The Last Stand of the Freedom Fighters

Jet was tired, and was trying to figure out how to escape this fight without someone dying.

The Freedom Fighters' leader was standing in a defensive stance, swords angled to face Commander Oni, trying desperately to catch his breath. Even though the immediate foliage wasn't on fire yet, the air was heavy with the corrosive odor of smoke. Ash floated on the wind, chased by those ever-plentiful red leaves. Rain and cold couldn't dislodge them from their branches, but fire? Fire was working just fine. What survived of this forest, if anything, would be bare for the first time in one hundred years.

One way or another, Jet knew he wouldn't be here to see it.

Behind Oni, Sneers was poised to attack like a cat-owl. If he was having trouble breathing, he wasn't showing it yet.

They had both been engaged with Oni, and the fighting hadn't been any easier with Sneers and Jet working as a team. Sneers was limited to hand-to-hand combat, and that was especially dangerous when dealing with a Firebender. How well could blocking work when the enemy's blows were covered in fire? Sneers could only dodge as a defense, and Oni's armor protected him from most simple punches and kicks. Unfortunately, that armor still didn't seem to slow the Firebender down at all, and he was more than comfortable with close brawling.

Take that first attack Sneers had made against Oni when he saved Jet. Sneers had knocked the Firebender off his feet and struck his face with a hard palm strike, but it hadn't even stunned Oni. Sneers had scrambled away before the Fire Nation commander could make any attacks of his own, but Oni was back on his feet and in a stance instantly.

By then, Jet had been standing again, too.

He couldn't attack with the same speed and fury as before, not when he was this tired, and definitely not with Sneers in the mix of things. It seemed that no matter how much effort Jet put into the fight, how much of his anger he tried to run on, Oni was able to meet it and overpower it. Jet, however, still had more than enough strength and accuracy to be dangerous, and knew himself to be clever in ways the Fire Nation only wished it could be.

Jet tried to wait for Oni to make his own attacks, and take advantage of the openings to land a fatal or debilitating blow on the Firebender, but it just didn't work. Oni had the advantage on range, height, and defense, and, if anything, the continued fighting was giving him more energy. He didn't even seem bothered by the air quality. He dodged and deflected Jet's swords with his armored gauntlets, and met Sneers' attempts at attacks with punches and kicks of his own, except Oni's didn't actually have to connect to do any damage. One kick tossed out a flare of flame that quickly died, but did so with a burst that sent a shockwave through the air.

Jet came in and swung both of his swords low at the single foot Oni was standing on, but the Firebender must have anticipated the attack because the leg that had been outstretched in the kick continued smoothly back towards the ground. When the foot stomped down on the forest floor, a wave of fire sprung out, igniting the fallen leaves around it and pushing them up into the air. Jet found his attack faltering as flaming debris and ash flew into his face, but he kept his head and swung out of the way as Oni punched out another fireball.

Sneers had maneuvered behind Oni by then, and his gaze met Jet's in the quiet moment between the fighting. Jet took the opportunity to try to get his breathing under control, to take a moment to rest his muscles before going all out one more time.

Red leaves and ash continued to tumble on the winds around them.

It was pathetic, really. Here Oni was, a teenager in front of him and a teenager behind him, fighting the pair like there were real soldiers. Like many of the brave defenders of the Earth Kingdom, the two were very skilled, and dedicated to their task. They were probably trying to buy time for the rest of their insurgent band. They were both also trying very much to kill him. The pair was fighting out of anger, out of desperation, and as good as they were, they were still just children.

Oni looked forward to killing them both.

The one in front of Oni, with the hook swords, matched descriptions of the rebels' field commander. He was called, at least during field operations, "Jet." The other boy, sneaking up behind Oni with a respectable but futile degree of stealth, was only sketchily profiled, but "Jet" had referred to him as something that sounded like "Sneers" during this skirmish.

Jet, of course, led the attack. He moved forward to just within attack range and swung one of his swords on a horizontal arc. Oni took a step back, letting the hooked blade pass right in front of him, and held back from leaping on the ragged teenager. He wanted to end this, to break that boy in his grip and finish this operation, but Oni was a professional, and, by waiting now, he would be able to kill both rebels more efficiently.

That was what this whole operation was about. Other people, like the Rice Counter with his ridiculous manmade-earthquake plan, chased uncertainty and let circumstances rule the field of battle. Oni, rather, sought mastery. He took control of every variable, including the very field of battle, and used direct force to push everything into a winning combination.

There was cost, of course. There was even pain.

That's what made victory all the more delicious.

Frustrated, Jet came in closer, both his swords swinging in alternating waves. Jet was obviously trying to overwhelm him, forcing them closer in range in what was probably an attempt to distract from whatever Sneers was going to do. Oni obliged, ducking some slices, and letting others deflect jarringly off his armored forearms. Close now, Jet's eyes flared, and he flipped his right sword around into a reverse-grip. Oni realized that his last deflection had raised his left arm up and out, leaving him vulnerable.

Jet rammed the spiked handle-guard of his reversed sword straight into Oni's side. The short, strong spikes punched straight through the armor there, and Oni felt them sink into his flesh with a hammer blow.

Oh yes, there was pain.

The Firebender grinned at Jet, and brought his left arm back down against his side, sinking the spikes even deeper. An extra wave of hurt ripped through his chest, and it was possible that the spikes were scraping bone.

Most importantly, the handle of Jet's sword- along with his hand itself- was now trapped under Oni's left arm. The Firebender brought his right arm up, and even though he lacked the breath to summon any fire, he had more than enough strength to deliver a palm strike to Jet's chin.

The teenage rebel rocked back, losing his grip on his trapped sword and stumbling away.

Weakling.

Oni had to move quickly now, from what he could hear. He relaxed his left arm again and grabbed the sword that was stuck in his side. It slid out easily, the spikes obviously smooth and well maintained. Ignoring the pain that a fresh influx of oxygen brought to the wounds, Oni established a proper grip on the sword, spun around, and swung the hook blade in a low arc that raised it up into a diagonal slice.

It caught Sneers precisely where he wasn't armored, the hook catching the boy in his chest with a meaty squelch.

The filthy teenager's face went slack, the color draining. Oni just grinned with triumph, brought his other arm up to get a strong two-hand grip on the sword, and yanked.

This was what he lived for:

Death to the enemies of the Fire Nation.

Jet blinked as his stolen sword pulled a splash of blood out of Sneer's chest. His friend instantly dropped to the ground, soundlessly as ever. The damage that had been wrought was plainly obvious, even from where Jet was standing. Blood quickly began soaking Sneers' clothes and the ground beneath him, the same color as the smoldering leaves that fell around the fallen Freedom Fighter.

Jet snarled and threw his other sword, spiked-bottom-first, at Oni's head.

The Firebender dodged, almost as if he had been expecting the action, making half a step to the side. He gave Jet an ugly smile, and carelessly threw the other sword- tinted red- the ground.

Jet realized he was alone, and unarmed, against a Firebender. An injured Firebender, but Jet had his own hurts.

He had to avenge Sneers. Jet breathed deeply, and let the anger flare anew in his chest. It was a feeling that could lead him anywhere, past all pain and concern to whatever goal he chose. Right now, he chose to make this monstrous Firebender die.

Jet was ready to give it his all, and fall beside his oldest friend that if that's what it took, when horns sounded once again in the forest. It was a full chorus, some disturbingly close, some coming from a distance. It seemed that there were still plenty of Firebenders out there.

With that sound, Jet realized that he and Oni weren't the only ones fighting in this forest right now. The rest of the Freedom Fighters, hopefully, were out there. Perhaps they needed Jet. Perhaps they'd be better off without him.

Jet had to decide if finding out was the price he wanted to pay for Sneers' vengeance.

When Oni turned back, having shifted his attention to the signals, Jet was gone. He had disappeared into the burning forest.

There hadn't been a formal count of the orphans in the Freedom Fighters' care in a longtime, but putting the number at around thirty, maybe a little more, wouldn't have been inaccurate.

Smellerbee and Longshot led six kids out of the burning wreckage that had once been the home base of the Freedom Fighters. They didn't know how many Jet had sent out that morning as scouts and spies, nor had they found all the bodies of the suspected dead. They had done their best to search everywhere that was still standing.

That had been before. Behind them now, even the trees that had once supported the treehouses were collapsing to the ground in flames.

The group moved forward. Longshot and Smellerbee both had their weapons out and ready, just in case any Firbenders were still sniffing around. Sparkrocks, clutching a battered rice hat, led the other kids behind him.

Everyone could have used a hug at that point, but there was no time.

There was a whistling sound above, and Smellerbee quickly turned to the kids. "Get down on the ground! Incoming!"

Everyone dropped to the dirt and hugged themselves. As such, no one saw where the massive fireball landed, but they all heard the impact and felt the earth shudder beneath them. A few of the children tumbled were they crouched, but no one was hurt.

Still crouched, Smellerbee turned to Longshot. "We're going to have a lot of trouble getting through here. Those things are just going to keep slowing us down, never mind the fires they're starting. What are we going to do?"

As usual, Longshot didn't have anything to say.

Pipsqueak supposed he must have looked pretty funny. He was running as fast as he could go, pushing a cart full of barrels of blasting jelly, and he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he was frothing at the mouth.

He was as far beyond tired as the entire Earth Kingdom was beyond the local mud hole. Pipsqueak had started running back at the geysers, as soon and he and The Duke had loaded the barrels back onto the cart. He was quick enough in battle, but he was far from the fastest Freedom Fighter. Still, he had one advantage. It took a while to get his bulk moving at a decent speed, but once he did, he had a lot of momentum going for him. Sometimes he hopped on the back of the cart and let it speed along by itself, especially on the downhill parts of the path. As soon as he felt the cart slow, he was back on the ground, legs pumping like they never had before.

He had no energy left in him. At this point, even stopping would have required too much effort. So he kept running, and marveled at this feeling of detachment, like being a passenger in his own body. He almost missed it when The Duke called from atop the cart.

"I see it! Get ready to let go!"

Let go? What was the kid talking about? Then the memory of the plan came back to him, and he realized he had a bigger part than just playing komodo rhino.

The Duke had spent the whole trip wiring the barrels of blasting jelly, putting together one of those complicated fuses that the kid was so good at. He said he had to get the timing just right, or else the Firebenders would be able wreck things. That was typical. Firebenders were always wrecking things.

"Okay… getting close… just at the top of this hill… Now!" The Duke's final shout came as he leaped off the back of the cart.

Pipsqueak let go, and let then himself drop to the ground in a heap.

Bombardment had been proceeding apace. Commander Oni had ordered continuous firing throughout the day, with as much of a spread over the Southeastern quadrant of the forest as possible. Sub-Commander Bukku had overseen the operation with his usual diligence, making sure that the trebuchets were firing in staged, regular intervals, and that ammo was kept in ready supply. Bukku had personally supervised the shift transfers of the various crews, making sure they staggered the changes so that only one trebuchet at a time was out of operation.

Bukku had served under Oni for some years now, and while the commander had his own reputation for effectiveness, Bukku liked to believe that the man's success came on the backs of his ever-reliable subordinates. Oni was not particularly adept at the more subtle arts of war, such managing morale or cultivating political support, and any military would collapse without perceptive administrators who could manage the day-to-day issues.

Still, it was quite clever of the Commander to have the larger buildings in Gaipan rebuilt into siege weapons. Keeping the outer walls in place as shields, soldiers had demolished the innards and rebuilt them into trebuchets that could do a proper job of setting the forest ablaze. Any attacks on the town would not only have to get through the outer walls and into the town, but then would have to attack each individual siege-building in order to halt the bombardment.

The insurgents never could have accomplished such a thing, and having civilians underfoot would have made the whole operation impossible. No doubt about it, serving Commander Oni had its own perks for a military-minded individual.

But what was this commotion by the gates, now?

Bukku walked over the forest-side gate, to see what the two guards were standing in the middle of the road and conversing about. The town had no doors on its gate, so sentries were kept on station for the duration of the bombardment. "Report, soldiers!"

Both men bowed. One said, "There appears to be a cart approaching the gate. We were just discussing what to do about it."

"A cart?" Bukku took his spyglass from his belt and aimed it up the road. Sure enough, a cart loaded with barrels was tumbling towards the town. "Nothing's drawing it, and there's no one aboard. I think it's probably nothing, just the detritus of a merchant group that got caught in the forest during our operations, but let's be sure. Stop it here at the gate."

"Sir!" Both men bowed again.

The cart still had a good speed when it got there, but the three soldiers were able to bring it to a halt. It seemed to be just a simple cart, but there was an odd hissing sound coming from inside. As one of the guards climbed aboard to investigate, Bukku felt a memory nagging at him. "Isn't this the cart that was sent out for the geyser operation? There's still enough jelly here to level a shipyard. Now what happened to-"

That's when the hissing stopped.

The Duke watched as the entire town of Gaipan exploded, and the earth beneath it slid down the slope to the river. He hoped that the Fire Nation had gotten all the people out. He had helped to flood that occupied town not too long ago, but if that was what drove Aang and his friends away, then it had to be more complicated than Jet said. Right now, though, The Duke had to stop all the fireballs attacking the treehouse.

All that was left was to wake up Pipsqueak. "Come on, big guy, we have go find Jet and Sneers!"

Smellerbee and Longshot didn't know what had happened, but the rest of their trip to the south river was easy and clear. They had to go around forest fires a few times, and later on, put away their weapons and carried some of the kids, but they made it long before the sun began setting, with no more fireballs falling out of the sky, just crimson leaves and ash.

They never saw any Firebenders.

The group followed the river, through the burning forest, marching uphill against the soft knee-high current, and eventually left behind the fire, and soot, and trees. The ground became rocky, and they began searching for a place to spend the night.

Against the dark sky, the horizon glowed as the forest fire raged out of control.

The pair of Freedom Fighters divided up the duties. Smellerbee took charge of the kids, getting them to help set up a makeshift camp with what they had, and then went back to the river to see if she could catch any fish for dinner. Longshot stepped softly into the darkness and disappeared; every so often, the call of a mockingsnake would ring softly through the night.

Smellerbee came to where Sparkrocks was sitting at the campfire, holding a beat-up rice hat. "Hey, I caught some fish. Can you help me cook them? Everyone's getting pretty hungry."

Sparkrocks took a deep breath, and let it out with a long shudder. "We're supposed to cook together. Me and Hibachi." She slowly stood up, and put the rice hat on her head. "Yeah, okay. I'm okay. First, we'll need some sticks to mount the fish…"

Later, just before everyone went to sleep, another mockingsnake song sounded, and the mournful chirp of a ravengale answered it.

Jet had barely dragged himself to Longshot and Smellerbee's camp before he collapsed to the ground. He wasn't even able to speak. Longshot had simply raised an eyebrow at Sneers' absence, and Jet replied with a defeated shake of his head. Thankfully, the archer had been content with that answer for the time being, but Longshot was always reliable like that. Jet hadn't even bothered with food once he found himself on the dusty ground, and simply let exhaustion claim him.

He was the last to wake up the next morning, roused by the sounds of the other survivors getting up to greet the dawn. Jet sat where he woke up, and found himself at a loss. What should he do now? Talk with Smellerbee and Longshot, and take control of this little group? The problem was that any action would involve making plans, and for once, Jet had no plan at all. They had survived the Fire Nation, and he could feel the ghost of his anger wailing within, demanding revenge for Sneers, in addition to all the other people Jet had lost. The ghost's sepulchral tune, though, was an old one, and Jet was trying to figure out why he ever thought he could dance to it.

He was still just sitting there, with the sun above getting a good start across the murky blue sky, when Pipsqueak and The Duke found the rendezvous point.

The smaller of the pair took one look around, as soon as they arrived, and went straight for the most difficult question. "Where's Sneers?"

Jet turned to face the boy, and found the beginning of a motivation in his questioning gaze. "Sneers," he said, "didn't make it. He saved my life, but the fighting was too much even for both of us."

The Duke kept staring, as though he was waiting for something more. Jet tried to think what else he had to say to make this as painless as possible, but for once his mind failed him. He was so used to finding answers in the way people acted, picking up clues to the exact words that would leave them as putty in his Earth Kingdom hands, but he found only hurt in The Duke's expression.

It was Pipsqueak who broke the silence. His legs wobbled, and he sank to the ground where he stood. "How- how did it happen? If you can say. I just- it doesn't seem real." Pipsqueak's square face sagged downward in a profound frown, and his deep voice threatened to crack.

Jet noticed that Longshot and Smellerbee had arrived at the scene. The younger kids, at least, were keeping their distance. The leader of the Freedom Fighters turned back to his interrogators, and saw a thin river of tears running down each side of The Duke's face. Jet instantly recalled the feel of his own constant tears as he watched his first home burn and looked in the face of the Firebender who killed his parents.

"Sneers died fighting," he said. "We were double-teaming Oni, but the guy was just too good for us. He took my swords and turned them against Sneers, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop him, before or after."

"But you promised."

All eyes turned to The Duke, but Jet was the only person who held his interest. "You promised you'd get us all out of trouble. You promised, and sent us all to fight!"

Jet considered what to say to that, but really, there was only one possible answer. "I know. I'm sorry."

The Duke's reply was a single, whimpering growl. He tipped his helmet forward to cover his face, and sat down against Pipsqueak as though seeking warmth.

Smellerbee drew one her knives and brandished it in the morning air. "Some of us should go back. We can get revenge on Oni before we go wherever we're headed. They think we're gone or dead now, so we can sneak into town and hit him before they even know we're there."

Pipsqueak winced at that. "The town is gone. The Duke and I blew it up. I'm sorry, we- I didn't know we'd need to go back."

Jet sighed, and dismissed the bigger boy's concerns with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. We wouldn't be going back anyway. There's nothing for us here."

Everyone but The Duke turned to look at him. Surprise lit up all of their eyes.

Jet couldn't take their gazes. He let his own eyes turn to the ground, and said, "I'm done with revenge. I thought it was something I'd always want, because I expected the anger to always be there." Jet looked back up, but not at any of his Freedom Fighters. He stared into the distance, where the young sun was having trouble penetrating the thick smoke where the forest still burned. The only color there was the glow of hidden flames, and it almost resembled the shine of sunlight off the undying red leaves. There wouldn't be any leaves left, now. Once thought perpetual, they had finally died. "Now, the only thing I feel is that I don't want any of you to get hurt."

He looked straight at The Duke, who was still hiding himself against Pipsqueak. "If I send of us back here," Jet said, "I'll be the one responsible if you get hurt. I'm responsible."

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After several long moments, Smellerbee finally found the courage to break the silence. "What about the Freedom Fighters, then? Do we just go find an army to join? Or find jobs and pretend we don't know how to fight?"

Jet considered that.

Not wanting to get his friends hurt was different from wanting someone else's life. Maybe this strange lack of anger was just a reaction to Sneers. Leaves came back every Spring, after all.

But only if the trees haven't been burned down.

Jet nodded. "We're refugees now. Maybe we should find others like us, see where they're going. We can protect them. Show them how to fight. Make sure they find what they're looking for. That's what I'm going to do. Anyone want to come?"

Smellerbee was the first to step forward. "I'll come," she said. "We're still your Freedom Fighters, Jet. You lead, and we'll follow."

Longshot glanced at her for a split second, and then stepped up beside her. He nodded at Jet, his expression soft.

Jet smiled back in gratitude. "That's two. Pipsqueak? The Duke?"

Pipsqueak still had tears in his eyes. The big teenager opened his mouth to talk, but his voice caught and he quickly closed it again.

Then The Duke piped up with, "I don't want to be a Freedom Fighter anymore."

Everyone stared at him, but he kept his face hidden. His voice was twisted with barely suppressed sobs, but the young boy kept it steady. "If Jet doesn't keep his promises, then I don't want to be his friend. I'm leaving." The Duke stood and, keeping his face hidden by his helmet, slowly walked away.

Pipsqueak hefted himself to his feet. "I'll watch out for him."

Jet looked at him with surprise. "You're hurt, and you've been walking all night."

"I'll manage," the bigger teenager grunted. He wrestled his face into a smile that Jet found almost as sad as his frown. "We can use each other's company."

Longshot stepped close, and handed Pipsqueak one of the Freedom Fighters' bandage kits. He must have scrounged it from the remains of their base. The archer looked his heavyset friend in the eyes, smiled, and said, "Good journey."

Pipsqueak nodded. "You, too." He exchanged a hug with Smellerbee, and then trotted off after The Duke. "Hey, wait up, buddy."

In the distance, The Duke stopped and waited.

Jet quietly sat still until Pipsqueak and The Duke were out of sight. Then he drew in a deep breath, took a long look at the dusty land around them, and clapped his hands together. "All right. We need to get some food for everyone's breakfast, and figure out where we're going, exactly. We need to find someplace safe as a new home for the little kids, and then we need to track down the refugee flows. And we can all probably use new weapons. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but that's what being a Freedom Fighter is all about, right?"

Smellerbee and Longshot nodded, and Jet found that the ghost in his heart had been replaced. It turned out that Purpose didn't feed exclusively on anger, after all.

He'd have to make it up to the Avatar, if he could. Katara, too. If they ever even met again. Jet resolved to do what he could in both respects.

It was all he could do.

TO BE CONCLUDED