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Dawn Keating

A fiery and quick-tempered journalist, working on getting as much out of the Tahira Ali story as is feasibly possible.

0 · 311 views · located in Interrogation Room

a character in “When the Lion Wakes”, originally authored by Script, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Image
Image ©2008-2010 ~Basistka
Name: Dawn Keating
Age: 22
Gender: Female

Role: Freelance Journalist

Appearance: A pretty young girl, sporting more of the features of her Scottish father than her mother. Her hair is, perhaps, the most attractive feature about her - it is a luscious dark red, naturally glossy and falling down to her upper back in well managed and styled straight tresses. Her skin is incredibly pale, a result of spending a great deal of time inside (for inside is truly a wonderful place to be, when you live in a house so luxurious as her own), and almost flawless. Her smooth features frame a pair of bright blue eyes, with only a small amount of make-up adorning her at most times. With regard to clothing, Dawn is very much 'in' with whatever fashions happen to be circulating the area, and has a wardrobe the size of a small village. Not literally, of course, but you get the idea.

Personality: Air headed and distant at times, yet capable of talking you into the floor at others, Dawn is certainly not a quiet, withdrawn and prissy rich kid. No, rather she is a loud and commanding presence, the accent picked up from her father, the dominant parental presence in her life only adding to her angry charm. Quick to rise to a challenge, Dawn is seldom cowed, be it by an up-her-own-backside bitch at the office, or an up-his-own-backside politician. Of course, this hardy attitude has gotten her into trouble more than once, but equally it has gotten her out of it, too.

Short bio/History: Dawn has had a comfortable life, living with her father (her parents are divorced, and thanks to the nature of the distance and her mother's work as a back-room politician, she seldom sees her), and has little in the way of excitement. Her parents parted ways amiably when she was eight, as the pressure's of her mother's working life became too great for their relationship to maintain. She is close friends with Jordan Renar.

So begins...

Dawn Keating's Story

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#, as written by Script
Dawn stepped into the room with a degree of hesitation, blue eyes settling on Ali at the table. She took several more steps into the room, her boots clicking on the simple flooring, before pausing to take her recorder out of her pocket.

Flicking the switch to start it, Dawn lifted it up to her mouth. "Interview started at nine twenty three AM, subject Tahira Ali." she murmured, before taking a seat.

"Good morning, Ms Ali." Dawn said, looking up at the older woman. "I am Agent Moore from Counterintelligence, I'm here to ask you some questions, as you will probably have gathered by this point."

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'Agent Moore' adjusted the sleeve of her suit idly, tapping her fingers on the table for a moment before continuing. "Ms Ali, recently you were brought here to the USA with the intention of offering information. Can I ask you to repeat to me what you came here to tell us, for our records?"

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Dawn clicked her tongue, "Could you elaborate on the nature of 'Rahah Almarfud' please, Ms Ali? How do they intend to bring about 'the death of worlds'?" she asked, frowning.

The redhead's foot shifted slightly, toes pressed against the floor. She couldn't help but wonder how long this charade would hold. Inevitably other agents would be listening in.

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Nuclear missiles... Dawn's eyes widened briefly. And twelve of them? Jesus Christ... the sheer number of lives that would be lost if that attack was launched...

"Which.. which cities are these 'godless' cities? Where will these attacks be targeted?" Dawn hesitated over her words for a few moments. She might have to edit this part out. It wouldn't do to have mass panics in the named cities, civilians fleeing for their lives.

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Dawn was entirely speechless for a moment. Across the world... millions of lives. These people would be attacking the entire modern world! Good god...

"I... see," she managed after a moment, fingers drumming on the table. "When will these attacks be, Ms Ali? Do you know where the weapons are?" Dawn found herself straying from her scripted questions out of horrified curiosity. Maybe curiosity was the wrong word.

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"July?" So there were almost five months left for the government to stop them. Five months didn't seem like much time at all to live... and to find nuclear weapons in the vastness of, well.. everywhere.

"Well... moving onto another subject, then. What is your motive for revealing this information, Ms Ali?" Dawn had noticed Ali's reticence to meet her eyes. She wondered if this was a custom of her faith, or people, or if perhaps the prison guards had been cruel to her. Dawn wasn't sure whether she deserved it or not. On the one hand, she was the ex-leader of a terrorist organisation responsible for hundreds of deaths. On the other, she was an old woman, weak and helpless -- seemingly benevolent in intention. But why, after so long?

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"But why, Ms Ali? What is the reason behind your change of heart? Were you not yourself the leader of a terrorist organisation for a good number of years? What is it that has 'opened your eyes' as such?" Dawn pressed. The answers to these questions could swing public opinion of Ali one way or another -- though forgiveness was unlikely, sympathy was possible.

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"You feel remorse, then?" Dawn nodded slowly. After a pause, she frowned faintly and went a head with her planned questions. "Are you aware of any American, or other international firms that are supporting or providing for terrorist organisations? Weapons dealers, or other traders?"

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Dawn bit her lip for a moment, nodding. "If I may ask you a more personal question, Ms. Ali? How was it that you became involved with Hataf originally? What sort of influences prompted you to join and rise so high, only to have a change of heart?"

The journalist leant back, "You have yet to answer my other question, for that matter. What prompted your change of heart? Surely there is some sort of event, or individual who might have influenced this decision significantly?"

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Clicking her tongue, Dawn drummed her fingers on her lap for a few moments. "You seem reluctant to talk about yourself, Ms. Ali - it would help if uh, we had some background information on you. This kind of analysis requires your cooperation though, I must press my questions if at all possible."

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"Thank you, Ms Ali." Dawn offered the woman a smile, "Please, go on."

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Dawn allowed a silence to pass after Ali's words. The tape recorder ran on on the table, recording silence. After a long pause, Dawn spoke. "Thank you, Ms. Ali. I do not doubt your sincerity."

Dawn continued after a short moment. "Do you consider yourself, or your old companions, to be followers of Islam? From this viewpoint do you look in on Hataf and see that their actions go against the values of the faith?"

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Nodding, Dawn kept her expression blank. She was more comfortable, as journalists tend to be, asking probing personal questions than significant questions with horrific answers. "Were there significant family members or friends that led you into joining Hataf? What kind of influences did, if not?"

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"The same as who, Ms. Ali? The Americans?" Dawn asked, "What sort of negative propaganda is spread about the US there? Or was it direct experience of the actions of the US? Or was it another body entirely?" the redhead frowned. She was well aware of the image that the USA had in the Middle East. It wasn't very popular, to say the least.

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Dawn ran over the woman's words in her head a few times over, furrowing her brow. "Are you certain that there is not a significant person, or persons, who might have influenced you strongly in your younger years?" she pressed, but by this point she was quite satisfied with the interview's results. She was about ready to get out before her cover was blown.

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The reporter's frown deepened at these words. "I am sorry for your loss, Ms. Ali." she said, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face.

Dawn allowed a few moments to pass, before speaking again. "Is there anything else that you can inform me that might aid in the preservation of lives, Ms. Ali?"

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Dawn blinked at the sudden eye contact, returning Ali's gaze steadily after a moment. After she spoke, Dawn hesitated. "I... do not know for certain, Ms. Ali. I cannot speak for the American justice system. There will be many that call for your death."

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Dawn nodded slowly, her expression troubled. She was conflicted over the issue herself -- there was no doubt on the matter that her actions warranted great punishment... but it was hard to see the fragile, reticent old woman as the leader of such an awful organisation.

"If I may ask, Ms. Ali - how have you been treated, in your stay here?"

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Dawn frowned. "You do not sound particularly convinced," she noted, observing the change in Ali's manner. "Regardless of who you are, the rights of a prisoner are universal. If you have been maltreated, then you must say."

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"Alright, then." Dawn nodded slowly, "Thank you, for your time. You have been a great help, Ms. Ali. I think that the information could save many lives." She hoped, at least. If the enemy could be tracked down...

"Goodbye, Ms. Ali." Dawn stood, inclining her head politely.