Jarrod Narrative Who: Jarrod Krippler When: Jan 28, evening Where: The power training section of Project:Stargate What: Finding Jon a car.
No matter what Anthony said, Jarrod was most comfortable wearing sweat pants and a hoodie when he did his dowsing, at least in weather like this. Jarrod was pleased to find the area empty. After Kian's little threat in his post, Jarrod figured there would be more people down there trying to bone up on their abilities. His black book with the leather strap to keep it closed slapped gently against his thigh, pencil behind his right ear. He found it much easier to concentrate in the secluded, shielded room. There weren't any distractions like the internet or television, no CDs or MP3s that he needed to listen to right away. No people clamoring in for dinner or to play video games or watch television. He closed the door to one of the side rooms off the main training facility and flipped the switch on the inside, the red light bulb coming on outside the door to let people know the room was in use. Hopefully that would keep nosey people out.
It wasn't like what Jarrod was doing had all that much importance to Stargate itself, but it was for Jon, and Jarrod wanted to find the very best car for him. Even if the very best car ended up being a pile of crud, it would be what Jon wanted. Presumably. Jarrod didn't want to find any cars with a ton of damage, since that meant someone probably died in it and no way was he riding in the passenger seat of a deathmobile. Nor would he want Jon in it either. Superstition, sure, but there was always something creepy about living or using something that had aided in killing a person. He'd have to ask Magpie if she ever used other people's knives. It'd be interesting to learn if he was the only one who didn't like touching other people's death...things.
The string was undone, pages and pages of items dowsed sketched on the blank pages. He'd been taught at an early age to pick up a sort of code with any words he wrote down. Sometimes he didn't find himself very useful, but the pages spoke for themselves. If it were to ever fall into government hands and the code deciphered? A lot of people would be up shit creek - including himself. He didn't waste any time reminiscing about dowses gone by. A new page was selected, unmarked by any stray ink or pencil scribble. A picture of the car that Jon was interested in was laid in the page like a bookmark. He'd printed out several and had meticuously cut them out. He didn't want any folded edges or tears to confuse him. Sure, Jon wanted one beat the hell up, but that would come when Jarrod narrowed his search.
As he regulated his breathing, Jarrod's eyes hooded, his head bent down so his chin almost settled on his chest. If anyone were to look in, they'd think he was sleeping - or passed out more than likely. The book was positioned to his right, pencil balanced on his index finger. "Two-thousand nine Mazda XR 8." They were just words he mouthed, no real volume to any. He wasn't talking to anyone, but to his ability. Things zoomed in and then black. He'd hit a wall. Nothing in North Conway that met the criteria Jarrod had fed into his power. Expanding outward by fifty miles, anything remotely like his inquiry got jotted down. He was just writing down the locations, like always, they just came to him. There would need to be more research done, of course, but he had time to do that. There were only a few there, which was frustrating. All seemed to be in moderate to good condition, which irked Jarrod even more. He mouthed the word, "Wrecked," to his qualifiers, and the sample went down even more than before.
Again, he expanded, adding four hundred miles to his search area. The light outside the door shined on and on and on, Jarrod taking his time to inspect as much as he could, trying to figure out exactly what might be the problem, judging the body work. Four hundred miles was a long way to go, the edges getting harder to focus on, given his location. But he pushed through that, looking for just the right one. Then suddenly, like his ability was crash landing, Jarrod saw it. the perfect car for Jon. The sign in the window said Crazy Joe's Junk Shop. Shit and pretty, that's why it's free. You wheel it away, don't bring it back.
The location above all that said Edison, New Jersey. Like getting yanked by a giant rubber band, Jarrod was back in the room. He looked down at the two pages of notes he'd made. "Phew," he exhaled, scanning over his notes and nodding to himself.