I'm not a good person. That much has probably become obvious to you by now, but I figured I'd get ahead of the criticism- call me proactive.

My life hasn't really improved the situation of, well, anyone. I take advantage of people's desperation and loss to make money; I benefit from others' anguish. I've killed maybe a dozen people in my career, and probably wounded three times that number. I scoff at idealism and criticize enthusiasm.

In short, I'm a miserable piece of Komodo-Rhino shit. I'll be the first to admit that.

I like to think it's not entirely my fault, though.

Despite my current passion for living in the scummy underbelly of Republic City, I wasn't always living paycheck to paycheck. I was born to wealth, actually. A perfect little life of leisure, education, and safety.

My father was- or is, I suppose- a moderately successful businessman back in the Fire Nation. Saemo Supplies, which the bastard named after himself, still carts random shit around the Fire Nation's smoke-filled cities with a ruthless efficiency that matches the man himself.

My father is a… demanding man. He had expectations for me. I was to be a perfect heir to the Saemo Supplies empire; a corporate leader ingrained with a cold, emotionless efficiency. When I didn't conform to those expectations, which was a common occurrence, he was equally emotionless in his retribution. Of course, he never dared to verbally abuse me when Mom was around, but her military career took her all over the world, and he found more than enough chances.

I like to think she didn't know. I loved my Mom more than anything in the world, and I knew that when she was home, I was safe from the constant, cutting insults and abuse. In retrospect, however, I can't help but realize that there was no way she didn't see the sunken, empty look in the eyes of my brother and I. Maybe that's why Mom and my father fought so much. They hardly spoke, and Mom took every opportunity she could to take us with her on deployment, but my father wanted his perfect heir.

And, of course, I couldn't leave Lee on his own. My father liked to prey on Lee the most; he used to call him a weak-spined coward, a shameful shit-stain, and a litany of other insults tearing down my brother's masculinity, identity, even his existence. The man never lifted a finger against us- I doubt he had the balls to hurt us while Mom was alive- but he knew how to manipulate our minds.

He is, after all, a successful businessman.

Even after gangsters from the Agni Kai Triad attacked our home and burned it down, we remained a dysfunctional family in every respect, rotting apart from the inside. Then, after Mom passed, there was no final movement towards unity; my father disowned me and my new career in the military and turned his efforts towards my poor brother, building a perfect corporate scion from the empty husk he had turned Lee into.

I haven't been back home since I joined the Domestic Forces, all those years ago. I went to my Mom's funeral in the capital, and then I fled the Fire Nation, leaving my father, my brother, and my best friend behind with the desperate hope that distance and drink could make me forget.

Instead, I swapped one nightmare for another.

Ironically, I find that I think about those days more when I'm drunk. I suppose that in a way, it means I've succeeded in forgetting the memories of the horrible shit I've seen in this damned city. Yet I know more than most that the past is a vengeful enemy.

I sit on my couch groggily, staring at the empty bottle of fire whiskey held loosely in my hand. I'm not really sure what day it is, truth be told. I think it's been about two days since I met Jasha and made my plans to track down Napua, but judging by the piles of empty alcohol bottles scattered around my living room, it's really hard to say. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

A knock on my door scares the shit out of me, and I stumble over to the door, my head pounding as the memory of binge drinking takes its toll on my body. I open the door slowly, scrabbling with the many locks I've installed, and see only a pile of mail; my rent bill is on top, and below it is a pile of other not-so-fun items.

I curse to myself as I pick up the pile. I'm late on the rent, again. Somehow my self-destructive tendencies led me to believe that spending my last payment on booze was actually a good idea.

I flip through the mail, tossing advertisements, newspapers, and unpaid bills aside until I notice one towards the middle. It's a smallish, medium-sized envelope, damp from the leaky ceiling's incessant drips. I glance at the upper left corner of the envelope, and feel my heart lurch a little.

LEE OSADA

77 TAZO ST.

FIRE FOUNTAIN CITY, FIRE NATION

I haven't heard from my brother for years, mostly because I've felt too guilty to reach out to him. That makes me a shitty person, I know, but leaving him behind with my father is one of the biggest regrets of my life. I open the letter nervously, walking back to my desk.

Rai-

It's been a while.

I'm writing to say goodbye. I heard that there's trouble in Republic City. Hopefully you're as safe as anyone can be in that cesspool. I'm mainly writing because I saw your name in a newspaper, something to do with the arrest of a Triad criminal.

I don't know if you'll get this. I don't know if you've even tried to write at all these last few years. And I'm sorry to say that at this point I don't really care. You abandoned the family. You've had years to reach out to us, to send a message, a telephone call, anything.

But you haven't.

So if you decide to try, just don't. I don't need you anymore. Father says that you died the day you joined the military. Maybe he's right.

I hope you find happiness and belonging somewhere. The sister I knew and loved deserved that much. And if that sister I would have died for ever decides to return, then maybe we can be a family again. Until then, I wish you luck with whatever you're doing and I bid you farewell.

-Lee

I stare at the letter in shock, and read the words again and again. They hurt just as bad every time. Each word carries the weight of a sledgehammer, wreathed in finality and sadness. In my mind, I can see my brother as he was when he was 12; an wide-eyed, goofy kid with a shock of messy black hair, large ears, and a mischievous grin that always meant a day of fun. A kid who would race me to the fire fountain and dive in, looking for coins and scampering off before the local cops could even react.

Part of me wants to believe that he's been corrupted by our father, twisted and deformed by my father's insidious influence. But the rest of me knows he has a point. I left my family behind, ugliness and all, out of fear.

I realize, as I read the words again, that I'll never see my brother again.

I reach for a half-full bottle of Baiju, and I feel the tears stream down my cheeks as the harsh taste of the alcohol attacks my mouth. I feel empty and desperate.

I feel alone.

There's nothing quite like the revelation that the power that you once held so dear is suddenly irrelevant.

It began slowly, at first. Murmurs and worried, hushed whispers on street corners and tea shops. People began to leave, one at a time, claiming they were going abroad on business or visiting family in the countryside. The wealthy of the city decided, almost in unison, to take their vacations on Ember Island, Kyoshi Island, or any one of the thousands of resorts and tourist towns across the world.

In time, though, even someone as perpetually drunk as me could notice the fear gripping the city.

As I walk through the streets, trying my best to keep the brim of my hat from allowing any blinding sunlight to reach my eyes, I can feel the specter of Amon following me. "The Revelation", as people have begun calling it, has changed Republic City from its seediest gutters to its brightest towers. That the leader of the Equalists can actually take a person's bending away is a monumental development, especially considering that it used to be a power held only by the glowy-eyed pricks of the world.

Suddenly, that status quo that we benders took for granted, the one that led us to believe, whether we had formal training or a few lessons in a dingy dojo downtown when we were kids, that we were untouchable, was gone. Now, we were as vulnerable as the non-benders, and even those who never lifted a finger against the non-benders, who treated all equally, were at risk of losing a part of their identity.

It's changed things. People watch each other more closely; for the first time, both benders and non-benders live in a state of fear. Cop cars are more frequently seen around town, especially in the non-bending districts. Trust, which has never been an abundant resource in Republic City, is gone entirely. After all, what is trust when you can wander down a dark alley and get captured by chi-blockers?

Of course, no one's really all that upset that Lightning Bolt Zolt lost his bending. The man is a prick of the highest order, and the fact that he can't fry poor debtors or idealistic judges is a loss for no one, but if one of the most powerful crime bosses in the city can get his power and identity utterly stripped away, then no one's really all that safe now, are they?

Spirits, even I'm scared, and I'm still half drunk most of the time.

My thoughts turn to Tak. I want to apologize to him, to make sure he's safe, and to quit all of the shitty habits that are making me more miserable than ever before, but some nefarious mixture of pride and shame prevent me from doing it.

Like I said; I'm not a good person.

I finish my walk gratefully, scraping my cigarette against the rough cement banister that marks the beginning of Unity Bridge, overlooking Yue Bay and Avatar Aang Memorial Island. I breathe in the sea air, which is fresher than most, and take a moment to enjoy the view. For all of its ugliness, the City of Dreams is certainly beautiful. I stare at the distant, impassive figure of Avatar Aang as I wait and wonder if the man who helped found Republic City ever saw the ugly side of it. Certainly he got a glimpse, taking down Yakone back in the day, but it's hard to know how bad Republic City can get from the idyllic sanctuary of Air Temple Island.

How nice it must be to meditate and train all day, thoughts turned to matters of spirituality and bending. Meanwhile, mere miles away, if you don't think about yourself- and only yourself- survival is far from a sure thing.

My mind turns to our new Avatar. The girl has gall, that's for damned sure; rumor has it that she was even at the Revelation and took on Amon himself, which is damned impressive if you ask me, provided it's true. Then again, she's just that: a country kid. I know from personal experience that the Southern Water Tribe has its own rough spots, but is that really apparent from the glittering palace she no doubt lived in, being Chief Tonraq's daughter?

I find myself hoping, earnestly this time, that she has what it takes to deal with Amon. I'm not exactly one to cower and hope that the Avatar fixes all of my problems, but it's starting to seem like she's the only thing that will save our collective asses from that masked freak.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" asks a voice next to me.

I jump slightly. Jasha, as always, seems to have a penchant for appearing out of nowhere. I let out a shaky sigh, breathing out a stream of smoke from my cigarette.

"Sure."

"You ever wonder what it's like? To live out there?" she asks, jutting her pointed chin towards the spires of Air Temple Island, where several air bison float languidly.

"Nice, I bet. A life full of meditation, a vegetarian diet, and blowing air out of one's ass," I say harshly.

Jasha shoots me a look.

"You're cheerful today."

I take another pull from my Blue Spirit.

"Sure am. What've you got?"

Jasha turns, leaning against an iron railing casually.

"Not much. Amon's little show in Gyokai Borough really has people freaked, and for good reason. The Equalists, it seems, have been pouring people and material into the city for the last few years. The masked freak knows what he's doing, I'll give him that much. He's got most of the criminals in this town diving for a hiding place, and most of my usual sources have either gone silent or have left the city altogether. Things aren't all that good in the rest of the Republic, either."

I flick my cigarette into the bay, and promptly light another.

"As for our girl, that's harder. It's clear, from what I've heard and what you uncovered, that she's involved with the Equalists, but to be honest I haven't got the faintest idea where she's gone. Trust me, these Equalists have got safehouses and underground bases all across the city, and I'm betting she's in one of those."

I look at her skeptically, causing her to roll her eyes in response.

"I wasn't exactly twiddling my thumbs when I was conning you. I might not have joined the organization, but I did a little digging while I was there."

"Right," I retort "I almost forgot."

"Anyways," she says, "I'm honestly at a loss here. This is above my expertise. You'd need serious resources to find her at this point."

An idea occurs to me, and I grin.

"What?" Jasha asks, seeing the look on my face.

"I have an idea."

The Fire Nation Embassy in Chikara Borough is, no surprise, a tall red building emblazoned with the gold-and-red Fire Nation flag wherever possible. The two uniformed firebenders outside the perimeter gate eye us carefully as we approach, the bigger one of the two holding his hand up gruffly.

"Halt. State your business and please produce some form of identification."

I roll my eyes, fishing my tattered Fire Nation passport out of my coat and passing it over to the burly soldier, who reads it intently.

"I'm here to visit an old friend of mine."

The guard glances up at me, then back down at my passport.

"And her?"

"My girlfriend. She's harmless, I promise," I say smoothly, ignoring the sideways glance Jasha flashes me.

"Fine. You may enter."

The guards open the smooth, jet-black gates, ushering us inside the diplomatic compound. Inside the plain concrete wall is a lush, expansive garden of lush fire lilies, Gobbler-Gourds, and a thousand other plants from the forests and mountains of the Fire Nation, filling the air with the thick but pleasant smell of home.

As we walk into the cool interior of the building, I can't help but feel a pang of homesickness. I've lived in Republic City for many years now, but the Fire Nation will always be my homeland. One I want to see again deep down, despite the fact that I probably can never return. Especially now that my brother seems to hate me.

We approach the main desk of the lobby, and are greeted by a prim-and-proper secretary who looks at my worn-out trench coat and Jasha's simple dress with dismay. He adjusts his glasses, looking at us with that snooty air of superiority that my people tend to have.

"How may I help you, ah…"

"My name is Rai. I'm a private detective, and I'm looking for Colonel Arun Divakar. Tell him that Rai Osada wants to speak with him."

The secretary looks up at me in surprise, and I can instantly tell why. I curse inwardly, and the old suppressed anger and resentment float up again as the secretary looks at me with renewed interest.

"Osada? As in…"

I cut him off impatiently.

"Yep. Just go find Divakar, would you?"

The secretary picks up a phone quickly, and I take a few steps away from the desk, settling down into a red couch. Jasha sits beside me, her face sly.

"So… what's so special about your last name? That secretary practically pissed himself after you told him your last name."

"It's nothing," I reply, grumpily. I had hoped she wouldn't have picked up on that, but of course, she did.

"What're you, nobility or something? Do you fire tossers have that? Ooh, are you related to the Firelord?"

"No," I sigh. "My father… well, he's fairly well known in the Fire Nation, and let's leave it at that."

"Are you rich?" she asks, practically salivating.

"No. Just drop it, okay?"

"I mean-"

Thankfully, Jasha's next words are interrupted by the arrival of a short but powerful frame of my old friend Arun, who wears his Fire Nation officer's uniform with pride, practically marching into the lobby like he's back on a parade ground.

"Rai! Spirits, I didn't think I'd ever see your beautiful face back over here. Did you reconsider my request for a date?"

I shake my head, smiling.

"It's good to see you, Arun. Allow me to introduce Jasha. She's helping me with an investigation."

Arun smoothly grasps Jasha's hand loosely, kissing it softly with all the grace of a practiced member of the Fire Nation's aristocracy which, strictly speaking, he is.

"It's truly a pleasure, Lady Jasha. What can I help you lovely ladies with?"

"Can we talk somewhere private?" I ask, glancing around at the mostly-empty room.

"Of course. Follow me," Arun says.

We follow Arun through the maze of corridors and hallways, passing traditional paintings of the Fire Nation, mixed with portraits of Firelord Izumi's stern face until we reach an office at the corner of the building which features large windows overlooking Chikara borough, with the rich blue waters of Yue Bay glittering beyond the red pointed roofs of the Fire Nation-dominated borough.

He settles behind a pristinely maintained desk, opening the top button of his uniform as a cool sea breeze whisks through the room.

"It's been quite a while, Rai. Can I get either of you anything? Tea? Watermelon juice? Water?"

I hold up a hand, and Arun quiets down, his easy grin lingering on his face with the practiced gaze of a man who relies on pure charisma.

"I need a favor, Arun. I was hoping you'd help me."

Instantly, Arun's smile fades, and a tenseness settles in his golden eyes.

"Ah. Of course," he says tightly, "I wouldn't have thought you'd visit me for any other reason. What do you need?"

I glance at Jasha.

"I need you to help us find someone. Her name's Napua- a journalist for the Republic City Herald who's been writing pro-Equalist articles slandering prominent benders. I've uncovered evidence that she's somehow involved in the Equalist movement, but she's disappeared without a trace. That's where you come in."

Arun's face is unreadable. For all of his flirtatious and joking posturing, I know the man is dangerous, and I sense that I'm treading on brittle rock.

"Why not ask any of the degenerate criminals you usually associate yourself with these days? I'm sure the Triads would know where she is better than I- if they haven't fled the Equalists yet," he says, standing and staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"The Triads don't have the same network you do. You're a Colonel in the Military Intelligence Service. You know everything that's going on in the city- it's your job."

Arun smiles tensely.

"And this led you to believe you could leverage state secrets out of me?" he challenges.

I frown and we make eye contact, a silent battle of wills playing out between us.

"You owe me, Arun. You help me find this person, and we're even."

"I'm not sure the task you ask is equal to what is owed, Osada."

I maintain my glare at him, and we sit in silence for several tense minutes. I try to convey, as best I can, a reminder that he wouldn't have the job he currently has, if it weren't for my discovery that his old boss was taking money from the Triads. Finally, he relents.

"Fine. I'll put my network on it, but you're playing a dangerous game, Rai. The Equalists are not to be underestimated; they have cells all over the world. Firelord Izumi is considering sending military aid to combat them, and there's talk of redeploying the United Forces from their peacekeeping mission in the Si Wong Desert back here. It's a dangerous time to be a bender, so watch yourself."

"Worry about yourself," I retort. "I can take care of myself. I'll wait for your signal."

Arun nods. I stand and leave quickly, pausing by the door to look at him at his desk, where he sits with his hands knotted in deep thought.

"Thanks, Arun."

He doesn't respond, and I take it as my cue to leave.

As the sun sets on the horizon, I lean against the railing of the Chikara Borough's seaside overlook, staring at downtown Republic City pensively. Jasha joins me after a while, handing me a cold, blue-colored Varri-Cone. I bite into the sweet and soft ice cream, which does little to quell the fear bubbling in my stomach.

"Nothing will be the same now, will it?" I ask. "The old order is done for. A new world is rising, and whether we like it or not, Amon and his followers are the ones causing it."

"You're right," she replies, grimly. "But then, nothing ever really stays the same. The weak will always be preyed upon by the strong. Whether the benders will become the weak, or if they remain the strong, the world will still be shitty, but a different kind of shitty. Like the hunting sand-shark, life is always changing," she intones.

I glance at her questioningly.

"An old saying in the Si Wong Desert."

I snort.

"Right. Your cover."

"You know, not all of what I told you back then was a lie. Ju always sai-" she stops herself abruptly. "Well, an old friend told me that the best cons always incorporate the truth in some way. Makes it more convincing. I was born in Shen City to a family from the Xu Tribe, like I said," she says, almost indignant.

Jasha smiles wistfully to herself. Her smile, as always, plays havoc with my insides.

"Shen isn't as big as Omashu or anything, but it's a harsh life. The desert tends to have that effect," she says.

She hesitates for a moment, and then rolls up her sleeve. On her upper bicep is a small but noticeable red tattoo, that of a red desert-crawler.

"The Red Crawlers took me in when I was eight. When I saved up enough to leave- and there was no Vinh, by the way, he's a mainland boy through and through- I came to Republic City and worked for the Terras until I managed to get out. I swore that I'd never be a slave to the Triads again, that the next time we worked together, it would be as partners."

She glances back at me and looks away from my captivated look shyly.

"What?"

"My gut tells me you're playing me again, but Spirits, Jasha, I can't help but find you incredibly attractive right now."

She smiles.

"I'm glad to hear that; you gonna do anything about that?"

I lick the ice cream again, looking back at the bay coyly.

"The world might be going to shit Jasha, but I've still got a code of honor. Though I suppose we have some downtime until Arun gets us the intel."

I finish the cone, tossing it down towards the beach, where some sea-vultures begin fighting over it. I loop my arm through Jasha's and walk towards the distant Fire Nation cultural center, where the vibrant nightlife is already awakening, and pull her along.

Jasha smiles, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk.

"What shall we do with ourselves, detective?"

I grin.

"Let's find some trouble."

A/N:

Hey guys! Like I said in my last note, I'm finally back. I've been slaving over this chapter for while, and this is probably the fifth or sixth complete rewrite of the chapter. A deadly mix of writer's block, a busy schedule, and working on some personal projects delayed the release of this chapter. I know a lot of you guys were worried that I was abandoning this story; believe me, while it might take a lot of time to put out chapters, if I ever decide to abandon this story (and I have no intention of doing that anytime soon), I'll tell you guys definitively.

In any case, I thank you for your patience, and welcome feedback as always. And if you decide to move on due to the unpredictable update schedule; no hard feelings- I understand how frustrating it can be to wait for a fic that is never updated again. If you decide to stick around, I hope you enjoy!

I'm hard at work on the next chapter, and while I won't even attempt to say exactly when it will be released, I hope it will be in the next week or so.

Thank you guys so much for your support,

IGdude117