Jack arrived at the house shortly after Chris, and he brought nothing with him but the essentials in a black backpack on his bike. He hadn't had a clue what to expect from the house itself, but it definitely hadn't been a mansion in the desert. Inconspicuous it wasn't, but that might work to their advantage, in the end.
The news of the explosion had hit him in a quiet, numbing way. He'd been working with the students at the school, even enjoying his work. He'd liked teaching them. He'd been a bit fond of how driven they all were, in their own ways. He'd gotten to know them, heard stories about their families. Now they were all dead, all of them, and only because someone wanted to kill every trainer in the building. Thirty people were dead because someone wanted to kill the people in this room, the only ones left alive.
It sparked a quiet anger in him, an old anger, so familiar that it registered on the surface only as a kind of weariness. People who didn't deserve to die died and died. It was unpleasant, the parallels in it, between what was happening through the door for Jason and the explosion here. He worried for Wren and Luke, what Luke's association with the team might mean for his safety, for Wren's and for their children's.
The news that the CIA had summarily thrown them all into the fire wasn't shocking, necessarily, not after what had happened in Mexico. It was disappointing, though, and kicked up more of that old anger. They'd been willing to cut thirty eager recruits loose to lose the dead weight of a few compromised agents. It was ruthless, and it made him feel a fine settling of grime on his soul. He'd ricocheted between legal and vigilante work so many times that going rogue yet again didn't worry him. It drew a grim set to his mouth, because he knew what such work could lead to for him personally. He would have to be careful. Already on edge from the death on the other side of the door, this chaos and potential madness would be something he would need to move through carefully.
He didn't even consider saying he wouldn't be game for whatever came next. There was no sense in running. He'd already devoted plenty of his life to that. He simply watched Max, and listened. Seeing her walk into the room had given him the first relief he'd known since the explosion. And it wasn't only about seeing her safe. It was knowing that there was going to be someone in this house he trusted to get the job done, above perhaps anyone else.