The White Flame (An Avatar Story) Book 1: Survival

by Aegis Whiteflame

Seven years before the Awakening of the Avatar, in a Fire Nation occupied city on the Continental Earth Kingdom's East Coast, an orphan boy by the name of "Fluke", with a past he does not remember, finds himself attempting to simply survive the hellish conditions of his city's slums, not yet knowing the role he'll come to play in the intensifying Hundred Years' War

1. Chapter 1: The Execution

A Fluke

And there it was again, the same voice that, whenever it was I did choose to dream, spoke to me, saying what it was it always did when it came around, "Wake up", and alongside it, a name. A name I'd agreed not to speak. A name that I'd understood that, should I use it, would get me killed in time. And so I woke as somebody different, somebody who only existed in this world because of luck, good or bad. Just a fluke.

Even in the center of Citadel's slums, I still somehow managed to find myself in the shadow of the wall. No matter where I looked, there it was, rising fifty feet above the ground, a dark gray obelisk that somehow still managed to put the overcast Autumn sky to shame. I imagined, from time to time, that in the city center, maybe the walls didn't seem half so foreboding. Hell, maybe even the sun shone out there while we were stuck in what seemed to be a constant gloom. Smog had a tendency to do that, I supposed. But here, if it wasn't the smog from the factories, or the overcast Fall weather rolling in from the east, it was the wall, the shadow of it never failing to remind us that we were trapped here. That unless you were military or one of the upper-class residents living in the inner city, there was no way in, no way out.

For us in the slums, it was simply an understanding we all had come to sooner or later. We were a human shield, a mass of thousands of compressed children, infirm, and elderly, or, to put it simply, anybody not fit to put on a uniform and be sent to the front. If you weren't drafted the moment you became 14 then, if you had any sense of what was good for yourself, you'd sign up anyway. It was no surprise to anybody anymore. It was a promise of food, water, and a roof over your head—all luxuries that could scant be afforded out here. Not in this city. Out here, your fate was, for all intents and purposes, set in stone: to die of starvation, thirst, disease, or if you managed to survive those three, gang warfare. There was only one certainty anymore, and that was death. So it no longer surprised us when some new 14-year-old handed himself to the guards at the gates and proclaimed he wanted to be a soldier. I guess that dying in warfare would always be superior to dying in these slums.

Though not all saw it that way. There were plenty, on the other hand, who saw the chaos of these slums as an opportunity. I had a way of reading the people around me, knowing what they thought and what they believed. I had the eye for it. While most everyone was too concerned with who to mug one day, what struggling vendor was viable enough to rob the next, or overall just finding some way to make sure their gang didn't view them as not worth the food, I preferred to let my attention remain on the finer things. I had the eyes to notice the changing world around me, ensuring that no worthwhile piece of information went wasted. Being 12 years old wasn't the worst thing on the streets. You weren't quite old enough to be drafted, sure, but you also weren't too young to be literally stomped on by the gangs or bullies.

I had my own setup, seeing as how my sojourn in this city wasn't likely to come to an end any time soon. And so, I did what I did best. I watched. You'd think that on an empty stomach, not having had a proper meal in weeks or drink in days, people wouldn't be quite so talkative. Then again, there wasn't exactly much more to do. Wandering the streets of Citadel's Outer Ring, the Slums, "The Filth District", whatever one wanted to call it, information of all kinds could be picked up: a vendor showing the marks of being "easy pickings", a gang safehouse being stocked, a dumb rich kid from the inner city who thought himself invincible, these were all the kinds of things I'd sell. Information. I'd watch, memorize, deliver the news to the right people, and they'd pay you on the spot. At least, most of the time they would. Sometimes proof was required, but that was more in the old day. Now, time was money for the gangs, and if there was a fresh lead, they weren't keen on wasting any time. And besides, I'd built a reputation for myself at this point. So most of the times nowadays, I got paid on the spot in coin or in food and clean water, the latter being preferable. Coin wasn't much use out here as there wasn't much to buy. What little there was, from artisan shops or craftsmen, it served me no purpose. Food was the real currency for anybody who didn't want to find themselves a skeletal husk dead in an alley one random day, and there was enough food to go around, at least if you knew where to look. And these days, business was thriving. It seemed gang warfare was good for something at least.

On normal occasion, how I make my pay would be considered 'snitching.' But this wasn't quite snitching per se. Rather, it was business. Snitching would have been going to the authorities. No that they really cared. Unless it was some rich kid getting mugged, a caravan being robbed, or the threat of foreign intrusion, they were perfectly fine with watching us tear one another apart. Sometimes I even wondered if they bet on who would live or die from one day to the next, watching our lives like some high-stakes boxing match. Plus, you'd be painting a target on your head bigger and brighter than any other rival gang. And so, there was little reason to go to the authorities. Last person to do so had learned that the hard way, found a few days later in the middle of the street, hog-tied, mouth sewn shut, his attempts to scream in pain so fierce he managed to tear open the threading. Grim description aside, it was a good reminder of the first rule in the slums.

As far as my memory served me, I could remember no time when the gangs were more at conflict than they were now. The conflict was between two gangs, the Hornets and the Rats. The former was as close to the "old breed" as you could get here, them having been the leading gang for the last 3 or so years now. They were led by a 16-year-old named Riu. Rumor had it he killed the soldier who'd tried to pull him off the street to draft him. The odds were just as true of the story being true as they were of him just being a slightly taller 14-year-old. Nobody would dare confirm nor deny the rumors, however, making him something of an urban legend at this point. Not a bad thing to be for the leader of a gang. The others were relative newcomers led by a 14-year-old named Miro. Not much was known about him, still likely trying to make a name for himself, this war perhaps being the best way to do so.

It was hard to call it a war, of course, by no means comparable to what was happening outside of the walls, at least judging by what I'd heard. It was more just a series of thefts, beatings, ambushes, kidnappings, you name it, anybody ambitious enough to get in one of the action joining one gang or the other. I took part in my own way. Despite my preference being for Miro and his newcomers, I didn't let anything get in the way of a good payday. I sold to whoever offered most, occasionally seeing the consequences of my actions, but paying them no mind. A heavy conscience was something I had to avoid if I wanted to stay fed. Of course, however, I did have standards. I never did anything or gave away any information that could get somebody killed. Having a heavy conscience in crippling a gang's operations was one thing. Having a dead body turning up on the street because of a fluke like me, that was something else in its entirety.

Around midday was when I came to the assessment that sitting around all day wouldn't put a meal in my stomach by nightfall. And so, I left my regular spot perched on the railing of the 2nd story balcony of a decrepit old pottery shop, making my way down the Grain Street towards the inner gate.

The main streets and gates of the city were appropriately named after the trade routes they were connected to. If you were to keep following the Grain Street north, you'd eventually, of course, leave the city, but going beyond that, stumble across the farmland on the outskirts of a different city called Ba Sing Se. Talk was that it was an enemy city, but I didn't imagine it stopped the Fire Nation from taking what it needed from there and sending it south to us. How very generous.

The main streets always served as hubs of activity for the slums, never empty as far as I could remember, save for that one Summer when plague had rolled through. Even then, though, I guess it hadn't been empty. None of its inhabitants had been alive, of course, but notwithstanding, it was never empty. Nowadays though, the plague being a distant memory, things had returned to normal on the main streets, there always being some sense of haste and activity to them despite the fact that hardly anybody in the slums actually possessed any form of profession beyond "survive." Sure, you'd have your tradesman, artisan, cook, prostitute, and, well, more prostitutes. There was no shortage of them carrying around a load of diseases best left to themselves. I didn't doubt some trace of the plague may still have been circulating amongst them. I myself never could tell how they stayed in business, ugly and visibly disease-ridden as they were. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The main streets, at the end of the day, was where all the commotion was, and that extended to the gangs as well, acting as a neutral territory of sorts rather than an open combat zone like the rest of the slums were. The 2nd unspoken rule of the slums seemed to be just that-leave the fighting behind closed doors. There was no sense doing it in the open public, reason A being that it risked collateral, reason B being that some snoop like me could easily make a quick buck off of publicizing whatever the outcome was. Not that I didn't have my own ways of finding out, though.

It didn't take long for me to pass by a trio of Miro's thugs. They caught sight of me quickly enough, as was their job after all. I'd normally expect to pass by them without any incident, but it just so happened that one of them was an old friend of mine.

"Oh would ya look at the time!" Reek called out, pushing his way out from between the two other Rats to get a proper look at me. "Must be some sort of Fluke for you to be here 'round now!" It was a joke I'd heard hundreds of times over. If anything was low-hanging fruit for comedic material in these slums, it was somebody's name, so easily prone to being assigned to somebody after the first dumb thing you did. I figured Reek should know that better than anybody.

"I'd return the favor and make fun of your name in response, but, on second thought," I said, raising a hand to my nose, mockingly swiping away some unwelcome smell, "I think the odor speaks for itself."

I'd made my way over to their little trio, the other two rats making some distance. Reek knew me well, as did the others, but to a less favorable effect clearly. I didn't blame them. People learned to watch what they said around me. Only old friends like Reek still had what it took to put gang loyalties aside for a minute or two to have a little fun. I had to appreciate the small moments like that when they came. They seemed to be too far and in between as it was.

"Woahhhhh. Look at you. Never heard that one before," he guffawed in clear sarcasm. "So the hell you doing 'round here? Just taking in the scenery, or you just miss me that much?"

"Well you know I never consider a day complete without visiting my favorite parasite in this town. No, wait, second favorite. Ringworms are my favorite."

"You done?"

"No, no, you're right. I lied. Ringworm, then elephant rats with the plague, then you."

"Very funny. So you here to bring sunshine and rainbows to this shithole with that wit of yours, or do you actually have something for us?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I was actually wondering if it was you who had something for me?"

Reek grinned, saying with mock elegance, "Why of course. Me and my associates here were just talking about our latest plans to hit the Hive in full force tonight. So do be sure to let them know so that they can pull all of their guys out. We wouldn't want anybody to get hurt after all."

"I'll make it my utmost priority then," I replied with an equally joking smile, taking imaginary notes on an invisible notepad.

"Shut up, Reek," said the oldest of the bunch who I recognized as Mu. At least, I though I recognized him as Mu. Much as I tried to keep track of everybody in these slums, gang members in particular, I couldn't help but mix up a name from time to time.

"Just making friendly conversation, Mu."

So I was right, I congratulated myself.

"We're not fed to talk. Hell, we're hardly fed at all."

"You complaining, Mu? Got something you want to get off your chest in front of our esteemed company"

Mu's eyes drifted over to me where I was standing, having paced a few steps back so as not to get caught in the middle of, well, whatever this was. I considered stepping in as Mu seemed about half ready to blow up on Reek, but I doubted he'd do anything at the end of the day. He could more than take Reek, who was half his size, in a fight, but in the process, he'd paint a target on his head for the Rats to snuff out. He wasn't smart, but he wasn't nearly dumb enough to do anything here. "No," he answered, turning away, clearly having nothing more to say on the matter.

Reek turned back to me with a shrug as though apologizing for Mu's behavior.

He had no reason to apologize. Mu may just have bought me dinner. Dissent in the ranks, news of food shortage. That ought to get me something at the very least.

"Well," I said, straightening my back, dusting off my outerwear as I prepped to get moving again. "I hate to leave on such a positive note, but I probably shouldn't be sticking around," I said.

"Aw, going so soon?" Reek asked after me in jest.

"I know. What'll you ever do without my lovely company?"

"I just may be broken hearted. So where you off to?"

"Oh you know, off to see if I can get anything out of the Hornets. Maybe they'll be more talkative than this lot."

"Ah, well, in that case, do be sure to stop back by if you hear any news, ahem, 'buzzing' around."

I had to stop in my steps just to turn back at him with a look of sheer disappointment on my face. "Really? That's the best you could do?"

He shrugged in a plea for innocence, defensively saying, "Wha- I thought it was pretty good."

I shook my head. "You disappoint me," was all I could muster before turning back onto the Grain Street, already planning my heading towards the Hive. Making a b-line for it would be stupid. It wasn't as though I was trying to hide anything, but simply put, it never helped to be as obvious as humanly possible. I left the trio of Rats there, figuring they could work out whatever difficulties they had amongst themselves. I, on the other hand, had other matters to attend to. I potentially had some useful information on me. Something that a few Hornet friends of mine might just have been able to make use of. For the right price, of course.

Danev

The "Hive." I couldn't make the argument that it was some grand bastion of strength in the slums. Not like how Riu liked to advertise it as. It was an abandoned cluster of derelict 2-story apartment buildings, walled off with junk fences composed of wire, stone, sandcrete, and wood, topped off with a hole-ridden tarp that gave the locale its name. But whether it was the weathered, chipped walls decorated in graffiti, the rotten wooden furniture that gave me splinters whenever I tried to get comfortable, or the leaky ceilings that prevented me from ever really getting a good night of sleep, it was home.

Naturally, of course, it was more than just the scenery that made the Hive what it was. It was the people. Housing 54 hornets, it was the epicenter of our gang in this city, making up a solid half of everybody we had in the slums, the other half being distributed across safe houses or other locations. Here though, this being the core of the Hornets, nobody was put to waste. If you lived here, it was either because you were part of Riu's inner circle, you were a half-decent fighter, you were running supplies between here and the other locations, or you were a homemaker. Hell, even we needed those. You were either useful in some way, shape, or for, or you were dead on your sleeping mat, waiting to be tossed out. I'd seen the latter too many times to doubt its frequency.

My role here tended to fall under 2 categories. When I wasn't picking up the slack left by the rest of us who'd been worn down for the escalated tensions as of late, I was our chief muscle, making sure all in the Hive stayed orderly, and all that wasn't in the Hive stayed out. But in addition to that, I was Riu's right-hand man. Have been since the beginning.

I stood guard at the entrance, an old lobby part of the apartment complex that we'd blown the sandcrete wall out of, turning it into a security checkpoint instead. The only way out of this lovely home of ours. I had my back to the wall, knife rolling between my fingers as though it were a coin, eyeing my motions meticulously, careful not to add to the already plentiful scabs on my hand that'd been inflicted by this unhealthy habit of mine.

I caught the knife between my thumb and index finger, spinning the blade to get a good look at myself, wiping it with the sleeve of my left hand when the image proved unsatisfactory. Skin still tan, hair still brown, eyes still green. Still alive. No signs of gangrene. Cut healing…alright. Good. All things considered.

I slipped the small pocketknife back into my pants, the sound of footsteps beyond the entrance, however, prompting me to wield it again in a worst-case scenario type of incident, though I doubted that would be the case. In either case, it paid to be prepared.

I stood at ease though when I saw who it was, letting my guard down as the other 2 guards at my side, Aden and Meeko, stepped forward to meet the silver-eyed information broker, clubs and spears raised.

"You know the drill, Fluke. Arms up."

"We need to go over this again?" he asked as he raised his arms into a T-frame position, his question, however, seemingly not directed towards my orders. "It's Luke. Not Fluke." The knife at his waist, pathetic little shiv that it was, stood in clear sight for me to confiscate from him for the time being as I ignored his complaints.

"You'll get this back on the way out," I said as per protocol, placing it on the reception desk, prompting him to turn around, which he did so obediently as I checked him from behind. "Anything on you that I should know about?"

"Well, seeing as how you're going lower and lower, I should warn you that this puberty thing is set to be starting around now, so don't let any unexpected growth startle you too much."

I flinched back, unnerved by the mere thought of it, but went back to patting him down, careful, however, to quickly move past his groin region, not wanting to put his comments to the test. Going down his leg however, something caught my attention tucked into his ragged shoes, beneath his pant sleeve. I patted at the area a small bit longer until I could confirm it wasn't meant to be there, raising his pant leg to reveal an iron arrowhead.

"Shit," Fluke said, eyes peering downward to see the same thing I did. "Forgot I had that."

"This is Fire Nation," I informed him matter of factly, stating what was likely obvious to him considering his possession of it."

"Got too close to the gate," he shrugged. "Not a big fan of us street urchins I guess."

I knew him well enough to know that it had been unintentional, but there was a reason that the Hive hadn't been hit for over 3 years, and that was because I did things by the book. There were rules, and rules had to be followed. And besides, I had an example to set for the others, even if it did mean being something of an ass. "You trying to stab me, asshole?!" I yelled, placing a hand against his chest and pushing him back, raising the arrowhead as though demanding an explanation.

"Hell no! I'm selling!"

Of course he is. "So, get on with it and talk."

"That depends," he grunted, regaining his footing. "What are you offering?"

"Nothing until we know what your info's worth. You know the rules. You're not changing anything."

He groaned, but submitted quickly enough. "Fine, but it's good. Trust me. Miro's having trouble feeding his guys. I have a feeling that you hitting that safe house of theirs the other day really screwed 'em up good."

Nobody was supposed to know that their safe house getting lit ablaze was us. Either one of us squealed, or he just was that good. Frankly, I didn't doubt the latter.

"His guys are clearly pissed. One of them even, Mu, he looks about ready to crack. I wouldn't be surprised if you could squeeze him for some info or maybe even turn him."

Aden scoffed from behind me. "Why the fuck would we want Mu? Little shit can hardly even fight."

"He'd say the same about you guys. How's that arm of yours treating you by the way. Mu sends his wishes. Hopes your recovering well."

Aden, his right arm still not back into perfect shape, palpably grew more tense behind me, multiple flattering ideas on how to put the kid's confiscated knife to use in so many very creative ways.

All I needed to do was dismissively wave a hand at the side of my waist to get him to calm down behind me. Setting an image was good for a great many things. It kept things in order, and it kept the others in line. I turned back to Fluke now, wondering if he had anything more, but when he failed to speak, I shrugged, asking, "That's all?"

"That's all?" he echoed in surprise. "That was good shit. So how much you offering? Food or coin?"

"Coin this time. Food's low. 5 coppers."

"Oh, bullshit! Come on! Don't screw me on this! 10."

"5."

"10. That was good stuff I gave you. You burned down their storehouse, sure, but you had no idea of what effect it had. Now you do, and now you also know the different opportunities it opened up for you all. You can start recruiting from their side. Should be no issue if you offer food, unlike with how you're screwing me over right now," he added at the end with a hint of bitterness.

There was a pause following his exclamation. I wasn't particularly fond of it either, but orders were orders. We were stocking up on food and not trading with it anymore. I'd have to check in with Riu to see if he deemed recruitment a worthy investment of food.

Fluke, on the other hand, was taking a risk in speaking to me this way. Despite having known me for a good while, the last 2 years I think it was, he knew I wasn't the kind of guy to hesitate from beating somebody's ass because of a shared history. Unless, of course, it was Riu. Here though, I couldn't help but give him credit where credit was due. It was helpful. I couldn't give him dinner, but maybe I could at least help him find some.

"Fine. 10."

Fluke smiled, but not in a manner that made me want to wipe the smirk off his face, but simply in a way of thanks. Aden, at my gesture, walked behind the reception desk in the room and reached down behind it to unveil the small chest where we kept a small amount of money for day-trading. He inserted the key he kept on his person and opened the small container and extracted 10 copper pieces, counting them meticulously to ensure that he didn't give the boy a penny more. He handed the pieces to me once he was done, and I, in turn, handed them to the kid.

"Thanks," he said, taking them. "I appreciate it. On that pleasant note," he said with a yawn that seemed too loud to be legitimate, "mind if I come inside for a small bit. I'm quite tuckered out from all this bartering. I could use a rest." I understood he was joking and couldn't help but be amused at his quip. It was better than the regular tedium with Aden and Meeko who, as indicated by their humorless responses now, weren't quite the entertaining individuals.

"Leave," I said strictly, granting him however a small grin so as to show him his efforts didn't go wasted.

That proved to be enough for him, however as he smiled in turn and, before spinning around to leave, outstretched his hand to me. "Knife and arrowhead please."

Upon his request, I took the knife from where it rested on the desk and handed it to him, slipping the arrowhead, rather, into my own pocket.

"And arrowhead," he said, emphasizing the connector as though he expected that to remind me of the second item.

"You know the rules. Whatever you don't give up, we take."

He grimaced, shaking his head in displeasure, muttering, "Asshole" as he turned to leave.

I had hoped this would be quick, and it had, but not quick enough. It was a tight schedule. Too tight. I hadn't turned the kid away knowing that in doing so, I would only get his suspicions roiling, but what now was occurring directly in front of me, it was far worse. On Fluke's way out, he was shoved aside and passed by one of our guys, our courier, Mahin, pulling a wheelbarrow, uncovered, arms and armor in plain view. Fire Nation arms and armor.

He had to come back just now. Damnit.

I didn't even need to turn my head up to Fluke to know that he'd seen the whole thing, but I did so anyway, his shiteating grin in plain view as his eyes met mine, just screaming out, 'Should have given me my arrowhead back.' He didn't need to say anything though. The situation spoke for itself, and so, without a care in the world, he simply walked off in the opposite direction down the narrow alley, whistling a happy-go-lucky tune to himself. And he was gone just like that, Aden and Meeko by my side, just as aware of the situation as everybody else was here.

Meeko had already moved to close the tarp of the entrance, ensuring that no other smartass passerby got a look at something they had no need to see.

My eyes were drawn to the courier, that man, no, that kid, and then to the wheelbarrow full of weapons that immediately marked us for city-wide controversy. Why the hell were they uncovered?!

The look in my eyes yelled that same question as I glared at Mahin who was just now realizing his mistake. I signaled for Aden and Meeko to take the supplies inside. They did so more than obediently, leaving just the two of us.

"Danev." He started, his voice quivering. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to-" He didn't have time to finish his defense before my fist connected with his jaw, knocking him straight down to the ground, not another word leaving from his lips before consciousness had slipped away. Down already. Pathetic.

Him on the ground, my knee on his groin, left hand holding him up, I slapped him awake with my right hand, waiting until his eyes opened. He was going to be awake for this. Whether he liked it or not. Another first connected with his face, then another, and another, until I was sure his nose and much more was broken, along with a good amount more. His day's only getting started.

I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I couldn't. Not anymore. He'd made a mistake. Hell, he made more than one. He could have turned away seeing we had company. He could have covered the goods. But no, this was on him. He made the mistakes. And among the Hornets, we didn't make mistakes. But when we did, there were consequences. Very real consequences as Mahin was soon to find out.

Fluke

I was practically walking on air on my way back to the Grain Street, riding this high, no intention of letting it go any time soon. My trip having just taken a little over an hour, I was on my way back to Reek, selling this time, a treasure trove of information in this head of mine. Hornets with Fire Nation weapons. If that wasn't news to fill the streets, I don't know what was. I bargained this could get me at least a silver. Hell, if I argued enough, maybe even 2. Aim high, hit low.

I pondered in my head just how to approach the subject, hoping Reek was still around as I was sure I could strike a better deal with him than anybody else within the Rats. Reek, I pondered. This information is of the utmost importance. It is imperative that it reaches Miro in time to-no. That just sounded stupid. Don't play the loyalty card. They know loyalty didn't mean anything to me.

I got to the Grain Street in good enough time and was relieved to see that not only was Reek still present, but he was alone. Great. The less interference, the better. I closed the distance between us, nodding in greeting Reek as I approached, catching his attention easily enough, a small look of surprise on his face clearly in seeing me back so soon.

"Look," he said as I got closer. "I know how lonely you get when you're not around me, but this is just a bit extreme."

I chuckled. "Not about that this time. Turns out I'm selling."

"Ooh. Let me guess. 'It's of the utmost importance.'"

To that, I had to laugh. I had played that routine in the past and had gotten my ass kicked over it on more than one occasion, one time even by Reek before we knew each other as well as we did now. That hadn't been the most fun of days, but I think something about me spitting the blood out, standing back up, and asking, "So you're interested?" had somehow won his respect. At least enough so that he didn't knock me out a second time.

"So," Reek said. "Whatchu got for me?"

"Alright, well. As you know, I went to the hive and-"

I didn't have time to get another word in edgewise before the resounding gong of the city bell clanged overhead.

Our heads both turned to meet the noise, the bell tower just barely visible over the interior wall where, sure enough, within its confines, the bell was being rung.

"Recruitment drive?" wondered Reek. "Already?"

Having lived in Citadel for all our lives, we were no stranger to the bells and what they meant. One gong signaled a recruitment drive designed to lure out the starving kids who would look great in Fire Nation uniforms, two marking an execution, as close as this city got to a public celebration, and three marking the complete opposite-invasion.

In my years in this city, I'd heard all but the third, and so we stood there still, all activity on the streets frozen to a halt as we waited to hear if any more would come, the space in between them always feeling like hours when in reality, they were only seconds.

The second came, and we waited longer, none of us even able to pray against invasion as we simply had no idea of what it would entail. We had no way of knowing if it was something to fear or anticipate with open arms, but we waited anyway, wondering if today would be the day.

No third gong came. My shoulders eased down in relief, an action that confused myself as I theoretically had no reason to not desire invasion, but something about the thought of it however still never ceased to terrify me.

Reek seemed equally as inexplicably relieved, turning to me then to me as I asked, "Who do you think it is this time?"

"No idea. Maybe they caught a spy?"

"Maybe. Wanna go?"

He shrugged. "Eh, sure. Why not. Got nothing better to do today. Tell me these wonderful tales of yours once it's over. I'll get some more guys to hear you out if it's really that important."

I nodded, not particularly enthused about the concept of the crowd, but figuring it was warranted for a situation such as this. "Sure thing," I responded.

From there, it was a simple trek down the Grain Road among the crowd of others who were making their way there. The interior gates only opened on 2 occasions: to let in or out troops and supplies, or for recruitment drives and executions. On occasions such as these, the gates were opened, and a steady stream of Slumdogs were allowed into a heavily guarded plaza of the inner city, no shortage of armed personnel to ensure we didn't roam beyond the open area. Some had tried before, only to be quickly and easily rooted out and tossed back into the slums.

The guards were already separating the flow of Slumdogs into organized lines to the best of their ability, padding each and every person who passed through in turn, guards ever at the ready to put down the first animal that posed a threat, because 'animal' was simply about what they viewed us as. Are they wrong?

It came turn soon enough for me and Reek to be padded down, quickly and inefficiently, them completely skipping over my shiv, which, in all fairness, was too run down and small to actually serve as a lethal weapon unless I really put all of my pathetic weight behind it. We were promptly shoved inside this restricted area of the inner district.

The city center, as it always was on such occasions, was packed to the brim with an ever-growing influx of Citadel residents of all social castes. That wasn't to say we were joined together as one, mind you. While the inner-city residents had front row seats, making up the vast majority of spectators near the podium, Slumdogs were restricted via metal barricades to stay behind a certain point, ensuring that we didn't "contaminate" the good residents of the inner city. I remember 1 year and a half ago when an idiot kid had tried to mug one of the inner-city residents and had been promptly caught and beaten to near death by local security. I never had caught his name, but all I remember was that he was a local legend for the single day he remained alive before he succumbed to his wounds and died shortly after.

Memories of incident such as that made me wonder all the more what would transpire today. If perhaps there'd be a gang attack, a mugging, or just a plain-old execution. Who's up to the headstone today?

Piled behind scores of people taller than either of us, we realized quick enough that we'd have to resort to old habits to get a better look, crawling beneath the metal barricades and dashing into the crowd of city folk. It didn't take any convincing for them to move aside for us, them behind more than happy to minimize contact with us "savages." Some attempted calling for security, but over the rest of the commotion of the city plaza, their cries fell on deaf ears.

We arrived to the front just in time. The show was about to begin.

4 soldiers already were stood in position at the 4 corners of the stage, setting the scene for the officer who rose up from behind, escorted by 2 more guards as he walked to the front of the stage. He was a tall and lean man, well built, clearly not having been starved half of his life, a smirk denoting an overinflated ego painting his face.

He stood calmly for a few moments, waiting for the chatter to begin to die down so he could be heard with the aid of a megaphone mounted on a small tripod. Eventually, the clamor died down enough to a point that he deemed sufficient for himself to be heard above.

"People of Citadel!" His booming voice echoed through the center, gathering the attention of those who hadn't been paying attention before. Even the Slumdogs went quiet. Not out of respect, but simply out of interest. These events came by quite rarely, and so when they did, we paid attention. Who knew what we'd miss otherwise?

"Today, I come to you all with proof of the superiority of our great Nation! To those who support us, we want to say, that what we do today, and every day is to protect you-our citizens. Those who stand by us shall be our equals for all those who stand proudly under the banner of our proud nation are equals in the eyes of our great Fire Lord Azulon! Continue to stand with us! And you will be one of us! To those of us who stand against us, let this example of evil..." he said gesturing to a man I had not noticed standing in the back, surrounded by 4 guards on each corner. I was surprised by the number of guards attending him. The man was rather aged with a longer white beard, shaggy white hair, and obvious wrinkles and a general sense of wear and tear painting his face. He was dressed in rags, but I could still see how deathly skinny the man was, bones visible, looking as though they were ready to pop out of his paper-thin skin at any moment. Hell, he looked worse than I did. I shuddered to think of what went on in whatever cell he was being kept in.

The officer continued, "...Is the very example of what you will become. Stand against us and we will hunt you down to our last breath. Let this traitor be an example of what we do to our enemies and what, in time, will happen to them all!"

He nodded at the guards to bring the man forward. The rear 2 guards kicked the man's knees in underneath him, bringing him to the ground as the front 2 grasped both of his arms, literally dragging him to the head block at the center of the stage.

"This man" the Officer resumed "Goes by the name Lee Shuni, but this was one of many lies. This traitor is an assassin sent by a cult of Air Nation extremists who wish to dismantle our nation starting by destroying our great city by allowing the Earth Kingdom to march in and kill each and every one of you! In truth, he is an Air Cultist known as Gyani, no greater purpose in his life than to see each and every one of you dead!"

To that, he was met with an orchestra of jeers and curses-a chorus that Reek and I joined in on, not having anything much better to do. It was part of the fun after all.

The officer placed a booted foot onto the small of the man's back, forcing him to the ground, the old man's neck landing squarely on the head block beneath.

In a blatant show of authority, he craned his neck down to face the old man and asked through gritted teeth, "Any last words, treasonous scum?!"

None of us had been expecting any. He didn't seem the type. We'd seen some last words before in the form of simple curses, final jokes, even one pathetic speech that had fallen on deaf ears. A man of this age and stature, however, we didn't expect much, and so our surprise was apparent when he slowly lifted his head, turning his eyes to the crowd where they simply rested for a while, scanning back and forth. Is he looking for somebody he recognizes? His eyes drifted over me, and then they stopped. It was only for a moment, and they continued shortly after. What the hell? Was he? No. Of course not. I'm just imagining things. His eyes lost the focus from before, seemingly not as intent as finding anything in particular, as though he'd already found what he was looking for. What the-

"People of the Fire Nation! Please! Open your eyes! Your government is lying to you! Everything this man has said is just a lie meant to deceive you. Don't let them fool you any longer! Save yourself—" He was cut off by the officer kicking him in the stomach, sending him rolling onto his side off of the block, the 2 soldiers behind him promptly setting him back on.

"Headsman!" the officer yelled, wasting no time. The large man who had been waiting didn't let a second got to waste as he, in what felt like one fluid motion, donned his hood, grabbed his great axe, prowled across the stage to the head block, raised his weapon ever so slowly, and brought it down in the blink of an eye.