Chapter 2: Stakeouts and Lyme

Ling Shan

Two months had passed since the Harmonic Convergence, and life in Republic City was mostly back to the way it always was. Sure, the heart of the city was a bit greener and the Avatar was the subject of considerably more good will these days, but, for the most part, things were getting back to normal.

At least, they were for everyone else. Ling's life had never been more complicated. Lighting his fourth cigarette of the night, Ling continued to watch the same grimy loading bay door that had occupied the last three days of his life. It was painfully dull, stakeouts always were, but this was beyond boring. He barely even had to hide. There were so many refugees from the Earth Kingdom pouring into the city these days that blending in was simply a matter of course. This particular alley was behind some sort of plant that processed lyme. They kept fires burning around the clock inside, making this particular brick wall a nice warm spot for the recently homeless to camp out, especially as winter was quickly approaching the city.

Three months ago, Ling would have been in the middle of the effort to get these people housed and employed, but he was grounded from any official union business for the foreseeable future.

Now, he had to waste his precious time sniffing around some weirdos for the RCPD, or rather the White Lotus goon who was calling the shots. Ling was still mad at Mako for that.

"I had no choice." The aggravatingly straight-laced detective had said. "The department caught wind of you and ordered me to make the arrest. Besides, " He switched from excusing himself to accusing Ling, "you were breaking the law."

"As if!" Ling had argued, wrists chained to the interrogation room table with a fresh bruise over his left eyebrow where he had been thrown to the warehouse floor. "We both know I haven't really done anything wrong!"

"Look," Mako held up his hands in mock surrender, "Like I said, orders are orders. Personally, I've always thought that you were up to a lot more shady stuff than you let on, but from here on it's out of my hands."

"I guess we both had the wrong impression then." Ling spat. "I thought you understood what it meant to do the right thing. That the government and the cops can't, or won't, help everyone. What it's like for people who actually have to live with the triads breathing down their necks." His blood was really rising now.

"I do. I know what it's like, but I swore an oath! A bad situation isn't an excuse to do bad things!" Mako's cool facade is long gone now.

"Oh, you swore an oath, did you? I heard the news about what your girlfriend did. She tried to illegally drag us into a war! How many kids would have been drafted? Killed? I don't see her, or General Iroh here in chains, do you? You've been stuck in cop mode for too long, Mako, you've started to drink their cactus juice!"

The room became dead silent. Mako's eyes, wide as dinner plates, seethed with rage. He may have gone too far, but Ling didn't much feel like caring at this point. He meant what he said. Mako opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it again. A million insults, jabs, excuses, and arguments were visible, boiling under Mako's pale face.

Before the detective could decide what verbal skewer to run Ling through with, the interrogation room door was swung open by a large man in his 60's with long, flowing white hair adorned in traditional, and ornate, Water Tribe garb. Without so much as acknowledging the presence of anyone in the room, the man strode in, placed one leg up on a metal chair, and stared at a clipboard in his hand until the door swung shut behind him.

"Who in the hell…" Ling began, only to be cut short by the man's deep, booming voice.

"Smuggling, illegal sale of weapons, sale of illegal weapons, tax evasion, resisting arrest, bribery of a public official, conspiracy to commit assault, obstruction of justice, and, my favorites, conspiracy to commit acts of terroism, treason, and insurrection."

The man quickly read off the list of charges on the clipboard before letting it drop onto the table. He finally looked at Ling, an unsettlingly cheery grin plastered over his face.

"Someone could go away for a very long time, eh kid?" He continued.

"Tell me, did you decide to become an Equalist before, or after, Amon's little revolution?"

The confusion in Ling's mind was quickly replaced with rage. Who did this old coot think he was? Mako had retreated a step or two, clearly uncomfortable, yet held his tongue in the presence of this new arrival.

"Watch your mouth!" Long growled, attempting to contain his anger, "In case that clipboard failed to mention it, those rat-snakes are the reason I'm wearing these bandages all the time. I hate those guys more than you do."

"Oh, I'm sure you do. Does that include your parents? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, as they say." The grin never wavered.

Spirits, this man was trying to make him angry, and it was working.

Ling shot out of his chair, knocking it over, and slammed his cuffed hands onto the table.

"MY PARENTS!" He bellowed, "Are NOT Equalists!"

The man remained unaffected by the outburst, that condescending grin still adorning his rough face.

"Oh?" An eyebrow rose, "That's strange. It seems that the RCPD and the courts disagreed with you on that statement." He picked up the clipboard once more.

"See? It says here that both of your parents worked at Future Industries making weapons for the Equalists. They even signed their names on all of the designs for those airplanes they used to bomb your own house." He dropped the clipboard again and sighed, waving a dismissive hand toward Ling.

"Look, honestly I don't think that you're an Equalist." The grin finally disappeared, "We both know you didn't even commit half of the charges on this list, and the ones you are guilty of aren't really of any concern to me."

"Then what is?" Ling asked, his anger simmering still.

"Please, sit." The man motioned toward Ling's chair, still lying on its side.

"Um…" Ling held up his hands, still chained to the table. "That's gonna be a little hard, slick."

The man shot a glance at Mako, who nodded and quickly started to reach for the fallen chair.

"No." The old man said, "Take his chains off, he can get the chair himself."

With a quick "yes, sir" and a little fiddling, the cuffs were off and Ling was finally sitting in his chair.

"Appreciated, Mako." Ling injected as much contempt as he could into his voice. "Now, who is this clown? He sure ain't no cop!"

"This is…" Mako began, only to be cut off by the man in question.

"The name's Bato. I'm part of the White Lotus, and I'd like to keep you out of prison." The old man, Bato, slid into his own seat.

Ling scoffed, "Yes, I'm sure you do. Lemme guess, I cooperate, give you the names of all of my contacts, sell out my friends, say I'm sorry, and then maybe I get a commuted sentence?"

"You and your lady-friend making a ruckus in holding cell number three!" Bato added cheerfully.

What? Ran?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

Fear gripped Ling. Ran could not be allowed to go to prison. Lanfen needed her. Spirits, the whole city needed her right now. He looked to Mako. All of the young detective's anger from before was gone, now replaced by… sympathy? Apology?

"That's a bad idea. The aerodrome is already in chaos. You throw Ran in prison and the food stops moving."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's the food you're worried about." Bato turned toward Mako, who was still standing in the corner pretending not to exist. "See? I told you he cared about the city!" Bato's grin returned as he faced Ling once more.

"Look, I don't care about your friends, contacts, acquaintances, or lovers beyond what they can do for me. I want your help, not your confession."

Ling buried his face in his hands, trying to rub the fatigue from his eyes. Are all White Lotus members this aggravating?

"I'm too tired for this." Ling sighed, "Just tell me what you want."

Bato leaned in over the table, his grin somehow even wider than before.

"Just you, Ling Shan, just you. You're going to help us catch some real nasty fellows."

Light flooded the alleyway. Ling peered past the ratty blanket he had draped over himself to see the bright headlights of a truck rolling toward him. Was this it? A wave of energy shot through Ling's body, banishing sleep and boredom in an instant.

Don't look excited, idiot! Ling forced himself to calm down, huddling closer to the warm brick wall like everyone else. Ling had done more than his fair share investigating for the Brotherhood of Labor, but that was always just asking the right people the right questions. Ling knew he was many things, but a spy was not one of them.

Lack of experience aside, he struggled to contain his excitement as the truck, a large delivery model with an enclosed bed, pulled up to the loading dock. Two men stepped out of the cab, both tough looking fellows dressed in laborer's garb and flat caps. Ling recognized the taller one as Bean, because of his oblong head, and mentally assigned the other as Dumpling, due to his shorter stature and pudgy neck. He didn't know their real names, but he needed to keep track of them somehow. Besides, these names surely fit better than whatever their dear mothers had given them.

Bean knocked on the garage door while Dumpling walked around the back of the truck and shot a quick glare at all the beggars in the alley, as if trying to spot any would-be spies among them and warn them away.

Like that would work. Ling chuckled to himself. These people would sell them out in an instant for some money or promise of employment. Really, Ling could have just hired one or two of them to watch the warehouse for him.

Actually, why hadn't he done that? Had he really just wasted three days sitting here? Spirits, he could be a real idiot sometimes. Ling marveled, not for the first time, at how he was given so much responsibility by the union. He clearly hadn't been qualified to make decisions.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the noise of the loading bay door shuddering open and disgorging a few more men, similarly dressed. Ling pressed himself further under the cover of his blanket as the men moved around to the back of the truck and opened the doors.

Ling peered at the truck, trying to see through the crowd of laborers and into the bed. Several of the men began moving in tandem eventually revealing a large metal crate, the kind needed to contain something a wooden crate simply wasn't strong enough to hold. There was little doubt, there was a spirit inside that box, and Ling had found the traffickers.

Suddenly something else drew his attention. A tall man was stepping out of the back of the truck, he must have been riding in there, and glared directly at the group of refugees in which Ling hid. Shock gripped Ling as he recognized the man. The tall and lean man was always shirtless, bald, and covered in muscles, scars, and tattoos. It was Yuusuke, the most skilled lightning bender in the city, save for maybe his twin brother, and a premiere enforcer for the Agni-Kai triad. He also had a reputation for being completely insane.

That was quite possibly the worst person who could have appeared. Yuusuke knew who Ling was, and could surely recognize him, bandages or not. If he was spotted, Ling knew he had zero chance of escape. If he tried to leave now, he would only look suspicious. Ling completely covered himself with his blanket and pretended to try to sleep.

His heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the gaze of that living weapon on him. Why are the Agni Kai trafficking spirits? Who's buying them, and for what purpose? Ling could hear the approach of footsteps. He gripped the shocker in his jacket. A less than ideal choice to use on a man who could control electricity, but it would be Ling's only hope of escape.

"Hey you," Yuusuke's distinctly smooth, yet forceful voice echoed in the alleyway behind him. Ling tensed as the man drew closer, ready to spring at him.

"Any of you poor sods wanna job?"