OK, so I didn't update as early as I would have liked, but that's partly because no one reviewed! Come on, seriously try and update for each chapter. I don't care how long the review is- I just wanna know who has read and who hasn't.
Leaving right off from last time, and there's an unexpected savior…
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender.
For Aang, that muscled figure could not have been more frightening- if the devil's aide himself had been right there, Aang would rather have gazed into whatever cold black eyes he possessed, than face him.
Combustion man descended with easy slowness. The battle was over. Aang, still leaning partially in the man's grip, decided suddenly that the name didn't even hint at his destructive capacity. He was a hell-spawn, and no less.
Smoothly and calmly, he walked over to him until he stood right before him. The bar was filled with silence. No one dared move, save for the man who held Aang upright. Evidently he felt the same fear, and backed away, leaving Aang barely standing.
His fist suddenly flashed up, burying itself in Aang's stomach. He screamed and doubled over: right into a blow to the face, which crashed him against the bar. He lay there, dazed and stunned, and new waves of pain assailed him. He groaned softly.
Combustion Man turned smoothly and addressed the silent tables. "I suggest you get out. Anyone still in here when I'm not will be buried in the rubble." He pointed an easy finger, "and no-one is to move him. He dies here."
There was a sudden smash. Not hard or heavy, but almost an elegant noise. A smashed bottle.
Combustion Man turned, barely phased, slivers of glass trickling off his shoulders.
Behind him, nostrils and mole hair flared, stood the landlord. Combustion man had time for one glance of utter contempt- then the landlord was upon him.
His fists rained down in all directions as he attempted to pound every fiber of the huge man into powder, and roaring as he did so.
"Think you're funny! Bastard.. Think… you can hurt… defenseless kids… in my pub! Bastard… I'm going to have you! Think… you can destroy… my pub, don't you! Think… you're that good! Bastard!"
There was a brief struggle; Combustion man, bringing his full strength to bear, easily heaved the big landlord off him. But he was quickly replaced by a tall, lanky man who had rushed over to help. And another man. And another.
In seconds half the pub seemed to be upon him, all kicking and hitting an shoving to get near to him, and him standing amongst them and shaking them off, like fleas off a lion. His fist flashing out, he broke someone's jaw, then swung his elbows savagely. The crowd went out, then came back in like the tide.
Aang was coming to. His vision was still blurred, and every inch of him was fiercely painful. The left side of his chest felt especially tender, and he wondered if he would be able to walk.
Just as he considered this two men made over to him and lifted him, thankfully avoiding his left.
Between them they hauled him off the ground and rushed past the melee, out into the street, where they deposited him by the door.
One of them whispered some encouraging words, but he was too weak to reply. He lay there. His instinct told him to help, but he couldn't think of anything. Literally anything; his mind just swamped and bubbled every time he tried to focus.
He thought of the violent melee he had seen just seconds before, but the fierce pumping of his adrenaline was not only taking away the pain- he could barely picture the scene.
He was absolutely torn. Thoughts flashed into his mind then left just as quickly, unable to brave the tumult; he thought of the fight- surely that many can handle him- and of himself, and Katara, and what was happening. And Katara once more. Why Katara! It was a foolish question, even on the brink of delirium.
With considerable effort, he staggered up, leaning on the wall. Must decide what to do, he told himself, over and over. But he couldn't decide. To go in was surely to call for death. He had to decide! But what could he do?
He moved his left arm. The pain was excruciating, and the right arm was almost as bad.
What can I do?!
He decided. It was not a pleasant decision. He regretted every second of its undertaking. He thought of "greater good," but it was little consolation. It was an excuse, he decided. He had been looking for an excuse to do as he did.
To stagger away feebly, into the woods and into the night, just as, unbeknown to him, Lu Ten had done twice before.
So I hope this story is still mildly interesting. If it isn't… review and tell me! But please review. Please. I'll be happy.