Light and shadow danced across various faces. The Dai Li agent was sometimes visible, sometimes not, but always according to a regular rhythm. Hidden behind a slit in the far wall, faces appeared and disappeared regularly. Long Feng's granite features were lined with shadow, only to merge with the darkness again. Two golden eyes flared up, and vanished. The imprisoned Colonel looked impassively at the Dai Li, the only one he could see, nostrils flaring in defiance. His hands were just starting to shake.

The Dai Li spoke soothingly, "there is no need for anger, Mongke. Your life before was filled with struggle and uncertainty. But there is no need to inhabit that life anymore. You are about to enter a new life, of certainty and devotion. Where there is no more anger, no more worry and no more unease. This life is open to you, offered freely, and you do not need to do a thing."

The briefly-lit face of Long Feng leant aside as Azula's eyes flared with keen interest in the technique being carried out in front of her. He informed the Fire Princess of the procedure, "this is the earliest part of the Re-education process, the Establishment stage. The subject is bound in such a way that his attention is always focussed on a single point. The light gives the impression of a chaotic, uncertain world, while in the centre, a specially trained agent provides what we call a 'Safe Zone'. A place in the subject's mind that the subject can take refuge in. It is important to establish this Safe Zone early, as the next stage in the process, the Penetration stage, is in many ways the most arduous. That is the stage where we strenuously interrogate the subject, discovering his weaknesses and exploiting them."

"Let me guess," Azula commented as the orange glow briefly crossed her soft features, "you take the carpet out from under him, but before you do, you give him something to hold on to. Your hand. At that point, he's yours to control."

"Precisely, Your Majesty," Long Feng confirmed, "after the Penetration stage we have a brief Re-establishment stage. After that comes the Deconstruction stage. This is probably the most illuminating stage if your intention is interrogation as well as re-education. Using the insights gained from the Penetration stage, we pry open the psyche of the subject and carefully categorise his innermost secrets. After this, with another Re-establishment stage, the subject is ready for full Re-education. With his most closely guarded secrets undermined, we use each painful memory as a starting point, letting the subject wilfully discard them by choosing a preferable memory. The memories he prefer are, of course, ours."

"So you can use these alternative memories to control the prisoner?" Azula questioned.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The easiest way to convince someone to do something is to make them believe they were going to do it anyway," Long Feng illuminated, "we can fine-tune the process to provide several different, indeed contradictory, memories in a single subject. The mind has many hidden layers, and while on one layer we can give the impression that nothing about the subject has changed, on another layer we can install the memory of mindless, willing footsoldier. With enough effort, we can even wipe an individual clean of any trace of their former life."

"What do these other stages involve?" Azula interrogated the Grand Secretary. The Colonel was still resisting, in the room beyond.

"Sensory deprivation, sensory overload, verbal techniques to disorient the subject," Long Feng continued, "it depends on the subject what the later stages will involve. If they have a specific fear or fetish, then that can often be utilised. The Establishment phase looks tame in comparison precisely because, in the end, the subject must want it."

"How long does this take?" Azula's eyes could be seen flicking towards Long Feng before disappearing again.

"Again, it depends on the subject, Your Majesty. More specifically their willpower," Long Feng informed, "there tends to be a set moment when the subject breaks. Most often it comes in the Penetration phase, though there are cases of subjects breaking even in the Establishment phase. But when this moment comes is up to the individual. Your typical juvenile delinquent, or even egotistical ringleader, doesn't take very long. A few hours, usually. But when the subject is particularly wilful, like this here Colonel Mongke, it can take considerably longer. We tend to avoid re-educating these kind of people, as often they're not worth the trouble, and usually simply execute them, though exceptions are made. After all, everyone breaks eventually."

"Define 'eventually', Long Feng?" Azula queried, getting dangerously impatient.

"For the Colonel?" Long Feng calculated, "I'd say around a week. Give or take a few days."

"Not good enough," Azula condemned blithely, "he needs to be ready by sunrise."

Long Feng raised his eyebrows in surprise. He made an impassioned appeal to the ruler of the Earth Kingdom, "but...that's impossible, Your Majesty! There is no way we can make that kind of schedule!"

"I'd reconsider that opinion, Secretary, if you don't want your peers to change it for you," Azula threatened, "what good are you to me otherwise?"

"Please, Princess, in order to accelerate the process, I can't just push at him harder," Long Feng protested, "it doesn't work like that. I need to find an insecurity to exploit if I want to break him."

"I already told you there's no secret to breaking someone," Azula crossed her arms, "and as a matter of fact, you already have an insecurity to exploit. He mentioned looking into the face of an eight-year-old kid after killing the boy's family and friends and realising he couldn't be anything but a soldier ever again. His exact words were 'normality is for other people'. Does that help?"

"That...does help...but..." Long Feng wondered out loud, mouthing the words Azula had just spoke, picking up on the tiny little detail and relating to something he heard, somewhere. It sounded incredibly familiar, and he found himself muttering, "...looking into the face of an eight-year-old...an eight-year-old..." as he walked to the row of documents along the wall and pulled out a chest in the 'Je' section. Azula peered aside curiously as the Grand Secretary slammed the chest onto the table and opened it, browsing his fingers rapidly through the scrolls. With a satisfied "aha!" he pulled out a particular scroll and laid it on the table, reading the calligraphy on the document as the light passed by.

"'Jet'..." Azula read over Long Feng's shoulder, "that was the leader of the terrorist group you used to exploit Colonel Yuung's insurgency, wasn't it? ...from your report, I was under the impression that you killed him?"

"It really is the funniest coincidence..." Long Feng unrolled the large, lengthy scroll, filled with details of Jet's life, complete with a stretch of paper that linked a gap in the scroll. The light danced across the page, revealing a childish scrawl of what looked like some kind of monster. A monster with a balding head, a nose-ring, a face as immoveable as a cliff and an intense pair of eyes. It was unmistakeably Colonel Mongke, "the boy was traumatised by the death of his parents at the hand of this man. And here we have that very same man marked by the same event."

"Would this be enough to speed up the process?" Azula questioned.

"Considerably, but not enough to meet your schedule, Your Majesty," Long Feng decided. Azula looked up from the drawing towards Mongke, fastened tight inside the metal chair, resisting the soothing voice of the Dai Li re-educator. A smile crept up her face. She had in her hands the key to breaking her himself. Her irises flared again.

"I'll take over the Re-education of the Colonel for a moment, Long Feng," Azula tore the sketch out of the scroll, and the Grand Secretary stammered at both the act of vandalism and the Fire Princess' determination to involve herself with the process.

"Y...Your Majesty! Are you entirely sure that's a good idea?" Long Feng immediately decided he must be suicidal for asking such a thing, but when the light danced around again, he was relieved that Azula was smiling back.

"He won't remember a thing anyway," the Fire Princess smirked, leaving the Observation Room quickly. Long Feng warily looked forward into the Re-education Room.

The soldier was still very conscious, if completely in the dark about what was going on. He hadn't said a word since the treatment had started. He just looked continuously at the Dai Li agent before him. He'd never seen one before, but he'd heard about them in his briefings, so had an inkling of what was expected of him, except that after several hours of blinking lights and a calm man telling him in uninterrupted prose how uncertain he was and how safety was so very close.

Wait a minute...was it the same man? It couldn't have been, he'd be just as exhausted as Mongke was if he was doing this for hours on end. Mongke might have been mistaken, since he had absolutely no clue how long he'd been here. It might have been days and it might have been minutes. He had absolutely no frame of reference. The voice did sound a little different, but Mongke couldn't place the transition. It was freakish...he'd been staring at this guy all the time and he'd never noticed him changing places with someone else. It wasn't as if he could look elsewhere. Even closing his eyes wasn't an option, with the circling light making him feel a splitting headache every time he tried. Mongke had only one thing to look at, and that was the guy in the middle.

Except the guy had transformed into Fire Princess Azula, and Mongke couldn't remember the transition there either. It only slowly dawned on him that she was right there in front of him, phasing in and out of light and shadow. He cursed himself sullenly. He was a soldier. He should be coping better than this. Azula had her hands on her hips, smiling slightly, standing in the circling light as the new island of stability to fix his retinas on.

"Oh come now, Mongke," Azula mocked lightly, "I complemented you on your honesty before. Why so coy now?"

Mongke just stared back. He really wasn't in the frame of mind to engage in clever wordplay. But Azula just stood there, patiently waiting for some kind of response. The other guy...guys...guy didn't seem open to conversation before, so he took the opportunity while it lay in front of him to speak his mind, "when the Fire Lord finds out about this, you're gonna wish I weren't so honest."

"What makes you think you're going to be in a position to tell anyone about this?" Azula spun her web.

"My men will come after me," Mongke smiled maliciously at the Princess, "no one messes with the Rough Rhinos and gets away with it."

"You have that much trust in 'your men'," Azula leant forward to hook one of her sharp, pointed fingernails around Mongke's nose-ring, tugging his head forward painfully inside the chair's head-restraints, "are you sure it's justified?"

"We're not back-stabbing royalty like you," Mongke grunted, "we're soldiers."

"Ah yes..." Azula unhooked Mongke's nose-ring and stood back up to her full height, taking a scrap of paper out from her pocket and unfolding it, "your own personal defence for everything you do. 'I'm a soldier' this. 'I'm a soldier' that. Tell me..." Azula held the piece of paper to Mongke's face, "...does this look like a soldier to you?"

The light passed in front of the paper, burning the scrawled image into Mongke's pupils. Even if it was a childish scribble, the...thing that was drawn on it...it may have been an effect of the light or sensory deprivation or something, but Mongke surprised himself by actually being frightened of the monster that stared at him out of the page. He mumbled, "...what is it?"

"It's you," Azula spoke satisfyingly.

Mongke felt a chill up his spine. This was stupid, he thought, and he vehemently denied it, "no it isn't!"

"That eight-year-old child disagreed," Azula caught Mongke in the web, "he grew up thinking this was the face of the entire Fire Nation. Probably killed many of your fellow soldiers in the process. He's dead now. Killed by his own mania."

"Why should I care about that?" Mongke shook in his seat.

"You care because you didn't kill him then," Azula pulled the paper back, relieving Mongke of having to stare into his own face, "it would have solved all your problems, and this kid wouldn't have grown up with an axe to grind. Ironic, really, that keeping him alive was actually a more monstrous act than killing him."

"I'm not a monster," Mongke asserted.

"Oh, of course not, you're a soldier. How could I forget?" Azula tapped the side of her head theatrically, "tell me...out of curiosity here...why did you kill his parents?"

Mongke could have kept silent. That probably would have been the smart thing. But he was tired, and he'd been keeping this inside his heart for eight years. For some reason Azula's stable presence felt reassuring. It was insane to think this way, he realised, but it just felt so comfortable to talk, "the Provincial Governor suspected that the village this kid lived in was a source of local resistance to the Fire Nation. I led the Rough Rhinos to torch the village. I suspected the kid's house was hiding an arms cache. I didn't want to risk my men by going inside, so I burnt it to the ground with everyone still inside."

"Was there an arms cache?" Azula asked politely.

"No..." Mongke answered neutrally, "but you have to use your best judgement to keep your men safe, and the Fire Nation. There's no time for second-guessing. I did the right thing. Any other soldier in my position would have done the same."

"Again with this 'soldier' stuff," Azula dismissed, "be honest with yourself for once, Mongke. You are a monster. You're a monster by nature. Covering it up by calling it 'soldiering' is just dancing around the issue. You don't seek glory or recognition, you don't seek the advancement of your Nation or your principles, you only seek bloodshed for bloodshed's sake. That's the classic definition of 'monster' by any reckoning."

"I'm not a monster!" Mongke spat, tearing in futility at his restraints, "I'm a soldier of the Fire Lord. I do his bidding because that's what I'm meant to do. I'm meant to fight, and to scorch the earth. That doesn't make me a monster."

"Well answer me this, Colonel Mongke," Azula probed, "what will you do when the war ends? You can't go home. There will be no more battles to fight. Swords turned into ploughshares and all that nonsense. You barely have anyone to fight right now. You're stuck here chasing after fugitives. You already said normality was for other people, so what happens when normality is all there is?"

Mongke remained silent. He didn't have an answer to that. It was irrelevant anyway. He'd already asked himself a thousand times with no sign of an answer, and this was no different. Except this time Azula wasn't playing by Mongke's mental rules.

"I can answer your question, Colonel," Azula continued, "you'll be snuffed out. Made redundant. The world will have no further use of you and discard you like a used fire-flake carton."

"So be it," Mongke answered simply. It felt like he was getting his resistance back. That was good. It would stop her being so smug, he felt. Except she still remained there, smiling back at him.

"You weren't always a monster, were you?" Azula asked, "that eight-year-old kid crying his eyes out might have convinced you, but what about before? Why did you fight then?"

"The usual things," Mongke would have shrugged if he was in any position to, "honour, glory, duty, wanting to be a hero...that kinda stuff."

"In other words, you had a purpose. That's what made you join," Azula had hands on hips again, "how would you like a purpose again?"

"Come on," Mongke dismissed, "you're even more of a monster than I am. Why would I follow you?"

"Because you were always meant to. Everyone has a purpose, and right now I'm the only one in the world capable of revealing yours," Azula smiled slyly, holding out the scrawled drawing once again, "unless you want to be this for the rest of your life. Just keep that in mind."

Mongke stared at the monster, and the monster stared into Mongke. Even when the drawing was no longer there, the monster remained, at the back of his mind. He only distractedly noticed a while later that Azula was gone, to be replaced by the soothing-voiced guy again. Or maybe it was another guy? He couldn't tell, but he was missing Azula's presence already. She showed a way out to him that had never opened to him before...a way to stop being a monster. It remained at the back of his mind, taunting him mercilessly. He didn't want it there anymore. He wanted it expelled for good.

Long Feng actually jumped when the golden eyes flared next to him. He hadn't seen the Princess enter the Observation Room. It was moments like this that made him realise why she was welcomed so enthusiastically by the Dai Li...at heart, she really was one of them. He voiced some admiration, "I believe that'd be more than sufficient, Your Majesty. We can start the Penetration stage inside an hour, and move on to the Deconstruction stage a little after midnight. Usefully, there isn't much to Re-educate, so I believe sunrise would be a realistic timetab..."

"Long Feng. Your opinion," Azula requested, "if my father were to discover what I'm doing, how do you imagine things will go?"

Long Feng considered the question carefully, "hmm...'not well' would be my best guess."

"I've reconsidered my opinion on the viability of an Earth Navy," Azula spoke abruptly, "I will organise the transfer of materials for the construction of advanced warships, rather than the rickety wooden jokes you have at the moment."

"Am I to assume this prospective Navy will be expected to perform against opponents other than the Water Tribe?" Long Feng asked politely.

Azula ignored the question, "once the Re-education is complete, have this equipment transferred to Pingfang Bay. My contacts will reach you at the port. They'll ensure you'll travel there in secrecy."

"And...who are these 'contacts' you speak of?" Long Feng probed further.

"You're awfully inquisitive, Grand Secretary," Azula cocked a glance, "tell me...you said earlier that everyone breaks eventually. Speaking candidly, how long would I take to break?"

"3 months, Your Majesty," Long Feng answered without hesitation. He'd calculated it long ago. The moving glow passed before the slit once again, and below the flaring golden irises was etched a wide, knowing smile.

"That's all the time I need," said Azula, before stepping out of the Observation Room.


Yin and Mayu led the attack along the balcony, bypassing the firewall, running full tilt down the narrow walkways either side of the Engine Room with their arms stretched out into the watery pit below, trailing streams of flame from their fingertips. Once halfway along each walkway they both turned, clapped their hands together and shot forth long streaks of flame at the Shachihoko below.

The Shachihoko rose up on their pillars of water to avoid the flaming streams, and scanned their empty eyes over the line of opponents armed with whatever was closest to hand. The firebenders switched from streams to blasts, and the Shachihoko adapted, blocking and swerving with their control of the water. They didn't tolerate the firebenders' presence for long, as Mayu pushed her breath through her fist to attack the Shachihoko only for her fist to suddenly block the passage of her breath. She felt like her arm was bulging, and gripped it fiercely with her other hand, muttering "oh no you don't..."

It was to little avail, as her other arm was pulled back as well. Her chest was constricted from the inside out as she rose bodily from the surface of the balcony. The same was happening with Yin, who was visibly panicking at the sensation of both losing control of his body and feeling like his insides were being squished. In an instant they were both pressed harshly against the pipes and panels of the Engine Room wall, completely immobilised. The other crew members, somewhat reluctantly, lined the balcony and wielded their weapons. A couple jabbed their pikes at the river spirits, only to be dragged over the edge when the creatures grabbed onto the ends of the pikes and pulled hard. They were completely ineffectual.

Sokka and Shui looked from the sidelines at this developing mess. The ship convulsed as another Shachihoko sacrificed himself in the furnaces. Sokka could see a pattern forming, and grabbed onto Shui's arms to yell over the shouting and smouldering of the Engine Room, "they can't leave the water! We don't need to face them down! We only need to get the water outta the Engine Room!"

Shui actually smiled, in spite of the situation, "good thing we fixed th' pumps then, huh!?" She leapt over from the end of the balcony to the pumping controls, fitted into an alcove halfway up the wall to the right of the engine. She called out to Sokka, "we gotta get all th' valves open 'fore we turn this baby on! We won't get 'nuff power if we don't! Th' God of Steel's flat out as it is!"

Sokka glanced over at the engine, hissing and pumping and rumbling and bursting veins like there was no tomorrow...which admittedly there might not be. The God of Steel, this fantastically human invention, was reaching the end of its tether. He needed to act fast, "gotcha!" He slid down the ladder and ran to the instrument panel, pulling down as many levers as he could get his hands on.

"Wait!" Shui called down, "don't open valve 13!"

"Uh...I just did!" Sokka admitted.

"Oh fer..." Shui groaned before a pipe exploded in the alcove she was squatting in. She quickly set about screwing it shut, "don't worry 'bout it! Jus' widen th' valves y'opened! I'll tell ya when it's safe ta open more!"

"Okay!" Sokka called up, latching onto two wheel handles and straining his muscles in twisting them round as fast as humanly possible. He had to concentrate on one after a while as the sweat on his palms was starting to make his hands slide off. He never dared slow down. But he was momentarily distracted by what sounded like a war cry from the balcony above, beyond the firewall.

"Ya wanna taste of steel!?" Wan challenged the Shachihoko, raising his spanner up high, "come 'n get it ye worthless fossils!"

Wan leapt off of the balcony and wielded his spanner with both hands, bringing its mighty weight down upon the river spirits and letting loose a guttural scream. The creatures didn't even flinch. One gazed around and halted Wan in mid-air, his battle-cry squeezed into a surprised gurgle, and flung him vigorously through the firewall and into the engine. The engineer crumpled down at the base of the God of Steel, spanner still limply in his hand. Sokka was about to leave his work and help him until Shui called from above, "ignore 'im! He gets thumped like that all th' time 'round here! Get them valves open!"

Sokka looked up and nodded, pushing the wheel handles round harder than ever. Massive plumes of steam rose over the firewall as another two Shachihoko sacrificed themselves. Afraid to stop, neither Sokka nor Shui were paying attention as the firewall shrank into non-existence, though Shui had to hang on for dear life as the entire room shook relentlessly from the energy spreading through the ship. This time the rumble didn't entirely die down, and became constant, the sound of bulkheads buckling becoming a consistent fixture of their work.

The Shachihoko flung away more of the crew-members attempting a last-ditch effort to keep the spirits from advancing, but as the way to the engine was cleared away, the creatures slowly advanced, to finally overthrow this new god.


Passengers and crew members clutched whatever they could to remain stable...including each other. The Shachihoko could feel all of the humans clustering together, hoping to ward off the inevitable by finding comfort in each other. Xuan had no one to comfort him, only the giggling, dripping, pale, veiny children watching over him with what looked like amusement. They didn't seem to express anything except constant, rapturous happiness, and a certain slyness on top of that, like they got away with something naughty. Xuan could feel and hear the rumbling, cowering as he was in the corner of the bridge, but was too terrified out of his mind to ask what it was.

"I'm...look I'm...I'm honestly, really, really, really sorry about what happened to you," Xuan tried to reason, "but...you know...you don't have to kill all of us! I mean...I...I...I could help you! You know...try to...uh...make your case! Get you a new home built! Good as new for your new...um...'brood'. You've...certainly made a very compelling case...and...and...and it would work out better if you had someone to represent you. Like...a...an ambassador, say! Yes! I could be your ambassador! Do what you like with everyone else, sure! But I have connections back home! I'd be very useful to you if you could just...consider..."

"We already had an ambassador," Nandi's voice seemed to divorce itself from his mouth, as somehow he was able to talk and giggle convulsively at the same time, "the link between the spirit world and the man world, and he betrayed us. What makes you think we'll trust a snivelling little back-stabber like you?"

"But...then...why are you keeping me alive?" Xuan wondered aloud, "you must be keeping me alive for some reason..."

Nandi continued smiling and giggling, all the while increasing in intensity. The giggling was starting to echo around the inside of Xuan's skull. "You wanna know what that sound is?" Nandi asked the administrator. Xuan nodded slowly, and Nandi continued "that's the sound of the God of Steel dying. You're one of the humans who made sure this thing was created, the kind that makes the decision to bulldoze a mountain and wipes out species just to make some coppers. You'll be the last to see your god die...as many others before you saw their gods die."

Xuan had reached the end of his tolerance. He needed to get away. He scrabbled on all fours away from the corner towards the door to the bridge, but he didn't get far. Tiny hands clutched his hands, feet and shoulders and pinned him against the wall. All he could see in his field of vision was those tiny faces, grinning insanely, giggling endlessly, descending on him like vultures.


Aang stood up on his feet, water and sweat glistening on his skin in the orange flame bursting in from above, swinging around in the puddle from river spirit to river spirit as they closed in, staring emptily at the brown-haired Airbender. He was lost and hopelessly confused, with no ability to bend, no friends to call upon, no means of escape and no chance of living more than about a minute. But he remained steadfast. He was determined to remain, and that determination did not waver for a second. Only problem was that it was a meaningless state of affairs if he genuinely couldn't do anything.

The Shachihoko slowly raised sharp tendrils of water out of the puddle, one by one, and had them aimed straight at the Avatar. At a moments notice, they could swish forth and skewer him with the smallest amount of effort. For a moment he thought this was it, this was how the Avatar would die...a marked improvement from being chained to a pipe, but still hardly a good way to go. Except the Shachihoko had decided that it wasn't going to happen that way. The tendrils changed direction, pointing slowly downward at Toph, pinned to the hull, at Katara, eyes slowly opening as she lay crumpled in a heap, and at Momo, pausing in his effort to drag Toph upright to cower under his wings. The old spirits had decided...the Avatar had to die, but first he had to suffer the same fate as they did...seeing their loved ones die first.

Aang shook his head in shocked despair. The Shachihoko remained concentrating on him, watching his torment. He was dumbstruck at his powerlessness at preventing his friends...his beloved...die in front of him. His vision turned red, his senses heightened to agonising intensity, as he wished fervently, above everything else he ever wished for, for these things poised to kill his friends to burn, to perish in as hellish a flame as he could muster. He could feel the energy in the gas fire above him, and as his hatred grew so did the flame. It grew so large that his back was starting to burn from the intensity. Aang barely noticed, breathing harshly enough for oxygen to flow rigorously through his body, turning his vision even redder. All his rage was directed at the Shachihoko, who remained infuriatingly emotionless.

The tendrils drew back, preparing to deliver the killing thrust to Aang's friends, and Aang's anger boiled over into action. His arms spun round, feeling the flame intimately, and through his breath the flame was spun around his body into a loop. Fiery eyes fixed on the river spirits, his arms thrust outward, feeding them with his hate. The flame burst out in a massive storm of fire, fed continuously with the Avatar's rage, and the mask-faces took the full force of it. Their water-bodies were boiled away into nothing, and the cracks in their faces spread until eventually they burst apart. All the Shachihoko around Aang perished in the blaze, one at a time, but the last Airbender was so blinded with fury that he kept feeding the flame, right up until his energy was spent and his anger sated, when he flopped into the puddle, exhausted.

Toph sprang up as the flame died down, picking up Momo and being momentarily overcome with a need to cradle the critter, just to calm herself down. She'd never been that close to such a fierce flame before. She hadn't a moment to lose, however, and the blind Earthbender quickly grappled the winged lemur and shook him into action, yelling loudly, "where's Katara!?"

Momo cowered momentarily, then scrabbled onto Toph's shoulder to point her towards the fallen Waterbender, who was groaning and just rising on her arms. Toph ran over and felt for Katara's shoulders, tugging her up frantically and shouting, "c'mon, Sugar Queen! You can get your beauty sleep later!"

Katara shook herself out of her concussion and pushed Toph off, planting her feet in the puddle and flowing her arms around, yelling back "alright! Alright!" She swerved around to make the water in the puddle flow back into the holes either side of the hull, which was just as well since a moment later her arms sprung back as her effort was forced against by yet more Shachihoko trying to get in. With all her might, she pushed back, informing everyone else, "there's more of 'em! A lot more!"

"Great..." Toph exclaimed, tugging on Momo to show her where Aang was, "hey, dead-weight! Y'got any ideas!?" Toph was met with complete silence, which she didn't take kindly to, "dead-weight! C'mon! I could feel what you did before! Now stop being a wuss and help! Dead-weight!"

Aang wasn't listening to Toph. He just sat in the puddle and looked in shock at his hands. The awful reality of the deed he had committed was just sinking in.

To Be Continued…

Avatar: The Last Airbender Concept and Characters © Nickelodeon 2005-06


Author's Note: Woah! I'm on a roll here! If I keep this up, this whole saga will be done by the end of Monday! Just two more parts to go and I'll be damned if it isn't getting exciting.

Now, 'Dan' asked me a question in a review for the last part, and since I've no other means of giving him a message back and he asked ever so nicely...he asked if I'd read Terry Pratchett, and what recommendations I'd give for reading. To answer his question, I've grown up around Terry Pratchett and have read most of the Discworld novels at one time or another (up to about 'Thief of Time', around which point I kind of lost track), and though I'm probably the last person to go to for literary recommendations (most of my influences are in visual media, not literature) continuing in the vein of famous English authors I think I can make some recommendations depending on which side of Terry Pratchett you like.

If you like his off-beat humour, Douglas Adams is the way to go. Rather more random than Pratchett novels, but 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' has been very influential and a great source of mirth for many. If you like his interpretations on the power of myth, I'd recommend Neil Gaiman. I've heard nothing but good things about 'Anansi Boys'. And if you like his thought-provoking high fantasy, then the grand ruler of the genre is probably Philip Pullman. These the authors I enjoy, but whether you'd agree is pretty much up to you.

For everyone else...ignore this. I witter much.