A/N: Sorry this is a day late guys, the chapter took awhile and I had a teensy dose of the cursed writer's block! Still, here it is, such as it is, all hell is breaking loose, so have fun!
One quick other thing! To the reviewer who penned Squirrel: You left a great, well-thought out review, and I was dying to reply, but it counted as an anon review for some reason, and I couldn't reply! But you also had a very good question you asked, that I thought I spoke about, but now am not so sure. (For the sake of everyone that isn't you) You asked how the Fire Nation could effectively force Toph to take a job she didn't want. What I meant to add in that chapter is that Toph and Sokka have working visas in the Fire Nation, that allow them to stay as residents as long as they are in the employ of the Fire Nation Government. If she refused her ambassador job, then, she would be fired from working for the Fire Nation, which would cause her to be deported back to the Earth Kingdom (as her visa would expire). Sorry for the confusion, and thanks for leaving a good review!
K, that's enough. Here it is!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Zuko, the Former Prince:
The morning sun peeks over the crests of the buildings, bringing the day into fruition as I watch the last officious looking person disappear behind the doors of the large tower. They swing shut unobtrusively, emitting a light metallic squeak as the hinges rest into place. I sip a little more tea from my cup, careful to keep my face fairly obscured by the heavy hood. The tea is a little too bitter and not completely dredged, but pleasantly warm and I am grateful for it.
Attacking an office like this is tricky, because it is not frequented at night by any except security guards. As such, I am left with few options. I could attempt to sneak inside during the night, and hide in a secure spot until the office-goers enter, but security on the outside is fairly air-tight, and because I have no idea what i's like inside, I would have run an unacceptable risk of being seen and reported. I also can't scale the back and sneak in through a window, because the tower is set next to a flowing river with steep banks, impossible to climb, even for me. This leaves a day-time assault, which is filled with its own problems. Carrying swords around presents its own host of problems, and so I have opted to nix them for this venture.
I let Sokka live. Perhaps that was a mistake, because undoubtedly he has reported my identity to the authorities. As such, there's no reason not to Firebend, but every reason to expect Fire Nation guards to apprehend me on sight. So the only real trick is keeping myself fairly obscured while waiting for the office to fill up with Family personnel before making my move and wiping the place clean.
Now seems like a good time.
I stand up casually, strolling towards the office, mindful of the deceptive lack of security on the outside. I know that it is very likely that I am being watched and reported from one of the windows right now, so it is imperative that I move quickly and quietly inside, because the guards will be on high alert.
My fists clench and unclench, fire seeping from the ground into the center of my palms. It feels damn good not to hold back. This time, I'm not just going to kill everyone. I'm going to send a message.
The door offers its familiar squeak as my fingers press against the cold steel handle and push it inwards. Offering a furtive glance backwards, double-checking that I haven't been seen, I rush through, tucking into a roll as I plow into the receiving room. The ground presses roughly against my back and head before my feet make contact with the ground, planting firmly and rocketing me forwards. Fire screams in my hands, crackling and brimming with life as I unleash plumes of it across the room.
After the blinding flash, I quickly study the room, my eyes darting back and forth, searching for the aggressors I need to focus on. All that meets me is confusion.
The flare dissipates, and all I am left with are...
Bodies.
Everywhere.
The pungent copper odor of blood swims up my nose, invading my sinuses and causing them to tingle unpleasantly. Dead faces stare at me, gaping eyes, relaxedly dangling jaws, sallow, deadened flesh and pools of bright crimson. My attack stance melds into a casual one as I stand to my full height, staring at the room, filled not with horror, but confusion at the incredible carnage displayed around me.
I walk forward to the receptionist's desk, staring obliquely at the splayed body draped over the counter like some sort of perverse decoration. She is nailed to the furniture by a sword, a jian, clearly Fire Nation issue, that protrudes from her back like a monument. This doesn't make any sense. Sokka could never, and would never have done this; even out of commission, it's still safe to assume that Toph had control over the Enforcers and it's impossible to believe that she would allow this kind of slaughter to take place.
I release the girl from her odd position, prying the sword from her back and allowing her body to slink to the floor. The whispered rustle of cloth eats into the otherwise total silence, glittering through the room like a death rattle.
Then, my senses return.
The blood in this room is fresh, and I don't need the fact that none of it has clotted or coagulated to tell me that. I just finished watching these people enter the building, so whoever, or whatever, did this, is still around. I allow my fists and feet to guide my body into a defensive stance, feeling the reassuring glimmer of flame within my veins. It fuels my heart, almost stinging as it pumps through me and I flatten myself against the anterior wall.
A sudden clatter, reverberating from the stairs behind me pricks my ears: a distinct shuffle of cloth and a lethal metallic whisper. Before I realize what is happening, my feet are pounding against the staircase, ripping winces out of me as I feel my injured ribs protest the rapid movement.
As I crest the stairs, I hear an unmistakable wet, gurgling sound reverberate around the hall, and I throw myself towards the noise, flipping around an entryway and into a large, round office. The sheer finery of the place, the glittering of over-polished wood, and the almost disgustingly pleasant odor of office plants greets me as I whip around, but the sight around the desk is what totally catches my attention.
An extremely fat man struggles horribly in an overstuffed leather chair. His corpulent fingers, bulbous with decadence and hedonism, scrabble at a knife embedded deep within his chest, his free hand limply holding a cross bow. Over him stands a thin, tall man, suspending himself on the desk and chair, gripping the throwing dagger that is slowly ripping the life away from the fat man. The crossbow unleashes it's deadly twang of cord and wood, and I watch the small bolt embed itself in the floor as the huge man's disgusting struggles for life begin to dissipate, the continuous spurting of crimson blood splashing on the face of his aggressor less and less frequently, until there is nothing.
Then I notice the smile.
Bright white teeth, matching a reflective glare cast by the sun onto his circular spectacles punch through the orange glow provided by the morning's invasion of the windows. The grin is stretched perversely across his face, almost childlike if it weren't for the malicious glow of his face. I see the violence in him, feel the need for pain and sadism pulsing from him like Toph does from the floor, and my right foot slides a little, pulling fire from the sunlight into my body, readying for the attack.
The thin, grinning man dismounts the carcass of the large one, his feet lightly tapping against the ground, sun glittering across the array of throwing knives clad in a bandoleer slung over his shoulder. Then, he speaks.
"Zuko!" he exclaims, "Man, I thought you would never get here! Sorry about the mess, but you know, General's orders, had to do your job for you and all that!"
I say nothing, merely pull myself into an attacking stance, waiting for the moment to strike.
"You know, Zuko," he says, the voice ringing with a perversely childish enthusiasm, "Tons o' Fun over there, that's Todhe, the boss, as it were. He's gone, Family's gone, you should be happy!"
Silence pervades as he rips the spent dagger from what is apparently Todhe's carcass, slipping a finger through the hole at the base and swinging it around gleefully. Blood spatters across the floor and his face as he swings it back and forth, but he doesn't seem to notice. Finally, I speak.
"Why didn't you just throw the dagger?" the words come out strong and clear, fighting against my revulsion, "You were sitting in the chair, and he was across the desk when he went for his crossbow. Why did you jump on top of the desk and stab him? It would have been smarter and safer just to throw the blade."
He laughs now, the sound childish, falsetto, and incredibly disturbing as the mirth echoes and reverberates around the large room.
"Because that's no fun, Zuko!" he cackles, shaking his head furiously and stamping his feet against the ground, "Uncertainty! That's what's fun! Like the expression on your face! Boy are you surprised, I wish you could see it! It's priceless!"
"You know Zuko," he adds, "You went pretty crazy this time. I mean, the last Family house you hit was pretty crazy too, but this time, did you know you killed some innocent civilians? There was that receptionist chick, and a couple of other folks here who didn't know that they worked for the Family. Dead! All dead!"
He laughs again, and I have to fight the revulsion that bubbles in my stomach. My teeth clench harshly against themselves and I am filled with the desire to snuff this man from the face of existence.
"Oh, I'm Singe by the way," he adds, sneering at me now, "And I guess we gotta fight. General's orders you know, kill the little lost prince, hide the body, yadda yadda yadda. I gotta say, it sounds like a lot of fun! You're supposed to be so tough, so powerful, who knows, maybe you'll kill me! A helluva good time, isn't it?"
Fire flares in my hands now, threatening and domineering, looming over the bastard who ordered Xiang's death. Now it's time for him to pay! His falsetto laugh shrieks around the room again, pulsing against the walls, reverberating in my ears.
"I'm responsible for her death, you know," he says, shucking the knife into the bandoleer, "Practically killed her myself. Sure, I had some rube do it for me, leave her bleeding carcass strewn over the ground on some curb, but without me, she'd probably still be alive. What do you think of that, little prince?"
That latent fire within my chest seethes and burns as he speaks, fueling the desire for his death that I already feel, pushing more fire, almost more than I can handle, into my fists. The heat brings beads of sweat to my face, the salty drops dribbling into my eyes, but I don't care. The only thing left that I care about in this moment, is killing this man. Brutally. Painfully. He will know what he did.
My frustration leaks from my throat in a scream, born by teeth and grit as I spring for him. Fire crackles from my fists as I let the flame within leak into a devastating blast. The resounding explosion of heat and noise swallows my scream into the mix, casting plumes of shrapnel across the room as the grinning bastard leaps to safety. He rolls to his feet, but I am already on top of him.
Flame licks from the ground with my foot, springing towards him, very nearly catching him off balance. He ducks under the attack, the smile never leaving his face, even as I whirl around a deliver a spinning backfist that catches him hard in the jaw. There is a sickening crackle of flesh as the flame rends the flesh of his cheekbone, the force tossing him awfully to the ground.
He manages to roll onto his back as I dive on top of him, the flame dissipating as I move to administer the coup de grace in a more personal manner. My knees drive into his stomach as I land on top of him, ripping the breath from him as he lurches forward, his face rife with pain. My right hand grabs a fistful of hair, jerking mercilessly as my left disappears behind my head. I bring it down as hard as I can, the knuckles embedding in his nose, shattering his glasses and sending them across the room. My fist crashes into his face, again and again and again, until there is a mask of blood covering him, leaking horribly from his forehead and between his eyes.
Breath escapes me in ragged, drawn out gasps as my exhaustion catches up with me. I stare down at the beaten man, and a slow smile of satisfaction crosses my face.
Then, he laughs.
It isn't the same as before. This time it is wet, and gurgling, as the blood from his face drips into his throat and catches in his trachea. Still, he laughs, grinning the same madman's grin, his teeth somehow still intact. Despite myself, I feel a thrill of fear as he leans forward, his smile somehow leaking between the crimson splashes that decorates him so completely.
"That was good, Zuko," he says.
I draw my fist back, preparing to unload another salvo of blows into him, but he somehow wriggles a hand free from underneath my knee, whipping it forward in a blur of brown cloth. I suddenly smell blood deep in my nose as his hand wraps around my face, clenching down and driving my nose backwards into my skull. Instinct pulls my free hand to grasp his, my fingers digging into his flesh, pulling ferociously at his hand, but his strength surprises me, as I am unable to pull him away.
Breath suddenly leaves me, as the driven nose and pulled jaw don't allow air into my lungs. Panic overtakes me and I let go of his hair, slamming the fist into the crook of his elbow and forcing him away. I draw in a choked gasp of air, struggling to pull myself together as I throw myself off of him. The ground feels cold and gritty underneath as my back smashes atop it, sending waves of pain up and down my injured ribs. I manage to pull my head up, just in time to see the madman making his way for me, blood dribbling down his face and leaving a sickening trail of grue.
I thrust my hands onto the ground, somehow pressing myself to my feet, sucking air into my lungs as harshly as I can. His smile widens as I throw myself at him, pulling fire from the sun into my veins. Streaks of flame lick from my right fist as I swing for his face, tracing a viciously golden arc of heat through the air, but he somehow ducks under it, stretching out of the floor and reaching for me again. The momentum of the missed punch pulls me forward, and I use it to whip a fire-drenched leg around, aiming for his face; to my shock, he mirrors my movement with his foot, matching streaks of gilded fire crackling and burning, dissipating the flame from my strike. Our shins collide, sending shrieks of pain up and down my leg, but I grit my teeth, focusing the sheer rage I have towards this man into my aching muscles and injured body, quickly blossoming out of control.
He stretches his left arm into a vicious strike, set to catch me low in the stomach, but this time, I am ready. I sidestep the blow, my fingers clenching around his wrist as I thrust my free hand upwards into his armpit. He twists around, struggling to catch me with a blow to the side of the head, but I loop a foot around his leg and send him tumbling forwards. There is a dull thump as his body collapses to the ground; my foot traces a circle upon the ground, drawing fire from the sunlight and transforming it into raw power. My heel pulls the fire from the air, whirring dully as it fights through the wind and crashes down towards Singe's exposed body. Somehow, he manages to roll out of the way, sneaking just out of the line of fire as the deadly heat screams into the floor.
I turn to face him as he rushes to his feet, but the blast of fire he presses from between his hands takes me fully in the chest: not strong enough to catch my clothing on fire, but immediately wracking my chest with gut wrenching burns. I can feel my skin redden from the explosive flare as I am ripped from my feet, crashing awkwardly to the floor. Stars spread across my vision as my head slams to the floor, little dancing sparkles of light that muddle my senses as I attempt to regain my feet.
Suddenly, he is on top of me, roughly grasping my collar and hauling me to a standing position. I struggle to blink away the fuzziness in my brain, to collect myself, and offering a weak punch with my right hand that hits nothing, before his explodes into my face. I feel the sudden rush of pain, and hear a roaring sound deep within my head as my neck twists backwards, my body screaming in pain, my brain screaming in panic.
I assume it's his knee that crashes into my chest, because I can't really see it. There is only the explosive hurt that streaks through my stomach, and I am on my hands and knees, wheezing a pitiful stream of air into my deflated lungs, my senses rapidly firing and shutting down as they are overloaded with differing degrees of terrifying unpleasantness.
Somehow, I hear myself scream, off in the distance, as Singe's foot snaps into my prone side, ripping me from my hands and knees and casting me onto my back. His shimmering grin, still bloodless and clean, appears in my field of vision, leering, taunting. The anger stays on the surface, whirring through my veins, but even as I attempt to raise the strength to attack him, my muscles steadfastly refuse. All I can do is watch him and struggle to breathe, as he looms over me.
"Whoo, boy!" he exclaims, exuding that disturbing childish glee, "That was a workout! I've got to admit, little prince, I'm a little disappointed. Years of stayin' out of the streets has made you soft! To think, the big bad Firebender who turned down the throne can't stay standing after a couple of punches! I didn't even Firebend in those last few, cause I thought I'd give you a chance, but there you are, blood leaking from your mouth just like your dead girlfriend!"
Feeling starts to return, beginning in the tips of my fingers, but I stay where I am, letting him speak, taking the time to draw my strength.
"Oh, you'd hit me now, if you could, wouldn't you?" he continues, "Look at you! I can see the anger! It's pretty awesome, I have to say... There's nothing better than seeing the hate in someone's eyes as they realize that there's nothing they can do to save themselves. I can see it in you now, and even though I'm a teensy bit disappointed, it's been a lot of fun. Lots! Well, that's enough, I guess. Bye, little prince!"
With that, he snakes a blade from his bandoleer, bringing it before his eyes as though admiring the heft, and looks at me with murder in his gaze. The blade glitters even brighter than his grin does as he holds it over my throat, when I am forced to make my move.
Fire streaks around my foot as I kick forwards as hard and fast as I am able. My muscles groan in protest, pain leaking from me in deep pools of crimson blood as he tumbles over me and I press myself to my feet. I don't take the time to look back, panic taking me over as my eyes fasten upon the overlarge window, glaring poisonously with sunlight. It shatters easily as I throw myself through it, beautifully decorated shards of it flowing through the air with me as I sail on a prayer, only half sure that I have saved my life.
It's only a fall from the second story, and as the frigidly cold fall river swallows me, pulling me into it's icy embrace, I feel an intense surge of relief, that almost manages to dispel my anger. Almost. I manage to pry myself to the surface, floating and keeping my head above water as the current pulls me down the city.
It must take at least an hour for me to be pulled from the city and into the country, but I remember none of it. I suddenly realize that I have pulled myself onto a sandy bank, the grit working its way onto my chest, and soothing the burning pain. Exhaustion begins to overwhelm me, and even as I fight it, I see my field of vision narrow, and narrow, and narrow, until blackness has overtaken me.
I can hear his laughter... deep in my head.
Sokka of the Water Tribe:
Walking is painful, but manageable, which is more than I can say for yesterday. The sutured wound stings awfully as my right foot sets against the ground, but I'm used to my walking being impeded, and I manage just fine. Even so, I can't dispel the bad mood it puts me in, and I grimace as angrily as I can manage at passers-by, hoping that it will manage to stop any conversation in its tracks.
The castle seems particularly big and spacious as walking becomes a painful chore. The halls, large and grandiose at the best of times, seem to stretch on for miles, swallowing me into the red stone and long, drawn out rugs. Eventually, by some sort of miracle, I manage to reach mine and Toph's quarters, the door calling me like a beacon as I approach it.
My hand grasps the knob, the cold metal providing a welcome relief from the consistent sensation of agony drawn out from my side. The image of Toph, curled up in a ball on the couch greets me as the door swings open, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing. A smile crosses my face as I can't help but be taken aback by the sheer cuteness of her, but it begins to fade as I see how quickly the breathe is coming and leaving. The pain forgotten, I push over to her, placing my uninjured hand on her shoulder and rolling her over. Her skin feels red hot upon my hand, and as she groggily turns over, I see the vicious flush of red upon her cheeks and forehead, and the sheer discomfort that she exudes. My heart is in my mouth as I place a hand on her head, feeling the incredible heat pouring out of her, the rapid bursts of breath pushing a warm mist upon my arm.
"Toph?" I ask, hoping for a response.
"Sokka..." she groans, grasping my hand with hers, "Ugh... I feel awful... I think I'm sick..."
Despite myself, a slight laugh sneaks from between my lips at the understatement.
"When did this happen? Why didn't you tell somebody?" my voice is awash with worry, and I realize that the words sound harsher than I intend even as they come out of me. Toph doesn't seem to register this, however, which quickens the worry within me.
Her blank milky eyes stare oddly upwards, and her mouth hangs slightly open as her fingers tighten around mine.
"Sokka!" she exclaims deliriously, "Before you... get the doctor.. I have to tell you..."
"Toph, it's ok," I say, placing my fingers atop her mouth, "I'm going to get Councilman Lo Dai to bring in a doctor. He'll bring in someone that's going to make you feel just fine. Don't try too hard, just relax, it's going to be fine."
"No!" she protests weakly, slapping away my hand, "You... you need to listen to me... there's something I have to.. to tell you..."
"Toph, trust me, it's ok," I say, lightly pulling her hand off, "It's going to be fine. I promise. Please, for me, don't struggle, just relax. Everything's going to be fine"
"Damn it, Sokka!" she all but screams around her throat, grabbing my hand again and forcibly pulling it away, "I'm not delirious... idiot... so quit acting like I am!"
This stops me in my tracks, pulling me back slightly from her body. I allow her fingers to tighten around my hand as she speaks, convinced now that she has full control.
"Didn't... I didn't tell you yesterday.. because you were so beat-up," she begins, squeezing my hand as hard as she can, "I... I'm sorry. Dad... at the.. Council... he wants me to be an ambassador. Go back to the Earth Kingdom... if we can't catch Zuko. Listen to me! Have to catch him... soon. In the next couple of days...or... they'll blame you.. for the attack, and I'll have to go with my Dad."
I feel a weight drop into the pit of my stomach, riling up the acid and sending it up my throat. I swallow hard, struggling to fight away some of the stinging pain and the dull throb of dread, but it does no good. But as I look at her face, the violent wash of red spreading from her forehead down, I feel a surge of something else, so strong that it manages to drown the dread and despondency.
"Toph, I swear to you," I begin, "I'll find him. Soon. Now I'm going to get one of the specialists from the Corps of Doctors here, so you'll be ok and on your feet as soon as possible, ok?"
She smiles at me, and my heart threatens to break at the sight of her so sick.
"Thanks..." she adds weakly.
Jiro, the Mouse:
The soldier looks at me, his face an emotionless mask of order and precision as his dark eyes meet mine. I look away, my gaze shifting towards the ground as he walks beside me, my hands stuffed into my pockets. Even in regular, every day clothes, these Loyalist soldiers look intimidating and lethal.
"You know what you have to do here, right?" he asks.
"Yeah. I know," I answer. I tilt my head slightly, watching the clouds roll by past the afternoon sun, beams of light poking from between the fluff and warming me on the ground. I close my eyes, fighting the rise of panic within me as the fear threatens to take over. Damn it, Jiro, you have to do this! They'll kill you if you don't!
"Remember, those clothes are you now. The people will remember the clothes, not you. Just don't panic, or do anything stupid. Understand?"
I nod, picking at the servant's uniform, the heavy, reminded of the discomfort that the heavy, scratchy wool causes against my skin. The servant's bag hangs loosely over my shoulder, pressing the nasty cloth against me and causing an almost constant itch I just can't seem to shake. I rustle around slightly within it, adjusting it to a more comfortable position as the large office juts out of the ground, taking up my view. I can't read, so I can't make out the red symbols emblazoned in the large wood sign, but I know what I have to do, so it doesn't really matter.
The soldier nonchalantly stops as I keep walking, heading for the entrance, as per the plan. I focus on keeping my eyes planted firmly forward at my destination. We can't afford any suspicion, or, at least, I can't.
My footsteps leave long, drawn out echoes upon the cobblestone road, stretching into eternity and announcing my guilty presence that my furtive mind assures me will lead to my capture. As I cross under the entryway, the deep Fire Nation crimson strewn out over the walls in a distinctly military fashion, I see eyes upon me, staring, watching, waiting.
The desk I walk to is inhabited by a large, busy looking woman, with small eyes and a permanent frown. She glances at me as I approach, maybe not suspiciously, but certainly without an ounce of humor. She places a brush down as I approach, the wood clinking lightly upon the highly-polished desk before she speaks.
"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice carrying a no-nonsense tone that almost turns me around right at the outset.
"Uh... yeah," I say lamely, my eyes avoiding hers, "I'm a servant, over at the palace, and I was carrying this platter, and someone bumped into me, and my hand got jarred real bad. Now it really hurts when I turn my wrist. I can't really miss any work, and this is my day off, do you have anyone that could bandage me up real quick?"
She sighs, as though offended that I have bothered her with this, before saying, "Yeah, sure, just head on back. First room on your right is Dr. Huang, and he can take care of you real fast. Just don't take too long."
I offer a weak smile that I hope she believes is marred by pain, and disappear behind the curtain she gestures to, careful to favor my left wrist as I brush past it. The back is cold and too-brightly lit by the large windows and candles, almost blinding me as I press into the first room on the right and sit upon a hard, unforgiving wooden chair. The sheer cleanliness of the room is immediately enough to make me uncomfortable, the feeling mixing with the fear to make a particularly vicious cocktail that only serves to fuel my panic.
The doctor walks into the room, his eyes locked on a tablet, his long, crimson coat swirling dramatically as he sits atop a stool in front of me. After what feels like an eternity, he puts the tablet down, raising a dark eyebrow at me as he looks me over.
"A sprained left wrist?" he asks, glancing at the offending part of my anatomy. I clutch it lightly with my right hand as I nod, watching him closely as he approaches. The moment of truth.
He stands up, blocking a portion of the light that reaches down and touches me, leaning forward and lightly wrapping his fingers around my left forearm. He leans forward, inspecting it as he grabs my fingers, lightly prodding and pulling them. I make sure to wince dramatically as he does so, sucking in air and praying that the act is convincing.
Then, his coat falls slightly, dangling down in front of me, casting a deep dark shadow upon his interior body. My free hand slips forward, aiming for the large crimson pocket bulging dramatically as the jacket dangles freely. It glides through with a slight whisper of cloth, barely touching the exposed sides of the pocket as I push deeper. My questing fingers latch upon something cold and metallic, which I know is what I'm after, wrapping around it and clenching it tightly, so as to avoid noise as I gently coax the object from the coat. My right hand flies back into my pocket as I press the object in, keeping my eyes locked on the doctor as he inspects me.
My relief is total as he finishes, opening a large cabinet door and pulling out a thick roll of cloth bandages. His face is serious and focused as he wraps the coarse cloth around my wrist, pressing it around my thumb and tightening it solidly around me. I swallow hard, feeling the glittering beads of sweat that dribble down my forehead as he finishes, the cloth whining as he ties a solid, hard knot and stands up.
"Ok, kid, you're good," he says, running a hand through his hair, "You're a Fire Nation servant, so there isn't any charge here. Just watch the hand for awhile, and you'll be just fine. And don't get the bandages wet."
I offer a weak smile and nod, and he disappears behind the entryway. My hand dives into my pocket, ripping the metal object from it and exposing it in the sunlight. The brass keys jangle as they are freed, hanging off of the ring and glittering in the bright beams let in by the windows as I stare at them. Ok, Jiro, time for part two. You can do this!
I push into the busy hallway, brushing by busy doctors and patients who are far too busy to notice a small Fire Nation servant wandering around with a lost look on his face. I see the door with the lock sitting towards the back, uninhabited, and clearly unwatched. My heart slowly leaks into my mouth as bodies brush past me and I approach my target, certain that any minute, someone is going to yell 'Thief!', and I'm going to get grabbed.
Somehow, this doesn't happen, and I make it to the door untouched and unbothered. I press a key that looks right through the large hole, turning it and closing my eyes with relief as the door swings open. I slip in easily, the loss of dread escaping me with a choked laugh. The stock room is dark and cold, large stacks of shelves reaching out into the darkness bearing sinister looking vials of who knows what sorts of chemicals. I practically run through the empty room, glancing back and forth until my eyes finally fasten upon what I need.
The trademark doctor's coats and uniforms lie neatly folded upon a particularly large shelf, the cloth unassumingly clean and bright amidst the dark room. I quickly grab a coat and a uniform, stuffing it deep into the bag thrown over my shoulder. My fingers fumble with the button, pressing the stubborn thing through the hole with a vengeful push as I walk out of the stock room as nonchalantly as I can.
I don't notice the walk out, as my mind is miles away. I can't believe that I'm getting away with this, that no one caught me, that I managed to make off with a Corps of Doctor's uniform, but here I am, I realize, as the sun shines upon me through the entrance. I push into the crisp fall chill, the satchel seeming to way a million pounds as I approach the meeting place. My soldier boss eases from behind the corner, and hits me with his distinctly military gaze. I nod at him, swallowing hard as he makes his way forward, looking at something behind him and waving two fingers.
The birds pulling the carriages squawk angrily as it lumbers around the corner, stopping in front of us as our driver tugs harshly on the reigns. The soldier pries open the door and steps inside, sitting upon a cushioned bench. I can't help but notice how starkly bland the interior is, the bare wood showing with no decoration whatsoever as I sit on the bench opposite him, unshouldering my pack and showing him the contents.
The carriage jerks to a start, nearly knocking me from the seat as it takes off across the road. The soldier gingerly takes the uniform from the satchel, resting upon the patch sewn into the jacket, before pulling his shirt off. I look away awkwardly as he continues to undress, flinching at the heavy rustling of cloth and the soldier's heavy breathing as he changes into the uniform, focusing on the grain of the wood, and how it flows around the different knotholes.
"Ok," I say, as I turn to see him clad in the uniform, "I did my job, so now what? You let me off somewhere and I report back?"
He shifts his emotionless gaze to focus on me before speaking again. "No. You're to accompany me in the next phase." His voice is low and gravelly, so ordered and precise that it almost hurts to listen to.
My eyes widen at the comment, as the fear begins to ease back up through my spine. "Why? What could I possibly do? I did what Xu... the General.. said!"
He merely affixes me with a glare, the eyes narrowing, and I look away, knowing that there's nothing I can say to change his mind. I sit and wait, my fearful gaze looking at the Fire Nation palace in all it's majestic glory out the window. Battlements seem to pierce the sky, jutting up from the ground like massive thorns, a deep crimson red, like the color of blood.
Finally, we stop, and I hear our driver speak.
"Open the gate, sir. I come bearing a specialist from the Corps of Doctors, here to attend a patient on special notice."
The panic builds as I hear the gate lurch open.
Not surprisingly, I wasn't needed for much of anything once we made it inside. Waves of guards, servants, and officials brushed by us with no comment, busy expressions chiseled onto their faces as though they were born with them. Despite myself, I am amazed by the sheer organization and purpose that seems to drive everyone here: every pair of hands is doing something, going somewhere, providing something.
The "Doctor" glances at a small map he has tucked into his sleeve before arriving at what he seems to believe is the right door. The parchment crinkles as he slips it back into his sleeve, adjusting the long coat and rapping lightly upon the door.
As the knob turns, and the door flips open, I can feel the fear beating deeply in my heart as my eyes rest upon the face that greets us. Tan skin and bright blue eyes stand out amidst the moderately dark interior of the room, matching the deep dark blue of his clothing. He smiles weakly as he sees us, and I desperately force my face to look away as he nears, praying that he doesn't recognize me from my first mission with the Family.
"You're the Corps of Doctor guy, right?" he asks, ushering us in, "Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. Poor Toph has come down with something nasty, and we really need her back on her feet. Come in, come in!"
His hands wave through the air as we walk past him into the room, and he limps to follow. As I watch his stuttered gait, I can't help but think that it looks more pronounced than usual, but I don't say anything, my mind awash with fear. He gestures towards the girl, the same Earthbending girl from that day, her chest rising and falling with a rate far too quick to be normal. I see the deep crimson blush that spreads across her features, almost matching the Fire Nation crimson that decorates the room as she breathes in discomfort, her blank, blind eyes staring upwards at nothing. I guess she was blind, after all.
"Listen, I hate to run," the man says, "But I have a lot of things I have to take care of. Will it be alright if I leave her with you? Just ask around for me when you're through, and you can tell me whatever you need to."
The "doctor" merely smiles, somehow faking genuineness as he speaks.
"It would be unethical for me to allow you to remain, sir," he lies, smiling falsely, "Please, let me attend to her. I'll make sure she's just fine, and I'll leave instructions for you when I'm finished."
He smiles at the soldier, before turning and preparing to leave. As he whips around, his eyes linger for a moment on me, catching him in his turn and causing him to pause. The gaze turns from busy to appraising, crinkling the wrinkles between his forehead as he looks at me. My heart catches in my throat, and I can't breathe as I struggle to look away, before he finally shrugs, and is out the door, the busy gait and demeanor returned.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the "doctor" examines the poor girl, strewn over the couch, breathing heavily. I'm unsure of how to behave, so I stand silently, waiting for instructions as he works around her. He asks her to hold out her tongue, and stares into the back of her throat, the inflamed red glistening wetly as works, and I realize that he is attempting to maintain the position of a doctor, at least for the moment.
"You're an Earthbender, correct?" he asks, placing a palm upon her forehead.
"Yeah.." she says weakly, speaking around an apparently sore throat.
"Has that been affected? Can you still Earthbend?"
The question comes out hurriedly, with an inkling of fear, and I look at the soldier, his face stoic and unmoving, not betraying any ounce of anything. Are we in danger? How could we be? She thinks we're just doctors!
"No... no it's gone, I can't feel anything," she says, and despite himself, I watch the whisper of a sigh of relief escape his lips. I sigh too, the fear still palpable within my heart as he reaches into the coat pocket.
"That suggests some sinus blockage. You may have an infected sinus passage," he says, producing a vial in his left hand. He taps a small amount of powder onto a piece of cloth he pulls from his jacket, spreading the yellowish mound about by shaking the hand slightly. It bounces playfully atop the cloth, and I wonder what foul concoction he has produced. I see his breaths become more measured as he avoids breathing the stuff, holding his head high and away.
"Please, breathe this in," he says, almost baiting his breath, "This will help clear your sinuses."
That familiar, niggling worm of guilt, a weird sadness for the state of myself returns, draining the strength and the fear from me as he slowly brings the cloth under her nose. Her nostrils flair as she pulls it into her, the flushing skin turning a milky hue as it enters her nostrils.
She coughs violently, but it's too late, as the drug, whatever it is, has taken effect. I see her visibly relax, pressing more deeply into her pillow, her hands, clenched into fists, relaxing and spreading limply atop the couch. Her eyes close and her head lolls to face me, forcing me to turn away in disgust, as I realize that I am about to be responsible for another ruined life.
"Got it," the soldier says, all pretenses of being a doctor shucked aside, "She's out cold. Jiro, we need to move fast. Grab the blanket from the bed."
I stand stock still, unable to move.
"She's... she's not..."
"What?" he demands, "No! Get over your stupid squeamishness and do as I say, or I'll make you!"
Despite myself, I can't help but comply, the fear and the shakiness replacing my guilt and sadness, pulling me inexorably closer to the bed, my fingers, of their own accord, gripping corners of the cloth and pulling it out from underneath the mattress. I blink back tears as I work, balling up the large, cushioned blanket and holding it to my chest as I bring it for him.
His large, calloused hands, dwarfing my own, rip the blanket away, spreading it out as he begins to look over her once again.
Then, there is a rapping on the door.
Time stops as the knob begins to turn, slowly at first, then more surely, easing down until reaching the median point. The click it makes echoes deafeningly loud throughout the room, ringing in my ears as daylight peeks through the opening entryway.
I glance at the soldier beside me, see the knife he produces from somewhere in the uniform, holding it up viciously, nasty intent evident in his eyes.
A man enters, wearing a garish, ostentatious robe, glittering in Fire Nation crimson, gilded tassels dripping from his shoulders. He looks at us blankly, his gaze flicking from me to the soldier, light from the dagger reflecting upon his balding head. The perfectly tailored white strands of hair whisper through the wind as he enters, closing the door behind him.
"What are you doing?" he demands, his voice almost shaky.
"Councilman...." the soldier begins, "We're from... the Corps of..."
"That's not what I meant!" he seethes, the words whispering menacingly from between his clenched teeth, "I know who you are! I am Lo Dai, I run the Corps of Doctors, and I know what's going on! What I meant is what are you still doing here?"
Neither of us say anything. The glinting knife disappears back into the folds of the soldier's doctor uniform as he looks at the man, clearly nonplussed.
"You idiots!" he exclaims, "You should have been here an hour ago! The poison I slipped into her tea yesterday will be fading soon! Her symptoms could fade at any moment, at which point, all of us, and I mean all of us, are dead! How long does it take to steal a uniform? Listen to me, you need to get her out of here and get her into the wooden restraints now. Whatever it takes, or that Water Tribe bastard will be on to us. Hurry!"
The door squeaks loudly as he shuts it behind him, the knob clicking as it slides into place. The soldier scowls, and resumes wrapping the unconscious girl in the blanket, tying it tightly while I stand, staring, unable to work my mind around what is going on.
A length of rope suddenly appears in the open window, weighted with a rock and landing with a deafening crack upon the red stone floor. I look at it curiously, my mind still racing when the soldier shouts at me once again.
"Don't just stand there, you moron!" he snaps, "Grab the rope, secure it to the banister! Go, now! You heard the Councilman!"
Once again, guilt is overpowered by fear as my body moves of it's own accord. The rope seems to weigh a ton as I grip it in my hands, the coarse fibers cutting into them as I tie it as tightly as I can to the heavy, immobile stone banister. I peer over the side, seeing our carriage lying unassumingly by the wall, hidden behind walls of bushes and trees, our driver peering around fearfully as we move.
I stand, turning to speak to the soldier, but I see him already walking towards me, the girl wrapped in the blanket and tied tightly to his back. He shoves me roughly out of the way, throwing me to the ground as he wraps his hands around the rope and hooks a leg over the banister. He quickly disappears behind the edge, leaving only the jittering, taunt rope and the soft noise of hands sliding down cloth.
I look behind me, seeing the now empty room, glancing at a piece of parchment now stuffed into the spaces between the couch cushions, poking out oddly as though left by her, a remnant of where she was and what she did, before we ripped her away from her life.
I struggle down the rope, my hands raw and bleeding by the time I approach the ground. The castle no longer seems majestic to me, the violent battlements seem to be crumbling, the walls overgrown and abandoned. I step into the carriage and look at the girl, now held on a bench by the soldier. Sweat glistens down his face as he tightly binds some weird looking wooden splints to her hands and feet. The rough, unsanded wood extends over the fingers and toes, closing over them and hiding them from the world.
It's just a girl, not all that older than me. They're restraining her, tying her up, kidnapping her in a carriage.
The soldier offers a hand, pulling me into the carriage and setting me beside him.
"Good job, kid," he says, clapping me on the back, "I'm sorry I was so rough on you. This is a great day for the Fire Nation, and you're a part of it!"
What have I done?
A/N: Maaaaan was I dyyyyyyying to post these plot twists! Hahahahah i was totally geeking out over reviews last week because I have such smart readers who know me well enough to search through the writing to find hints of plot twists! Nearly EVERYBODY got suspicious that Toph was sick, and immediately started wondering about it: one reviewer even brought up the Corps of Doctors (good one Bluetiger)! But, it was also a great source of personal pride to me that no one also suspected the glass of tea that Toph choked down last chapter, which poisoned her and brought her to all of this! Hehehehehehehehe, you guys are quick, and bright, but I can still keep the wool over your eyes when I want to!
You guys gotta tell me which plot twists you saw coming, which ones you suspect in the future, and how all of these have gone over. I'm dying for it! So do me a favor and hit that li'l green button to let me know! You guys rule!
Keep reading,
Superbleh11