A/N- Hey people! I was just thinking of what to do for another fanfiction, and I got this idea! I've been planning it for days now and I've finally gotten myself to start typing the early chapters. Yeah, CHAPTERS. It's going to be this epic (hopefully epic) multi-chapter story.
Things you should know-
It's semi-AU. What I mean by that is it still has the four nations (they're just places, not homes to specific benders), but there isn't much Asian culture. ;)
Bending is handled MUCH differently. Everything will be explained later in the story.
The plot is twisted to my liking. There are very few things that happen like the show.
There WILL be romance. Cannon pairings, mostly Kataang. That all comes later though. 8D
That's all I got. I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender or its characters. I only own 90% of the plot line and some random sheets of loose-leaf on which I write my stories. XDD R&R PLZUMZ!!
Prologue- Grim Foreshadowing
The young man skidded to a stop when he reached the corner of the old building, his ebony hair tousled from running. His amber eyes darted around the seemingly deserted alleys, cautiously, watching. His breathing was uneven as he listened for any noises that indicated he had a follower. He flattened his thin form against the old brick, attempting to blend with the surrounding shadows, fingernails clawing into the old stone tensely. Quickly, he scanned the alleys once more before pushing himself off the wall and bolting off down the alley to his right, keeping his footsteps light and quick, lest he be seen or heard. He was almost there now; he recognized the familiar craggy buildings that symbolized the edge of town and the beginning of the dregs. Tall shadows from the crumbling buildings loomed over the quiet streets like jagged rows of teeth gulping its prey down into its gullet. The man slipped into the shadows swiftly, blending in as if he were part of the night itself. He knew he still had to be cautious even with the night shading him, for the secret police were everywhere today, jumping out when you least expected it and dragging you off to a horrible fate that no one knew anything about, or wanted to know about for that matter. Inwardly, he laughed bitterly to himself; the secret police would love to get their hands on him and not just because he had a high bounty on his head either.
Gradually, the man slowed his pace as he neared his destination-a weathered wooden door jammed into the granite walls of the building in which it was built into. Considering this was the hiding place of one of the most powerful resistance organizations on the planet, it was unimpressive to say the least, and yet, that was the advantage. Even if the secret police did manage to discover their modest hiding place, they'd never get past security if they attempted to sneak in. Everyone in the organization had a designated password and everyone's names were listed along with a photo ID. The man made a thorough sweep of the area around him with his gaze before knocking once on the wood of the door. In response a little door in the center of the top half opened, revealing a pair of shrewd green eyes.
"State your name and password." a man's voice ordered in a rough whisper. The amber-eyed man's face lit up in surprise.
"Vermeer! They put you on guard duty?" he hissed excitedly. The man named Vermeer's eyes bulged in horror.
"Shh! Not so loud Varjak!" he scolded under his breath. Varjak winced apologetically.
"Niropsoen." Varjak whispered. Vermeer narrowed his eyes at him before closing the tiny door and quietly pulling open the entire wooden door so Varjak could enter. He slipped inside as Vermeer closed the door behind him and stood a few feet from the threshold for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the interior. Varjak's gaze wandered around the room, taking in the familiar sights. The old wooden desk still sat near the door on the left, the clipboard holding everyone's names, passwords and photo ID's resting on its worn, slanted surface. The faded, green, quarter-circle couch had kept its place against the wall in the back, its pillows and cushions as lumpy as ever underneath the originally emerald, now a dark lime, fabric. The grand chandelier that still gleamed a warm gold despite its age and hung securely in the high ceiling over their heads, the dust and cobwebs just visible in the weak candle light emitting from the metal candle boxes on the wall. The tile floor was cracked in some places while in others, the tile was missing entirely. It was still the same sepia color and made the circular room in which Varjak stood seem very much like a large mud puddle. In the back of the room, opposite the door was the also dimly lit corridor leading further into the building. Everything seemed to be in the exact same place and condition as it was when he'd last seen the place five months ago.
Varjak frowned as his eyes continued to observe the room, though there really wasn't much to look at considering its small space and lack of much furniture.
"We really should think about redecorating…" he muttered. Vermeer snorted from behind him and Varjak turned around.
"Has working for that carpet maker finally gotten to you?" Vermeer drawled, raising an incredulous eyebrow and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Vermeer had a much stronger build than Varjak, having much broader shoulders and larger muscles. Even his squared jaw seemed strong. Varjak shrugged nonchalantly, and then grinned.
"It's possible." he admitted. Then his expression turned to one of greater seriousness. "So what's the reason they've called me here?" Vermeer sighed heavily, grimacing a little.
"It's not good." he replied gravely, running a hand through his wavy chestnut hair. "They're waiting for you; they'll tell you about it. I'd come with, but I've got guarding duties. Just head to the meeting room, same place it's always been." Vermeer pointed down the corridor and Varjak nodded.
"Thanks. Good to see you again." he said, raising his hand in a small wave before lowering it and walking down the corridor towards the meeting room in which the leaders of the resistance organization awaited his arrival while Vermeer resumed his post.
The corridor hadn't changed from its usual dim, cool atmosphere. The air was dry and tasted faintly bitter when inhaled. Varjak kept his gaze ahead, searching for the door to the meeting room. His eyebrows furrowed in thought and one side of his mouth turned down in a half frown. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this supposed bad news; the world was already in a moribund state thanks to the "Fire Lord" as he called himself and honestly, he couldn't imagine what could be worse than a dictator who could control fire. What more did he have to gain?
His thinking passed the time it took to get to the heavy oak door at the end of the corridor. He hesitated a moment, staring at the doorknob, then took a deep breath, readying himself for what was to come. He opened the door and stepped inside. The three leaders of the organization watched him carefully as he entered and took a seat on the blue cushion they'd prepared for him, identical to the ones they'd perched themselves upon. Unlike the circular room he'd entered when he'd arrived, this room was hexagonal with a swirling symbol carved into the ivory-colored stone floor on which he sat; the symbol of the resistance organization of which they were a part of.
"You called me masters?" he said, nodding his head once in respect.
"Yes." the chief leader said grimly, frowning as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant. His eyes were weary and tired, most likely from the war that raged. His aging face looked even more creased in the dim light of the room and his grey hair took on the color of the foggy dawn. The other two nodded simultaneously at the chief's words. "The Fire Lord has made plans that could drag the world into an incurably horrible state. He plans to find a phoenix, kill it, and take its power, allowing him to be the world's most powerful firebender and live forever. After he accomplishes this, he will be unstoppable." Varjak gaped in horror. Surely this couldn't be happening. Quickly, he shut his mouth, regaining his composure and swallowed his panic, keeping a straight face.
"Are you saying there is no hope master?" he asked steadily in a quiet tone. The chief sighed.
"There is one hope. But it's slim. There's only a small chance that it could work." he explained. Varjak stamped down the urge to jump to his feet in excitement.
"We have to try, don't we? We must do everything and anything we can." he said determinedly. The chief smiled admiringly, but sadly.
"You are a strong boy, young Varjak. And you are right, but you must understand that failure is much more likely than success." he warned, raising his index finger in the air a-matter-of-factly. Varjak nodded in understanding.
"So what is our one chance at winning this war?" he asked. The chief stayed silent for a moment.
"The only one that can help us is the Avatar." he finally replied.
"Who is the Avatar, master?" Varjak inquired curiously. The chief rested his wrinkled hands on his knees.
"The Avatar is a powerful spirit," he explained, "in the form of a human being. The Avatar has the ability to bend all four elements; water, earth, fire, and air. When the Avatar dies, he is reincarnated. He is the only one with enough power to stop the Fire Lord. The problem is, we have no idea who the current Avatar is and we know he doesn't know how to bend, otherwise we'd have heard about him by now since there have been no benders in over twenty years besides the Fire Lord. We can only hope that we can find the Avatar and his bending will be restored by his past lives."
Varjak had understood the chances were slim, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so literal. How this supposed to work? The masters were setting their hopes much too high, but it was worth a shot he decided. If it meant saving the world from a terrible fate, he'd gladly put his life on the line for the sake of saving it. He pulled himself to his feet and clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
"I'll find the Avatar." he said. The chief shook his head.
"Varjak, Varjak…you brave, foolish boy…" he sighed. Then he looked back up at the young man before him. "The road will be dangerous. You're a wanted man. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. I will allow you to go, but first you must know that the Avatar is marked with Arrow shaped tattoos on his forehead, hands, and feet. That is all we know. I wish we could have sent you off with more information. Good luck." Varjak bowed to the three leaders.
"Thank you, masters. I will try my best." he replied before leaving the meeting room to begin preparing for his journey.
A/N- Well that took freaking forever. XDDDD I feel good that it's done though.
Aang will come into the story in the next chapter. ;)
So did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Should I stop writing at once and pretend this never happened?!