Katara shoved the white powder into Charlie's hand. It was all there, in its unopened plastic bag, completely untouched in any way.
"Where's the rest?" Charlie grabbed her forearm as she turned to leave.
"What do you mean the rest?" Katara snapped. "That's all he gave me."
"Don't try and con me, Katara, where's the rest?" he gripped her arm tighter. "You know what happens when you deliver short."
"That's all of it, Charlie, I promise you. Take it up with him, I'm just the pack-mule." Katara snatched her arm back and glared at him, glancing back up the dark alley. She hoped Aang would get the car soon.
"Well this isn't enough." Charlie turned his back to her.
"What? But my money-," Katara shouted out.
"When you deliver short, you regret it. That's strike one, Katara. Don't let it happen again." He looked back to her momentarily. "Besides, a girl of your talents can find … other ways to make cash."
"You son of a bitch-," Katara advanced on him, shoving her hand into her pocket for her pocketknife.
Charlie had a gun out in a second flat and eyed her up and down. "Hey, kid, just back away."
Katara gritted her teeth and turned on her heel. How were they supposed to get the money for Tony now? Tony was her other job, who expected money for giving her the stuff she gave to Charlie.
She dashed up the alley and breathed mist into the cold Brooklyn air. She needed to get out of this business. Her life was headed nowhere, and fast. An expensive-looking black Mustang suddenly peeled around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of Katara. She tugged open the door and climbed into the passenger side.
"Where'd you get this flashy thing?" Katara looked at Aang, then to Sokka and Toph in the back seat. Sokka was stuffing his hot-wiring tools into his pockets and Toph was looking out the back window to see if anyone was following them. Her green eyes glanced around quickly. It didn't seem like anyone was following them, despite the group of black-dressed men outside of a topless bar, watching them leave.
Aang leaned over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a wallet. He pulled out a drivers' license.
"Ozai Scorsese, forty-seven." Aang tossed Katara the wallet. "D'you get the money from Charlie?"
"He held out on me. He thinks I delivered short; we gotta go see Tony before Charlie sends thugs after my ass." Katara cleared her throat.
"We can't; Tony's out of town. Maybe Jet knows something." Aang of course was referring to Tony's son, who'd dragged Katara into the trade.
Sokka glanced back at the dust they were spitting up behind them. "Those guys saw us take the car, Aang." Sokka breathed out as he looked at Toph. Toph was kicking a briefcase in the foot-well.
"This is stupid, father. You have multiple cars, as good as, and better than that one." Zuko raised his only eyebrow. His other eye was scarred from an arson gone awry.
"The briefcase inside the car, Zuko, contained two million dollars from our last job." Ozai snapped, polishing his handgun further. "That's not the sort of cash you throw away."
Zuko sighed heavily. He'd seen the kids jack open the car, and he'd stolen cars at a young age too, and knew that they'd most likely report it the next day and leave most of its contents untouched. Then again, Zuko had been a very courteous car thief.
"Bring the child to me, and my two million." Ozai put the gun down on his desk. "Now, Zuko, I haven't got all day."
Zuko got up quickly. He knew better than to cross his father. The raven-haired girl had called to the boy hotwiring the vehicle, shouting that someone called Katara was taking too long delivering 'the stuff', which Zuko could only assume was drugs. This led him, as he walked the street with his Glock in his jacket, to think about the drug trade. His family were lowlifes, granted, but drug trafficking had always been beneath them. They were assassins, bank-robbers, catburglars, muggers, insurance-crooks, arsonists and much worse, but they'd always steered clear of the drug trade.
He passed Tony's bar and remembered roughly that a pug had mentioned the man was the top of the trafficking food chain, and if anyone was delivering, Tony would know. He shoved through the door and saw that most of the men in the bar were older men, watching porn on the black and white television above the bar. Zuko put his forearms on the bar and asked the bartender for Tony.
A man approached soon after the bartender fled through a door. This was a muscular, thin man who looked like a smackhead, with a messy, tangled head of brown hair. Zuko, being particularly fond of his messy, wild, yet somehow managable black hair was bothered by the man's shabby appearance.
"I'm Jet. Tony's my dad; he's out of town. I handle his stuff when he's out of town."
"I'm looking for someone called Katara." He eyed the man. The name was not common, he was sure of that. Whether it was a first or last name, someone would know it.
"I don't know nothin'." He leant against the bar with a smarmy smirk.
Zuko fingered his gun in his jacket, but instead pulled a couple of ten-dollar bills from his pocket.
"What do you know?" he slapped the money on the bar.
Jet swiped up the money and raised an eyebrow. "She takes packages from us to a guy called Charlie. If you're one of Charlie's goons, it's her you're after. I gave her all the stuff she was supposed to deliver."
Zuko scoffed. "Tell me everything about her last job."
"She showed up earlier, saying her guy on the other end said she delivered short this afternoon. I gave her what she was supposed to give him, he held on her with the money. She ran outta here, like Charlie was gonna send thugs after her."
"That's what happens when you deliver short," Zuko breathed, looking around. "Where can I find her?"
"Ah, she's homeless. Her friend usually steels a car and they sleep at the drive-in and abandon the car there the next morning. I was gonna send a coupla guys up after her, actually, since she didn't pay me." Jet leant forwards to glance at the television lasciviously. "Tell you what, if you go up and see her, you bring me my money and I can hook you up with whatever poison you want, no payment at all."
Zuko let a low rumble out as an answer. "I don't do drugs." He snapped, before turning for the door.
"Oh, you one-a those mafia kids, ain't'ya?"
Zuko turned quickly to look at him.
"Yeah, you are. Too good to get high, just low enough to murder and steal." Jet smirked at Zuko. "Sendin' kids who only get juvie to do their dirty work."
Zuko pulled a slight smirk of his own. "You are one person who's just begging for a bullet." He shook his head before leaving. He took off towards the drive in. He took a shortcut through a dark alley, cleared a tall wire gate and landed in the car park that shone a movie onto the wall of a nearby building. He spotted his father's black mustang and headed towards it. A bald boy with blue arrow tattoos all over his body was sitting on the hood with the raven-haired girl, eating popcorn and laughing at the movie. The boy that had hotwired the car was leaning against the driver door and looking off away from the film, into a clearing where no cars were parked, at a similar-looking girl on a cell-phone.
Zuko ducked and shot himself at the other side of the car, ducking and peering off at the girl, covering one ear and listening into the phone.
"No. No, Jet- no, I didn't. I told you, I don't do that stuff, okay? You know me, I've never delivered short before! Look, look, wait, no, Jet, look, I can get your money, okay? I just got a job, I don't have to pay rent, I can get you the money!" the girl stopped and listened closely. "No, don't do that- we- no, no, I'll come to you. Jet, this is ridiculous!" she pulled the phone away from her ear. The man had obviously hung up on her. The boy walked up to her. He was obviously her brother.
"What's up?"
"Jet wants me to deliver another package tonight. Pick me up at Tony's bar at five."
"Be careful." He patted her on the shoulder.
She nodded and took off. At least Zuko had one less to deal with. The girl's brother pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and stuck his hands in his pockets, walking up to the other two.
"Guys, Katara's gone to deliver another package." He seemed bothered by it. "We're picking her up at Tony's tomorrow at five."
"We have to stop this, you know? I mean, you got arrested last week for stealing that SUV, and it won't be long 'til someone catches Katara on possession, and probably dealing." Toph glanced at Sokka.
"Yeah, right, and we'll go to school and become lawyers. Face it, Toph, we all know where we'll be in three years time." Sokka looked between Toph and Aang. "I'll be in jail, Aang will be six feet under when those thugs catch up with him, You'll be in social services and Katara will be on welfare with food stamps and a handful of coke on her wherever she goes."
"Sokka, you know she doesn't do that stuff." Aang suddenly looked at him friend.
"It's a slippery slope, Aang. She'll end up dead then for delivering short." Sokka sighed heavily. "And I've seen the freakin' knife she carries around."
"Yeah, like we haven't seen your gun." Toph muttered. "Would you blame her after your parents died?"
Sokka sighed again. When he'd been twelve, and his sister eleven, they had been mugged and killed by a bunch of mobsters who liked their expensive adornments. Toph and Aang, who'd already been homeless, had taken them and showed them the ways of the streets. Katara had been deeply affected by the bullet she'd watched get shot into her mother's forehead.
Zuko stood up straight and walked up to them calmly. His hand was already in his jacket, holding his gun at the ready. Toph slid off the bonnet of the car and joined the boys in staring at the boy who pulled an expensive looking gun.
"I just want the car." Zuko explained quickly. "And you." He motioned to Aang with his gun.
"Why do you want me?" Aang asked.
"Just get in the fucking car, kid, okay?" Zuko ripped open the door of the car and motioned for Aang to get into the driver's side.
Just as Sokka wondered why his gun wasn't on him, he heard a loud blast that left him dumbstruck as the taller boy collapsed forwards with a thud. Katara stood behind the boy with Sokka's gun on her, smoking in her hands into the cool night air.
A/N: And this is what I call 'Streetlit Bloodshed'. If you like Zutara, read this and my other FF 'The Vacation'. Reviews are much appreciated.
Rhia xxx
