Fluke
I'd had a number of jokes played on me before back in Citadel. They could vary in intensity and comedic value, but, for the most part had all been staged and executed by Reek, whether it was tricking me into believing that the Peacemakers were back and out to get me in retaliation for my home-invasion days or giving me so horrifically bad intel to bring back to the hornets that would earn me a beating on the spot. It was all in good fun, of course, at least to one of us, and it'd helped me wise up in terms of knowing what was good intel worth dealing, and what wasn't.
No jest played on me, however, had been half this elaborate. I was brought to a room far higher in the Citadel military complex, the main tower itself, stood before a room where a little over three dozen others already waited inside, dressed in red robes, seemingly in the middle of…something.
It appeared as though they were sparring, but they seemed too far away for direct contact, which should have been my first indicator that something was awry. My mind naturally wandered to the possibility that I'd been brought her for additional practice in light of my less than optimal abilities in combat training, but that couldn't have been the case as, much to my dismay, Match had been brought along as well, myself only thankful that there were others, including the strange elder, to ensure he didn't step out of line.
The accumulated evidence, or rather, lack thereof, left me questioning what it was we were doing here, that same curiosity mutually exchanged between the other trainees in the room, of similar age to us other slumdogs.
It would only be answered, however, when our master, by the name of jeong jeong apparently, navigated himself past us and into his dojo, turning to look at us as he made our reason for being here known, little sense though it would make.
"My name is Jeong Jeong, and from here on out, I will be your firebending instructor. Today will mark your first lesson."
I recognized none of the other faces in that room. They weren't from our units, that much was certain, and they all had looks of refinement about them. They had the looks of what one could expect from firebenders. They had the robes, they had the looks, I could picture them burning one another to a crisp. I could hardly say the same about ourselves. At least, I could hardly say we possessed the same means.
So what the hell is this then? What kind of lesson is this supposed to be? A reminder that we're insignificant? We fuck up that badly?
But it seemed that our so-called "master" intended to keep up the ruse, and so ordered, upon seeing our hesitation at the doorway, "Join the others! We are falling behind!"
If the last month of training that we'd gone through had taught us one thing, it was not to disobey orders even if we didn't understand the first thing about them, and so, the master, Jeong Jeong, would get no complaints as we shuffled inside and found spaces amongst the other few dozen disciples whose garments seemed far more fitting than those we were in, still in our traditional training uniforms.
It was impossible not to notice the curious looks on both the faces of us newbies, and those whom we were joining, but all of that came to an end the moment the door to the dojo shut, and the man who'd gathered us all here stalked to the front.
"We have new students. They, like you, doubt their reasons for being here." It was quickly obvious it wasn't us he was addressing. "They are untrained, undisciplined, and unaware of their abilities, unlike you. We will not slow for them but this once. Ready stances!"
The dozens of students around us did just that, getting into what what supposedly this 'ready stance' of theirs, legs spread apart, grounded, though still loose, agile, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. It was sensical enough, but nothing about any of this seemed to explain the prevailing question, how much of this is actually real?
The master addressed us now, detecting that exact same confusion as it was still us who stood in place, not knowing what we were doing here or what 'here' even was.
He put those queries to rest.
"Produce your flames."
The room around us immediately intensified in heat as well as light. It felt no different from when the Hive had gone up in our fireball after we'd trapped it to catch Janick and his Rats in the final days of that fatal turf war, and I could have been convinced that the dojo had similarly erupted around us by merit of some hidden cache of blasting jelly that none of us had noticed, but such was not the case.
Instead, the dozens of students around us spontaneously, from thin air, produced flames between their hands. Not one of us newbies who were brought in did not immediately react on account of fight or flight instincts. Zihe instinctively leaped away so as to get away from the clear threat of fire, Match, near the front of the formation, turned and raised his hands in front of himself while I, somewhat deeper in the crowd, had nowhere to run, only able to turn in a circle around me, frantically searching for an opening that wasn't consumed by fire. There was none.
The students seemed to find our display amusing, a number of their chuckles indicating just that, though the flames in their hands did not waver. Whether they were smaller flames, less confident, flickering in and out of life, or larger, and more confident as well as vibrant, one thing was clear–these were all honest-to-spirits firebenders.
What the hell is this?
The master looked across his disciples, registering an invisible pride that was not complementary, but more passive than anything else.
"Hold your flames," he said, dictating to the students to maintain their composure and return their attention to their tasks rather than those of us still panicking at the sight of our surroundings. "You are afraid of the flames," he observed, now referring to us. "You understand its power. Some of you have faced it firsthand yourself." He looked towards Match, who still bore faded markings of a fire that'd once gotten the better of him across his left arm. "This is good. Then you understand the capabilities of the power within you whether you are aware it exists or do not. It is a power, one you will use to kill your enemy, or one that will kill you if you do not learn. We will not slow down for you. You will learn, or you will not." With that, he was done addressing our small group, so ending his specialized attention as he addressed us as a whole now and said, "We will cover Hoi-mun today!"
There was the occasional silenced groan around me, but feet shuffled into position all the same, and space was made as my eyes darted around, wondering just what this 'Hoi-mun' was. I would get no explanation, only an "All of you!" to remind me and the rest of our bad batch that we were not to be excluded.
All there was to do was then follow the motions of those around us and, best as we could, try and imitate it to perfection.
It would not go very well. Already, I hadn't started off too great when it came to combat training in this last month. My time with the Hornets had taught me some things, none of which were applicable here. It didn't help either that I seemed to be on the younger end of the spectrum of children who the Fire Nation had picked up for training, and so had my weight and size going against me, meaning I could only be so effective.
I'd learned some small bit, however, none of which would help me here though, as these so-called "firebending students" moved in a style with a certain grace that was the furthest thing from which any of us had been taught thus far.
It was nearly impossible to follow the movements, much less have the same effect in imitating the flames they produced at intervals throughout, seemingly at a rather steady beat if my observations were to be trusted. My skills in watching though, didn't amount to much when it came to producing flame as, very simply, I couldn't. This same routine of failure would continue for nearly an hour and a half as forms were switched, we occasionally were put into pairs before returning to our formation, and performing another series of exercises that made no earthly sense to me. I felt the need to speak up at some point throughout, to bring it to the master's attention, 'Hey, I hate to tell you, but you seem to have made some small mistake. I'm not a bender.' Nor were any of the others. I knew these people. I knew Match well enough to know that if he was capable of bending fire, he damn well would have used that to kill the likes of Hornets like me months if not years ago.
All of this, it was just so, incredibly, wrong. Right?
The lack of understanding in what I was doing was not exactly concealed, and it didn't take long for Jeon Jeong to notice, calling out a "Stop" that was followed by all present, including even myself as my heart stopped dead in my chest.
I should've faked it better.
"Explain to me why you move as though you have just woken up."
I felt in me a street-born inclination to say that a part of the reason was that I just had, but that would do me no favors. Nor would the honest answer, which was what came out instead after some initial hesitation. "Drill ser-," No. "Master, sir? I…think there might be some mistake? I'm not a bender."
The way the rest of the benders looked towards me, then back to Jeong Jeong was indicator enough that the exact same thought was on their mind, frankly relieved that they needn't be the ones to voice their concerns first. Even Match seemed somewhat gladdened by the fact that I'd spoken up first, though he sure as hell was about to make no such admission.
The question did not seem to be taken too well by our master on the other hand, who narrowed his eyes. I instantly regretted my choice. Obviously. I half expected to be chewed out, but he only asked, "Is that so?"
Where the hell is he going with this?
I looked around me towards the others, even Match for a second before briefly looking away, realizing that for the bad idea that it was, for support. It was obvious I would get none. I was in this alone, and the only answer I could contrive was a questioning "No?"
"Are you asking me, or are you telling me?!"
Telling. "I'm not a bender, sir!"
"I am not a 'sir!' I am your 'master! Now, do you doubt what I am telling you?!"
"No, sir!"
"Yet you doubt me when I tell you that you are a bender!"
"Because I know I'm not, master! None of us are!" I thought it obvious I was referring to those of us just brought in. I mean, hell. I knew these people. They were Rats who very willingly would have used these abilities he claimed they had to take my life no shortage of times in the past.
"You speak with such certainty." Well. Obviously. "Perhaps if you put a fraction of that certainty towards your being here, perhaps you wouldn't slow down my class and the others! Now return to-" he was cut off by a ringing of a bell that I recognized all too well. It was the one that normally woke us, but, judging by the others here, seemed to mean something quite different as they all stood at attention, dropping their forms, awaiting dismissal?
"And now you have wasted the rest of not only my time, but that of your peers! Go! Return at the same time tomorrow or do not, it makes no difference to me, but if you do, I will not tolerate insolence from you, or any of the others you claim are as ungifted as you! Dismissed!"
So marked the conclusion of the first two hours of my day, and a rather poor first impression, but hopefully last one. Everything that came after that day, usually miserable, including even the standard combat drill back with my own 62nd armored, seem to gleam in comparison to that which'd been the strangeness of the morning.
None of us spoke of it as we left the dojo, dispersed among the other pupils who went in their own directions, away from the rest. They were of an age with us, but all proceeded in different directions. My mind made the connection quickly enough that they were city kids, probably in their own unit so as to be separated from scum like us, but I supposed that the master Jeong Jeong didn't have the patience to train us separately and so decided to do it all at once.
But train us for what? What's the fucking point? I'm not a firebender.
I was stopped on my way back to my unit however as, if the time was any indicator, they would be gathering now for morning meal before training began. It seemed I would be late though as a stern hand was placed on my shoulder, and I thought myself about to be subjected to yet another of Match's hallway ambushes as I knew it to be him, but he only hissed into my ear, "You come back here, you're dead."
He let go, and stalked off.
As though I needed the extra reason to stay the hell away, I thought as a shiver went down my back. Not a bender anyway.
And I would know. There wasn't a kid on the streets who hadn't tried bending the elements at one point or another thinking maybe they would get really lucky and make a pebble move or produce a single spark. I've had my fair share of doing just that, and it'd never worked in my favor. Even trying now, unable to stop thinking about that morning, nothing was happening.
Whether it was putting extra emphasis in my punches during drills on the hope a small flame would be produced, and getting my ass kicked for focusing too much on trying to pick up on the slightest sensation of heat rather than my opponent's counterattack, or trying to make the flames dance across the candles that lined the walls during our history lesson about the Fire Nation Unification Wars, nothing happened.
Nor did anything change as I lay atop my bunk, waving my hands up at the gas lamps that lit the room, wondering if any change could be observed. There was none, and my attention was only drawn away when the 114th finished their dinner, and Danev found right where I was lying to quickly speed my way, as though astonished I was still alive, and observed, "You're back."
"Mhm," I responded, still looking wistfully up at the ceiling. "Still gonna have to put up with my ass sleeping above you."
Danev wasn't in the mood for jokes. He was nervous. Why? I wondered. This hardly involves him. So far, he'd been doing a pretty piss poor job of holding his end of the "Once we're past the wall, we're done" deal. But then again, I guess circumstances had changed considerably.
"What happened?" He asked first. "Where were you? I tried asking the others, but the rest are fucking Rats. Wouldn't tell me shit."
I debated whether or not to tell Danev what'd really happened, but figured the truth might get a kick out of him, and so said, obviously not believing it myself, but phrasing it as a joke if anything, "Well, Danev. Turns out I'm real special. I'm a firebender."
There was a moment of pause as he looked at me, eyes wide, before his composure broke, and he guffawed. His lack of belief in what I'd just said was clear, which, far as I was concerned, meant that telling him that that'd actually been the reason for my disappearance would be all the more amusing. "Come on, Fluke. Really. What was that shit this morning all about?"
I turned to look at him where he was leaning against my bunk, looking up at me, and answered, "Not kidding. Put me in a room with a bunch of other benders. Our age too."
"Slummers?"
I shook my head. "Think they're inner city."
"Why the fuck they put you there? You're not a bender."
"No shit," I scoffed. "Think that was the point. Remind us how little we're worth? Don't know. Told us not to bother showing again, but if we do, not waste his time."
"Why go back? For him to chew your ass out again?" Danev asked as he now settled onto his own bunk beneath mine.
I shrugged, not that he could see. "Probably."
"Gonna go?"
I scoffed. "And lose two hours of sleep? Fuck that. I'm exhausted as is."
"Shame. Got some language shit I need your help with."
"Your end of the deal first," I countered, recalling the arrangement we'd made just last night. I would help him with the shit that took a brain, and he would help me with the shit that took a body.
It was fortuitous that we were confined to not just the barracks, but a small wing of the citadel military structure that was cordoned off for us past dinner, including such facilities as a sparring room as well that, right now, was abandoned but for the two of us.
It was hardly that he was teaching me anything new so much as he was giving me the opportunity to actually put what I should've been learning throughout the day to use, giving me the actual chance and time to practice and to learn.
And it turned out it was a decent enough time to chat without hundreds of other recruits within earshot, enabling Danev to comment, "Doesn't make sense though, singling you and the others out like that."
"What do you mean?"
"For that fake bending shit. They know you street kids aren't benders."
"Janick was."
"Janick was working with the Earth Kingdom. Wouldn't be surprised if he came from outside the city or some shit. Nobody left in the slums are benders."
It was a very absolute argument, but he wasn't mistaken. We'd reached that same assessment long ago, all of us.
"What the hell were they doing there anyway?" he continued as he corrected a combat-ready stance I was in, showing me the proper way to absorb a punch and not be thrown down. "FIghting like this?"
"Nothing like this. More like a fucking dance."
"Keep your face covered," Danev said, raising his as a demonstration, bringing us back to the demonstration at hand for the moment. "Don't want the first blow to knock the sense out of you."
I did as he instructed, keeping my hands clenched into fists near my face with my elbows in front of my torso, giving him as little open room to punch as possible. He threw two, the first of which struck my shoulder, but the second of which collided with my arm as a proper defense.
"And the others were bending?" he asked as we resumed.
I nodded my head, and returned my chin to where it'd been, tucked into my neck so as to avoid the repercussions of a costly impact should I be hit there.
"And he still asked you to go back."
"Only if we-" I was cut off my Danev sending another flurry of punches, of which all were blocked by my defense. "Only if we do exactly as he says."
"And bend?"
I shook my head. "Don't know. Think he just wants us to follow along. No idea what the hell he's looking for."
Danev sent another series of punches, the last of which broke through my barrier, and landed on my chest with a rather painful blow.
"Close the distance between us," he said. "Give the enemy less time to build momentum with their punch. And let it roll off of you."
"Roll off of me?"
"Mhm. Pivot your hips so it's not taken full force. Let it hit the edge of you as much as possible so it's just a graze instead of a hit."
I believed I understood, and so when we resumed again, I took his advice and closed the distance between us. That ended up going less in my favor. He took the opportunity to grapple me, and kick my legs out from beneath me, throwing me to the ground.
"You said to close the distance!"
"When I'm about to hit you! Don't go in for a hug the moment you start a fight."
He gave me a helping hand to stand back up, more bruised now than when I'd started, but at the very least, not as oblivious.
"You should go," he commented.
"What?"
"That firebending shit. Might learn a thing or two."
"It's useless. Better off getting the extra sleep than dancing with a make-pretend ball of flame."
Danev chuckled at that. "Yeah, probably right. Still, it's weird shit."
He's telling me.
We didn't talk about it more that night, but that didn't stop me from thinking about that as I tried to sleep, perhaps losing just as much of the night with it on my mind as I would have in waking early to go.
When I did wake though, it was with all the others of our training group, Match and the other so-called "benders" included. We'd made our choices. We didn't have time to indulge childish fantasies of a world that wasn't our own. We had a war to prepare for.
Danev
I'd been hoping that things would calm down with our Lts over the next few days, but they'd seem only to have gotten worse. As though a consensus had been reached, it seemed, that Lieutenant Aozon had not sufficiently established his dominance over us upon his first introduction, and so made sure to make up for it now.
We were to perform basic weapon training today, but according to the lieutenant, we did not have enough sparring weapons to hand out to everybody, and so the five of us who dropped first during our pushup warmup, would go without weapons.
Mano was included in those five by default as he was late, strangely enough. I hadn't taken the time to look for him during breakfast nor during initial platoon formation, but it was when Dragoon Platoon was organized that I realized the lack of him present.
He'd only come when we were already in the midst of our so-called "warmup" that in reality was just Aozon justifying watching some of us go without training weapons for the day. The Lieutenant had, naturally, singled him out, and stated with an eerie false pleasantness that he need not participate as he clearly had better things to do. That did mean, of course, that he would naturally go without a weapon for the day.
I had no intention of letting myself be a part of the unfortuitous five and certainly was able to outlast more than a fair share of the others until Aozon decided, by merit of our first day with one another, that he was displeased with my being ahead.
After counting off the second, third, and fourth persons who would go without arms, he turned his eyes on a new target–me. He placed his foot on my back, pressing down, and demanded I continue. With each one I got through successfully, he applied more weight and made his demands all the louder. This drew the eyes of the other recruits, including even Mano who had no choice but to, stuck on the sidelines and to his fate to be without a weapon today–a fate I was getting all the closer to with each incremental addition of pressure that was added to my back.
It was to the point that all of his weight seemed to be atop me, and I could rise no longer. I fell onto my stomach on the hard ground, and finally, his weight was lifted from my back.
"Five," he said, far more proud of himself than he had any right being. "Looks like you'll be without a weapon today."
I wish I could say that the others of the 114th were more obliging to those of us who'd been deliberately targeted by Lieutenant Aozon's malice, but when they themselves had been threatened with similar if not worse punishments for neglecting to properly fight us, if 'properly fighting' meant how you would usually dominate an unarmed opponent, I couldn't blame them for doing what they'd been instructed to do.
In one of the first few bouts, I'd managed to successfully disarm my opponent and turn his own sparring blade against him, though the gesture hadn't been appreciated by Aozon, who snapped the wooden blade in half across his knee and so declared that the recruit I'd disarmed, Mahung, was not deserving of his blade either.
That earned me no favors with him.
Later, I'd been paired with a few others who sought to try and go a bit easy on me seeing as how I was at a natural disadvantage. The two were Murao and, the former a naturally generous sort who also seemed to consider himself in my debt after I'd refused to beat him on the first day of Aozon's regimen, if even it could be called that, and the latter, Yam, who, from what I'd learned, had actually been rather sympathetic of the Hornets back in the day. With both of them alike though, I demanded they not go easy on me. We hardly needed two more training blades to be broken.
Eventually, by merit of the rotation's randomness, I was put against somebody else who didn't have a blade either, Mano in this case. The two of us were black and blue to bits by this point and mutually grateful to take a hit that wasn't from a blade meant to be whacked against another rather than unprotected skin and bone.
Aozon hardly seemed pleased by the matchup that'd resulted from his own short-sightedness, but didn't have the energy in him to pair us up with others, instead putting his attention on Mino, without a blade, as he faced off against Tosa, with one.
I forced myself not to pay attention to it, instead opting to take the opportunity while Aozon's attention was turned to ask Mano the question that'd been plaguing my mind since he got here late.
"Hey," I hissed. "Where'd you been? You were late." As if he didn't know that.
"Wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said without a scoff that may have indicated he'd been joking, something serious instead behind the comment. A week or two ago, I hardly would have felt comfortable asking him to elaborate, but it seemed that he'd lost some of his initial edge felt towards me, perhaps having witnessed me take enough blows for others within the platoon to assume I wasn't the scumbag Hornet he'd had me pinned as from day one.
"Try me," I dared him, and he scoffed.
"They have me in a special class in the mornings now," he said, immediately setting off enough alarms in my head to immediately look up at him.
It'd only been a little under a week since the same'd happened to Fluke under the insane suspicion of him possibly being a firebender. And now Mano?
"They think you're a firebender?" I asked instinctively.
He looked up at me, a confused look on his face. I couldn't tell if it was because I was right on the money, or couldn't have been further off. It ended up being a mix of the two, in fact.
"Earthbender," he corrected quietly. But no less odd all the same. "How'd you…how'd you guess?" he asked.
I debated whether or not to spill what'd happened to Fluke and the others to Mano. It wasn't as though it was meant to be a secret, and he hardly seemed the sort that the information was dangerous in the hands of. "Similar shit happened with Fluke," I decided to say.
"Other Hornet?" Mano asked. "One in the 62nd?"
I nodded. "Said he was a firebender."
"Is he?"
"What?" I felt the need to ask. "Of course not. Why? You an earthbender?"
"Fuck no," Mano scoffed. "When's the last time you see a bender in the slums? Well, aside from that one Rat of course."
"Janick," I filled in the name.
"Yeah, him. Guess you Hornets took care of that though," he concluded, his voice trailing off.
Sure, there was hardly resentment between us now, but that didn't exactly mean we were friends. Old wounds took a while to heal and us Hornets, well, we'd left plenty of those on the slums and those living there in those last few months of our unrestrained war with the Rats.
I imagine that was what Mano's mind dwelled on as we sparred, mutually thankful to not just be beaten with sticks for once during the day, but me on the other hand, I was thinking about how just how little sense it made that the same'd gone for Mano. But an earthbender? Why that lie now? It was getting stranger with every day and a part of me couldn't help but wonder, 'is it all really a lie?'
The subject of conversation between us changed directions as I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast in training styles between Aozon as he encouraged an armed Tosa not to hold back against Mini, declaring, "When your enemy is weakened, you do not hesitate! You do not consider mercy! This gives them the opportunity to abuse your kindness and strike back! Always strike first!" and, a few yards away, the Elephant platoon's Lt, Rulaan.
There was no such "shortage" of training weaponry for his platoon, and so rather than pick a favorite match to watch his students get bloodied in, he was passing from one to the other, scolding poor form, and advising on improvements, actually educating, not demeaning. And once again, there was something about that seemed out of place. It was less the specific terms he brought up this time and more the general pattern to his speech, refined, but something behind it also having a touch of juvenilism that didn't seem attributed to the fact that he was only a few years older than us. There was something about him, and so I allowed the practice with Mano to come to a momentary halt as I asked, "Hey. That Lt other there. Elephant Platoon. Something seem off about 'im to you?"
Mano turned his attention over to the other lieutenant, and listened. Something about the man seemed to strike a chord with him and he looked back to me to say, "Kinda got a street accent, don't he?"
So that's what I'd been hearing. It just had taken Mano to verify it for me to realize just how right he was.
That Lt is a fuckin' slummer.
"Did I tell you two to take a break?!" Our own lieutenant called out to us upon noticing we weren't in the process of tearing one another to bits. It brought our attention quickly enough back to just that, but still, I couldn't help my eyes from being drawn to Rulaan and his cohort from time to time.
When the time for drill training officially came to an end, and lunch before class time was up next on the schedule, I took the opportunity of no longer being under Aozon's thumb, already off on his own, no longer considering his platoon, to intercept Rulaan before he could get away as well, not exactly on the move though, instead staying to clean the mess his platoon had left, rearranging the scattered weaponry and all.
He noticed me approach, and I made sure to salute him before I could neglect to do so. He returned the favor before stating, "At ease" with a level of professionalism that had me doubting myself once again, considering if perhaps I should drop the subject before making a fool of myself, but I knew what I'd heard. I wasn't wrong about this. "Don't believe I've met you," he said.
"Private Danev, sir. Dragon platoon."
"Ah, Dragon. That's Aozon's platoon, yeah?"
I felt the urge to respond, unfortunately, but held that intrusive thought at bay, instead only saying, "Yes, sir."
"Ah, well. He's a strict sort. You'd do well to listen to him. So, what can I do you for, private?"
"Permission to ask a personal question, sir?"
He turned from his task to eye me curiously. "Granted," he said, quite clearly wondering where I was going with this.
I didn't leave him in suspense. "You're from Citadel," I said before realizing that hardly narrowed things down. "The slums."
He scoffed. "You're observant," he commented.
Hardly, I thought. I went in with a 50/50 bet. Were this Fluke, he'd have picked it up immediately, knowing him. "So it's true?"
"I was born in the slums, yeah. Guess I haven't quite dropped the accent yet if you picked up on it."
"Was hardly just that, sir. You also treat the rest of us like we're not fucking animals. Can hardly say that same about Lieutenant Aozon."
He didn't respond to that, and I was worried for a moment that the drop in my formality had done me a disservice. I'd spoken out of line. More than I should have. That much was confirmed when he responded, saying, "You'd do well not to bad-mouth officers to one another. Word gets around."
I wasn't sure to take that as a threat, or simply a warning. I could've held back at that point and decided it wasn't worth pursuing, but I'd already played my hand. I needed to elaborate what I meant.
"Sir, I don't doubt his capabilities as a soldier, but as an officer, he's a sadist. He treats us as animals pitting us against each other for our amusement, and-"
"And what, private. You asking for a transfer?" Was I? I hadn't gotten into this conversation with that intent, but on the other hand, it didn't seem too bad. "Just for you, or you want me to transfer your entire platoon as well?" And there it became rather obvious he wasn't being serious.
"I didn't mean it that way, sir."
"You think I didn't get the same shit?" He said before looking around to ensure there were no other officers and/or privates who may notice the drop in his composure. There were none. We were alone out there in the Citadel military complex courtyard. "Want to know how it gets better?" he said, turning back to me. "Understand that they are out to get you. They want to see you fail because that's the only way they'll feel secure about their place in the world when the Fire Nation's banner flies over every city. Stop trying to beat them, because you won't. Stop trying to wait for them to like you, because they won't."
"They stopped with you."
"And when you show that you're not worth the effort," he continued, as though not hearing what I'd said, "Then they find somebody else to bully. They like it when you show your belly and keel over to take it, but they like it even more when you fight back. Recommend you find something in the middle."
"So what? Just try to become invisible while we fight for a nation that despises us?"
My talk was edging damn near close to treason, and I should have considered myself lucky that Rulaan chose not to address it as such, asking instead, "You want to fight the Fire Nation, huh? Heard some slumdogs tried doing that a few months back. Stole from the 29th. Got themselves killed in the process and became their lapdogs instead out in the slums."
It was hardly a story I needed reminding of. "I know," I said. "I was one of them."
Rulan stopped to eye me, as though perhaps trying to gauge whether I was joking or not. I wasn't. "Hm. Then you should know it won't go any better a second time."
"But if we stick together,-"
"You ever see us slumdogs stick together for anything more than satiating bast necessities? Even if you do, you lose, but that's beyond the point. I've seen your new generation here, still fighting the same fights I got away from. Old gang feuds, new ones, separation by district, and soon enough, 'ash makers' and 'dirt eaters' too.
So,...it's not all bullshit?
"What do you mean?"
He narrowed his eyes, and refused to elaborate, saying only instead, "You won't beat the Fire Nation by banding together, but you might at least survive them. You got enough energy to steal from the Fire Nation, use that towards something that'll actually lead somewhere."
That was the extent of the conversation he seemed willing to have with me with the exception of telling me that I should return to my company for midday meal.
And sitting with the others of my company now, it was impossible not to notice what Rusaan had said. He was right. In only two months, I could see the effect of our upbringing. It didn't matter that we sat in a steel-plated room in front of hot meals with Fire Nation banners to remind us of where our loyalties lay.
Bigger kids stole portions from the small and young. The Rats had gathered more kids to their gang name and now established dominance over a cluster of tables, picking fights with other groups of children with gangs of their own whose names I hadn't bothered to memorize.
All around us, flanking the exits of the cafeteria, armed Fire Nation soldiers who watched, kept us at bay, always there, letting us fight amongst ourselves as it didn't involve them. It was no different than Aozon. They don't care about us. They're happy to let us beat one another so long as when the time comes, we know where to turn our aggression. They reap the benefits of our savagery, and we tear each other to bits. All acts of rebellion we stage, thinking it a means of maintaining our independence, it only does the more to weaken ourselves.
I picked at my food, unable to stomach most of it as my thoughts went to the comment of 'ash makers' and 'dirt eaters.' We were stateless. We had no nationalities other than our newfound Fire Nation loyalties, but if what Rusaan had said was true, and what'd happened to the likes of Fluke, Match, and Mano wasn't coincidence, then we would have all the more divides to tear us apart and make us hate one another.
It's what the Fire Nation relies on. Our training, our drills, they want us to learn to hate our enemy with the hopes that when we're on the field in front of Ba Sing Se, we have a new enemy to hate, and will have already become so experienced in doing it that the savagery will come to us easily. It was an effective strategy, perhaps, but it would kill us all in the process.
There was no fighting the Fire Nation. I'd seen that first hand, and I'd made my decisions accordingly. I'd chosen to join rather than fight a losing battle for certain death back in Citadel. But now, it wasn't just about my survival and that of the Hornets, but of every street kid here.
Something had to change. Now it was just a matter of finding the will to do something about it.
Captain Zar'un
They found them. A week and a half later, Sergeant Zarrow and his squad in the slums had finally found our culprits–the two alleged Dai Li agents who'd been pitting my own people against me.
Zarrow had given me a full debriefing of what'd happened. He and his squad had run surveillance for unusual gang activity and been following a group naming themselves "The Vultures-Hawks," appropriate to their name-sakes, gathering materiel that'd been abandoned by the Rats and Hornets, be them weapons, medicine, or anything else they could get their hands on. It'd been more by happenstance than anything that Zarrow had caught onto them, but the disappearance of Earth Kingdom-provided equipment, whether connected to the bigger concern or otherwise, was subject for investigation regardless.
As it'd turned out, however, the merchandise being recovered and smuggled was not for personal use, but rather, at the behest of a contractor that'd been the Vulture Hawks to use to recover said equipment with the promise of recovering them.
If the reports were to be believed, and there was no reason to assume they shouldn't be, then from there, Zarrow had ascertained just who it was that'd contracted the Vulture Hawks to recover the equipment–two individuals quite eager to get it back–our Earth Kingdom agents.
From there, it'd been a simple matter to get the location from the gangers for the exchange at a reasonable price, and conduct a sting. The Dai Li agents had been apprehended, and as I'd just learned now, scanning the report as I made my way over to the containment cells, were in our custody.
Finally, something that might actually go somewhere.
The correspondence between Gyani and Mishi had yielded me hardly anything of note beyond a name–Aegis–that I had no idea of how to use. I certainly wasn't about to do anything with the information and play my hand early before I had more information. There was a chance that this "Aegis" was somewhere out in the slums still, there was a chance he was within the 29th, and too, there was a chance that the Earth Kingdom had already gotten them, whoever the hell 'they' were, thousands of miles away from here to either Ba Sing Se, or worse, the North Pole.
There was no shortage of gaps in what we knew–gaps I wanted to think the two captured Dai Li agents could at least begin to fill.
"Are they restrained?" I asked as I was checked for any earthen materials on my person, as was Zarrow who'd been waiting for my arrival here.
"Cell's iron and their bindings are steel, sir," the guard said after he was done patting me down, more for my own sake than for his. "They're not going anywhere."
"Good," I said as Zarrow was similarly checked for anything dangerous on him before the two of us were allowed inside.
And sure enough, they were pretty damn restrained. Not only were their limbs bound to one another, but they were shackled to the walls, stripped down to their underclothes. We'd all heard stories of how Dai Li agents kept raw material on them in case of an emergency. We were taking no chances, and as such, the door was shut behind us, though an eye was being kept by two armed guards to ensure nothing went awry. The last thing any of them needed was for their CO to be killed on their watch. While I wouldn't be around to see it enacted, the punishment for such negligence would naturally be swift and severe.
From the looks of them though, they hardly seemed much of a threat anymore, beat to hell as they were, bearing the markings of a failed escape attempt from Zarrow's men. I would have to be sure to properly congratulate the man later. He was well-deserving of it, able to subdue agents of such renown.
It was hard to discern which of the men had gotten it worse, both of them looking equally torn up. Between the taller, bearded one, and the smaller, clean-shaved one, the bigger man had clearly taken more of a beating, but still seemed the more with his senses as opposed to the other. It made sense to start with him then, and so I asked, starting off simple, "What's your name?"
"Go fuck yourself, ash maker."
I chuckled. So, it was going to be one of those interrogations.
I gave the floor to Zarrow. This was standard procedure. In such a case where it was clear that they weren't going to be cooperative, it was good practice to ask a few questions still for them to mull over.
"What were you doing contracting the Vulture Hawks?" Zarrow asked.
They would be questions that were of relative unimportance. More likely than not, ones we already knew the answers to, as it was in this case. Questions that they could either create lies for which we could then disprove and get a sense for their behavior, or questions they could sacrifice answers for. In either case, responses to them, true or not, would open the floor for us to push them further.
"I said, 'go fuck yourself!'" he snarled.
"What are you doing in Citadel?" I asked now.
He glared at me, simply saying, "Fuck you."
And then there was the possibility that no answers would be given, and that they would hang on strong. That, I could possibly deal with, but these were Earth Kingdom, but worse, Dai Li. Stubborn as well as secretive. We would have our work cut out for us.
"Are the Vulture Hawks the only gang you've contacted?" Zarrow spoke up again, resisting the urge I knew the both of us had to be hasty and push deeper already, but we'd been through this routine before, just around a year ago now. We knew how this game was played, and to get to what we wanted, it would be a slow, but fruitful process.
The agent was done answering questions, turning his head aside. He would be stubborn. As for his friend, well, he was still unconscious. We would do well to leave them together for now, and divide them later, turn them against one another if we could.
I looked towards Zarrow, and he nodded in agreement. We were done here for now.
"Training's to keep their mouth shut," Zarrow commented to me the moment we were out of their cell as well as out of earshot. "Getting them to talk isn't going to go easily for us."
"No," I agreed. "But we'll get them to all the same."
"Any ideas on how?"
"That's for you to determine," I decided on the spot. "You and your men are relieved from the slums, but I want you conducting the interrogation."
He looked at me curiously, as though wondering if I was serious about what I was saying. I was, but decided to clarify regardless.
"Any information you learn about Gyani or his connected case, you bring directly to me. As for the Dai Li, anything you learn about their activities in the streets, you'll be responsible for dispatching sergeants under you to rectify." Sergeants under him. I'd meant what I said, and he noticed it. Do this right, and you'll be a lieutenant again.
He wasn't given time to voice his affirmation before the door to the prison waiting room was opened, and my own steward, Zhorou, showed himself, all the way down here, seemingly out of breath, and clearly here for me.
I remembered just what I'd forgotten the fraction of a second before he said, "Master Jeong Jeong is at your office for your meeting, sir."
I'd completely forgotten in the excitement of the Dai Li agents being captured that I had summoned him. Damnit.
I collected my possessions deemed too 'dangerous' to keep on me while inside with the prisoners, and now turned to the sergeant, and perhaps future lieutenant, "Am I clear?"
He saluted with a "yes, sir," and I was off.
I should've been keeping a better track of the time. I'd been thinking of it as I left, figuring all I needed to do was verify that the agents were indeed in our custody. I shouldn't have started a preliminary questioning to loosen them up, but I'd gotten ahead of myself.
Damnit, Zar'un!
"Did you tell him to wait?" I asked Zhorou as we sped-walk back up the stairs towards my office.
"I informed him you would be back shortly."
"Did he say he would wait?"
"He didn't say anything, sir, but uh-he didn't look pleased."
Things were no longer at the point at which I was terrified of every move I made with Major General Deming nor Colonel Eemusan. Jeong Jeong, though he was no longer an acting naval officer, still possessed an air of authority and intimidation that his years away from being an Admiral haven't gotten rid of. He was the one person within this entire city that I was afraid of, and not even on the merit of him being a master bender. As was Xin Fu, but he was a mercenary, focused more on doing what he'd been paid to do and little more. Jeong Jeon, he was here with intent, which is what'd made the news that he'd sent away a number of his new students who I had particularly demanded be taught as well, all the more disturbing.
It'd been the reason I'd summoned him–to ask for an explanation, but it seemed I was off to a bad start.
He was already gone by the time I arrived back to my office. He had little patience for negligence, and it seemed that applied to his peers as well as his students. Shit.
"Captain," Zhorou said, clearly aware of my anger at myself. "I can summon him again if you'd like. I'm sure he'd-"
"No," I interrupted. "Thank you. I'll see the master myself."
It was my own fault that this meeting hadn't happened even when I'd been the one to arrange that. I would see him on his own turf now. It was only proper.
Naturally, he was at his dojo, seemingly already awaiting my visit if him noticing me before I could even enter was any indication.
He was on his knees, meditating so it seemed, faced away from the doorway and at the end of the room in front of a collection of candles, but that didn't stop him from immediately picking up on my presence and saying, "You were not at your office when I arrived." There was a hint of indignation in the way he phrased it, but it was held at bay enough to not be insulting. Such wasn't to imply he was afraid of me. Far from it, in fact.
"My apologies," I said as I bowed to him upon entering, capable of recognizing his superiority in the way of wisdom if not military rank. "There was a development in the slums regarding a security breach."
"But this is not why you wished to see me?" he asked, not moving from where he sat.
No. That was my excuse for not doing it earlier. His point was clear though. He wished for me to get to the point, but even in knowing that, my natural instincts, though likely flawed, in this case, bid me to approach the topic lightly, and not rush in getting there.
I looked around the dojo to see that it'd come along nicely since I'd given it to Jeong Jeong to turn into an appropriate training space. In spite of the beating the room took from one day to the next on account of his firebenders, it appeared well-maintained, clean, tidy.
When I'd once asked him about it before, when still I'd known less about him and been more confident in regard to speaking to him, he'd told me that an improper dojo made for improper education, and so he ensured his students cleaned up after themselves whenever a mess was made, enforcing both discipline as well as proper care to their environment.
And it made things easier for me as I didn't need to send personnel to do the cleaning instead.
"I trust that the accommodations here are to your liking?"
"They are sufficient for the task I am here to accomplish."
But doubtfully up to his own standards. I decided it best not to get him to the point of acknowledging that, however, and so changed the topic to that which was the matter at hand.
"And the training is going well for your pupils."
"Some learn quicker than others."
"Hmm. Well, I can imagine. I hear you've turned some away for that very reason."
It wasn't exactly a secret anymore then what this was all about. He said nothing at first. If it were anyone else, I would have interpreted the silence as an effort to come up with some lie or excuse, but obviously, that was the furthest thing from the case with Jeong Jeong. He responded when it was time for him to, and so it was a few seconds until he corrected me, saying, "I turned them away because they refused to learn, and I could not teach them"
"It's your purpose to make them open to learning, is it not?"
"Hmph. So it is."
The comment confused me. He seemed to perfectly acknowledge what his instructions here were, so why this then? "I…I'm not sure I understand. You were able to get the first batch, just as reluctant if not more."
"I had more time with them," he said simply. "The students now, they are yet undisciplined and if they refuse to learn, then they will not in time."
"So, make time. I need benders who can-"
"No!" The flames of the candles he knelt in front of grew in strength and intensity before being extinguished all at once. "If I had more time, I could do what you ask, but you expect for these children to be trained and ready to send into war in just months! I cannot both make them want to learn and teach them in that time! The only way they can is if they themselves have the desire and motivation, or they will be more a danger to themselves and their allies than the enemy!"
I was silenced, more by intimidation than necessarily seeing his point, though I did see the merits of his argument. But there was the other matter.
"The front is expected benders. The front needs benders. All they can get."
"You, and they, will get the benders. And they will be fighters, soldiers. Not liabilities with the power of our nation in the palm of their hands!"
"So you believe they'll come back?"
"Three have already returned."
"And the others?"
Silence, until he spoke again. "I cannot speak for all, but I believe they will."
"Can you be sure?"
He still refused to face me, saying only instead with his back still to me, "No."
Well, guess the most I can do is hope then.
"Will that be all, Captain?" he said, beginning to calm. While I could hardly say that it was the end of my concerns, it was quite clear that continuing to interrogate the man would yield no positive results for myself.
"That's all," I said, conceding the argument. There was nothing more to say or do. All that was left to do was leave, and pray that he was right.
Fluke
Just like any other night here, it was nearly impossible to get comfortable.
It didn't help that I was still sore from the day, wearing a combination of bruises that'd been inflicted by both my armored battalion's training regimen as well as Danev's own unique exercises when we were done.
Our "educational exchanges" had become part of our regular routine as of late, beginning from the moment that either one of us came back from our meals whether it was the 114th that was last for meals for the day, or the 62nd.
The moment we were back at the barracks however was the same moment we left to get started. These last few days, it'd been him helping me with such concepts as proper technique when landing a punch, and me helping him with multiplication tables, kanji, early unified Fire Nation culture, and everything else that didn't take muscles, but a brain instead.
It seemed that our new routine had begun attracting attention of both the welcome and unwelcome variety whether it was a few wide-eyed younger recruits watching Danev spar with me, those on the surrounding bunks listening to my lessons as I educated Danev, or the growing Rats, from only a few rows of bunks away, watching, seemingly none too fond of our new associations, if even they could be called that.
Whether it was in education or soldiering, Danev and I both embraced our seeming specialties with a grain of salt as neither of us seemed particularly fond of staying in these preassigned roles. And all the better. Danev wanted to ensure he could make sense of the new world around him, and as for me, I wanted to be able to not get beat within an inch of death by it, and perhaps even be able to throw a punch back.
I only wished that I'd been more prepared for when the time came. I was still awake that night when I began noticing the whispering, and the shuffling of footsteps not too far off. The immediate assumption was that it was either somebody going to take a piss or coming back from doing just that, only these voices were drawing closer to me, and not leaving.
I could only open my eyes to investigate for a single second before a cloth was wrapped around my mouth, using it to pull me immediately off of my bunk and to the ground. Hitting my head on the metal frame of the neighboring bunk, I found my vision reduced to a daze, the only thing I was able to make of the figures above me being that there were multiple of them.
My single attempt to scream was muffled by the gag in my mouth and, as opposed to last time, there was no hesitation. There was no monologue, no speech about how I had this coming, only a kick to my side, then another to my ribs, a punch to my stomach, a kick to my groin, and another to my head.
The last blow was enough to allow the darkened corners of my vision to expand, drawing in all the closer with each consecutive barrage of assaults I took, unable to breathe past the gag, everything going dark at once until, in some strange change of fate, the pressure was released from me.
I could just make out through the daze of my senses to comprehend my first assailant, the one who'd last kicked me, be thrown back against the nearest bunk, the same I'd hit my head against. Just like me, his own head struck the rail, though with far more force.
And just like that, he, now identifiable as Eraim, one of the Rats, was down and out of the fight as Danev himself entered the fray. And so the eyes of my attackers were taken from, all, now countable as 5, of them.
The new stage of the fray began in almost an instant as Danev, seemingly awake and ready to fight by instinct alone, was up and at them, not about to let the surprise of his entrance go to waste. He landed a punch, using the exact methodology he'd been teaching just early today, into Hilan's face, knocking him backwards into Match who tossed his compatriot aside to get to Danev, able to push Danev back and restrain him while the other remaining Rats took the opportunity to be let at my only other ally in this fight.
I finally had enough sense about my surroundings to understand the flow of the fight around me. Already, shuffling could be heard all around us as no shortage of other recruits were being awoken by the action. Their awareness was hardly the focus of my attention though, instead placed on Luhing, whose position, leg bent at an awkward angle so as to lean forward and grab, afforded me with a unique opportunity to provide the latter with relief.
Match didn't seem intent on wasting the opportunity of Danev being held at bay by his compatriots, and so I could just barely make out the glint of a knife, that same knife that'd been used to threaten me, being drawn.
I had to act soon. I pulled my leg back, and mustering as much force as I could into its muscles, kicked.
It landed directly on Luhing's knee, which now bent back at an angle it by no means was meant to bend in. He fell back, taking another Rat down with him, which gave Danev the chance to kick a leg up, hitting Match in the wrist wielding the blade, sending it clattering to the ground.
That provided only a moment of relief however as Hilan and the previously unidentifiable Rat who'd fallen to the ground, now clearly Gan, both rose once again to get their shot at Danev, and they lay into him. It was all I could do to rise and get a single shot in on Match who quickly tossed me aside as Danev himself went to the ground before the shuffling around us have become a full on clamor, and in an instance, gas lighting was restored to the room, unveiling the chaos of the scene around us.
Appropriate as ever to their namesake, the Rats scattered, quickly and surely, even being sure to drag away as well their unconscious Eraim back to their own corner of the room.
I struggled to rise back to my feet, nearly falling on my way up as I ignored the helping hand of the adjacent bunk's resident, needing to do this on my own. I'd thought I'd gotten it bad, but when I looked at Danev now, the undisputed focus of attention in the latter half of that mess, he'd gotten it far worse.
He was still on the ground, attempting to push himself up, but failing miserably in the process.
It took me no time at all to rush down to his side.
Oh thank the spirits.
He was still breathing at the very least, but at irregular intervals. I was about to call for help, finding the words caught in my throat as I attempted to voice them until the doors to our barracks were flung open, and in walked a Fire Nation officer I did not recognize, likely responsible for the usually quiet night shift, alongside a cohort of four soldiers.
"What in spirits' name is going on here!" he demanded of the room that was dead quiet.
In spite of the silence, heads towards us, and it would have taken a true idiot not to notice just where it was in the barracks that things were not right.
The officer and his armed guard approached, and two of the soldiers immediately set about checking our conditions, one of whom pulled me away from Danev and sat me down on the bunk, forcing my limbs apart from one another to search for breaks and/or fractures. Amazingly enough, it seemed that I'd been spared of that. Danev on the other hand,...
"What is the meaning of this?!" The officer demanded, looking around the room for answers, for one brave soul to speak of, unaware that we'd all come from the same slums, and all carried with us our personal code against snitching. This didn't involve them, had nothing to do with them. I, on the other hand, had no such qualms of neutrality. This had involved Danev and me directly, and we'd nearly died for this bullshit because the Rats couldn't accept that they were out of the slums, and so wanted to bring those same bullshit streets in here.
Maybe it was snitching, but I was done playing by the rules of some streets that I'd nearly died to leave behind, and so when the officer turned to me now, asking that same exact question, I opened my mouth to answer, and would have told the exact truth had I not felt the grasp of a hand around my ankle.
I looked down, and all there was to see was a black, blue, and red Danev looking up to me, giving the slightest shake of his head.
What?
He wants me to stay quiet? To not snitch?! It was idiotic, it was bullshit, it made no damned sense, not after what they'd just done. I tried to tell myself that he was out of it, that he didn't know what he was doing, but no, I knew how to recognize Danev, and that was him shaking his head, his mind as clear as day. But why? Why do you care about them? Why do you care what happens to them after this? They tried to kill us for fuck's sake!
"Private," the officer asked again. "Who did this?"
The Rats, I wanted to scream, feeling the uncontrollable urge to point at them where they stood and sat by their bunks, hiding their own wounds, playing off Eraim to look as though he was still sleeping. Perhaps they could hide from a little over a dozen rows of bunks away, but they couldn't hide it. Not up close. I could just point, say it was them. The soldiers would go to investigate, and they would know. The Rats would be punished. It would be right, it would be deserved, it would be justice.
But it would be against what Danev was telling me.
I could only look down on him and question just why it was he was making this request of me that made no earthly sense, and though every part of me screamed at me to say their names, I couldn't.
"I…I didn't get a good look, sir. It all happened so fast."
That gave the officer pause. He stopped, looked around, then back to me to ask again, "Private. If you saw something, you need to tell us. We can take care of this."
It was my last chance, but I'd made my choice. I let out a deep breath, and answered once again, "Like I said, sir. I didn't get a good look."
The officer let out a sigh, almost as though disappointed he wouldn't be able to bring down the mighty hammer of the Fire Nation's justice, and so rose, saying to the two soldiers that'd been tending to Danev and me, referring to their barely conscious Danev, "Take him to the clinic." He looked back at me. "Do you need your wounds to be looked at?"
I shook my head while the two soldiers picked Danev up from off the ground and so headed towards the exit, followed by the officer who turned now to look at those in the barracks and still sat silent. "Any attacks against your own!" he announced, failing to read the room, "And there will be punishment! You may not have been caught today, but you won't be so lucky next time!"
And with that, the officer who believed himself still in control, who failed to realize that we operated by a code that went back beyond us first donning our uniforms, left.
The lights went out once again. I did not sleep anymore that night, partly because of my wounds, and partly out of fear for another attack.
The lack of sleep was good for one thing, however. It allowed me to make a decision. I thought about what Danev had said, and what I'd heard about a week and a half before, and so when I determined that it was approximately two hours before our normal wakeup, I pushed myself with a great deal of strain out of my bed, and left.
I'd come to memorize a good deal of the military complex's layout in the last near two months, but was operating now on the memory not of two months, but of a single day that hadn't seemed real at the time, and still didn't seem real now. All the same, I followed those same hallways, went up the same flight of stairs, and soon enough, found that same dojo.
And my heart dropped to see that inside, as though waiting for me, there Match already was, adorned in the same robe he'd scoffed at, and glaring at me as I remembered that exact warning he'd given me after that first day.
Whether the firebending was real or not, whether anything good for me would come out of this, one thing was already clear, and it was that the odds were already against me, but I was already here. Match, the rest of the group, and that same Master Jeong Jeong were just as aware of that as they all turned to face me, myself already responsible for being an interruption yet again
"So," the old man said. "You've decided to join us."