other brushing errant hair from her face as she stared down the feline woman, though still not making eye contact. "One's accomplishments are not in and of themselves morally permissible," she said, her voice lacking normal inflection, somewhat toneless, though it seemed to go up and down - in a forced sort of manner. "Killing is a social taboo for very good reason. If individuals killed capriciously, chaos would ensue and the state of existence would approach entropy."

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"I am well aware, Major, since having had this case assigned to my desk," Amira answered, nodding once in affirmative. "Unfortunately, I cannot deviate from my task. SOP, you understand." This was said with an almost sardonic tone, though it was well disguised under layers of affected serenity, which was Amira's specialty. Unwilling to draw a weapon, she continued focusing her psychic powers in the event they became necessary. She turned to Drakus. "Let's go, Mr. Flavaar." She grasped him by the point of his elbow and began to march swiftly toward the roof access door, the other two MEA agents moving to follow.