BOOK ONE: VOID
CHAPTER NINE: FRATERNAL BONDS
The midday sun beat down relentlessly, baking the streets of Republic City. Outside Lion-Hound Holdings, Detective Malik drew a hand across his brow, inadvertently wicking a good amount of sweat onto the officer standing beside him.
An entire police squad had been dispatched to the bank upon receiving a tip from a well placed source. Malik was in command, eager to arrest the perpetrators. He checked his watch and glanced at the perimeter. Everyone was in place and they all knew their jobs. Malik grinned. It was a bold move, robbing the most secure bank in the city. The would-be thieves could never get past the safe. Once they realized the futility of the operation, they would exit unaware out the front door (or the back or the alleyways, police were covering every possible exit). A short struggle would ensue, the police would prevail, and the criminals would be hauled off to jail. Malik only hoped that he could somehow tie this crime to Boss Chin. It would be enough to bring down the Four Corners syndicate for good.
Faint noises emanated from the shaded porch behind the towering white pillars. "Here they come," he said softly. "Easy now." The robbers burst out of Lion-Hound Holdings, squinting in the bright sunlight. The police officers tensed, ready to bend metal chains and blasts of fire if the criminals did not surrender. Malik observed that the young individuals in fancy suits indeed did not surrender. After a pause, one of the boys raised a black tube and pointed it hesitatingly at the assembly of law enforcement.
"Spirits," whispered a young officer, "where did they get that?"
"Down!" barked Malik. "Back! Get back! Benders put up th-"
A sharp crack interrupted his orders, followed swiftly by an overpowering explosion that knocked Malik on his back. After a second he rose to his feet, wincing, and looked at the damage. His police cruiser was engulfed in black twisting smoke and bright flames lapped at the ruined engine. Malik cursed, dreading the paperwork he would have to do later. He looked around and saw that his squad was slowly getting up, more shocked by the explosion than injured by it. A few young officers were already hurling boulders at the thieves, but their shots went wide. The thieves themselves were huddled together. Suddenly there was a rumble and the concrete slabs folded up and over the group, forming a rough sphere. Boulders crashed against it, shattering on impact, but the people inside were untouched.
Malik was begrudgingly impressed. He turned to the officer beside him. "Get a wall up quick. They're going to try to roll out of here." The officer nodded and raised her fists. The pavement in the middle of the street folded up, exposing the bare earth underneath. The makeshift ball rolled down the steps, hitting each step with a hard thump. It came to rest against the wall, and Malik shouted for more barriers. But it was too late. The concrete sphere lurched to the left and started rolling down an incline. Malik ran to an idling cruiser, jumped in, and tore into gear. All eyes watched the ball continue onwards down the hill, picking up speed, swiping parked cars in its relentless escape before reaching the nearby docks and disappearing beneath Yue Bay in a great splash of foam and spray. The remainder of the police rushed to the waterfront in a desperate attempt to give pursuit.
No one noticed the patch of disturbed earth in front of the bank. The robbers had abandoned their poorly-made escape vehicle and escaped to the sewers beneath the city. Ali landed hard on the walkway while Choi closed up the hastily-made entrance. Someone lit a hand-fire, softly illuminating the panting and disheveled gang.
"That was amazing!" whispered Choi enthusiastically. "We got the cash and we got away! We're free!"
"Not yet," said Ali grimly as he got up. "There's one more thing we have to do."
Someone disagreed. "Speak for yourself. I'm taking my share and getting out of here." Ali gestured to his shot-tube. Even if the motion was half-hidden in the flickering yellow light, the implication was clear as day. "I speak for everyone." He grinned savagely. "Besides, without me you guys would be in cuffs right now."
"Alright, alright," soothed Choi. "Ali did save us back there, and I guess we owe him a favor." He nodded encouragingly to his comrades, who responded with half-hearted grunts of acceptance. Choi turned back to Ali. "I really didn't want to go to prison today, so I guess I'm in your debt. Where are we going?"
"Prison."
"Y'know, it's all a giant conspiracy." Dashtu's cellmate had been talking nonstop for the past thirteen hours. "They say Republic City's home to all four types of benders. Fire, water, earth, and wind. Okay, that's true, but who has the most power? You'd think Firebenders, right? Wrong." The old man sat back and caught his breath.. Dashtu sighed and looked through the heavy oaken bars of his cell.
It had all happened so quickly. The police had rushed him to the prison in the dead of night, ignoring his protests. He had been ushered to a wooden cell containing a sleeping occupant. Dashtu would have complained about the hard cot and lumpy pillow, but truthfully, it was better than his customary sleeping mat and bundle of clothes. Not that it mattered: Dashtu didn't sleep at all. Upon waking, his cellmate introduced himself as Hari and proceeded to launch into a ceaseless verbal barrage for the rest of the day.
"See, fire's strong alright, and it'll burn you for sure. But water puts out fire, no problem. And Waterbenders are more powerful than Firebenders. They got bloodbending, the best healing powers, and a whole ocean of the stuff to work with. But they're not the best either."
As Dashtu learned in Hari's fifth hour of dialogue, the prison cell was built out of massive wooden beams. They were sanded smooth to allow no purchase and coated with a heavy fire-resistant lacquer that made Dashtu's head swim. There were no windows, and the cell bars opened into a dimly-lit hallway filled with identical cells. Dashtu licked his dry lips and said weakly, "What about non-benders?"
"What about 'em? They don't matter; they're a non-entity. Now Earthbenders…"
Dashtu let the man drone on as his thoughts returned to his predicament. He wondered if Ali was okay. It had only been a day, but his brother would have noticed his absence by now. Ali would definitely notice the giant hole in their wall. But what could a destitute Umara boy do in a foreign city?
Perhaps nothing. Dashtu knew Ali always looked out for himself. He would not put it past his brother to abandon him. Dashtu lowered his head. He had made a mistake in joining Ali and joining in his banishment. Dashtu had given up his bright future in Ky Shek to live in poverty in a strange land. How could he be so stupid? Because he's my brother, Dashtu thought fiercely, and I'll never give up on him.
A blast raced through the building, interrupting Hari's soliloquy. Dust fell from the timbered ceiling, and Dashtu felt a welcome draught of fresh air from somewhere outside. He heard shouts and footsteps above him. The commotion made its way downstairs, where Dashtu was shocked to see Ali with a group of bedraggled strangers. He strode up to Dashtu's cell and laid his hand on the bars. "I'm here to take you home," he said with a smile.
Dashtu looked first at his brother in wonderment, then at his attire. "Ali! Where did you get that suit? Why do you smell like that? How did you get in?"
Ali turned and pointed a strange black tube at an old policewoman covered in dust, being held by some of the group. "Open it," he ordered.
The policewoman shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she muttered as she shuffled towards a nearby panel and inserted a key. "Fool kids with their crazy escapades. They don't pay me enough for this." Hari, noticing that he had been silent for a whole minute, began rambling again.
A hiss sounded from underneath them and everyone jumped. The heavy oak bars lowered slowly into the floor. Dashtu walked tentatively out and embraced his brother. "Thank you," he whispered.
Ali patted Dashtu on the back. "Don't thank me yet. We've still got to get out of here." At that moment blaring sirens and screeching tires announced the arrival of the police.
The group looked at each other wildly. "We're trapped!" exclaimed one. Ali hugged the tube closer to his chest.
"We'll blast 'em and roll down the street, just like last time!" another proclaimed grimly.
Dashtu was about to protest that he didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt for his sake when he overheard something in his cellmate's ongoing speech. He turned towards the open cell. "What was that?"
Hari, excited to be the center of attention again said, "I was just explaining how Airbenders are the best benders."
"No, you said something about escaping prison cells."
Hari smiled. "Oh, that." He stood up slowly and raised his knee, precariously balancing on one foot. Then he stomped his foot to the wooden floor while shooting his arms over his head. A ragged section of the floor's middle beam blasted into the air, landing softly against the wall of the cell. Everyone stared at Hari in astonishment as musty air blew in from the hole. Ali marched over and peered into the dark opening.
"It's hollow underneath! There's a drop to the sublevel of the city. I...I can see a drainage entrance! We can escape through there! Do we have any rope?"
A member of the team rummaged in his satchel, withdrew a coiled rope, and began affixing it to the bars of an empty adjacent cell. The other end was thrown into the narrow hold. The group began rapidly descending down underneath the prison. Dashtu looked at Hari. "How did you do that?"
Hari gave his a queer look. "I explained it to you. About two hours ago. Weren't you listening?"
Dashtu rubbed his nose. "I guess not." He heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and clambered onto the rope. "Aren't you coming?"
Hari smiled. "Nah. I like it here. It's the only place where I can be alone with my thoughts. Nice and quiet." He sat back down on his cot and continued rambling.
It was Dashtu's turn to give Hari a queer look before slithering down into the gloom. As soon as his feet hit the rough concrete floor Ali grabbed him and they ran, winding between the great wooden pillars supporting the prison cells. They reached a large metal grate. Someone bent it back, and the gang disappeared once again into the labyrinthine sewers.
"When is killing acceptable?"
Sifu Noqtak's sudden question surprised the class. They had been learning about the origins of the Great War, how the leader of the Fire Nation attempted to destroy all the world's Airbenders almost two hundred years previously. The non-sequitur caused the class to sit up and look at each other nervously. The room was quiet until a pupil in the fourth row piped up. "Never," he proclaimed, smugly sure of his answer.
Nourma, sitting a few rows back, scowled. That student prided himself on being right all the time and was universally reviled by the rest of the class. She was pleased when another student contradicted him.
"It can't be never. Sometimes killing someone is the only way to protect someone else."
Noqtak gave a mysterious smile. "Interesting. Please go on."
The student was a recent addition from the Fire Nation, and was hesitant under the stares from the rest of the class. Nevertheless she pressed her argument. "Well, I mean, killing someone is bad, really bad. I think we all agree on that. But sometimes a person needs to protect those weaker than herself. The only way to stop evil...the final way, I mean, when all peaceful options haven't worked...is to fight back. And sometimes that means killing."
Noqtak nodded. "I don't think many people would disagree with you. But let's get specific. In what scenario would you have to kill someone?"
The class thought for a moment. Nourma decided to speak up. "If he was going to kill me, I would have to kill him first." Other students nodded in agreement, while a few voiced their objections.
"A true Airbender wouldn't think that way," said one, before blushing and apologizing to Nourma. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." But Nourma smiled and motioned for him to go on. She was enjoying this debate. The student continued. "We are taught to detach ourselves from worldly and material things. That includes attachment to our lives. If I kill somebody else to protect myself, then that means that my attachment to the world is more important than my Airbender values. And the values are more important, right?" He looked at Sifu Noqtak for affirmation.
"That's true...up to a point," said Noqtak. "But let's make it more specific. What if you had to kill to protect innocent children?" The class murmured among themselves. Noqtak went on.
"Consider the case of Monk Gyatso. When Fire Lord Sozin attacked the Southern Air Temple at the outset of the Great War, the Fire Nation killed all Airbenders that they found. Adults, children, babies. Monk Gyatso fought back. He killed an entire squad of Fire Nation soldiers to allow the temple to evacuate. Tell me, was he justified in protecting innocent life?"
The majority of the class nodded their agreement. Nourma was among them. She thought of her parents, of Mehdi, of her Airbender friends. If an enemy threatened their lives, and there was no other way, she would have to kill. Nourma hated the thought, but knew it to be true. But to her surprise her stance felt intrinsically right, but mentally inaccurate.
"Monk Gyatso was wrong," said Noqtak matter of factly. The class stared at him in surprise.
"Young Xiang had it right," he continued, motioning to the original pupil, who beamed with smug pride. "Killing is never justified, and is never right. It is a violation of our most sacred Airbender principles."
"So you're saying Monk Gyatso should have stood by and let those kids die?" said a student exasperatedly.
Sifu Noqtak chuckled. "No, he did what he should have done. But it was still wrong." He looked at the confused faces in front of him. "Oh dear," he muttered, "let me see if I can explain it better.
"The penance for killing is being unable to escape from the circles of the world, to achieve enlightenment. It means renouncing what we as Airbenders strive our whole lives for. And that is the decision we must make when confronted with this terrible choice. Killing someone means sacrificing yourself, your spiritual self, to protect others. That is the cost of taking a precious life. Gyatso was put into a situation with no correct answer. He chose to protect the innocent, and he paid the ultimate price for his choice."
Sifu Noqtak glanced at every student, holding them in rapt attention. "I pray that you'll never face a choice like Monk Gyatso did. But if you do, what will your decision be?" His eyes met Nourma's, and she shrank under his stern gaze. "We all have the courage to make the right choice. But will you find the courage to make the wrong choice?" Noqtak shrugged and smiled. "That's enough history for now. Class dismissed."
The students silently shuffled out of the class, each harboring their somber thoughts. Nourma joined them, shouldering her heavy pack. She internally railed against her teacher's conclusion. Why should someone be punished for saving others? An Airbender, no, any good person had to protect the innocent and powerless. It wasn't that she didn't know the value of a life. Nourma remembered her mother raising a scimitar high over a prostrate figure, and the cry that sprang almost involuntary from her lips. She had prevented Aisha from killing Ali. But Ali had been powerless then, and not a threat to anybody. Nourma gritted her teeth. If I have to kill to save others, she vowed, then I'll do it without hesitation, and let the consequences come.
But thinking back to that day in the Hami village brought happier thoughts to Nourma's mind. She had been granted a week of leave, and she was returning to her home to visit her parents. Nourma was elated when she told Mehdi, thinking that her friend would accompany her. But Mehdi couldn't come. His job as an Acolyte afforded no days off, and certainly no vacations. Mehdi did have enough free time to see Nourma off, however, and he waited in the courtyard for his friend. The sun was setting as the students burst from the lecture hall. Nourma said quick farewells to her classmates, who wished her a safe journey before dispersing towards the dormitories. Nourma then walked up to Mehdi.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Mehdi looked down and scuffed his shoes on the cobblestones. "Well, uh, have a good trip. I wish I was going with you."
Nourma smiled. "Yeah, me too. Maybe next time." She hefted her bag containing all her belongings. "I'll tell your mom and dad how you're doing."
Mehdi's eyes met Nourma's. "Thanks. Tell them that I miss them. And tell them that I think about them every day. Only...not in a lame way."
Nourma's laugh echoed around the empty courtyard. "Will do." She embraced Mehdi and whispered, "Don't do anything crazy while I'm gone. Promise me."
Mehdi pulled back and grinned. "I promise. I'm too old for crazy stuff nowadays."
Another laugh. Nourma regarded her friend: his wide grin, his crooked nose, his adolescent mustache that was finally filling in. They had never spent more than three days apart from each other, and Nourma felt sorry for leaving him alone. But she also missed her parents, and she had a train to catch. She punched Mehdi affectionately in the chest, and Mehdi pantomimed staggering back.
"See you in a week!" Nourma waved as she ran towards the island's dock. Mehdi tried to think of a witty parting line, but it came to him just as Nourma disappeared out of earshot. He paused for a moment, then ran towards the Administrative Building. Mehdi ascended the creaking wooden staircase, climbed a rickety ladder to a rooftop hatch, and emerged into the cooling evening air. The lights of the city were starting to shine across the harbor, and Mehdi saw the ferry embark from the island. Mehdi waved, and Nourma waved back before yelling something that Mehdi couldn't quite make out. The ferry continued across the bay, and soon Mehdi could only make out Nourma's silver hair, shining dimly under the emerging stars.
By the time they reached the waterfront district Dashtu's clothes were as filthy as Ali's. They had traveled many measures underneath the city, using a series of maintenance tunnels and drainage pipes.
"When I found out that they had you I went to Po for help," explained Ali. "He contacted someone in the city, and he gave me them." He gestured to the rest of the group, following the brothers a few paces back, out of earshot. The rest of the lie came easy to him, and Ali saw Dashtu numbly accepting his story, nodding his head in a mixture of weariness and gratitude. When Ali had finished speaking Dashtu frowned.
"I appreciate your help, I really do. But I'm afraid we just caused more trouble. Did you hurt anybody? What about the damage you did to the jail? And even if I escape, the police will still be looking for me. As long as I stay in the city, I'm in trouble." Dashtu bowed his head. "I don't know what to do."
Ali reached into his ruined silk suit and pulled out a stack of yuans. Dashtu stopped abruptly and stared at the wealth contained in Ali's hand. Words failed to come to him.
"Think about it!" Ali said eagerly, eyes shining. "With this money we can start a new life. We won't have to work all day just to eat like weasel-dogs. We won't have to be under the yoke of our mother anymore." Dashtu opened his mouth to interrupt but Ali pressed on, waving the pink and green banknotes in front of Dashtu's face. "This money is freedom! We can go anywhere we want! Where do you want to go? Ba Sing Se? Omashu? Caldera City?"
Dashtu suddenly felt very tired. The previous days without sleep caught up to him, and he blearily murmured, "I've always wanted to visit the Fire Nation." He slowly took the proffered cash. Ali, having won his brother over, began giving instructions.
"Go to Miss Ashara's place down the street. She's had a room for rent for a while now. Stay there and stay out of sight. I'll be back in a few days."
"Where are you going?"
"I've got to ...return the rest of the money. And do one last errand for our benefactor." Dashtu was too focused on the yuans in his hand to catch the lie. But he looked at Ali with grateful eyes. "You did all this for me?"
Ali smiled with genuine affection and hugged Dashtu. "You're my brother. I would do anything for you." He pulled back and patted Dashtu on the shoulder. "Go now. Stay hidden and wait for me."
Dashtu opened his mouth to thank him, but the words stuck in his throat. He turned and walked slowly into the shadows, casting one last glance at his brother before fading into darkness.
Ali's smile faded. Cho, who had been whispering with the others, came up and said, "That was touching and all, but you don't really mean to give all this money back to Boss Chin?"
"Of course not," snorted Ali. "But he will get what he's owed." He turned to the other members of the gang. "Are you with me?" he shouted.
They looked fearfully at the dull gleam of the shot-tube hanging at Ali's side, and muttered their loyalty.
"Good. Then let's go pay Chin a visit. He'll pay for betraying me...for betraying us!" Ali opened a nearby hatch and climbed a ladder towards the surface. He emerged in a large room filled with three giant water pools reeking of fish. They had arrived at Chin's Hatchery.
Two henchwomen approached the group attempting to apprehend the intruders, but they suddenly remembered a more important task once Ali brandished his shot-tube at them. The gang continued through a dirty dimly-lit corridor and burst into Chin's office.
Ali and the others stood in their dilapidated, smelly clothes in stark contrast to the perfumed perfection of the office. Chin looked up from his desk. "Ali," he growled, "I didn't expect to see you again."
"Well, I'm back now," retorted Ali, who immediately wished he'd said something more threatening. To compensate, he leveled the shot-tube at Chin. "You're going to wish you'd never crossed me!"
Chin was unfazed, and remained motionless in his chair. "I've been running this city for years, boy. I'm not about to be killed by the likes of you. Look at yourself. Your hand is shaking. You're sweating. And I can see the fear in your eyes. You stink of it." He pointed a fat finger. "You've always been afraid. And that's why you won't kill me. Not today."
"Shut up!" Ali yelled, his voice quavering. He marched to the desk and struck Chin across the face with the weapon. Chin's bulbous body fell to the floor, his meaty palms splayed out on the plush red carpet. Ali aimed a savage kick at his ribs and Chin grunted in pain.
"I'm not afraid! I'm not weak!" Ali was shouting, spittle flying from his mouth. He glanced at the gang members near the door, staring silently at him, waiting to see what would happen next. Ali told himself that he needed a strong demonstration for them to prove himself as a leader. He tried to give his most imposing glare to Chin. Chin shifted his great bulk on his side and returned Ali's gaze with an insolent smirk. Ali tightened his grip, causing the shot-tube to tremble. This smug man lying in front of him had every right to die. He was a notorious crime boss, guilty of the most heinous doings. If their positions were reversed, Ali had no doubt that Chin wouldn't hesitate to kill him. The finger crept towards the trigger.
Then, in a flash of memory, Ali remembered something Dashtu had quoted years ago. They had been learning how to trawl for sand-sharks, and had just finished a grueling day under the punishing sun. The crew was headed for Ky Shek and Ali was standing impatiently at the bow of the sand cruiser, watching the endless dunes roll by. Dashtu was reading one of his stupid philosophy scrolls, relaxing in the shade of the sail.
"Huh," remarked Dashtu, "It says here that when a person kills another person, the killer loses a part of himself and," he squinted at the characters, "must begin anew."
"That's stupid," retorted Ali immediately. "The person who dies is dead. He loses everything. And if the killer takes the dead man's possessions, then he gains something. Who wrote that drivel?"
"Some Firebender master called Honshi."
"Well, Honshi is a fool. And don't let Mother hear you quoting that. An Umara tribe member must be powerful. We can't allow soft feelings to stop us from doing what needs to be done."
"I suppose you're right," Dashtu muttered, then lapsed into silence.
It was a foolish memory, but at that moment Ali felt as if he were on the edge of a great void, in peril of falling into the inky depths. His finger remained on the trigger. He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "You don't deserve the honor of a quick death," he muttered. Ali stowed the shot-tube at his side and dealt another kick to Chin.
Picking up the radiophone, he called the emergency hotline. He spoke in a fearful voice, which came easily to him at that moment. "Hello, police? There's been loud noises at 5438 Blue Avenue. I think somebody's been hurt!" He placed the transmitter down on the desk and pointed his weapon straight up. A shot rang out and large section of the ornate plaster ceiling came crashing down, showering Ali and Chin in white brittle chunks and fine dust. Ali gave the crime boss a few more kicks and rejoined his gang as they fled the Hatchery.
"What now?" asked Cho as they scuttled back into the sewers.
Ali had been working on a plan ever since they had escaped from Lion-Hound Holdings. It was risky, but he was riding high on luck, like a gambler who thinks his streak will never end. But first he had to convince his makeshift gang. Ali looked at them as they ran north along the underground water corridor. Eight people, all young and born into poverty, eager for wealth. He hoped they shared his enthusiasm.
They rested at the intersection with another waterway somewhere underneath Yellow Street. Ali could see that they were ready to split the money and go their separate ways. He spoke up.
"Listen, I know that you want to escape and hide with this small amount of cash. Trust me, it's not a lot. And you'll be forever on the run from the police. Aren't you tired of running?"
"I've survived so far," muttered one.
"Yeah, but what if you don't want to just survive anymore? What if I could offer you power, real power?" He lifted the shot-tube above his head. The gang looked at him quizzically.
"There's more of these. There's an entire crate of them hidden just south of the city with another Four Corners gang. If you come with me, everyone will receive their own shot-tube." Everyone's ears perked up and their eyes shone with desire as Ali continued. "Come with me and we'll have a place of our own. No police, no bosses, just freedom."
The dissenter spoke up again. "Yeah right. Where is this magical land?"
Ali grinned. "There's a small village deep in the Shin Won desert. The police can't touch us there. The Earth Confederacy leaves the desert villages alone. This particular village is defenseless. We could easily take over. And then we'd be safe." As he spoke his plan aloud he realized how ridiculous it sounded. But the gang was won over, partly because of Ali's promises of safety and freedom, but mostly because of the allure of the shiny weapon in Ali's hand. They had seen its power, and they desired that power for themselves.
But Ali did not care much for safety or freedom or his new toy. His motives were personal. He had neglected to mention that the way to the Hami village led straight through Ky Shek. Ali smirked. Let Fatima see him at the head of an army wielding shot-tubes. He relished the thought of his mother forced to bow before him and yielding to her exiled son. Ali would complete his revenge, and then return to his faithful brother. It would finally be over, and he and Dashtu would live their lives in peace.
Mehdi's next few days were gratefully busy. The library needed to be swept, the lamp bulbs needed to be replaced, and the warehouse needed to be inventoried. Mehdi missed his friend, but he knew Nourma was glad to return to the desert.
Mehdi missed his home as well, but he did not share Nourma's longing for it. He had experienced the outer world and was captivated by its ceaseless wonders. He wanted to see more, to travel to all the exotic places he kept hearing about: the Southern and Northern Portals, the Great Gates of Azulon, the Crystal Catacombs. It disappointed Mehdi that Nourma did not share his enthusiasm for exploration and discovery. He wondered if Nourma would abandon her Airbender training and return to the desert. Mehdi frowned. That would present him with a difficult choice to make.
His last task of the night was to refill the calligraphy inkwells, and Mehdi was longing for his soft bed. As he entered the deserted writing room, precariously carrying a pot of fresh black ink, he noticed a strange man, neither Airbender nor Acolyte, sitting at a desk. The man turned, and Mehdi saw a weathered face and the shiny badge of the Republic City Police Department.
"Detective Malik!" Mehdi set the pot down and joined his friend at the desk. Malik clapped him on the shoulder.
"Good to see you again, kid. How's the face?" Mehdi's hand automatically went to his cheek where Two-Nosed Ping had struck him, but it had already healed. He shrugged nonchalantly.
Malik leaned back and fiddled with a nearby brush. "Good to hear." He paused. "Listen, I didn't come here on a social call. I, we, need your help again."
"I'm in. Whatever you need," Mehdi said without hesitation. Malik smiled as Mehdi continued. "But I did get in trouble last time. They don't like it when I work with you guys. My supervisor says…"
"I just happened to run into your supervisor a few minutes ago. He said that under no circumstances would you be able to assist us from now on. I agreed." Mehdi's face fell. "I then told him that the Police Department would be conducting a routine audit of the Academy, and that the school would have to shut down for a few days. He and I came to an agreement, and you can help us again."
Mehdi beamed with pride. "Alright. What's the assignment?"
"Almost the same as before. We need you to follow someone in the Dregs. But this time it's not a hardened criminal. He's just a boy. I think you know him: Dashtu from the Umara Tribe?" Malik mispronounced "Umara" in his nasally Republic City accent, and Mehdi resisted the urge to correct him.
"I thought he was in jail?"
"He managed to escape a few days ago with the help of his brother, Ali. Apparently Ali's been moving up in the crime world. He has a gang now, and some pretty sophisticated weapons. We received some intelligence that he's planning an attack somewhere outside the city. I need you to talk to Dashtu and convince him to come with us peacefully. He's a good kid, just caught up in something bigger than himself." Malik put a hand on Mehdi's shoulder. "Let him know that his information is the only thing that can save his brother. This is deadly stuff they're dealing with, and I don't think either of them know how much trouble they're in. You need to make him see that."
Mehdi looked down at the ink-stained desk. He agreed that Dashtu was no criminal. It pained him to hear about him caught up in his brother's mess. But Mehdi was from the desert, which made him kinsman to them, of a sorts. He would do his part to clean up their mess.
A worrying thought struck him. "Did your intelligence say where Ali might be going?"
Malik traced his dry brush on the desk, debating whether to answer. Finally he muttered, "Shin Won Desert, maybe."
Mehdi shot up, almost knocking the desk over. "My home! Mom...Dad...Nourma!" He began to walk towards the door.
Malik's hesitation turned to anger, and he growled out to the departing Acolyte. "For once in your life, stop and THINK!" Mehdi paused at the doorway, looking out into the cool night. The detective threw down the brush and stood up.
"I like you kid, I really do. You're brash and impulsive, just like…" Malik swallowed and caught himself, "...just like I was. But you've got a real thick head. You want to go off and save your friend. Well good for you, nobody's stopping you. But are you going to fight Ali's gang on your own? You don't even know where they are!"
Mehdi's face burned as he thought about his past decisions. How he had jumped out the train door in pursuit of Two-Nosed Ping. How he had attacked the thieves' boss on the Rocky Run. How he had signed up to be an Air Acolyte without a moment's thought to the future. Mehdi had been rash, and he had suffered for it, time and again. He shook his head and turned back to Malik.
"You don't understand. Nourma's like a sister to me. If she's in danger, I have to help her."
Malik chuckled. "Oh, she's like a sister? I can see that. But right now you're treating her like your baby sister. Do you think she wants you as a bodyguard all her life? To fight every battle for her? Is that why you came to Republic City, to protect her from every bad thing out there?" He walked a few steps closer. "I think Nourma wants you as her friend. If you're truly her brother, then trust her to take care of herself. She's an Airbender. She doesn't need protecting."
Mehdi looked down. His orange robes suddenly seemed foreign to him, like a costume he wore to fool others. He saw the smooth and worn rock floor under his feet, and thought back to the desert and the familiar shifting sands. His shoulders sagged.
"I'll do it," he said in a soft voice.
"I knew you'd make the right choice." Mehdi looked up and saw the detective smiling again. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, once my team is assembled and ready. We'll go to the Dregs together, and I'll fill you in with the rest of the details." He walked past the Hami Tribe boy into the courtyard, stopped, and turned around. "Thank you Mehdi."
Forgetting that he had to refill the inkwells, Mehdi trodded slowly towards the dormitories, lost in thought. The Academy seemed deserted: everyone was either sleeping or sneaking into the mess hall for a late night snack. Mehdi stopped, suddenly recalling another of his impulsive decisions. He had snuck out alone into the desert when Nourma had run away. He had know where she would be, and when the sandstorm hit, it was he who had been there for her with food and water. Nourma would have died if Mehdi had not been rash.
Gritting his teeth, Mehdi strode silently into the men's dormitories. He quietly dug in his closet and pulled out his familiar brown desert robe. There was a way to stop Ali and protect Nourma. Because that's what we do for the people we love, Mehdi told himself as he stole towards the dock. Whatever it takes.
