*Sorry folks not a new story. Just fixing some mispellings I noticed. If you see any mispelling or grammatical erorrs. Please tell me! I hate mispelling/gramatical errors in stories. It's a pet peeve of mine.*

*I do not own any rights to Avatar the Last Airbender. Just borrowing character names =) Review if you want to.*

I was having a quiet and perfectly dull morning, as always, when he appeared out of nowhere. He walked up to me and said in the deepest voice I ever heard, "I'm not exactly what I seem to be." Let's rewind for a moment here: there is a man. At least, I believe that this person is a man. It looks like a man at least. It would be extremely awkward if it was a woman to say the least. Who is dressed as Darth Vader... Yep, Vader, you heard me right. Whoever this person is they sure carry themselves as Vader no wonder that the streets are cleared out. As if one of those westerns my brother and his friends like to watch. I look up at him (I'm assuming it is a he and will continue to call him till he says otherwise) because he is six feet tall, and being fun size, I kinda have to look up. Then I utter in a dry reply, "Well, you sure look like what you seem to be."

He replies faintly, "I don't know what I am. My so-called 'friends' knocked me out and put whatever this is on me! I don't even know what I'm in, but it is something grotesque because whenever I walk up to people they run away crying in fear. Please, good lass, tell me what I am portraying."

I talk a breath and calmly say one word, "Vader."

While I'm speaking, he goes as stiff as a board, and says in a calm, deep, baritone voice, "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope," I pop my 'p' and he groans, falling to his knees on the cement sidewalk. Then, with hands clasped together, he starts to beg.

"Please help me please, this is worse than I had imagined!"

I take pity on him and calmly reply, "calm yourself for a second. I'll help, just let me look for the latch on this helmet. That should help immensely with the situation." He lets me take his head and with my fingers I gently probe for the latch. Finding it, I unlatch the helmet from his head.

Suddenly he holds the helmet to his face and says very quickly, "I have a scar on my face, so I apologize if it disgusts you." Wow, this poor guy has been through too much it seems.

"Don't worry; I'm a photo journalist so I have probably seen worse. Though if I jump away, it's not because I'm disgusted, it's just surprise;(I take hold of his hand to enforce my words. Then I cock my head saying in a calm voice) it does take a while to get used to seeing a face, you know. " He relaxes a little bit. I release his hand. Then I resume what I had been doing. Taking his head in my hands again I slowly take the helmet away.

I admit I'm not surprised; he had warned me that the right side of his face has a burn scar. It does not however make me jump in fear. Instead I smile when he opens his eyes. He sighs in relief when I don't jump away. I put my hand out, "hello Mr. I'm-not-exactly-what-I-look-like, I'm Katara. What's your name?" He grins, slowly takes my hand, shakes it and says,

"Hello Katara, my name is Zuko. Sorry for freaking out." He gets up smiling, and all I can think is that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Fin.