Heavy Prey
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA. It belongs to its respective owners.
Chapter one: Bad Moon Rising
The rain pelted down mercilessly on the streets of Republic City, dashing the rooftops as the autumn wind carried the promise of winter to come. Large stone gargoyles endured the onslaught, mouths agape in ugly, perpetual snarls. What had once been a noble's palace was now an ancient apartment building.
Another figure was keeping the gargoyles company tonight. A young man with jet-black hair, pale skin, and bright, piercing golden eyes. He crouched, nearly as motionless as the stone sentinels themselves as the freezing rain lashed at him and blew the tails of his long black leather coat out into the wind, the only thing about him that was animated at that moment.
In spite of the thunderclouds hiding the moon from his sight, Zuko felt a shudder. Two more days, and the Change would come over him. During this time, his senses, smelling and hearing namely, became sharper, keener, more acute. He would need to drive far away from the city, and then he could let the Wolf run free. He could feel it inside him right now, pacing, restless, agitated. Soon, he soothed. Soon, I'll let you out, and you'll be able to run beneath the moonlight. I promise. Just a little longer.
The moon had always held her sway over his kind, beckoning, calling, commanding them to cast aside their human skins in favor of the beasts inside them.
He was forever condemned to exist on the fringes of society, always separate, always apart. The were wasn't one given to flights of fancy, but he sometimes wondered what it would be like to have been born human; to not be forced to yield to the wolf, where raw savagery and primal instinct ruled in place of human sensibility and logic.
The sharp tang of ozone pierced his nostrils, signaling thunderbolts to come. He did his best to ignore the driving rain and wind chilling his heated skin so he could focus on his target. He was on a mission, and he intended to fulfill it; nothing would break his focus.
He was a predator, and therefore had cultivated some patience over the years; perhaps from the part of him that was wolf. The wolf, in its wordless fashion would whisper to him. Wait. Watch. Listen. Know the right moment to strike, or you will lose your prey.
And wait he would, even if he had to sit here on his precarious perch all night. His keen eyes cast about the streets, seeing nothing suspicious, only people with umbrellas in varying shades of gray and black...until...there! His uptilted eyes narrowed as he spotted a young woman chatting on her cellphone beneath a purple umbrella while a rather unsavory individual stalked after her, not having bothered with one himself. A very pale individual, who moved with an inhuman, almost liquid grace through the throngs of people, as they seemingly unconsciously parted to make way for him, and then closed back in behind him after he'd passed.
Zuko felt a snarl threaten to rise in his throat. Vampire, he thought in revulsion. He had suspected as much. There had been killings in this area of victims being overpowered, dragged to a secluded location, and having all their blood drained from their bodies. Zuko had been tracking this particular case for two months. His hand went slowly to rest on the comforting weight of the gun holster at his hip, where one of a pair of twin Berettas rested, each fully loaded with a clip of silver nitrate bullets. Silver was anathema not only to his kind, but to vampires as well, and it would kill just as dead as a stake to the heart or a beheading.
As the rain began to clear, Zuko watched as the young woman paused below him to put away her umbrella, along with her cellphone. The vampire had stopped and hidden behind the corner of the building. He looked twitchy and nervous-his eyes hollow and hungry. Zuko was reminded of a junkie looking for his next high.
Zuko's hatred for the vampires knew no bounds. They were no more than mindless monsters, sucking blood from humans with careless abandon. Filthy, disgusting vermin without any respect for life.
And what does that make you? Something inside him countered. It sounded distinctly like his Uncle's voice.
One of his kind's most sacred laws was to never kill a human. The penalty for breaking the law was death.
Zuko felt bitter, long-buried memories begin to surface within him, flashing before his mind's eye.
A forest in mid winter, the moon hanging full and gibbous above the trees and bathing the skeletal trees in ghostly light. Two black wolves running side by side, playing, nipping, wrestling. Male and female; a mated pair, pledged together for life. The male is powerful, muscular, large, while the female is smaller, and moves with a fleet footed grace. She is beautiful to behold. She runs from him, looking over her shoulder at him, bounding through the snow into a frozen field. He goes to chase her until suddenly there is the loud crack of a gunshot echoes throughout the woods, and she falls, crashing to the ground, yelping in pain. The male immediately begins to run to her, but skitters to a stop when a bullet narrowly misses him. He pauses, confusion and terror filling him. Another shot shocks him into action. A human word comes to his lupine brain. Hunters. These are hunters. His mate lays in the snow, bleeding and whimpering. She can't get up. He makes another move to go to her, but a third bullet zips by him, and instinct (or perhaps the part of him that is Man) screams at him to run, run for the trees, and he heeds that call, bolting for their relative safety. He finally stops, and turns to look back. His mate (the part of him that is Man calls her "Mai")is lying there. She is still. Too still. Her eyes stare blank and sightless. She is dead. The two hunters emerge from their hiding place and one of them picks her up by the leg, and the wolf feels a snarl rise within him. How dare they touch her!
There is no grief. There is only a white hot, blinding, killing rage. There is only blood and retribution. There is only the strangled screams of dying men and their blood staining the snow as their throats are torn out, and their bodies lie twitching in their death throes.
Zuko forcibly composed himself, banishing the memories and the terrible grief that came with them. Now was not the time for such reflections. There were times where he ached for his old pack, knowing that he could never return, never redeem himself in the eyes of his father for what he'd done. His uncle had encouraged him to leave and never return. Zuko had thought that running was the coward's way out, but he'd had no other choice. He'd signed his own death warrant, and he knew that his father would be his judge, jury, and executioner.
The rain had let up some, but this part of the street, thankfully, had been cleared of people. The vampire had followed his prey into the subway that ran below the city. With no human eyes to witness his descent, Zuko seized his opportunity and rose, stepping off his ledge and free falling six stories to the street below. While such a fall would have almost surely killed a human, Zuko merely landed on the wet cobblestones with the preternatural grace and elegance that his kind was imbued with, not even breaking his stride as he began pursuing his quarry. He felt a wild thrill of anticipation.
The hunt had begun.
A/N: And so begins my epic Zutara werewolf AU! This idea has been hovering at the edge of my psyche for the last three years, and I've finally decided to drag it into the light of day. This is only the first installment. Also, this chapter is a shout out to one of my all time favorite movies, Underworld. So...I'm kind of nervous about where this fic is going. I'll try to update as frequently as I can. Reviews, of course, are always deeply appreciated. I've always thought Zuko would make an awesome werewolf. I've seen Zuko as a vampire, but never as a werewolf, so here is me taking a crack at it.
Also, I kind of suck at longer pieces, so this fic will be the biggest challenge I've ever taken on!
And I'm rambling like an idiot. I'll shut up now.