GRITO DE FOGO

By OMFG-Roach

A/N: Well, here I am with another 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' fan fiction. The title, if you're curious, is Portuguese for 'Cry of Fire' (the literal translation). Now, since I don't believe in spoiling things for you, I'll just be a tease and give you a few hints:

The setting is in Brazil.

This is an AU fic set in modern times.

The names are as follows (with ages) :

ZUKO: Zach Emberson (23)

KATARA: Katrina Aquãl (22)

SOKKA: Saul Aquãl (24)

AANG: Antonio Vento (21)

TOPH: Tina Terraflor (21)

IROH: Isaac Emberson (65)

And more as the story goes on.

Now with that over with, I just need to do one more thing…

O NOEZ TEH DISCLAIMER! (Run for life!) : I don't own anything but the story line (and yet I shall be the one to slay Bryke, the Twin-Head Demon!).

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CHAPTER ONE: 'DESEMBARQUE DO INCÊNDO AVES'

I yawned. Flying to São Paulo Airport straight from Baltimore wasn't what I expected, much less preferred.

Of course, I'm never one to complain, anyway. By the time I got to São Paulo, all I wanted to do was go to the hotel and hit the sack. I was that tired. I made a mental note to drink some more coffee to shake it off after I disembarked the plane.

I checked my watch. It was still set to Eastern Standard Time, so I was off.

The time I left Baltimore was around 1430 (2:30 PM).

The time I got to São Paulo? Looking at one of the local clocks I found at the airport, 1930 (7:30 PM). And that's local time. To me, it felt like it was much later. (And that, kids, is what jet-lag does to you.)

The taxi ride from the airport to the hotel left me a good look at all the buildings of a foreign city whiz by in a blur of lights, sounds, and colors. It was amazing at how fast we were going on the inside, but to onlookers on the outside, it seemed as if we were causally rolling along.

The cab driver looked back occasionally, so I got a good look at his face. He had the usual, run-of-the-mill-Brazilian taxi driver-thing going on: Grey golf cap, yellow shirt, brown sport coat, khakis, black loafers, black mustache, big nose, small mouth, big chin, tan skin, ears-close-to-head. He kinda looked like the cab drivers I've seen in Baltimore. I remember wondering if he and the cabbies in Baltimore were a part of some alien race, because they all looked the same to me. Were they plotting to take over Earth? God, I hoped not. Because if they were, then I was royally screwed along with the rest of the human population.

When the cab got to the hotel, I was tired (like I said), but I was awake enough to at least be aware of what was going on.

Aware enough to know that I didn't know a single word in Portuguese to save my life. This came into play when it came time to pay the cab driver. As I grabbed some (US) money from my wallet to pay the man, he kept pushing my hand away, saying, "Essa não é a quantidade direita," ('That is not the right amount') or something like that. All I heard was complete and utter gibberish.

So I figured he wanted more cash, so I grabbed more money. Then it dawned on me.

I have the wrong money! Stupid, Zach, stupid!

Just as I realized this, the cab driver noticed, "Você parece como um americano. Eu vou fazer o passeio livre," ('You seem like an American. I'll make the ride free') and unpacked my stuff. To me, it sounded like more gibberish and more headaches. I was tired, I wanted to sleep, and I wanted to have a beer or two. A nice, cold beer…

I failed to notice the cab driver was getting back in the cab, but that didn't dawn on me until after he started the engine. Then I realized I still hadn't paid him, but by the time I ran up to the cab, he had already pulled out.

Great. I'm stuck in the middle of Brazil's largest city with no idea who's saying what, no money other than US, and jet-lag. Joy. Now, where to find a good beer…bah. I'll go beer-hunting later. I need some Z's.

When I checked in to the hotel and checked in at the front desk, I was surprised to hear the cleric speak English.

She was young, tan, and had black hair like the thousands of Brazilians I've seen so far (I swear, there must be some virus lurking about Brazil that changes everyone's hair color to black…but I think it's only the locals who are affected). She had a cute-looking nose (which I failed to notice yet again due to jet-lag), a nice looking body (Dear God…I think I want to thank you for everything good in my life as of now. Amen.), and her hair stopped at her shoulders. She was wearing one of those run-of-the-mill hotel cleric outfits with the white button-down shirt, long black skirt, black vest, and black heels. Her nametag read "Avila." It sounded classy, but I didn't care to notice in my jet-lag.

"Are you…Mr. Emberson?" she asked, her Latino accent apparent. She seemed to be unsure whether or not I was me. She smiled, nervous.

She must be a rookie. I'll make it easy for her.

"Yeah…" I confirmed, yawning. Man, I was zonked…

"Your room is 215 on the second floor," she told me, handing me the key to my room. Her voice didn't sound so insecure; in fact, I think it sounded like Latino honey.

I thanked her and heading to the elevator, dragging the roll-along suitcases I had. I tapped the button to the second floor.

As the elevator music played softly, I remember thinking about how my uncle, Isaac, would react to my visit. I mean, he was a nice guy (given that he had his tea), but I was really concerned about how he would react to my stay here in Brazil.

Or at least São Paulo, anyway.

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A/N: Thoughts? I'll add more in the second chapter.