Hey guys! Sorry I've been really inactive lately, and haven't updated my other crap yet, but anyway... Lately, I've had this urge to write an A:TLA modern/AU fanfic, and I've got some really cool ideas for it, so hopefully it will turn out being one of my better stories when it's finished.

Annnnnyway, this is just a little preview thing (AKA-a rough draft that I was too lazy to edit, etc) that I thought I'd share with you guys, and don't worry, the actual thing will have better...Er...Word choice, she said, and hopefully won't be so short and rushed.

So, hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is very, very much welcomed...Please tell me what you think should be added, taken out, edited, etc. I would really like to hear your thoughts and comments on it and yea.

Feedback + Happy Airbender = Better Writer! :D

Also, happy Thanksgiving, and Merry (very) Early Christmas 2010 in advance!

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar, though I do own the ever-burning love for it deep inside my heart, soul and mind. But Bryke owns both of those. I think.

Go Bryke!

Ch1

Heat. Burning, scorching heat. That was all Aang felt as he awoke from his dreams. The heat brought with it an eery sense of dejavu, the feeling that whatever was happening had happened before. A wall to his right started to crumble.

The Southern Air Foster Home was burning. It was close to midnight when Aang heard the loud BANG! ringing through the air. He knew within a few moments that they had been bombed. He wasn't positive about who would throw a bomb into a humble foster home, though he was had a strong feeling that they were fire nation, or why, but for now, he didn't care. By pure instinct, all he cared about was getting out of there, and fast.

The twelve year old orphan scrambled out of bed, only to jump right back onto it, holding his foot. He held it up to look at it, and realized it was on fire a little bit. Aang, using his hands, quickly patted the fire out, and then hugged his knees to his chest, almost in tears. This was all too familiar. The cracking walls, his loved ones burning alive, or dead, around him, the heat. It was as if he was experiencing a very real flashback of what had happened to his home and his family. Cries of pain and fear around him, and people calling his name to get out. But soon enough, a CRRRRACK! and then another BANG! sounded, the flashback ended, and all was black.

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Square-" Click. "As you can see, this giraffe knows the direction of th-" Click! "Breaking News! The Southern Air Foster Home on South and Pole was bombed approximately 15 minutes ag-" Click! "Wait, what?" Click! "-o. No found survivors, one remaining missing person." "Oh, my God! Sokka, come here!" "What is it, Katara?" Sokka, a fifteen year old boy with gleaming blue eyes ran over to his fourteen year old sister, Katara, worried about her. Reaching her, gasping for breath from running through the house like a mad man. "What...is it?"

"The orphanage down the street! It's on fire! Look!" Katara exclaimed. "What?" Sokka yelled. "What happened?" "It was bombed!" Silence, and then, "Fire Nation..." By this time, Katara had a jacket on and was shoving one into her brother's arms. "Come on!" He quickly threw the jacket on and they ran out the door and down the street.

The destruction of the Foster Home was worse than either of them thought it would be. The building was completely destroyed, it had entirely collapsed, and now looked like a pile of cement, which was basically what it was. A few burned bodies of children and adults were scattered around, but those that weren't were layed in a pile. Firefighters (A/N: Waterbenders? Lol) had already put out the whole of the fire, and only small patches of grass remained aflame. Officers and Ambulance drivers were loading up the bodies, while others were simply standing, surveying the area.

Katara looked through the rubble thoroughly, and she gasped when her eyes met something yellow among the cement. She ran through the debris and small flames, careful not to be burned nor trip on anything. Reaching the cement slab, debri, and rocks that covered the yellow that peaked out from under, she attempted to uncover it, only to fail. "Sokka! Come help me!" Sokka was at his sister's side within seconds, and together, they lifted the heavy cement covering the yellow. But what Katara saw scared her, and she dropped the cement, crushing the yellow once more."Katara!" Sokka yelled. He grabbed her side of the slab, which now had a little bit of blood on it, and lifted it up, throwing the cement to the side with all his strength. But once what was underneath it had been uncovered, Sokka realized why his sister had been so scared.

A small boy, around twelve years old, Sokka guessed, dressed in a yellow sleeping shirt and brown sweat pants lay on the burnt ground. Blood covered most of his abdomen and parts of his legs, and one of his feet were badly burned. His shaggy brown hair was slightly burnt, and crimson blood seeped slowly out of his open mouth, ears, nose, closed eyes, and now the arm Katara had dropped the cement on. Scrapes and bruises covered his body, and there was a large portion of his shirt that was ripped and burned.

Sokka stumbled back a little bit, then walked slowly to his younger sister's side, grasping and squeezing her hand. Katara's eyes were still locked on the child, who looked as if he were dead. A few tears slid down her cheeks. She couldn't help but cry, feeling so helpless...and hopeless. Sokka slowly released his grip on his sister's hand, bent down onto one knee, and picked the boy up, bridal style. His head, feet, and arms just dangled over the edge, and Sokka's clothes received a few blood stains. Slowly, and carefully, Sokka and Katara turned to walk to one of the ambulances, but to their horror, realized they had all driven away already.

The only people left at the site were a few of the officers assigned to remove the remaining bodies, and some innocent bystanders. Katara walked over to one of the officers, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. "Yes?" came a deep voice, belonging to the officer, who was turning to face Katara. "Um, we uh..." she stuttered quietly. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. It felt like too much. Luckily, she didn't have to say anything, for the officer realized what she was trying to say when he saw the young boy laying limp in Sokka's arms.

Sokka's face bore a few tears, and Katara nearly burst into a million of them when the officer said, "He's gone. Dead. No survivors, didn't you hear? It couldn't be survived...Especially by someone so young and frail." Katara was about to attempt to say something, but was interrupted, "Listen, kids. I've got to bodies are all loaded up, and my shift is over. I need to get home. Either leave the kid or take him." The officer turned and walked to his truck, which now had a bed full of dead bodies. Sokka and Katara looked at eachother, both as if to say something along the lines of, "We can't just take some dead stranger home."

They were about to drop the body when it stirred, and a painful sounding moan escaped it. The young boy's bloody eyes opened a little, looked at the two, then closed again, in pain. Katara and Sokka gasped. He was alive.

Feedback, Puh-Leeze!

Thanks! Peace!