standing room only [benchwarmers vs epa, day 3]

"Don't make me do this, damn it!"

If Jack wanted to be the one with Garner blood on his hands, he wouldn't have stepped down so willingly on their first night in the arena. The truth was that he wanted to keep as much distance between himself and them as possible- they seemed to be the most competitive with Emerson's numbers on the odds board at least in the pre-Games, and that's because they were as favored as he was. That meant they were more important to people like Gamemakers and Sponsors than Jack was, and so interacting with them in a negative way at any capacity was dangerous for Jack because even if he was successful in his attack, he'd still have to face the music with their fans in the days to come.

For all he knew, killing Jimmy now just made it that much more likely that a random part of the floor caved in with Jack standing on it later. He'd already seen dozens of examples of how the Capitol could manipulate basically anything to their will- a crashing elevator or a faulty vent shaft, or even some form of concentrated electrocution-wires crawling out of the power outlets- nothing was beyond the scope of possibility.

If someone like Jack was going to realistically make it to the end, he had to do it by making as many friends outside of the arena as he did inside it. Killing the fourteen year old cousins of victors while twelve year old relatives watched on in horror wasn't exactly the way to do that.

"Just stay back like I said! I don't want to hurt any of you!" But even those calling for a ceasefire kept their weapons raised and drawn and- inevitably- on the offense. He gritted his teeth. Jack remembered what it was like to be 12. He'd gotten his first cub that summer, started training just as much as he could before school started back in the fall. He could remember being 14, too. He had his first guest performance with the circus, a weekend exhibition. The thought, beyond the scope of it being them, Jack supposed he didn't want to kill anyone. And he didn't want to be the reason someone like them wouldn't get to live to see 15 as he had.

But at the same time, Machiavelli was looking pretty bad at this point and no one seemed interested in actually stopping this.

They didn't stay back, so Jack had no choice.

He hears what he shouldn't.

His eyes meet Wolf's, but they do not shine with betrayal or rage or even acceptance. He is just a boy looking at a girl that he values as a close friend, someone who deserves far more than the short years she has been given. And he knows, beyond this, he might very well be the reason she is sentenced to her brief life. If he claims victory, if he goes home, then he is damning everyone else to become a ghost. He reaches out a warm hand to place against her shoulder, the brush of his thumb over flesh that has yet to be torn. All of the people in this elevator are in the process of being unmade.

"I don't care about the odds." He offers her a smile, then, a last desperate attempt to spark hope in a cramped space that is trying to suffocate all sources of it. "I'd stand in a collapsing building with you. All of you." His gaze travels to Mac and Jack, trying their best to keep the advantage, lost in the flurry of blades and shouted words. There is too much carnage to be contained in this elevator. The last thing he will allow himself to do is abandon the people who believed in him enough to allow him to follow. He wants to be of use.

But he's not sure if he will be able to save anyone, hard as he might try. There are faces here that he recognizes even beyond his allies, people that in another timeline could have very well been his friends, too. It sickens him to pick certain lives over others, acting like some sort of jury fused with an executioner. He doesn't want any say in this, but his voice does hold power. His swings might not be as strong as the older boys', but he is still part of this conflict. He has a role to play. He doesn't think himself a savior, but he will try his hardest to be a protector.

"We go as one."