The Binding of Isaac

[gamemakers]

Who| All those who signed up for the plot!
What| Capitol rebels attempt a break in and dismantling of dangerous weaponry.
Where| In a warehouse just beyond the very end of the cityline
When| Some time following Arena 13
WARNINGS| Please specify warnings in tag headers.
NOTES | Remember that if you did not sign up, it will be assumed you are not participating in the plot. Plotting can be found here! IC plotting is here!

Comments

PRE-MISSION

[gamemakers]

All over the city, people are collecting items that could be needed for the mission and bringing them to various blindspots. People are preparing to disguise those going off to fight and healers are readying up for the worst. Leaders are checking over their teams and perhaps even giving talks to help motivate. Now is a time for goodbyes that will, hopefully, not be their last.

Shepard: Leader, Fighter | Open

[earthborn]

Shepard stood at rest, easy in her formality, and breathed in the satisfying air of purpose that lingered among the nervous rebels. The energy was electric, subdued panic mixed with stubborn dread, and there was no denying that it was warranted. Just the same, this was a familiar feeling; the eve of battle, the precipice of a suicide mission.

It felt good. Like being alive again.

Her arms were crossed, knees straight, feet firm and spread wide. Her eyes were dry and clear under the bizarre dazzle-camo she'd sat still for. Shepard found she was grateful for the war-paint, practical concerns aside, the ritual of it had settled her own nerves. Now she was calm, regarding her team, such as it was, with clear vision and a firm, solemn countenance.

When her little section of the group, her impromptu strike team, had gathered around, she shifted her weight and cleared her throat. Showtime.

"This is it," it rang with confidence, and the easy assumption of command. She was born to do this, "I'm not going to make a big speech about honor or sacrifice; this is going to be rough, and some of us might not make it. But I promise you, if you remember your roles, and stick together, you can do this. We can. And together, we can all make a difference here. Any questions?"

Karkat: Leader & Fighter | Open

[crabmunicator]

"Yes, I look ridiculous."

This is how Karkat starts in the obligatory final address to his team. And he does: he's done up in drag with more makeup than a MAC store caked onto his skin to hide the grey, and some manner of tall wig pinned thoroughly in place to keep his horns out of sight. It is not something he ever would have chosen in normal circumstances, but these are not normal, and the distance from his comfort zone makes it all the more suitable to something he doesn't want to be caught in.

It's also completely at odds with his self-chosen code name of Will Smith, but shush.

"But no matter how much my dignity is suffering, my intent remains unaltered: to lead the group of you into this and get our job done quickly and safely," he says. His tone is even and serious, and despite the contacts hiding the yellow of his sclera, his look is one of focus. "We've gone over our skills, you have your instructions, and I trust you bulgebites to know what you're doing. Use your discretion: if you see something you can help with that doesn't interfere with your job, do it. And above all, look out for each other."

There he falls quiet, holding the silence for a good couple seconds as he looks from face to face. He's nervous - how can he not be, with something like this? - but going on despite the risks is what they're there for. He didn't volunteer as leader to let that show through.

"The mission is important, and we all have a job we want to get done here, but I refuse to let anyone go down or get caught if it can at all be prevented. Your lives aren't replaceable, and we're not here for martyring ourselves. We fight together, we do this together, and we get out together. Understand?"

Initiate: Group Leader, Fighter | Open

[carnagecarnival]

When he finally, finally stops going about fussing over everyone and every little thing-- "Fix this stance" "NEEDS MORE MAKEUP AS FOR HERE" "-and we'll take the turn here as for when-" "No, no, non-lethal"-- he sits down upon the ground and folds his fingers together in what would be prayer. Would be but for the way he stares into nothing and he's not rocking but there's a distinctive bobbing with his head and horns if one looks close enough.

Enough time passes and his eyes close. His breath comes out slow, and he rises, seeking again the attention of everyone, though not in desperation. He'd not stop those who would turn away. He knows he is the only faithful. But that has never been enough to stop him from lessons in need of imparting.

"Done and done and done so thrice and once more was the leading into holy resurrection. THOUGH THROWN, THE BLOOD OF THE FAMILY REMAINED SO OF THE ANGEL'S AMALGAMATION RIGHTEOUS. A miracle upon the whole of the universe though its wings didst spread not. WE GIVE PRAISE FOR THE COMING LIGHT AS WE DO THE MOTHERFUCKING DARK, REASON OF THE CROWD HELD CHAOS. we inhabit and are inhabited both by mirrored being. FOR WE ARE MIRRORED MOTHERFUCKING BEINGS, AS THE FUNAMBULISTS HIGH, SPREAD APPENDAGE AND PUSHER BRACED TO RACE AND ROAM THE DEIGNING OF THINE WILLING. We, all, are made up of secret things as what even we ain't never to know, but Messiahs see truth! IN YOU AND I AND ALL, THEY SEE WHAT IS MOST MOTHERFUCKIN LEGIT. And I, as their preacher. AS THEIR CHOSEN VOICE, BY THE GOSPEL WHISPERINGS WHAT HAVE GRACED THIS PAN, THAT WHAT AIN'T, YET IS TO BE MANIFEST AS IMMEDIATE... I am meant to impart this at to you."

He starts uncertain. The pious noise has always come easy with him, but made of fear is he and these are not his faithful. They may not care. They may not heed. He is so very tired, so very sick with that very same fear in him that this might all come down. It is upon his face and he knows, coming to this point, he has worn down.

"THE MESSIAHS SPEAK TWOFOLD IN TWO VOICES. As what ushers soft and sure of sleep-silencing revelations. BY THE CRIES WE CALL BEFORE OUR BATTLES BEING MANY IN MULTITUDE. Both as important. AS PARAMOUNT. As the other. THEY BALANCE PENULTIMATE, A TURNING WHEEL! For all the dark there be, light will come. FOR ALL THE LIGHT, A DARK MOTHERFUCKING CARNIVAL! And so potential shall be in every and all. AND SO WE MAY SEE BOTH FACES MIRTHFUL AS SO IS WILLED OF US!"

As was his own cycles. His own redemption by his friends. Just as Beforus became Alternia. Just as this place can become something else altogether.

"Of our own, we can see new form in being, and so realise we have always been. TOGETHER, WE MAY SPIN THE SUNS AND MOONS EVER FASTER AS THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLANET WILL SEE NEW DUSK AND DAWN! For as Messiahs will and gift, we are meant to change. WE ARE MEANT TO GROW AND ALTER AND SO EMBODY THE DUALITY THAT IS OF THE MOTHERFUCKING UNIVERSE! We will turn their false peace to war! WE WILL TAKE THEIR FALSE HOPES AND MAKE IT TRUTH! We who know death and yet are only of life. WE WHO KILL OUR LOVES BUT KNOW THE PAINTS HERE ARE NOT OF BLOOD IN THEIR BEAUTY DESPITE, AND THAT WE MAY AND OUGHT EMBRACE THOSE CLOSE EVERY DAMN DAY AS IS GIFTED TO US! We who believe even the silent, as we all, deserve to be listend to. WE WHO NEED ONLY TO BE SHOWN OUR WINGS AS ALL TO FLY, WHO WOULD NOT EVER TRULY ABANDON THEIR OWN, WHO WILL GIVE CHANCE EVEN TO THOSE WHO HAVE WRONGED US! We... who are a family."

He lets that settle upon them, upon any who will and may be listening. This was what they were. What they could be. He doesn't know if the tributes have worked in tandem like this before and he doesn't know if it will work. But he has hope. He has faith and belief up in these people. And by this time, whether they are listening or not, his words have grown strong.

"WE WILL BEAR FANG AND CLAW, BUT WE WILL NOT FORGET. There is good of this world as any. THEY HAVE BLESSED MANY OF US BY OUR COMING HERE. And so we must offer back to them freedom as all we take it on for our own. THIS WILL NOT BE THE FINAL STRIFE, NOR THE FIRST OF BLOWS! But a grand part of the cyclic path as for what is next to come, this shall be. MY ALLIES, FRIENDS, AND MORE, THAT WE MAY ALL TOGETHERLIKE RISE THE FUCK ANEW... let us wreck their shit. CAN I HEAR AN AMEN!?"

He closes his eyes, holds his breath, and in any silence to follow, he listens to the words what have guided him all this way anyway. The words of his family as he promised he'd not forget. The words of them what all he fights for.

Aang: Collector, Fighter | Open

[actually112]

Collecting

Aang is surprisingly good at subtle trickery when he wants to be. He's good at it because he knows how to incorporate the things he needs to do with his usual behavior and no one's the wiser. No one finds it strange that he's getting weird things from all over the city because he always does that. When he picks up medical supplies, he's also getting paper mache and a bag of colorful magnets. When he gets a lot of clothes, he also gets a bedazzler and a pair of pretty scissors. People who see it don't notice because Aang's being Aang and probably just has a weird idea for an art project.

As he walks along the street, smiling and sometimes blowing newly acquired bubbles, he just casually passes by blind spots and 'accidentally' drops some of the things he's gathered in neat, camouflaged packages. No one's the wiser, because no one thinks that Aang is capable of subtlety, and he knows exactly how to not be seen in plain sight.

Preparing for the Fight

Aang is particularly recognizable, so Jolie had to work some magic. Aang is now a pretty little girl. He's not entirely comfortable with this transformation.

Between makeup, clothes, and a wig, all the arrows are hidden now. Aang is wearing a black wig that sweeps out around his ears--short to minimize anything an attacker could grab--and enough makeup to minimize masculine features and maximize the feminine (which isn't hard, since he has yet to really develop anything too masculine in his face). He makes for a very pretty little girl. He wants to be grumpier about this than he is, but frankly? This isn't the first time he's dressed in drag in front of a bunch of people.

He finds a perch in a high place where he sits mostly out of the way, crossing his legs into a lotus position and taking a deep breath. For once, he's not bouncing everywhere or bothering someone with a new game to play. Now, he's calm and breathing and already halfway meditating as he waits for everyone else to get ready, keeping his ears perked in case someone wants to talk to him or he hears any commotion.

"Avatar Kyoshi, grant me your wisdom," he says softly to himself. Somehow, he feels like Kyoshi is the best person to call on this time.

Samuel | active distraction | open

[broken_gospel]

Fuck, what is he doing? He's spent so much time laying low for the sake of his family, and now he is about to hand himself over on a platter to the peacekeepers. He's already on the watchlist, he knows he is. He was always under suspicion because of his attitude, his family the only safeguard that he wouldn't do something stupid because he can't watch them die. He just can't.

And yet here he is.

He's a big guy, sure. Strong, but he's got nothing on trained fighters with actual weapons. He knows he's going to get caught. What's going to happen to his sister then? Her husband? Their son. Fuck, what's going to happen to Linus...

He finds a place to sit and rests his head in his hands. This is it. This is really it, he's going to die. Pay for all the lives he's taken at last.

He thinks about Trey and feels guilt rip at his heart. It could've worked, couldn't it? They could've had something. And now the poor guy is going to be another name on the list of people he's hurt.

Fuck.

Sandy Marko // Collecting & Open

[justoutrunyou]

Sandy has been around this city more then a few times.

She pays attention as best she can when stores open and close as they frequently do in The Capitol (Capitol citizens are known to start new businesses on a whim and then abandon them once they stop being fun or creatively fulfilling) and she pays attention to the peacekeepers when she sees them on her way around town.

It's easy enough then for her to move around the city unnoticed especially as her celebrity status has fallen somewhat in the last few months. It seemed like without Pruna around she just wasn't as interesting to the public anymore.

Using a small set of paints she would find the blindspots and mark them with a small star or a moon. Something subtle enough that most capitolites would just glance over it without it a second thought.

Then it was just as easy as slipping a bag out of her pocket to leave behind a trash can or stuck in an air vent. She didn't know what some of these components were or who wanted them, all she had was a "shopping list" and locations to move them to.

And if she should happen to run into anyone involved on the way, maybe she'd say hi to make sure she still seemed casual.

Ruffnut Thorston: Fighter and distraction

[ruffntumblenut]

Of all the gathered volunteers on this mission, the Teenage Viking felt most out of place.

In the months that she'd been in Panem she'd not made very many connections to any of the other tributes and that was her own fault she supposed. Maybe it was too late for all that.

But it wasn't too late for her to finally fight back the way she'd been longing to since day one. The blood in her veins was roaring with generations of DNA from ruthless barbarians and Berserkers. And perhaps more dangerous was she felt like she had nothing to lose.

Firo Prochainezo: Collector | Open

[foundafamily]

Being involved in all manner of shady business back home, Firo can be more careful than someone who's heard him running his mouth might suspect. It's one of the few times looking small and relatively nonthreatening is helpful.

He'll spend much of the day flitting around the city and ducking into the stores. He's careful to mix in a fair number of visits to more frivolous stores with nothing he needs, just in case someone's watching. As he works his way to the drop offs, he's careful to double back, loop around confusingly, and keep a careful eye out for anyone on his trail. He knows he can't risk being followed.

He does his best to remain inconspicuous at the dropspots, carefully positioning himself out of sight of the street where possible and causally leaning against a wall and scrolling through his device when it's not. Though he tries not to let on, his mind is focused on his peripheral vision to look out for anyone picking up supplies as well as anyone suspicious.

Kieren: Collecting and Open

[walking_dead_walker]

It helped that Kieren hadn't been in many arenas, and the one he had been in, he hadn't made much of an impression. He mostly hid, then suddenly went violent and was nearly instantly killed. Sure, people still recognized him as one of the tributes, even with his heavy layers of cover-up to hide his rotten flesh, but they didn't know enough about him to know what sorts of things he'd usually buy. Many of the things he'd purchased for people needing materials for disguises were things he used anyway, when he was trying to look less corpse-like. Contacts, make-up and the like. As for medical supplies...well, a quick explanation that he was trying to patch up some of his more rotten bits was all the explanation anyone needed to not want to think anymore on why he was buying those things.

Of course, he doesn't want to look too suspicious. Even though many of his bags end up 'forgotten' at various drop off spots, he gets a fair number of things that he'd normally get. Canvasses, paints, brushes, some music and other little things that made it look more like a regular shopping trip.

Bruce: Stylist, Healer | Open

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"It's your turn to be disguised. Sit down." He waves at the nearest person who's been waiting a turn before looking at the clothes available to him. Compared to most of the other stylists, he uses relatively little makeup. He basically only uses it to cover distinguishing marks and maybe bring out some features over others. He'll put on enough makeup to make someone passable as a Capitolite from a distance, but not so much that it might hinder their fighting. The last thing they need is to start sweating glitter into their eyes.

"What size are you and what are you going to be doing?"

Sam Wilson: Fighter/Healer | Closed

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[Nesting starters for people under here to save space.]

Gary: Collector | Open

[a_minute_younger]

Some of the collectors for this mission signed up probably because they knew where to go not to be heard, or could swindle and casually carry loads of contraband without looking suspicious. Gary is not so subtle. He's done this before, and while it's never been for something quite so precarious (something he tries to actively forget), he still knows what he's doing.

Or at least, he thinks he knows what he's doing.

Gary does his work at night. The darkness and random music and scrabbling noises of the cramped city alleyways do a much better job of hiding his presence than he could ever do on his own, with the added bonus that people, in their attempts to keep others out, have built an exceptional obstacle course to keep him occupied along the way and discourage anyone from following. Gary isn't much of a collector, you see--he's a runner. Things need to get from the collectors to the rest of the Tributes as quickly as possible, and Gary knows how to make that happen. Dressed down in black, bandana over the lower half of his face to cover as much as possible, he stuffs what people give him into a messenger bag clipped tight over his back and bolts through the back streets to the next blindspot. He's glad to find that, although his abilities have been taken from him and he can't run nearly as fast as he used to, he's still plenty agile enough to scale fences and run along short walls and shallow rooftops with relative ease. The city is still his playground, and no Peacekeeper is gonna pull him down this time, not if he can help it.

After taking a detour along what looks like an exciting series of fire escapes and staggered balconies, Gary realizes that maybe he's had a little too much fun in his playground. He's kind of lost. The teen stops and looks around, pulling down his bandana so he can better catch his breath. His panting echos in the relative silence of the narrow side-street. "Should be around here..." Gary murmurs to himself, scratching the back of his head.

Hopefully whoever he's trying to meet is around and catches him before he wanders into some trouble.

THE BREAK-IN AND DISMANTLING

[gamemakers]

The facility is heavily guarded. There are peacekeepers on patrol and cameras watching for suspicious activity. The wired peacekeepers, jumpy in the dark of night, will shoot first and ask question later. And really, you don't want them asking any questions either.

The doors require passcodes keyed in electronically-- but thanks to Wesker’s help, the passcodes are known and the team may gain entry.

The halls are lit up bright for a stretch, leading on into a large open sector with a metal balcony all along the windowed top area and a staircase going down. It is here, under the much dimmer orange lighting, that the devices can be found; large machines lined in rows of indescribable shape. Could they be canons? Bombs? Missiles? Something else? It's not clear, but underneath each, a panel may be broken into. Further dismantling will reveal the inner cores, marked with numbers 12-01-00. Wires surround this mass, meaning removal will need to be done carefully. Once done, a small red light on the outside of it will shut off. The core can be broken, revealing little more than hardware on the insides.

[Closed] 002, Giedi, Harlem

[metalicarus]

It was the zero hour and time for the teams to move in. Jet found himself wishing for his accelerator and an easy way to knock out any guards who happened to get in the way safely and easily. It would certainly take some stress off, but wishing for it didn't mean it was suddenly going to happen. Besides, they had enough, between their arms (literal or otherwise) and the trust between them. They'd get in, clean house and get out in no time.

Jet looked from Sam to Initiate (repeating in his mind the codenames they were using, he couldn't afford to slip up and say the wrong thing in the heat of the moment) and flashed them a smirk that used to be common when he was younger, the kind of smirk that said he was ready to pull the most reckless option in front of him and the thought thrilled him.

"Ready, boys? Let's go break all their toys."

Aang: Fighter | Open

[actually112]

If there was any doubt that Aang deserves his place as a fighter, it should be dispelled now.

He's silent when he moves, but he moves fast. If a peacekeeper notices them while he's closest, even one with a gun, attacks are swift and effective. Kick to the knee to bring them down to his level, grabbing and twisting their wrist to break their grip on any weapon they have, and a quick crack over the head with the butt of their weapon. Utterly nonlethal, but very effective. In the tough cases, he's not above breaking a peacekeeper's arm or leg to get the weapon. The last thing these peacekeepers see is a cute little girl hitting them with their own weapon.

When they finally get to their goal, he stares at the massive machines in awe for a moment before looking at one more closely, frowning at one of the panels.

"Just breaking this would be bad, right?" he whispers softly to the nearest teammate. He'd like to be able to help with deactivating machines, but from what he knows of them, they might be explosive. It's probably best if he just listens to the engineers they brought along.

Nitou: Fighter | Open

[infinitemayonnaise]

Breaking in is a thing Nitou knows how to do. He can handle that much, even if he's not the stealthiest guy around. (Let's face it, getting in there quietly had probably required that someone Haruto clamped a hand over Nitou's mouth before Nitou could fail to control his volume here and there.) But he'd happily punch a Peacekeeper or two if given the chance.

But dismantling these machines without just smashing them? That's not at all his cup of tea. He can force open the doors and get to the wires inside, but once he's got those exposed, he's just going to stare at them. Careful isn't exactly what he's best at.

Venus | Fighter | Closed to Sam Wilson

[celebrityskinned]

Her very blood seems to hum along inside her to some tuneless music, the rhythm her heartbeat, the measure each breath she takes as she moves not from aimless inertia but from actual purpose. She still feels as if she's a oujia piece, dragged by forces she doesn't understand, but there's a promise embedded in that strange motion, a belief that somehow she's doing something worthwhile instead of just biding her time waiting.

She slips through the hall like the shadow of a bird, quick and soundless. The grace she shows in the Arena gives way to something less artful and more efficient as she no longer has to play pretend for the cameras. Asymmetrical makeup obscures her face and she starts to work her way past a locked door partway down a hallway.

"Four Sugars," she says, turning quickly to see if the person right behind her in the dark hall is friend or foe, prepared to rush forward and try to outrun a taser or worse.

THE ESCAPE

[gamemakers]

You didn't really think you would all go without notice did you? All at once, the inner building comes alive, spotlights on the far wall snapping to brightness like the eyes of a beast. The sounds of approaching peacekeepers can be heard distantly. Alarms start to ring. With all the rows and rows, there's no way every one of the cores have been removed. It doesn't matter, there's no more time. If escape isn't claimed now, it may not be so at all.

Bullets fire into the room, even as the sharper of peacekeepers curse and warn of the threats that lay in rows. There's but one way out, a wide vertically opening door. The button to open is on the opposite side of the room. Thankfully, someone's already pressed it....

Steve's last stand

[gamemakers]

It takes no time for Steve to realize the situation, how the threat is closing in and if not for those doors, they'd be cornered. By the time most people have begun to put two and two together, Steve's already across the room to hit the button and open the doors.

Yet, it's when he's pressing the button that he realizes exactly what he's signed up for, the button to open the door is the same as the one to close it and it can't be left alone. No, it has to be guarded less one of the smarter Peacekeepers decides to prematurely cutoff their escape route.

Knowing his position is now set here, Steve calls out to the others, to his group, to anyone willing to listen, “Everyone! Clear out! I need people to help the wounded get to safety! Those able to offer cover, hang back and do so, but don't linger any longer than you have to!This isn't our time to stand and fight but to choose to fight another day!”

His words don't falter even when pain from a well aimed bullet catches his side. He keeps his ground, even as the numbers against him increase, having to fight tooth and nail to keep the button safe, to cause enough of a ruckus to draw more enemy eyes and give the others a chance to escape unimpeded. Even as fire erupts to life near by, Steve never loses his focus.

“Ain’t no time... AIN’T NO TIME LEFT!” The Initiate shouts from nearby. “They’re coming! SHUT IT, NOW!”

One quick glance around and Steve sees what the other man has, very few of them remain behind and to keep the doors open any longer is allowing the peacekeepers to make chase. It pains him to close the doors on the few stragglers, but there's no other way about it. So, without a second blink, his hand slams against the button once more.

He could race for it, escape, but he knows his place is here, to keep the peacekeepers occupied until those doors finish closing, to continue fighting to protect the few who remained behind. Which suits him just fine, he's never been one to run from a fight. Not even the losing ones.

THE RETURN

[gamemakers]

The Mission is over. Whether it was enough to save District Thirteen and stop the Capitol remains unclear. Regardless of it being worth it or not, now is the time for people to heal and hide what injuries they gained, for disguises to be removed, and for reunions to be had.

If there is in fact someone to reunite with.

Merlyn: Collector/Healer | Open

[knittingbackwards]

For all his studied steadiness, Merlyn was not a patient man, and he struggled to keep himself still with everything else he knew was going on. Once he'd dropped off the last of his parcels - it was remarkable how easy it was to go unnoticed as a senile old man, even one prone to anti-Capitol speech - he settled himself down near one of the blindspots, and started to knit furiously. It was something to do. As he knitted, he muttered, the picture of a grumpy, but ultimately harmless, old codger.

But the moment he saw someone approach, he was on his feet, knitting tossed aside. "Well?" he demanded, looking them up and down.

Sandy Marko // healing & Open

[justoutrunyou]

It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done trying to act like nothing was wrong when every cell in her body was screaming that she should be doing something.

But everyone had their jobs, even her. And her job right now was to follow the advice of her mentors.

Stay calm.
Never let them see you sweat.
Don't let them see how bad they're hurting you.

She would idle around the common area of the tower with her tablet pretending to play the latest new game, but her mind was focused on watching for people returning from the mission. They couldn't give way that they were involved in any way and that meant no signs of injury either.

Hopefully Sandy's better understanding of first aid would be enough to help with that.

Closed to Sam

[metalicarus]

Everything had been going so well, it seemed like they'd definitely put a dent in the Capitol's plans and Sam had gone off to take care of Bucky and his friend, he'd be fine. Those last few minutes were hectic, but electricity branched through him as he felt the night air on his face again and Jet kept running right into freedom and that euphoric feeling of having a mission success.

And then came the chirp of the device in his pocket, the sound of a broadcast being sent out. He ducked into an ally, gauging himself far enough away to be as safe as he was going to be and leaned against the wall as he turned on the broadcast. And suddenly a vacuum not unlike space closes in around him.

As quickly as it had rushed through him, the feeling of success and joy and pride is sucked right back out, leaving a void in his chest and a buzzing in his head. The screen is black and Jet numbly shoves the device back into a pocket. The news Sam had given him that Albert might, in fact, be alive and well, the surge of familiar adrenaline born from a mission he didn't realize he was longing for, the feeling he'd had when they'd dismantled those weapons, it's all swallowed in the emptiness and hollow fragility that now choked him. The same feeling that had threatened to suck all the air and life out of him when he'd woken up after the arena.

But he'd been right behind him.

Jet had run and kept running because Initiate was at his back and he trusted his brother would be right there with him all the way out. Even once he'd realized they weren't together anymore, he'd still trusted Initiate had gotten out. If Jet had known, he wouldn't have left, he would have stayed and fought and maybe-- He jolted off the wall and stepped out of the ally with half a mind to run back and bust back in. If he went down fighting for his family, then it'd be worth it!

Except he couldn't. He paused, eyes frozen in the direction of the compound and where Initiate was currently either being arrested or killed...and he stepped back into the ally. There were others in his family, if Albert was really waiting in 13...but even if not, there was Sam who Jet knew had already been hurt by the thought of Albert's loss, Initiate meant the world to them both and if Jet went too--It'd be selfish.

This had been Initiate's choice.

A flashfire of anger saw Jet turning and punching a metal fist as hard as he could into the brick behind him, leaving a noticeable result in it's wake. But then that too is sucked into the void and he simply slips to his knees, arm pressed to the brick and his forehead pressed to his arm. His eyes stung and he tried to blink it away but hot tears still fought their way out and smeared orange and black paint on their way down.

Joly| Trust him! He's a doctor! ...Kinda

[medecin]

For all that Joly's knowledge of botany, and the medical procedures he learned at home has been useful to him in the arena, it's here that the Capitol's medical training can be put to some decent use. It strikes him as hilarious in some ways, that he's using some of the things he was taught against the Capitol, as he busies himself setting up medical supplies in between offering treatment.

It reminds him of the barricades a little, at least the most recent version of them and he swallows back the idea that he'll have to do things which have no guaranteed success. But this isn't Paris, and this isn't an Arena and he has the proper tools and access to all but the diagnostic machines he doesn't know or understand how to work anyway, though he'd wanted to learn very much.

At any rate, he's no longer an almost doctor, but a student, here with new things to learn ,and new things that he'll be able to use in the practical sense here. Who wants to be his first patient so he can try out his new expertise?