CHAPTER THREE:
The taste of blood spread in his mouth with a salty tang and a blinding explosion of pain. His head reeled back, his vision swimming with little bursts of light. He staggered backward, shaking his head to clear his vision, blood dripping from his bottom lip.
His opponent took his momentary dizziness to throw another solid punch to his chin. He avoided it this time, raising his wrapped, taped fists to ward off the blow. His reflexes were too slow to stop the force of the punch though, and he was knocked back yet another step.
The sparks on his vision faded out like fog in the sunlight, and he blew out a breath, licking the blood from his lip.
"That all you got?" he said in a punchy voice, breathing hard as sweat dripped into his eyes and rolled down his bare chest.
His opponent didn't reply, not that he'd expected him to. Bohai did most of his talking with his fists. And his fists had a lot to say.
Bohai scowled beneath the dark bramble of his beard, his hawkish green eyes narrowed beneath a beetled brow. The man was a good two feet taller than he was, brawny and hirsute. There was a reason they called him Bohai the Bear.
And there was a reason he was undefeated in the ring.
Shouts came from the smoky stands around the ring, most of them directed at him. They screeched and threw taunts, their laughter hawkish and grinding. He pushed the sounds away, focusing on the Bear with eyes that weren't exactly tracking anymore.
He waited, dancing from foot to foot across the makeshift ring, beneath the burning oil lamp that illuminated it. People called out bets, jeered his name and seethed on all sides of the ring, waiting for the knockout blow to come.
The Bear was known for his knockout blows. His last ten bouts had ended with his opponents being carted off on stretchers, insensible and bleeding. One man had had a crushed clavicle. Another, a concussion.
He had no plans on going out like those other men.
His eyes narrowed on the Bear, looking for weaknesses, waiting, watching... The Bear lumbered forward, his massive, scarred fists lifting. He danced away from the Bear, keeping his distance, trying to find something, anything...
He found it when the Bear swung at him, even though he was too far away to hit. He danced out of the way of the blow, feeling the air whistle past his face as he did. The Bear growled something unintelligible and swung again, but came no closer to hitting him.
A smile curled his bloody lips.
You're favoring that left knee, aren't you?
He danced away again, testing his theory. When the Bear lumbered at him, he saw the way he put down his left foot, with his heel barely touching. There was a limp there, maybe an old injury from another fight, maybe a pulled muscle.
It didn't matter. It was a weakness, and he meant to exploit it.
He let the Bear close on him again, the jeering and cheering growing louder, hands slapping the edges of the shoddily built ring on all sides. The Bear swung once more, but he ducked, swinging to the left and getting in a jab at the Bear's ribs. The blow didn't do much damage, but he managed to get behind the Bear as he clumsily tried to get his meaty body around.
His foot snapped out, hitting the Bear's left knee like a battering ram. The Bear cried out. He felt something crunch beneath his foot as he danced back out of reach again, just to see the Bear lumber at him, falter, and then sink to one knee, his face a mask of agony beneath his bramble of beard.
He didn't give the big man a chance to recover, spinning into a kick that snapped the Bear's head back. Blood burst from his broken nose and he slumped with a final, anti-climactic thud.
The jeering stopped for a moment as the crowd realized that their undefeated champion had just been knocked out. Then they went right back to screaming, pounding the ring, cursing him, or shouting his name.
The ringmaster, a greasy little man named Po, came sliding into the ring like a slug. He cupped the Bear's face, smacked it a few times and then took the man's pulse. A grim little smile twisted his rubbery lips as he looked up and nodded, then gestured for the healer waiting ringside.
Po stood and grabbed his hand, lifting it into the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We have a winner! By total knock out! THHEEEEEE BOOMERANG!"
The crowed cheered him as the healer and some helpers loaded the Bear onto a board and carried him off. The Bear was already stirring, looking punchy, his nose already turning black.
"My money," he said to Po, snatching his hand away and tearing his eyes away from the Bear as they carried him out.
"Of course," Po said slickly, reaching into the front of his grease-stained green vest. He pulled out a stack of Yuans bound tightly with a leather cord. "Five hundred Yuans, pretty boy."
"The prize for knocking out that bear in people clothes was for a thousand," he said, narrowing his eyes as he spat out a mouthful of blood onto the ring. "I may be pretty, but I'm not stupid."
"You know, you got a lot of nerve, kid," Po said, sniffing. Then he peeled off another stack of bills and shoved them at him. "Not a lot of sense, but a lot of nerve. I could use a man like you to fight regular for me."
"Not interested," he said, folding up the wad of money and vaulting over the ropes in one smooth jump. He landed with bent knees on the other side, straightened and started toward the exit. He didn't make it five feet when the doors burst open with a heavy bang. A group of black-clad men and women came pouring into the room.
"REPUBLIC CITY POLICE! THIS IS AN ILLEGAL FIGHT CLUB! YOU'RE ALL UNDER ARREST!"
"Shit!" he spat, shoving the money into his waistband and ducking back in the other direction. People were shouting, trying to find an exit as the police poured into the room. Metal zipped past his ear and caught hold of a man trying to climb over the rickety wooden seats, binding him and yanking him backward with a scream.
A woman in heels screamed to see him fly past her, and was knocked off of her feet by a chain around her ankle. She went zipped backward down the aisle and into the hands of one of the cops.
Another metal chain whipped past his face, but he ducked, rolling into a crouch. He had to get out of there. He couldn't be caught. There would be questions...
A lot of questions...
"HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!"
"You ain't takin' me, you pigs!" someone shouted, and bright flame bloomed up with a flash, blasting straight at one of the police officers. Something metal flashed between the officer and the flames, rising into the air like a shield. The Firebender put on more heat, bending a torrent of fire at the shield, but it remained steady and then started advancing forward.
The Firebender snarled, dug in his feet, but was no match for the wielder of the metal shield. The red-hot metal slammed into the Firebender and knocked him backward into a tangle of chairs. The metal shield cooled instantly, bent and then reformed into a rough pair of metal gloves that encased the Firebender's hands with a clang. Another strip slapped over his mouth.
"Get that one into the wagon!" a familiar voice said, her bare feet scuffing on the floor as she walked forward out of the shadows, her left hand rising, even as the Firebender was yanked off of his feet by the metal gloves on his hands. He hovered two feet off of the ground, his eyes rolling in his sockets.
Shit. Not her...anyone but her...
"Yes, Chief Beifong," one of the officers said, taking control of the prisoner. The Chief of the police scowled and cocked her head to the side. Her blind eyes turned in his direction.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
He sidled along the front of the ring, as people shoved and jostled at him, trying to get away from the police officers spreading out in every direction.
"You! Lay down on your stomach and put your hands on your head! NOW! You're under arrest!"
Sokka glanced at the officer who had noticed him, groaning inwardly.
Well. This is going to fucking suck.
He pretended not to hear, sidling back along the ring again, trying to make for the door they'd carried the Bear through. There was another exit by the back door, and already the people closest to the back door had escaped through it. If he could just...
"HALT I SAID!"
Metal chains clanked in his direction, but he dived forward, rolling into a crouching run. The metal pinged on the hard stone floor with a flash of sparks. As he hit his feet, another chain caught his wrist, wrapping around it with a jolt that tossed him against the ring.
He cursed and whipped around, grabbing the chain and yanking the metalbender toward him. The cop dug his heels in, attempting to reel him in. Inch by inch, they fought each other. A fresh wave of sweat broke out over his chest and forehead as he strained, his wrist aching, fingers going numb. The chain bit into him.
"You're...under...arrest..." the cop huffed, but he gritted his teeth.
"Not today," he said and spun into the cop's insistent pull. The move was dangerous, showy, but stupid in most fights. He normally would never have used it, but the metalbender's concentration was on the chain. He had left himself open.
The spinning kick was nearly horizontal, a flurry of limbs and feet. His foot connected with the metalbender's face, much the same way it had the Bear's, only at an angle that took off some of the force of the blow. The metalbender cried out, falling back with a zip of the chain, his control on the metal momentarily loosening.
That was all the opening he needed. He slipped the chain and charged back toward the back exit.
He didn't make it.
It was near dawn when he was shoved into a metal chair in a little room that could best be described as depressing. Everything was metal or wood, from the floor to the ceiling. What little light there was came from a single shuttered lantern in the ceiling that gave off a sullen red glow. The table before him was metal and dented. He didn't appreciate the way the manacles on his hands lifted and connected to the metal table the moment he was seated.
He glanced over his shoulder at the two officers who had brought him in from the holding cells.
"Thanks, boys. You're doing a swell job," he cracked.
"Shut it," one of the officers snapped, slapping him on the back of the head. He was pretty sure that the officer was the same one had grappled with him; the bruise on his face was already a nasty black.
"Police brutality," he mumbled as he leaning back in the chair, his leg bouncing as he lifted his eyes to the woman seated before him on the other side of the table.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Tran. Leave us," she said, jerking her head toward the exit. The two officers grumbled and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them. When they were gone she calmly clasped her hands on the table in front of her, her pale green eyes focused somewhere on the table between them. "Someone said you were the winner of the fight last night."
"I was."
"And you're aware that underground fight clubs are illegal in Republic City?"
"Some asshole made that law, if I recall. You could say I'm aware."
"They said you went by the name 'the Boomerang.' Clever."
"They give you any other name?"
"No. But I don't need one, do I?" she said softly, and lifted her face into the sullen red light. He could see the anger in her face, the barely checked rage.
Even though she couldn't see him, he felt the weight of her eyes on him, and looked down at his bruised and scabbed knuckles. Weeks of bare-knuckle fighting in the dirty underbelly of Republic City had left his hands a mess. He had been prowling the streets, from the illegal fight clubs, to back alley brawls, and in dive bars where the beer was cheap, and the faintest haze of opium rose from the basements dens beneath his feet.
He pulled a grimace, the dried blood on his lips cracking. His left eye was bruising. His bare chest was a mess of old bruises and knife fight scars. He tapped his finger on the metal table, waiting for her to say something, because he couldn't.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sokka?" Toph said softly, though he could still feel the heat of her anger. It wasn't just anger she was feeling though. He looked up at his best friend.
"I can't tell you that, Toph," he said, tapping on the table. "I want to, but I can't."
"That's not good enough, Sokka. Why the hell were you there last night? My men told me you're covered in stitches and bruises. What happened? Is this why you and Katara aren't speaking anymore?"
"Katara has nothing to do with this," he said quickly. "I told you, I can't explain."
"Why not?"
"Because you're the chief of police, that's why."
"I'm also your best friend."
"All the more reason to keep you out of this."
"If you think for one second I won't throw your ass into a holding cell until I get answers—"
"I want answers too, Toph. That's what I'm doing. Looking for answers. I'm close. I know I'm close," he said with heat in his voice. Toph went still, her head cocking.
"Is this about the Smoke Demons?"
"What makes you think that? They're gone. Arrested, scattered, or dead."
"Yeah, that's what Zuko and Aang would like to think, but you and I are a lot smarter than that. Or maybe I am. The evidence that you're an idiot is starting to really pile up," Toph said, crossing her arms over her chest. She scowled at him through the curtain of her dark bangs. "There's no way they caught them all. Did you find a lead? Is that what this is about? Are you after someone?"
"I can't answer that, Toph."
"You will answer me."
He sat back in the chair again. "I need a lawyer."
Toph laughed a little, an annoyed look on her face. "You don't need a damned lawyer. You need to get your head out of your ass. You were a city councilman, Sokka... If it gets out that you were at an illegal fight club, this could ruin you!"
"You think I give a shit? I'm not on the council anymore, Toph. I don't care—"
"Then what about Katara? What about Aang? How is it going to look if the Avatar's brother-in-law were caught doing something illegal? There's going to be reporters all over this story. If they find out you were there, that you were fighting... Aang doesn't need that, and neither does your sister! She's worried to death about you, you know. You won't talk to her—"
"It's for her own good."
"That's bullshit, Sokka! I know what you're going through, what with everything that happened to you in the Fire Nation. I know that was hard. I know you've been struggling. But you're driving everyone who loves you away. And you're obsessed with the Smoke Demons."
"You said it yourself, they're not gone, not all of them, Toph. I can't just let it go!" he barked, clenching his fists on the table as he leaned forward. "I need answers! I need someone to pay for what happened in Rinchaka Falls!"
"What if there aren't any answers, Sokka? Did you ever think of that? What if the only answer is that that crazy Firebender just blew up the goddamned town for kicks, just like he'd set fire to other places, other towns? You said so yourself. That was how he got his kicks. People died, and it was a tragedy, but you're seeing shadows where are none."
"I know what I know," he said through his teeth. "There's more to this than that. I know it, Toph."
She sighed. "Maybe there are Smoke Demons out there haven't been caught, but the people who pointed the Fire Bug at Rinchaka Falls are dead. They're dead, Sokka."
"Lady Shura and her sons are dead, yeah. But I saw the Fire Bug after the explosion at that depot. I saw him. He had no idea what would happen. He had no idea what was in that depot. The man who should have known, the one who sent us to the village, was an agent named Baz. Why did he send us there? What was in that depot? I have no idea. It haunts me. I need to know!"
Toph rubbed at her lower lip with her thumb.
"Was this Baz arrested?"
"No. Lady Shura used Mai to kill him. Shura knew Mai was a double agent the whole time, remember? Anyone Shura had no more use for, she'd drop in Mai's lap. Mai thought she was taking out the Smoke Demons, but she was being used as an unwitting assassin. She killed Baz for what happened in Rinchaka Falls, but it was Shura's idea."
"I don't imagine that sits well with Mai."
Sokka laughed a little, thinking of the last time he'd seen Mai. "No, it doesn't."
"That leaves you with a lot of unanswered questions."
"And blood on my hands. And nightmares I can't shake. I have a lead, Toph. I have a small lead, someone who might know something about Rinchaka Falls. What I'm doing... I need to keep doing it, or I'll never get close to him. I may never get answers."
"Then let me help! I have the whole police force, detectives..."
"I can't get you involved in this, Toph. I'm sorry, but I can't. If I thought you could have helped me, I would have come to you before this, you know that. If this guy smells cops, I'll lose him."
"But you shouldn't do this alone."
"I'm not alone."
Her eyebrow lifted in question. "Who are you working with?"
"I can't tell you that. I wish I could, but I can't. Toph, please..."
Toph blew out a breath and rolled her neck, making it pop.
"You need me to drop all charges, and let you go."
"It would be helpful."
"I ought to throw your ass in a cell until you get some damned sense," Toph said, shaking her head. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"That's not the plan."
"It never is," Toph said darkly, and then shook her head. "Okay...I'll drop the charges—"
"—thank you—"
"—IF you go see your sister," Toph finished, lifting her dark brows. Sokka groaned and wiped his hand down his bruised face.
"She won't want to see me. Not after the last time."
"You're both stubborn asses, but trust me... Katara wants nothing but the best for you. She's worried sick about you. We all are. You haven't been the same since... Since her."
Sokka stilled, his bruised and bloody hands clenching on the table, his chains clanking. "This isn't about her."
"Please. Everything you do is about her," Toph snorted and whipped her hand out. The chains unhooked from the table, and clattered as they fell from his wrists onto the metal table. He shook out his hands and rubbed at his wrists.
"I'm over her."
"And I'm the virgin queen of Ba Sing Se," Toph said, standing with a scrape of her chair legs on the floor. She put her hands flat on the table, and regarded him with her blind eyes that saw so much it could be unsettling.
Sokka scowled at her. This wasn't about Azula. It wasn't.
Azula was long gone, a memory, a ghost that haunted his dreams, who had left an aching void where she had once been. A void he'd tried to fill with booze, bruises and bare knuckles.
Sometimes he could even bring himself to believe the lie that he was over her, but only just. Sometimes... Sometimes he wanted nothing more than charge across the world, to storm the very walls of Ba Sing Se just to get her back...
But she was only mine that night...
"It's not about her," he said heavily. "It's about answers."
"I hope you get them, Sokka, I do," Toph said with a sigh. "I just hope the price for those answers isn't too high. They're not worth your life. Nothing is worth that."
Sokka reached out and took his friend's hand, squeezing tightly. Toph squeezed it back and then shook her head.
"You're an idiot."
"I know," he said apologetically.
"If you get killed I will murder you," she said, and that knocked a laugh out of him. He wasn't used to laughing these days, and the sound was rusty and tired. But it was enough to put her at ease.
"I'll try not to."
"Good," she said, and let go of his hand. He watched as she went over to the door, and spoke with her officers on the other side. He watched her for a moment and then looked down at his bloody knuckles.
Not worth my life? You're wrong about that, Toph. It's worth more than that. Somewhere, there's someone who knows what really happened in Rinchaka Falls, and I intend to find them. Even if it kills me. I have to.