thecapitol | [Open] There's Still a Fire Inside

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[Open] There's Still a Fire Inside

Who| Jet open, Albert and open and one closed prompt for Jet and Albert
What| Stirring rebellion
Where| All over the Capitol, especially blind and/or deaf spots
When| After Snow's post
Warnings/Notes| Whispers of rebellion. Due to the nature of the log, threads might be short as the intention is to rebuild the rebel network in the Capitol itself and start planning for some kind of action. Threads can be continued or built on in the upcoming breakout or plotted for after!

Jet and Open (Out in the Capitol)
There were people he already knew about, like Leo, who he could go to and pull aside. He went to them first. He hadn't even talked to most of them, but they'd shown their leanings in the past and that was all he needed to find them in a crowd.

He didn't leave a paper trail, a note could be found and followed by more than the intended recipient. He went by word of mouth. A moment on the street led to an invitation to a select spot, sometimes a place in the park, sometimes a noisy bar, sometimes right under the goddamn government's nose out in the open, but in a place that was too easy to pass over. It was ridiculously easy, all things considered, why would anyone suspect him? He was supposed to be half-mad and working for the Capitol anyway. Not only that, bars and smokey dives were his territory, it was easy to seem at peace in one. The only thing he had to keep in mind was his reputation: he was a loner, meeting with more than one person at a time wasn't an option.

That was fine, he'd find them one at a time and each conversation started the same. "Thanks for coming. Wanted to ask you something, but I got to share something first. Once upon a time, there was an asshole running the government of a powerful nation. He fucked everyone over who was under him and finally one of his 'victims' said no more. This story applies, more or less, to a couple different people from my world, but I got to know: does it sound familiar to you, too?" A story, innocuous and simple and easy to brush off if the answer was no. He doubted that was the answer, though.

Albert and Open (The Detainment center)
While Jet courts the adage of sowing seeds, Albert prefers to make hay while the sun shines. Or rather, while most in the Capitol with sympathetic leanings are too angry to let their fear override it.

He's been a boy scout on the outside thus far, perhaps to the detriment of his reputation among rebels, albeit one that clearly has the shadow of a Capitol threat looming over him, but really who of the off-worlders doesn't? They all have easily exploitable weaknesses. But they also all have the ability to shove that aside and do what they have to in order to be free, in order to liberate not only themselves but the Capitol, but Panem as a whole. It may be careful planning that guides a rebellion, but what feeds it is anger, raw and spurring.

So Albert does as he always has, walking corridors and standing about against walls, by all appearances simply trying to pass the time in the Detention Center between battles. He doesn't much leave the building. Maybe on occasion, if prompted, but in general he's a stoic presence with gears turning, mapping guard movements and schedules, visitors wanted or otherwise, and above all taking stock in who of the captive off-worlders might be entirely done with all this waiting around under a crazed dictator's thumb. If Snow's apparent immortality makes Albert balk, he doesn't show any sign of it.

If he finds himself in a position to do so, Albert may catch a potential ally - or even potential problem - in a hall or at a door. Someone who might want to help he gauges interest with, seeking to find out what they want or need. Everyone wants something.

"Did you see the broadcast?" he often starts, if the person he's talking to seems more likely to sympathize.

Alternatively, he may approach a Capitolite or known Capitol sympathizer with an open hand, seemingly eager to make an acquaintance that might end his stay here in the Detainment Center. "What can I do for you on this visit?"

Either way, he has something to say to anyone. And something to learn from them too.

Closed to Jet and Albert
Snow's broadcast was still fresh in Jet's mind, Hannah's face and unfamiliar voice still burning bright in his patched memory, when he found and cornered his husband. "Come with me." Jet didn't bother waiting for an answer, expecting he'd be listened to. He led them to popular Capitolite restaurant, something that would let them be seen but not necessarily bothered or watched. Just a married couple eating out; Jet held Albert's hand the whole way in.

"I gotta talk to you about something and you're not gonna like it."

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It's not surprising when Jet finds him and drags him off after the broadcast, the look on the blond's face enough to keep Albert from any protest despite having avoided going out into the city save when he was forced to make mandated appearances. It's hardly the time for a date, either, but they both know that's not why they're here.

He's patient, lighting a cigarette and waving away the waitress with a small painted on smirk that tells her they don't want to be disturbed but tells Jet he's listening. He takes a drag and exhales when she's gone, eyes trained on Jet. "What did you do?"

Because if Jet Link says he has something to say that Albert won't like, he usually did something.

Jet came up short in his thought process, his expression stuck between annoyed and incredulous. "Why d'you say that like it's gotta be the only option, huh? I could be about to tell you they're gonna put my life in danger for no reason."

He kept his glare level...but could keep it and directed it at the table between them instead. "Fuck you, okay, I did do something, but I didn't have much of a damn choice." He looked up then, a hand moving up to rub his face so it could even back out into something less suspicious as he pitched his voice lower so only his husband could hear. "Gotta do with Snow."

Not that Albert's attention was flagging - though he did give Jet an utterly deadpan look for his protests - but the mention of Snow has every iota of the German turned towards his husband.

"What. Did you. Do?" There's nothing dangerous in Albert's tone just yet, but there's a threat of frost making crystalline patterns at the edges; if Jet is in worse danger than they already are in general, Albert will make Hell itself pay, much less President Coriolanus Snow.

It took conscious thought with that ice in his partner's voice distracting him, but he laid a hand out between them like he was searching for the contact of a loved one in an intimate setting and not about to spill his guts over an assassination attempt.

"They sent me a message. Told me they wanted me for a job, a hit, said they'd pay me a pretty number and cover up anything they needed to for it." They hadn't promised that, but better to let Albert think Jet had been more careful than let on he'd been ready to kill someone for money and a chance to gain them some brownie points to keep eyes off them. Especially since he was sure those eyes were probably on them just as much if not more because of the job.

"I accepted, thought it might do us some good to have something like that in our pockets. When I asked who it was I was knocking off, he came into the picture. Snow asked me to kill him."

Edited 2016-04-05 20:08 (UTC)

Jet reaches out and Albert takes his hand, but with a bit of tightness. A bit of tightness that gets all the tighter for the blond's explanation. It's both of fear and irritation and Albert tries very hard not to let either show on his face. He mostly just succeeds in looking blank, but the hiss in his voice is very real.

"What happened to discussing these sorts of things first? And--" He interrupts himself as a pair of Capitolites walk closely past their table, clearly aiming to brush both of their shoulders just to say they had. Albert manages a tight smile that looks almost feral for the anger behind it. It's taken as coy and the pair move off, tittering over their pointless encounter.

Albert leans over the table, still holding Jet's hand tightly in his more as if he's trying to keep him from escaping than out of marital bliss. "He played you."

Jet kept his gaze down for the most part, his role a little easier to maintain when he was meant to be stoic and distant. A quick glance up from under long blond hair and it was enough to satisfy. Thank god for small favors.

Albert's grip was tight, but it was his husband's sharp silver gaze that felt more trapping. Like a cornered animal, Jet bit back in response, his rough whisper made rougher with his own anger at himself.

"You think I don't know that? You think I didn't think of that when the guy's own voice was telling me to do it? I got there-" he bit himself off as their waitress returned and he kept himself mostly quiet in front of her, playing the debilitated and half-scattered man he was supposed to be by Capitol official standards.

As soon as she was out of earshot, his gaze darted back up to Albert, his anger there instead of in his tone. "I got there and Terezi and some other guy--friend of Phil's, I think, showed up soon after. They were there to kill Snow and...I think part of him was scared I wouldn't be the one to kill him. So, yeah, of course I know I got fucking played, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Terezi," Albert comes up short. They'd talked about it before, about how she wanted everyone responsible for District 3 to pay, and there are few more responsible than President Snow. still, her making her way to the Capitol...

"What happened to them? Did they escape? I can't imagine any guards would allow it. Where was this, the Presidential Palace?" Or manor or whatever it was officially. To Albert, it's a palace. Despot always had palaces; it was an effect of ego.

He forces himself to calm down, to think. "...no, they weren't taken. We would have seen them in the broadcast. And... well, you may have saved their lives in shooting first." They would have certainly been captured or even killed on the spot had Snow's plan not gone off the way he meant for it to unfurl. That is, using Jet as a patsy.

"Did they see you?"

"No." Part of him still regretted it, regretted that there wasn't a thing he'd left behind to let her know. He'd been a ghost and what if that had been the last time-

"I should have let them shoot and then helped them escape. I could have taken the blame for them and Snow'd be dead for real." He grit his teeth and burned holes in the wood between them from the heat of his glare.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was scared, okay? I didn't think I could say no and I didn't trust them not to do something to you if I blabbed or screwed up, so I didn't."

"We don't know that. For all we know, he could have just been trying to control the situation as much as possible and could have been revived from either death, he just wasn't certain." Albert lets out a slow breath, letting go of his anger. He can see what he would do if handed the same offer and it would likely be much the same. His words ring a little hollow, but they still hold water. They just don't know what would have happened if Terezi had shot first, and likely never will.

"It's alright, Jet. Sparrow." He reaches over and takes Jet's hand, running his thumb gently over the back. "I appreciate you trying to protect me."

Even if he'd rather talk through it first and establish a course of action together, that doesn't make him appreciate the sentiment any less.

That dampens the flames a little and it shows in how the stiff way he'd been holding himself relaxes a tad. They couldn't know how it might have gone, but it's a thought that would stay with him until Snow's body was cooling for good. They just needed to make sure that happened next time.

"She's not gonna be too happy with me either." He says it a touch dejectedly, but knew it showed in his face too and quickly wiped it away with a swipe from his other hand. They were in public. On a date.

He pushes a smile forward. "One bit of good news: my aim's still damn good." That small smile still firmly in place as the evening crowd shuffled around, he switched the subject slightly. "We need to do something, Al. Something big. Something that'll hurt."

"She doesn't have to know, if she didn't see you." He pauses a moment as he reaches with his free hand to put his cigarette butt out on a bread plate in lieu of an ashtray. Terezi doesn't see anything. "Or, rather, her companion didn't."

"But I do agree otherwise." He lets go of Jet's hand to take out another smoke, neatly chaining the last into the next. That more than anything is a sign of the stress that weighs on the German here in the Capitol. "We'll use that still-good aim of yours when the time is right."

Whenever that might be.

Jet scoffed and shook his head. "She'll find out. She's Terezi."

He watched his partner light up anew and felt a surge of comfort in knowing he recognized the tell about Albert's mood. A strange sensation when he knew his husband was stressed out, but he'd take it all the same.

"Hopefully soon." They'd wait for now, he knew. They'd keep their ears to the ground and wait for an opportunity. But if one didn't present itself...well. Maybe they'd have to make their own.

"Then you'll have to tell her, too." Their waitress comes just in time, drinks in hand, then leaves just as quickly. This time of evening the club is starting to fill up and it serves their purpose as the place becomes louder and they're able to talk more easily without being overheard. Especially if Jet is going to proclaim his wanting to shoot people.

"Whatever the case, what's done is done. We'll deal with the fallout and opportunities as they come." Or they'll have to make them, but that, at least, they can't talk about here no matter how loud it is.

Jet made a face at the thought and his imagination quickly provided several different scenarios, some of them more violent than others. Of course, worse than her sword through some part of him would be her Disappointment. Maybe he'd try to avoid telling her as long as possible.

Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. There was nothing either of them could do about anything right now, except maybe enjoy a nice dinner out for once on the Capitol's bloodmoney.

"Yeah." One day at a time, that's all they could do.

To say that Leonidas Cora was enraged when he saw the message was the understatement of the century. He could see through President Snow's "gift" for what it was: to give himself and his trusted people, to give the Capitolites immortality. Fuck the Districters, they can continue dying in the Hunger Games and now the Offworlders were stuck in the proverbial limbo, never getting a proper final rest. He could feel the fires of hell coursing through his Districter veins, as all love for the Capitol evaporated in a sea of lava. The indoctrination was broken by this selfish desire to escape the inevitable, so when Jet approached him in a blind spot, he let out a harsh laugh.

"Sounds a bit...familiar, I've heard one of my dead tributes talk something like that," he had no reason to hold back his rage or disdain, he was a loyal kool-aid drinking District 2 coach. But the intent was there, he wanted in on whatever it took to take Snow down.

It was like a small flashfire, an old spark ignited in Jet with Leo's words that caused a bright smile to cross Jet's face, one he hid and wiped away with a swipe of his hand. They had to be careful, even a blind spot wasn't as safe as it used to be. Plus, if there were any extra eyes on him for what he'd done, he needed to make sure he seemed as much the blind follower he'd been only weeks before as Leo had been.

"I don't think you know how long I've waited to hear you talk like that. I know they've screwed you over, I'm sorry. But I can only help if you're ready for me to, pal."

"As someone who can't just come back to life whenever he steps on a mine, or gets torn apart by the enemy," Leo barely contained the choice words he had in mind for this, "You can understand why this announcement is a kick to the face and everything else in between. You have my support, what are you planning?"

Because blood needs to be spilled and there's a dark humor about all this: stupidity and overconfidence usually end up meeting quite well with death. And if Snow can't die, well, there's a few rounds of entertainment. To say that Snow or any Capitolite couldn't die, grab the popcorn.

Jet smirked, but it held sympathy. "What? Don't trust them to be able or willing to bring you back forever? Don't you want to be immortal?" The sight of Hannah coming back to life despite her being a native still hung bright in his memory. It was wrong when they did it to the offworlders, but at least they knew the 'how.' Here they didn't and it felt wrong on every level.

"We're planning something violent. There's information to spread to those on the otherside and information to spread here in the city and we'll need something big to distract while that information makes it's rounds. It might end bloody, it might end worse than even that. Still up for risking your life for old D2?" Last chance to back out. War was hardly a pleasant business.

Jet spoke the keywords: violent and District 2. Leonidas was born to die in the Arena not for the sake of the Capitol but for his home. His alliance towards the central government was tenuous at best even before the war.

"I want to die and be remembered, living forever just takes the fun in that," he agreed, "I'm already a cripple and a Districter, I've probably got everything to lose in this venture. But for my home, you know how far I will go. What do you need?"

He's not backing down from this, friend. He knows his days are set and there's an old saying with friends back home: go big or go home.

Jet nodded. He didn't question Leo, not anymore. They were on the same side of this thing, finally.

"Alright." He didn't want to say anything in case they were overheard, but he definitely couldn't write it either. When it came to terrorism, you didn't leave a paper trail.

"We'll need help setting it up when it goes down. It's still in the planning stages, I'm meeting with what Capitolites will see me to get as much information as I can, but as soon as we've got all the pieces in place and more than a half-assed plan, I'll be getting in touch with the details." He smiled. "For now, I'll just be glad you're with me on this, coach."

"Better not mess this up, Jet. It's not just our sterling reputations put on the line," Leo spat out as he readied himself to leave the blind spot. It's about making sure that the Capitol listens to just how fragile their sense of security really was. They were not above Panem, and the offworlders had gained the right to be in this nation. Quite a long way from when Jet and Leonias met.

"I'll keep my ear on the ground. You and your husband, stay safe. I'll be seeing you later," he bid his friend farewell in his own way, "And make sure those Capitolites are worth your trust."

Because even before this war went down, Leo had learned not to trust most Capitolites.

Maybe it's the fact that she's been in Panem for almost three years, but she's gotten very good at knowing when people are and aren't watching. The woman who's drinking at the bar isn't the light, sparkling ex-Mentor for District 10 who tries to play mother to Panem, this is Clara Murphy of Detroit in the same jeans and sweater she had been brought to Panem in years ago, and tonight she knows that, in the wake of Snow's broadcast, the eyes of the Capitol aren't hyper focused on a woman who's worked tirelessly to show her loyalty for them.

Tonight she can afford to be furious, and tonight she has a number of things to be furious about. Snow's intentions, the fact that she has suspicions about why she was specifically brought here that just make her feel sick to her stomach, the suspicions about why they brought Alex here for that matter.

"I think that story needs a real ending," she says, soft, but firmly, an edge of steel in her voice. "How about you?"

Similarly, Jet is dressed low key, something muted and more like his old self and not the pawn bought out by the Capitol. Even if there were a set of eyes on him for his role in things, they wouldn't see much from a pare of tired blonds sharing a drink in quiet company.

He offered a small smirk. "I think you're right. Are you ready to start going against the grain, miss 'soccer mom?' Cause I might have some good news for you."

Clara let out a small snicker. There were a lot of things she considered herself, but a soccer mom wasn't one of them (because one, her son played hockey, and two, she had never owned a minivan), but he still had a point. Trying to help bring down a tyrannical dictator didn't exactly go with her normal skills from home and definitely clashed with her image here in the Capitol.

"I think we could all use some good news at this point." She shifted slightly, tempted to look over her shoulder to double check that they weren't being watched, but managed to keep herself from doing so. "What did you have in mind?"

He wasn't going to grab her and stop her if she looked, that would have just made a bigger scene, but he silently hoped she'd resist the tells she was giving him. He was honestly surprised and a little impressed when she managed to keep herself facing forward.

He was even happier with her response. That was an onboard call if he knew one. Despite all her warming up to the Capitol, she gave him the feeling he could trust her not to flip on him and that was more than enough. Half of this was gut instinct anyway, what else could they rely on in a pond full of piranhas?

"A little espionage, a little sabotage. You ever see a James Bond movie? Kinda like that except fewer Bond girls and sex scenes and more blowing things up." He glanced over to her at that. "How do you feel about your ability to work undercover and fast?"

If Clara's learned one thing in her time in the Capitol, it's what she needed to do versus what she wanted to do. She needed to make herself look like an ideal Offworlder and Victor of District 10 to survive, to keep her loved ones safe. She needed to become a healer for the Capitol so she wasn't just a prop for them to stand up in front of a screen and spout off whatever they wanted.

Something inside her twisted as she thought it over. There's something about his wording that made her wish desperately that Alex was here. "It was always more of Alex's strong suit than mine," she finally said aloud. She's tried not to think about him as much these days. Not that she wanted to forget him, but thinking about him only left her with an ache that refused to go away, especially when paired with remembering how he had died. And even if, with the armor, Alex's undercover days were over, it had been his job for so long that it was the first thing that came to her. "Here's hoping he wore some of that off on me."

Alex there was a lost friend he hadn't thought of in a while. All of his lost friends were always there in his mind and in his heart, but he rarely let himself think of any of them specifically for fear of the hurt it might cause. Alex comes up in his mind now along with the regret of their last conversation. True, they hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but Jet blamed the brainwashing on some of that too.

Maybe, if he'd known Alex before the Capitol had gotten their fingers in his head, they could have gotten along a lot better. As it was, he still clearly remembered when he'd helped fix Alex's cybernetics and when Alex, in turn had helped a blinded Jet get back to Albert. Whatever their differences, Jet still considered Alex someone trustworthy and important to him. For his sake, if not her own, Jet would do what he could to protect Clara...even while purposefully leading her into danger.

"I bet you'll surprise yourself. Besides, it seems to me you've already got some practice just from being around all these wolves. Bet you're half wolf already."

As much as Clara tried to fight it sometimes, Alex was never far from mind. Sometimes it's something as simple as seeing or hearing something that makes her think of him, sometimes it's harsher and hurts, though it's rarely the sharp pain that it had been in the months following his death. Sometimes it's just thinking of him as another name on her list of those she's lost, alongside Clem and Loki and Rose and so many others who've left behind some sort of scar on her heart.

And really, if she thought about it, it's that list that keeps her going. It's not about vengeance, it's about justice. Or at least that's what she told herself.

"I think you might have me confused with another District's Victor," she said dryly. It was half a joke and half denial that she's let her time in Panem change her. It was one of those things that she didn't want to acknowledge, that her time away from home really had changed her. "But I'll do my best to fake it."

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[Open] There's Still a Fire Inside

Jet and Albert

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Out in the Capitol

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Out In The Capitol

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