A/N: Hey guys! Chapter 6, up and ready! Really quick note: It's come to my attention that some of you weren't able to leave reviews on the last chapter. I think that's because I deleted some of the old chaff notes that weren't chapters when I came back, and doesn't allow us to post more than one review per chapter. However, on what was previously Chapter 6 according to , there were only two reviews, so I think most of you will be able to review without this problem. If not, you could always follow Leave-My-Mark's example (serious props to him/her [im not sure which] for going above and beyond, and PM'ing me a review for the story when she got turned away at !), or hold off til the next one gets posted. Thanks again for all your support, you've made this comeback a terrific experience!

Warning!!! This chapter contains some violence, because, no matter how hard I try, I can't make swordfighting be bloodless!

Disclaimer: Superbleh11 owns nothing which could force him to go to court

Zuko, the Former Prince:

The silvery shimmer of the moon stabs into the night, perfuming the air with a dull, glimmering light. I hear myself loudly within the mask, feeling the musky heat of my breath reflected against the thick, heavy wood. The slits of the eyes are wide enough to give me a good view of the world around me, complete with a hefty periphery, but my vision is somewhat obscured, and I realize that I'm not as aware of my surroundings as I would be without it.

I sight the large building sprawled up amidst several shorter ones, sprouting like a weed. It's the only nice house in this entire district: the well painted and maintained tiles and ornate wooden panels stand out gaudily and pompously against the poverty of the homes surrounding it. I ease further into the shadows, carefully watching the forms of the guards, black silhouettes against the dull yellow light glimmering through the parchment in the windows and doors, as they pace back and forth. A small smirk alights my lips as I see them continue to shift restlessly against the backdrop, displaying not only a lack of attention but also a clear deficiency in the discipline of how the organization is run. I remember keeping my guards standing firmly at attention during their night shifts, with keen eyes and even keener ears. I suppose its too much to expect murderers and thieves to hold to the same practice.

I clench my fists at the thought, remembering the tattered shell that was once my beautiful Xiang, crushed at the hands of these bastards. Heat begins to form in them as the fire raging in my soul seeps into bending, lighting sparks and embers between my tightened fingers. I take a deep breath and allow the flame to extinguish, coolly guiding my right hand to the twin pommels of my swords. Firebending is a distinctly bad idea here. Not only would the paper and wood mansion explode into flames, likely ripping a hole into the center of this district, but also, and more importantly, there aren't many Firebenders around these days, and the law would come after me in a heartbeat. At least the use of blades keeps it a bit more ambiguous.

Besides, I can't imagine that the human waste of the Family will present me any trouble, even half-armed as I am.

Effortlessly, I pull myself up the side of the alleyway, gripping the splits between wooden beams and tiles firmly as I flip my leg over the side. The tiles remain shakily stagnant underneath my light feet as I quickly but carefully make my way to the more-firm roof beam at the pinnacle. The ceramic groans scratchily in protest, giving me a tenuous foothold at best, but my agile steps bring me to the top safely and, more importantly, silently. I slip behind the ornate wooden lip to the beam until I have melted completely into its shadow, pressing my back against the old and faded wood, feeling the splinters prickle against my back. A bead of sweat dribbles down the side of my face, partially because of the heat of the mask, partially because of the intensity of the situation.

I peer over the edge, exposing but a sliver of my evilly masked face, peering at the guards whose gaze is firmly locked away from me. Silence is the name of the game here; I want these two dead without so much as a peep, to keep the crooks inside from mobilizing while they might still have a chance. They're lucky: they get to die without the imminent terror that the rest will.

The swords slide silently from the sheath, emitting nothing but a small metallic whisper. I extend my right arm downwards, all but pressing the tightly-held sword against the wooden beam as I allow the other wickedly-curved blade to arc over my head, the tip aimed viciously at the side of the first guard's head. Throat, or the heart. Anything else, and they'll make noise.

With a sharp intake of breath, I firmly plant my leg against the wood, rapidly firing the muscles within and leaping down towards the guard in a slow spin. Praying that I've gauged the jump right, I twist and swing the fiery left sword in a vicious slash. My eyes catch the sudden spurt of arterial blood as the silvery blade rips through the man's throat. He collapses in a crumple of cloth and the sickly wet slap of blood on the pavement as his comrade, utterly stunned by the sudden and violent act unconsciously begins to draw his long knife. He hesitates. I don't.

The untainted sword plunges through his unarmored chest, sinking in deeply like a hot knife through butter. He opens his mouth as if to scream, fueling the rage within me as I rip the other blade through his exposed neck. Red splatters of crimson seep into the cobblestone pavement as he sinks to his knees, kept upright solely by virtue of the sword planted in his chest. I grit my teeth in fury as I rip the weapon from him, allowing him to flop lifelessly to the ground.

As quickly as I dropped down, I disappear into the safety of the shadows, flipping my swords behind me so as not to catch the moonlight. My breath rattles against the mask, loud and raspy, but no other sounds screech through the night, relaxing the tension within my muscles. The guards down successfully, no alarms raised.

I realize as I ease towards the paper-screened windows that I do not know the layout of the building. This might be a problem, as I don't want any of these murderous crooks to be able to escape in the confusion of the slaughter. I need to catch them unawares, then explode through them like a wildfire. Shock and awe tactics. But how can I ensure this? A criminal base like this is sure to have a secret exit.

My mind races through possibilities. If I can sneak into the door and rip into the first wave of crooks, I might be able to snuff the lights. If I can do that, the mobsters will probably assume that they have the advantage, and push inwards to the facility, where I can move through the darkness and the shadows to put them down. I can't imagine that any mobster's first instinct would be to run from their base, where they're typically the most safe.

Typically.

As long as I can snuff the lights, they shouldn't fully comprehend the totality of the butchering until its too late. That's what I need to count on. That, and using the dark and confusion to my advantage. Unlike in Bending battles, where my fire might give me some distance and a bit more protection, the sole usage of swords means that I'll have to be close-range with my targets in order to take them out. Which means less protection. Anything can happen: a rug that moves underfoot, a spot of armor stopping the blow...

Despite everything, despite the gut-wrenching rage that has flowered within me, I don't want to die. I'll live, and keep on living, if only to see these bastards in their graves.

I inhale deeply, hearing the reflected noise deep in the recesses of my ears, before letting the breath whisper from between my lips. It's time to start.

I take a step back, calming myself and tensing my muscles, before lowering my shoulder and charging in. The moderately flimsy wood suspending the pieces of parchment cave and crackle underneath me, bursting apart under the force of the charge, and everything happens at once.

Four figures immediately make themselves known to me: two of the Family standing idly near a staircase in the back of the room, one pouring a cup of tea from a kettle, and one reclining back in a chair. I take advantage of their moment of shock to roll over the carpet, extending the swords out from either side, feeling the rough fibers digging into my neck and back as I fly forwards before charging through. I both see and feel the flickering fires of the lamps around me; the blades flash through the dark, whistling viciously through the wind, whispering through the wicks and flames and silencing them. The crackling fire dies, taking the light with it as total darkness blankets the room like a covering of snow.

The images of shocked Family members lights up firmly in my mind, bringing up the familiar acid lump to my throat of rage and anger as I place them around the room. The two by the stairs are first to reach me; I hear their footsteps and drawn blades behind me as I extend my right foot and whirl around, using the extra inertia provided by the wickedly curved blades to rip them through the body of the first man. His screams perfume the air, loud and beastial as he crumples to the floor and his compatriot surges towards me. My eyes, still adjusted to the dark outside, see the man's heavy billyclub, clutched firmly in his hand, slamming down loosely towards my head. I sidestep, easily avoiding the clumsy bludgeon, feeling the brush of wind across my face as I crouch down and whip my left leg through his. I feel the heavy impact deep in the crux of my ankle, gritting my teeth as I feel the would-be killer slam bodily to the ground. I leap forwards, crossing the fallen man before twisting around and thrusting the point of my right sword downwards. I feel the lack of resistance slip into the slight friction of human flesh as the sword slides home into his chest, killing him instantly.

Quickly, I ready myself into the attacking stance, flipping the left blade over my head and extending the right forwards as I turn to face the two remaining attackers. They approach me warily, their darkened features aimed squarely at me. I hear the man to the right inhale sharply, preparing to attack, and I lunge forward, as fast as my limbs will take me, jamming the point of the overhanging sword downward as hard as I can. It slams into the bridge of his nose, snapping his head back and ripping the feeling from his legs. I feel him turn to rubber through the metallic hum of the sword as the next man leaps at me, dagger extended, thinking me prone.

I am not.

I twist around, whirling the free sword into a vicious arc that rips into his shoulder as he dives through the air, throwing him sideways to slam bodily into the wall. There is a clatter of glass shattering against the floor as I rip my left sword from the skull of the now dead man and charge towards the noise. My right blade somehow catches the moonlight, tracing a bright silver arc through the air as the wounded Family man tries to turn around. He makes it about halfway before the sword rips through him, spraying dark black against the side of the wall. There is only the sound of cloth against wood as he slowly slides to the ground and fades away.

The sudden clatter of footsteps, accompanied by the dull wooden thud of a door slamming snap my masked face backwards, bringing into view the herd of fighters ripping through the basement.

Slowly, methodically, I ease myself back into the attack stance, allowing the fighters to view the full, vicious length of my swords as the liquid rage swirls through my veins. My muscles tense, forming cords in my neck as it bubbles into a scream, reaching through my belly.

Wazha, Family Lieutenant:

"What the hell is going on?" I demand, slamming my fist against my desk. Li looks back and stares at me blankly, his thin, sallow face looking distinctly nonplussed. Anger and frustration build up in the center of my chest. What did we hire these morons for?!

Everything has been going to the badgermoles since last night, when we finished off that spoiled little Senator's daughter. I swear, we've pulled murders before, and nothing like this has come of it! Everyone gets up and panics, but not this hard. It was just some rich spoiled brat! Not like she made a damn difference in the world.

Singe and Jiro left this morning, and, though I was honestly a bit thankful that the grinning psychopath was safely away from me, he had this look on him, like he knew something was going to happen. Now, we have an attack, and I have no idea what's going on! Once we heard the screams and the clatter of stuff upstairs, I sent the rest of the boys to go investigate, just in case, but its been a couple of minutes now, and I'm starting to get antsy. What if it's the Enforcers? What if they've just decided to walk through and massacre us, law be damned? All I've got left down here are Li and Kysumu, and I don't trust either of them against a squad of Enforcers. Least of all that crazy little Earthbender girl I keep hearing about.

Another full-fledged scream emits from above, accompanied by another loud thump, and the clatter of furniture. A bead of cold sweat rolls down the side of my face, sending shivers up and down my spine as I stand up, reaching down and opening the catch-drawer underneath my desk. The whisper of wood sliding open causes both Li and Kysumu to glance back at me; I see the nervousness on their faces, the pale, drawn skin, clenched muscles behind the eyes, and I pull the compartment fully open. Inside sits a Fire Nation standard-issue jian, three feet long, wickedly sharp, and hopefully enough of a surprise to give me a fighting chance at making out of here if a squad of Enforcers intent on revenge bursts into the room.

I throw the sheath away as I draw the weapon, feeling the uncomfortable weight in my hand. I'm not used to this damned thing. I've fought a lot of street fights, but mostly with knives or billyclubs, never anything this serious.

Suddenly, a loud thud, much closer and more distinct than the ones that have been peppering the room rips our gazes upwards, towards where the stairs leading up to the main floor meet the door. There is a sudden deafening crash as the door splinters apart, shattering over some terrible force, and the limp, plump body of Yusha flops down the staircase, spattering crimson over the walls and down the rail. It shudders and creaks under his weight before giving way from the force and allowing his body to roll over the side and thump dully against the ground.

He doesn't move.

Simultaneously, Li's, Kysumu's and my eyes shoot upwards to the opened entryway as a firm knot of fear grabs hold of my spine. The sweat glimmering profusely upon the palms of my hands makes the handle of the sword difficult to grip; it slides in my fist, despite my clenched muscles. Oh, Spirits, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!

A figure appears, outlined in the darkness of the upstairs that sends a powerful shudder through my muscles. A blue, grinning demon mask is strapped firmly to his face, the only patch of distinction over his otherwise dull black clothing. But what is supremely terrifying are the two massive, wickedly curved, fiery swords that he has gripped in his hands. The silvery blades are dulled and splattered with blood: crimson and thick with coagulation, it dribbles slowly down the tip and spatters against the ground.

My mouth becomes dry and salty, uncomfortable as I try to swallow. I glance furtively towards Li and Kysumu, who seem equally rooted to the ground at the sight of the masked demon at the top of the stairs. The terror manifests into a raspy screech as I yell: "What are you waiting for, you idiots?! Kill him! Kill him now!"

I stay back, watching as the masked man leaps lightly from the top of the stairs, landing easily with a roll beside the dead body of Yusha. Li and Kysumu charge forwards, long knives drawn, screaming out of a heady mix of fear and rage.

And die.

It happens in a flash: there is no clatter of steel on steel, no artful moves, only the sudden flash of the demon's steel, and the dessicated, shredded corpses of Li and Kysumu litter the ground, the life gone from them. He rises slowly, easing the swords into a distinctive attack position, and the fear culminates within me. My jittering muscles shake palpably, dragging the energy from my hands and allowing the sword to drop from my lifeless fingers. It clatters noisily against the ground, providing the only combat to the silence as the demon walks towards me.

The silence! It kills me, it turns my terror into sheer panic as I try to back away, staring at what I know is my imminent doom. I don't want to die! Please, Spirits, I don't want to die!

The man stops as I press myself against the back wall, shaking like a fevered animal. He raises a sword-grasping hand to his mask, now splattered in fresh, living blood, and lifts it away.

I can't, for the life of me, pry my gaze away as he reveals himself: the puckered, scarred flesh around his eyes, the furious, gilded hue of his irises, the grim, set jaw, and the darkened, knotted brow. I know this man. The former Prince, the man who was dating the girl we snuffed yesterday. And the weight of it all, the full jarring pain of understanding, descends upon me, ripping the last of my hope away.

They left us, they left us to die! Jiro, Singe, they knew what was coming.. and they left us. They knew this would happen, they knew what he was, they knew what he would do... and they left us to die! They left us to die, they left us to die, they left us to die... I don't want to die!

"Who left you to die?"

The voice, raspy and calm, yet full of an inhuman rage whispers from the throat of the demon man. I realize with a shock that I've been babbling my thoughts aloud.

Somehow, I manage to force my mouth to work; once it does, it doesn't seem to stop, as words pour out of me.

"It was... oh Spirits... Singe! Singe... and Jiro! They knew what was going to happen... they left us here for you to kill us! To wipe us out!"

I stare deeply into the demon's eyes, hoping to find some trace of compassion I can exploit, but they're still hardened and fiery, tempered under a flame of fury.

"Who are Singe and Jiro?" he demands coldly.

My fingers knot together as I begin to answer. "Singe! He's... he's Todhe's assassin... Him and Jiro, the Mouse, the thief... Listen... Listen to me, Zuko: I didn't want to kill her. I didn't want to do it, but Singe, he's a psycho, he made us do it, he ordered it, or he woulda killed us too, sure as you have! And Jiro... he's his lackey now! They plotted it... Singe started the big fire to wipe the cops out of the street, and Jiro... Jiro killed her! Oh please, I didn't want to, I didn't want to kill your girl, they made me! I didn't have no choice!"

His teeth grit and his jaw sets as I beg and plead, his eyes glittering with a feral light, anticipating the kill. I hear the grit of leather as he clenches his fists tighter against the swords and approaches me, pointing the left blade towards my face.

"You didn't have a choice?! There's always a choice, you bastard! Now you pay for what you did!"

All feeling dissipates from my muscles as he approaches.

Sokka of the Water Tribe:

The carnage is absolutely horrifying. I've seen battlefields with less of it, that didn't cause my stomach to writhe and twist in the way that this one does.

The morning sun drips in through the open shutters, pooling bright yellow light over the ruined bodies of Family men. The black handprint insignia, draped over the staircase banner flutters in the wind blowing through the broken door, tattered and stained a deep crimson. A sudden lurching noise rips my gaze from the mass of dessicated corpses towards the figure of a guard running towards the window, clutching his stomach as his chest heaves strongly. I really feel for the guy.

The sudden buzz of insects reaches my ears causing my hand to swat angrily through the air. This is awful. Singularly awful. Just up here, in the foyer, I count the bodies of at least thirteen toughs, sprawled and scattered around the room. I shake my head, before turning around and walking out through the door. I'll start with the two men outside.

They lie close to each other. One man is sprawled face down on the pavement, his head cocked at an odd angle, the limbs spread-eagled across the ground. The other man is in a sitting position; balanced precariously upon a support beam, thick, coagulated blood still leaking from his open mouth. I swallow deeply before trying to start to analyze what happened here.

My eyes flit almost of their own accord to Toph, chatting in hushed tones with one of the Guards, who is making a conscious effort to avoid looking at the awful display of the inside. Somehow, she notices me looking at her, and paces towards me, her bare feet slapping against the hard road. I flash her a smile that belays what I feel as she frowns.

"Well, what do you think?" she asks bluntly. I sigh, pulling myself out of my head, and crouching down to get a view of the corpses.

"What do you know already?" I ask the Guard, who crouches beside me.

He coughs in a sickly manner before speaking, his voice a little raspy and very tired. "Well, it was a hell of a fight. There's the two out here, thirteen in the foyer room, and four more bodies sprawled out in the basement, where the big Family office is. We were right about Wazha, he was the local lieutenant here, and he's down at the last. We don't know how many attackers there were, but they all killed with a similar weapon. Large, curved swords by the look of it."

He glances furtively at me as he says the last bit, his eyes taking mine, then flicking awkwardly away, as though he were embarrassed by it. A flash of irritation crosses through me, making me demand: "What? What is it?"

His gaze firmly locks upon the ground, refusing to meet mine as he replies, "Nothing, sir."

"He's lying," Toph states stoically, bringing my eyes to rest upon her. I really can't help but marvel at her strength. I know that the vibrations given out by the multitude of heartbeats around has to be casting very vivid, intense, and disturbing images of the bodies lying around the ground, and, unlike everyone else, she has no ability to look away. To not view it. Yet, here she is, still working, still functioning, and giving no sign of the disgust she must be feeling. She can still catch lies to help us out.

I lock my gaze upon the guard who looks suddenly mortified, clearly caught in his untruth. I feel the skin of my brows knuckle together as I glare at him, before saying "Listen, buddy, I'm going to give you another chance. Care to tell the truth this time?"

A sigh comes out of his mouth as he hangs his head down, defeated. The words are whiny and piteous as he says, "A.. a couple of the guys, looking at the sword wounds... They started talking. Swords are illegal, and really hard to get, even on the black market. The only folks that have them are us, the military, and... well, your Enforcers. So they've got to wondering..."

"You think we did this?" I demand, as the irritation flowers into outright anger, "That we would even be capable of something like this? We have followed the new laws to the letter. And whatever happened here, we're going to figure it out. These people were murdered, and, criminals or not, Family or not, we're going to bring the killers to justice. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," he states calmly, though I can hear the lack of conviction in the words. My frustration mounts as he walks away, choosing to join his comrades in the house. I look at Toph, whose frown has deepened and brows have narrowed.

"Unbelievable," she hisses. I'm inclined to agree.

I shake my head rapidly, attempting to clear the frustration from my throat as I look down and begin to study the bodies before me. Clearly, these guys were sentries. This is the only way into the building, and they're far away from the other corpses. But, since no one came out here to help them, it means that they must not have sounded any kind of alarm.

I glance back into the shattered entryway, taking note of the distance between the other fights and the debris of the shattered sliding door clearly scattered within the building. Meaning that they broke through to get in, not the other way around. Could they have swamped through the street, killed these men quickly and charged through with enough speed that it left the Family members inside no time to react?

No, that makes no sense. Fights are loud, and obvious, and there's no way that these toughs would have been so stunned as to not react at all. But then, how else would they have done it? Unless these men were killed utterly silently, the men inside would have been alerted. I suppose its possible for a group of men to kill two in silence, if they surprised them. These men weren't wearing armor, after all.

I scan the open plaza that stretches out before this building, taking in the cracked, worn pavement, the overgrown and untended garden in the center, but what really stands out is a sheer lack of cover. There is no way that the sentries wouldn't have seen them ahead of time! A group of men, prepped for battle, could not have done that.

The overhanging roof suddenly catches my eye, and I realize what happened. Whoever they were, they deployed one man or two, who scaled the roofs, and surprised the two sentries from above. Then the rest of them charged through the doors, not bothering to open it so they could retain the element of surprise.

I shake my head as the frustration continues to build. That couldn't have happened! The men inside would have heard heavily armed men running through a courtyard, and the fight would be much closer to the door. Whoever charged through that entryway almost instantaneously made it to the center of the foyer and snuffed the lights. If it was a large group, then there would be at least some bodies or blood stains right by the door, not deep in the center of the room.

So it couldn't have been a large group. A small group of incredibly skilled assassins, each armed with curved swords. At least two apiece, because a bunch of the bodies have two wounds upon them, each one fatal. There wouldn't have been a second stroke without a second sword, because the men were already dead.

A sudden, awful thought crosses through my mind, evaporating the frustration and replacing it with a sickening dead weight in my stomach. It couldn't be. No way.

I pull myself out of my head, looking at the bodies, staring at the blank bodies, and realize, that its the only possible explanation. It is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what happened here last night. No disgruntled batch of the military or guard, no battalions were here.

"What is it?" Toph asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. I look upon her, watching her read my emotions, seeing the subtle ticks of worry upon her face. Her pale, full cheeks are drawn down into a frown, her milky eyes tight with confusion. I stand, stretching the sleepy muscles in my legs and wrapping an arm around her, tugging her closely to myself. She responds by slipping her arm around the small of my back.

"Sokka, you need to tell me what's going on," she states firmly, and I realize that I'm sailing in dangerous waters.

"Come with me, Toph," I whisper, looking furtively around to make sure there are no close by listeners, "We need to talk. Quickly."

She doesn't utter a word, merely follows me as I limp away, headed back towards the castle.

I lean up against the side of the wall, propping myself up on my arms as I allow my head to droop down. Toph walks behind me, folding her arms and plucking up an eyebrow.

"Toph, it was Zuko," I say, attempting to put a bit more strength in my voice than I feel at the moment. I turn around to watch her reaction, seeing her already large eyes grow wide with the same shock, the same unwillingness to believe it, that I felt at the Family mansion. She brings a hand to her mouth, making her look uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"It couldn't have been. He wouldn't have. Not even after..." she states, but she knows its not true even as she says it.

"Toph, it was. It's the only logical explanation. What happened there was caused by one man, wielding two large, curved blades. The only person in the entire world that I know who has the skill with twin swords needed to pull it off, and the motive to do something like this, is him. Only Zuko could have done this alone."

She folds her arms and sets her jaw, her toes clenching and loosening upon the floor. I look at her as she says, "We can't bring him in. Maybe it will stop here. If anyone had the right, it was him. He's our friend, and we can't let him go to jail. He doesn't deserve it."

I open my mouth to speak, but she silences me with a hand in the air, stating "Is it even really so bad? The Family has been making it almost impossible to pull the Fire Nation out of the hole its in and set up a stable system. They're murderers, thieves, and scum! So what if some of them have been wiped out? Doesn't that only help us?"

She paces over and sits down on the couch, frustrated and angry, folding her arms and sending me mental messages to let me know that if I try to touch her, she'll make me regret it. Instead I walk directly by her, just out of range of her fists (but painfully aware that her Earthbending is still a distinct danger) and force some courage up through my throat before speaking.

"Toph, you know that's not right. Part of what our job is here is to make the laws work. That means that we can't invade homes in the middle of the night and kill all the occupants, even if we know but can't prove that they've done something heinous. And we can't let it happen and do nothing, either."

At this, she glares at me. I open my mouth to speak some more, but fear clutches the center of her chest as I watch her, as if in slow motion, lift her foot off the ground, and slam it downwards. I grit my eyes shut and firmly clench every muscle I can, anticipating some Earthbending pain as the floor comes alive underneath me. Walls of stone form jaws around me, clenching down and cocooning me in a solid, immobile pillar of rock. I quickly sink into the living floor up to my neck, craning my muscles so as to avoid being fully submerged.

Toph stalks over to me, leaning down close enough that I can feel her hot breath wash over my face. The snarl that alights her lips, pulled up by a clenched cheek, is both terrifying and damnably cute, in a way that is distinctly Toph, and I feel that familiar odd mix of warmth in my chest and cold in my stomach.

"So what, we're just going to grab Zuko, and throw him in prison? Leave him to suffer and rot in a jail cell for the rest of his life? Is that what you're suggesting? Because I don't want to have any part of it!"

"Toph..." I begin, but she cuts me off, venting her anger.

"I'll break him out, if you do! You know that I will!"

"Toph..."

"No! You're not doing it!" she hisses.

"Toph, I didn't say that I want to throw him in jail!" I say as quickly and loudly as I can, hoping that she'll hear it and register it before she chooses to cut me off again. Thankfully, she does, as her ears twitch, and the ground releases me up to my elbows, signifying that I have, no pun intended, gained a bit of ground with her. The sudden release makes me flop over clumsily, as she extends a hand downwards and grasps my wolf's tail in her hand.

"Well, then what?" she demands.

I take a deep breath, looking deeply into her pale milky eyes, as I say, "He's in a rage. You remember how fury can get to him. He's not going to stop here. There's at least another twenty or thirty Family agents in the city, and he's going to go after them all. And when he's finished with them, he's probably going to move to another city, so he can wipe out the branch of Family there. You heard what that Guard said: swords are illegal, and everyone is going to assume that the government is deploying armed assassins to kill members of the Family. That will ruin the little credibility we have right now, and bring the country to its knees. All I want to happen, the only thing, is for him to stop. I don't want to throw him in jail, I just want him to see reason and stop what he's doing. Ok?"

Her breath is hot and loud as it whistles through her nose and blows across my face. I know she is feeling my heartbeat through the ground, trying to gauge my emotions, and find truth in my words. After what feels like an eternity, her clenched fist releases my hair, and the ground, wriggling and squirming underneath me, pushes me back to the surface, fully freeing me. I stretch my arms sideways, relieved to be free of the stony prison, and having harsh flashbacks to times where she's left me, prone in the earth, for hours at a time.

"So what are you going to do? How are you even going to talk to him?" she demands, obviously still a bit frustrated, "He's not going to let himself be caught."

"I have a plan," I say confidently, flashing her a big grin, "This will work. Zuko's still down there, despite everything he's gone through. He'll come around."

She grunts noncommittally, folding her arms and frowning deeply. My grin widens as I give into temptation.

"You know, Toph, you're cute when you're mad."

"Shut up," she mutters dangerously, but I see the flush of color that rises to her cheeks.

Singe, a Family Man:

Oh, the carnage is absolutely delicious, even through a telescope! I've got admit, I like this Zuko guy!

I pull the device away from my eyes, and the image of the two sentries, all but ripped apart, disappears into the current surroundings. The vantage point from this mountain was perfect, giving a direct view to the city below. A perfect place to camp! I glance at the Mouse, who sits beside me, hunched over a rock, and deep within his own melancholy. Ugh, this kid is boring. But, he's got the instinct he needs, and the boss needs a pickpocket, so, here we are.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the cold mountain air. Joining up with the boss was one of the best decisions I ever made. I've never had so much fun! All of the plotting, the scheming, conniving... It's really exhilarating. Random murders have nothing on this!

I walk over to the deadened fireplace, leaning down and rummaging through the pack. The canvas scratches the back of my hands as I push through the books and equipment, finally coming out with a small roll of parchment and a piece of charcoal. I sit down next to Jiro, the parchment crinkling noisily as I unfurl it against the rock before scrawling on it with the blackened writing tool. I've always enjoyed the dull scratchy sound that charcoal makes on parchment for some reason, and I enjoy it here, too.

As I finish, I pause to admire my handiwork, rereading the tight, scrawled writing.

Xu,

Worked like you said. The little Prince wiped out the whole house! Lots of blood, anger, even through the telescope. It's great! Got the pickpocket you wanted here, too. We're ready for phase two, we'll wait until you can make it back here.

Your good buddy,

Singe

Perfect! I walk back over to the caged messenger hawk, roughly opening the trap door and letting him land atop my arm. He ruffles slightly as I tie the message to his foot, tightening the twine perhaps a bit too hard. He disappears in a flutter of feathers as I lift my arm into the air, grinning as the wind displaces the glasses upon my face. I lift a gloved hand up, pressing them back as he disappears into the distance.

All this fun already! And the best part's just about to begin...

A/N: Alright, there's chapter six! Just a couple of things to talk about for this chapter. I realized as I was writing it that Toph and Sokka's interaction, in the way that it kind of stems from the horror of the Family House to kind of their usual antics might seem as though they didn't place enough weight on the deaths there, but that's not what I was trying to do there. What I'm trying to get across is that just them being with each other, and being around each other, is enough to kind of pull them out of the darkness and bring smiles to their faces. I hope that didn't come across in the wrong way, or too dark, but let me know in a review!

Boy, it felt good to write fight scenes again. What I really wanted there was, where you kind of begin to support Zuko at the beginning (the whole righteous vengeance thing, etc), when Wazha starts begging for his life, to make y'all feel a bit of pity for him, whether or not he deserves it. I really wanted to use that to kind of emphasize the darkness that Zuko is wading through, that he IS, despite everything, doing some bad things that aren't just hurting the Family, but also Sokka, Toph, and everyone else that wants the Fire Nation to be a better place. I don't want to make him inhuman or unsympathetic, yet at the same time, I don't want to make him a hero, either, if that makes any sense.

Haha, writing a plot twist was fun, too. Did y'all expect that Zuko's wiping out of the local Family house was what Xu and Singe were wanting? You gotta let me know!

Alright, that's all for now. It feels great to be writing again, and thanks to everybody whose shown me such support!

Keep reading!

Superbleh11

Next time: Sokka's plan enacted, will Zuko come around? Also, the re-emergence of Xu, and the Avatar himself!