thecapitol | I'm the Reason I Don't Go Out

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I'm the Reason I Don't Go Out

Who| Jet and OPEN
What| There's too much to explore, too much to think about and not a damn gun to be seen
Where| The bar, the training facility and then around the capitol
When| Across Week six
Warnings/Notes| The different scenarios are sequential but spread across week six

When he'd first woke up in Site-B to find the world was only a hair away from being destroyed, there'd been a sense of failure and anger that everything he and the other cyborgs had fought and suffered for was meaningless. Finding out only a portion of his family was still around to help try and fix it had set in a sense of loss and near-desperation to hold on to what was left.

He never would have guessed he'd find himself wanting all of that back.

This was messed up on an entirely different level and from what he could gather, there wasn't some 'Big Bad' to defeat except a corrupted government most of the people seemed happy to keep corrupted. Not that that would keep him from fighting back as best he could, but after nonstop fighting and corrupted governments trying to ruin the world, Jet found he was temporarily done.

Which had led him to the bar in the lounge of their new 'home.' It was broadcasting the very death arena he'd been thrown into so he could satisfy both his desire to drink and his need to watch how the rest of his family fared.

For once, he wasn't battling a mixed feeling of happiness they were there too and sadness that they were stuck in a terrible situation; he simply wished he could send them away. They wouldn't die for good as far as he knew, but the thought that they would die all for the sick entertainment of these people was infuriating. And there was nothing he could do.

The blond threw back drink after drink, making sure to always have one nearby so he could down it before his fast metabolism ruined his efforts. He didn't know what he was trying to accomplish, but the numbing effect the alcohol was having was good enough.

//

Once he'd gotten through the first few days of moping and the subsequent drinking, he decided to turn his ever-present and only growing inferno of anger and frustration on something more productive. He went down to the training facility in the hopes a little target practice would help, but there was a distinct lack of any kind of gun or blaster or anything he was familiar with except knives and he wasn't very good at throwing those.

If these were the things they expected them to fight with, he was going to have a hard time next arena. Good thing he was pretty good at teaching himself. He chose the bow and arrows--the closest thing to a gun he could get--and set to working his sharpshooting into a new kind of medium.

//

Just as he couldn't drink forever, he couldn't train forever and he sure as hell couldn't watch that damn broadcast forever either, although it was hard to avoid when it was shown everywhere. But there was a whole city to explore, something he'd sort of missed when every city they went to was deserted, it was easy to get lost in the crowd and see what this place had to offer other than the promise of death and torment.

Although he was aware he stood out among all of the ridiculous and over the top styles since he insisted on something less ostentatious. No flashy colors or glitter and glam for him.

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"I have seen worse," Felicity replied as she continued in her approach. "The bow is not as intuitive as one might think. It isn't like a pistol or other gun." No slight meant to gunfighters, of course. She was simply referring to the physical differences.

She pointed to the bow, gesturing for him to raise it again. Her eyes were a glow as she studied the bow. "It's a lovely weapon, isn't it. Too bad there weren't any in the Arena. I'd have lasted for ages with one of these."

He's not known for following directions, but when it came to learning new things, he was actually a pretty good student. Learning had always been a secret love of his, one he would deny to the end of time.

He raised the bow and waited for further prompting, although her comment brought a smirk to his face. "Yeah? Same for me if I had a gun, but it looks like this place isn't too keen on those. So, how do you use this thing, then?"

Taking this as a cue to correct his form, she went to place a hand on his drawing arm to guide it into place. She then moved to guide his other arm. "Your elbow must be placed as so. It may feel uncomfortable at first, but you will adjust when your muscles are used to the motion."

Stepping back, she appraised her work and his form with a smirk. "That's much better. You at least look like you can shoot it now."

She was right, it felt weird, like his body was trying to do it a different way, but he forced himself to stick to the form she'd instructed. Now he just had to shoot. It was obviously different than shooting a gun in a lot of ways, but the principle of aiming was the same and that he could do.

The bow loosed and the arrow flew forward, embedding itself just off from center, but there was a subtle smacking sound as the string scrapped across Jet's forearm. Good thing he'd been wearing long sleeves.

He winced and ran his now free hand across his stinging forearm. "Is that supposed to happen?" At least guns didn't bite back.

"Bravo! Good show!" She delighted at his result, clapping her hands and shouting out encouragement. Her pleasure diminished, however, at the sight and sound of his minor injury. "Ah, yes. An unfortunate aftershock of the bow. It's akin to the recoil of a musket. Easily fixable, though. You'll need a guard for your forearm."

Thinking back, she recalled her own training with the Goddess of the Hunt. It had hurt, in the beginning. Fee had been a soft and round little school girl, morphed through time and magic and sheer will into a formidable foe to any man. While this strange man clearly had an idea of what he was doing, she felt that she was, in a manner of speaking, paying her lessons forward.

He shook off the slight sting left in his arm and chose out another arrow. "Good to know. Although, I'm gonna guess there won't always be one of those lying around."

He offered a small playful smirk and notched the arrow, pausing a moment to make sure he maintained the proper form and let that one fly with a similar result. He was getting the hang of it. Not perfect--he didn't even know if he'd be able to recall the proper form under fire--but it was a start he could work with.

"Thanks, by the way, for showing me. I'm Jet. Um...district 2, I guess."

She watched with keen interest, nodding her approval once his shot was off. She felt more pride in having instructed him than in anything else. "You'll continue to improve, no doubt. If it were simple, anyone could do it."

Once he was finished, she extended her hand to him to shake. "Felicity Worthington. Also of District Two. Which I suppose is highly fortunate for us both."

He relaxed his stance and took the offered hand, giving a firm shake before letting go with a bit of a smile. So, they were 'district mates' definitely better for them both. Although, if there was only supposed to be one winner, what happened if it was the two of them left? Probably nothing good.

But it was a moot point since it seemed more likely one of them would end up dying somehow before then.

"Anything else you know how to use? I can show you how to fight with a knife if you're not familiar. It's not so good for long range, but it can be pretty lethal used correctly."

"I'm rather decent with a broadsword," she proclaimed, puffing up slightly despite her deceptively petite stature. Such was the nature of her training in the Realms. She was well trained and very strong, but with a cinched waist and pretty features, it wasn't exactly easy to tell. "But my skills with knives leave much to be desired. Perhaps a trade is in order."

He genuinely looked impressed with the fact she was good with a sword he would have guessed she couldn't even pick up. He'd never picked one up himself, but he knew they were big weapons, certainly not something a woman of her size would normally be seen wielding. Her proposal of a trade brought a grin to his face."I think I can manage that."

Jet moved to trade the bow for a couple daggers and handed one to her as he moved to stand across from her. "The thing about knives is that there's every way imaginable to injure someone, but there's only three ways you're likely to kill a guy. Best way, obviously, is to go for the throat." He tried not to think about the memory of Chaud's throat being sliced open by that guy--Perry--in the arena. He pressed on. "The other two ways are the gut and the artery here in your arm." He ran two fingers along the inside of his upper arm to illustrate.

"The problem with a gut wound is that it takes a long time to bleed out that way, so either they're more likely to get help in that time or you're more likely to make it really painful kill. The rm's just harder to get to and at just the right spot too, it's not what I would recommend."

He paused a second and his smile turned a little bitter. "Guess that's pretty morbid first lesson, but we're not really going to be trying that part out."

Plus, considering why he was even teaching her, it was a very important part of the lesson.

He took up his usual stance when he'd been about to take part in a knife fight back in New York: the dagger held in front, tip pointed towards her with his other arm held out bit from his side, but not too far to leave himself physically open.

"There's two big things about defending: don't leave yourself open for an attack and be light on your feet; you need to be able to change directions at a moment's notice. It's not the most perfect form of fighting, but the main point of this style is to simply avoid getting hit while trying to land one yourself. You're probably not going to have a problem with that second one, you seem like an agile person."

Felicity took everything he said to heart, promising herself that she would commit his lessons to memory in order to spare herself in the coming Arena. She'd died by a dagger before, throat slit and slit messily. It hadn't been a quick kill, it had taken awhile and she'd lingered, which gave her the impression that Cinderella had hesitated or otherwise made a mistake in her technique. As far as Felicity was concerned, that could never be allowed to happen again.

"I am rather quick," she said, taking that moment to adopt a stance similar to his. She moved gracefully, mirroring him nearly precisely. "But that isn't always enough to stop some madwoman wielding a blade."

The fact she was able to slip into the form easily made him smile a bit, that was good, it meant she was a fast-learner and Jet wasn't completely sure he had the patience for anything less.

That comment grabbed his attention, though and he stood up straight again. "Speaking from experience?" There was a small pause, enough for her to answer if she wanted, but not so big it would be awkward if she chose not to, Jet was fairly certain he knew the answer anyway. "We'll come back to stance and movement in a moment, let me show you something else first. It's not really got anything to do with knife fighting, but working some street-fighting into it isn't a bad idea."

He put the dagger down nearby and held out his arm, rolling up the sleeve to his elbow so that his wrist was exposed but the nasty scar on his upper arm was still covered. "If someone's coming at you with a knife, there's a couple good was to get it out of their hand, there's kicking it and then there's grabbing them near the wrist--here--and twisting; it'll make 'em drop it and give you a decent hold to bend their arm back if they need more persuasion."

A thought occurred to him and he cocked his head a bit. "How much actual hand-to-hand combat do you know?"

"I had my throat cut in the Arena, but it wasn't clean. The woman who did it left me to bleed out. It took awhile." Her voice was steady as she spoke, and she barely resisted to urge to touch her neck where Cindy had sliced her. She didn't want to show Jet any weakness now, however. She still very much wanted to come across as strong.

Her eyes narrowed at the presentation of his wrist. She was almost tempted to make a move for it then and twist his arm as he'd described. Instead, she was caught slightly off guard by his question.

"Everything I've studied is formal, and with weapons. Where I am from, it is considered unbecoming for a woman to participate in actual combat." That said, she'd done her share of fighting with a sword during the battles in the Realms.

Maybe that would be a better option for right now, then. From what she'd told him, it sounded like she could use a little direction in how to function without a weapon too--not that Jet had done a very good job in the end with a crowbar stuck in his gut.

"Where I come from, women can fight just as well as men--if not better--whether it's hand-to-hand or weapons. I mean, you should at least know how to take someone out if they're armed and you aren't. For example: it could help you if you ever run into that chick again or if a guy say my size tried to jump you, you could toss him down and knock him out.

So, what do you say? Interested?"

Felicity nodded, a certain eagerness reflected in her face. "Absolutely. I intend to do better next time, even if it is only in that I survive for longer and do not need to kill anyone."

She wasn't a cruel person. She didn't wish to murder anyone, but she had to protect herself. She was the only person she could fully rely on, and she had to be in the best shape possible to ensure that that happened.

He nodded. "Cool. Alright."

He wasn't really interested in killing anyone either, but the part he kept to himself was the fact he was willing to if necessary. If someone he cared about was threatened, or even if he found himself threatened, he wasn't going to pull his punches just because he'd feel bad about killing someone.

But that thought was put from his mind as he showed her where on a person's body the weak points could be found. He showed her where on the hand to put pressure to put someone in enough pain to get them to let go, the various places on the body that were best to hit to cause enough pain for a chance at escape, and last how to throw someone who tried to grab her from behind.

There was some science to all of this, he just didn't know it beyond 'pressure here makes a body do this, causing all of this to be possible.' Consequently all of his explanations were presented more abstractly than factually and based more on feeling and experience than what might be traditionally taught.

Finally, he stepped back a bit and nodded to her. "Think you got it? If you want, we can try some of these--you can try and throw me."

She took in everything he'd explained as best she could, though she recognized that putting into practice would be just as important as learning the information to begin with. She'd mimicked his movements to herself as best she could in an attempt to memorize it all and tried not to get frustrated when she didn't get it all immediately.

"Of course," she answered him without hesitation. Truth be told, however, a teensy feeling of doubt crept in. She'd fought men before, but could she actually throw him without the sparkling flow of magic to aid her?

Felicity assumed one of the positions he'd showed her, then went through each of the steps deliberately as she made to grab him and use his own weight against him.

He felt her grab him and he did go off balance for a moment, causing him to stumble to regain his balance, but it wasn't quite enough to flip him like she was aiming for. Although she did manage to tweak his arm a bit, but that wouldn't put off someone trying to kill her.

"That was good, the strength's there, but try doing it a little faster; make it flow instead of going through a routine."

He stood up straighter and moved back to where he'd been. "Try again." A little faster and he had no doubt the next few seconds would find him on his back with the air knocked out of him.

Felicity was unrelenting in her desire to win, or at least to prove she could compete. She did just as Jet had instructed, charging at him with more speed and grace than she'd displayed before. If she could not outmuscle him, she could endeavor to outmaneuver him at least.

With the improvement of her speed, her second attempt easily threw Jet off and the American soon found himself laid out on his back at her feet.

He gave a quiet 'oof' as the air left him, but as soon as he'd recovered, he was smiling up at her. "That's more like it! Perfect."

She couldn't help but let out a triumphant cry, throwing both arms into the air to celebrate. "I knew I had it in me, alright! Next time, I'll toss you clear across the room!" She laughed, offering her hand to pull him up to his feet.

"You probably will." He laughed along with her, genuinely pleased by her excitement, and hoisted himself up with a bit of her help.

"Guns might be my preferred weapon, but before I knew how to use those, I relied on my own two hands. There's a lot you can do with just the right amount of momentum and a general knowledge of how a human body works. Hopefully, you'll have better luck against any random chicks with knives."

"Cinderella won't stand a chance against me." That part was certain, now that she had a few extra tricks up her sleeve. There was no one in the Arenas she loathed quite so much, not even Eponine.

She turned her attention back to Jet, smoothing out her ruffled blonde locks. "You've been exceedingly helpful."

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I'm the Reason I Don't Go Out

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