2009-10-20: Charitable Rebellion

Starring:Charity

Charity_V4icon.png

And a Rebel

Date: October 20, 2009

Summary:

Charity contacts Rebel and Rebel phones Charity.


"Charitable Rebellion"

A New York Motel

Waiting.

It truly sucks and Charity did it a good part of the day. Back and forth she's gone to the spot she indicated to meet this Rebel person and time and again there was no one there. It was late when she finally made it back to her lonely little room in the shady motel. A box of beef and broccoli bought from a local Chinese food shop, clutched in her hand while stabbing at the bits of beef with her fork. The TV drones on about the ten day outlook, but the mechanic isn't paying attention. Charity's mind is occupied with what just happened over the course of twenty four hours. So much in so little time.

Chewing on a rather yummy bit of beef, Charity's head turns to look at the napkin the crazy guy gave her. Dropping the fork in the box, she reaches over and picks it up, frowning. "So now what Mr. Conspiracy?"

And then the phone rings. It's one of those unusually annoying rings that cuts the silence like a knife. It's loud. Demanding, even.

Chairty about jumps out of her skin as the phone rings, making her about drop her food in the process. Ignoring the ring for a moment, she presses a hand to her chest where her heart pound roughly, and takes a deep calming breath. But it occurs to her, she hasn't given anyone the number. She sits the box on the table and goes scurrying across the bed and grabs the receiver, almost spilling on the floor beyond. Only thing that saves her is a hand on the floor, "Hello?" The word comes out breathless.

There is a moment of near-apprehension from the caller, as if they want to hang up, but breathing can be heard. After a few seconds a modulated voice comes through deep and digital. "Um… may I speak to Charity?" The caller is hesitant in the question, distrusting, perhaps, but the words are innocent enough. They're not demanding, in fact, most would describe them as polite.

"Your talking to her." The woman answers, pushing up to where she can sit on the edge of the bed. "Who are you? And how did you get this number?" Her own voice is distrustful in it's own right, the cold grip of fear in her stomach. Glancing behind her at the table, she frowns when she realizes her food is further then the cord.

"This is… Rebel," the voice answers frankly. The caller clears their throat, "You emailed me. And as far as the number goes, I have my ways." It's a statement left floating as if expecting some kind of explanation beyond that in the email. "Who, exactly are you?" the tone comes out almost as concerned. There's an edge of worry in the speech. Wariness, even.

Brows rise as high as they can go on her head. "You're Rebel? Oh.. well. Okay." She tucks her feet up, getting comfortable. "My name is Charity Davis. Simply put I'm a mechanic." Her words trail off a bit as she turns thoughtful. What to tell him? She gives a cluck of her tongue. "Not sure what to say, but last night I had a man show up at my shop. Black guy, bald with a walking stick. He said he draws the future. He saw mine. Said men in black armor and masks would be coming for me. He was right. I called an employee this morning he said my place was forced into." She smiles a bit realizing how crazy she sounds.

"He said I could either help people like me or become a prisoner like them. When I asked what I asked what I could do.. he gave me your email address. He said our strengths would compliment the other's weaknesses." Charity goes quiet for a moment and then asks. "You still there?" There is a touch of nervousness in her tone, as if she expects a deadline.

There is some silence as the Rebel lets the words settle. He hasn't had anyone contact him yet, just him connecting with them. As such, he's being particularly careful. "There are people after people like… us," yes, Rebel's got an ability. "There's a list. The government is call us terrorists." The frown on the other side of the phone can be heard, "They have a train full of people already."

Several more moments of silence pass before Rebel asks, "This may seem strange, but what can you do?"

The question does kind of throw her for a loop, Charity has never had to explain what she can do before. "It's… kinda complicated. I have thing connection with machines. You know.. cars.. motorcycles. If it has gears or a motor I can run it and make it work. I can turn a car on and off with the touch of my hand.." He can't see it, but her hand lifts and is held out like she's touching something. "I can control it too.. I kind of become a part of it. I told you I was a mechanic, well I can see what's wrong with something and find a way to make it run better….That's just some of it." She trails off and gives a small chuckle. "Like I said. Complicated."

The voice on the other end merely hmms at Charity's ability. After several moments it concludes, "You and I seem to have something in common, but different. I talk to machines. If they're hooked up to anything electrical, I can work them. It's like I said to my m…other people, I talk to them." And then he adds for good measure, "This is how I found you."

A few more moments of consideration pass and then Rebel begins to explain, "There's a train full of people like us. People that were taken already by the government. But there's a rebellion. A resistance that won't stand for it. Your skills might be handy. I've seen the train. It's old, and I can't work it, especially from my current location. But maybe. MAYBE you can."

"A train?" Charity considers, her tone thoughtful. "I can't work on anything computerized, in fact, I'd say technology doesn't like me." She sounds rather amused as she says that. "So if it's old… There is a good chance I can get into it and control it. Simple machines are easier." There is a small smile at a thought, "I see what he meant about our abilities."

"Alright Rebel." Charity reaches over the the night stand and opens it, pulling out a pad of the complimentary stationary and matching pen. "Sounds like this rebellion needs a mechanic. What do I need to do to help?" There is no disguising the sudden determination in the woman's voice. The crazy guy said become a prisoner or help… Looks like it is helping time.

"I have some coordinates for the train and a plan in motion. I will email you the date, time, and coordinates. When you receive the email it will be titled 'Camping' in the event anyone is watching your inbox." He pauses for a minute and then adds, "As far as the mission is concerned, just be there and go prepared. The more its concealed the better. I will let the others know you're coming so they will expect you." Rebel's speech becomes quicker, he seems to be getting excited. "The rebellion is growing, and it's good to have you a part of it, Charity." The smile can almost be heard through the phone. Almost.

There is a mental groan at the mention of email, but it is never vocalized. "Alright." She does however give a little sigh. "I'll do my best to be there and be prepared, Rebel." She smiles a bit at the enthusiasm. "Well, we'll see if it is good I'm there or not. I'm kinda of new to all this. I'm just a mechanic after all, just like my dad." Tucking pen and pad away, she climbs to her feet and glances at her food. "I'll make sure to keep an eye on my email. Take care, Rebel."

And Rebel's just a thirteen year old kid, he can't help but smirk. "You too, Charity." And then as an afterthought, he adds, "We'll all be safe again. It'll come." That said, Rebel hangs up the phone.

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