A/N: A partial update on the events of the Avatar World. Hope you like it~!
Merry Christmas everyone! Happy holidays!!
+Sokka+
Early dawn brought with it a mournfully gray sky and, though Sokka had not expected it, fog. When he had climbed down Appa's saddle and onto paved street, he looked around the street. Though the morning fog limited his line of vision, the village seemed fast asleep.
Behind him, he heard his father grunt as he lost his footing on the lafdder and fell the rest of the way to the ground.
"You okay, Dad?" Sokka asked, addressing the dark figure half shrouded in fog.
"I'm fine, Sokka."
The father and son approached Aunt Wu's house which had its windows and circular door boarded up. Hakoda observed it quietly as though pondering whether answers or trouble lay beyond the doorway.
"Let's go in." Sokka said in barely more than a whisper as though afraid he would wake the neighbors and receive a boot in his shins for his trouble.
He hurriedly stepped forward and pulled at the planks of wood nailed across the door. It would not budge. He tried the windows, which he remembered to be made of rice paper, but though managed to poke an eyehole in it, the interior was too dark to see in and ripping a bigger hole wouldn't do much as the space between the boards and the window sill was too small to squeeze through.
Hakoda peered around the house, trying to see it there was a back door. When he found nothing but more boarded up windows, he returned to the front of the house. Sokka was a few feet away, feet making mad kicking movements as he leaned over the saddle, apparently looking for something.
After a moment or two, he jumped down from the saddle with a satisfied expression. In his hand was the sheathed sword he had been given by a Fire Nation master swords craftsman after war to replace his lost moonrock one. He unsheathed it, revealing a sharp blade that looked even more formidable in the ghost-town atmosphere. Hakoda frowned slightly.
"Sokka, I don't think you can just-"
"Dad, this is important! Life and death and all that other stuff that makes vandalizing private property okay."
Before his father could object, Sokka hacked at the wooden boards across the door. The planks fell in chopped pieces to the ground and the doorway was clear. In his enthusiasm, he almost attacked the door too but managed to catch himself in time. Sokka sheathed the sword and Hakoda approached him, half disapproving, half amused.
"This is it." Sokka said, more to himself than his father.
He silently prayed his deduction was correct, not because he would have violated a dead woman's home but because it would mean he was nowhere closer to getting his friend and sister back. He slid the door open. He was met with musty air which made him almost sneeze.
Just inside was a hallway leading to the left. If memory served him right, the hall led to the waiting room where guests were treated to tea before being called to a private room to listen to their so-called fortunes. Sokka had been extremely dubious of them at the time and still thought Aunt Wu less of a fortuneteller than a half-crazy kook. But he pushed the thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that even if she was a crazy nut, she was a crazy nut who had made grave predictions about Aang which had dutifully come true.
With his father at his side, Sokka stepped over the threshold, along the short hall and into familiar room. Cushions had been neatly stacked in a corner and a new antique mask hung from a wall. Beside the mask hung two decorative antique broadswords, much like the kind Zuko used.
Sliding doors across the room led to yet another hall leading to the private chambers where the fortunetelling took place. Having previously passed on the chance of having his fortune told in dramatic detail, Sokka had never seen any of those private chambers but was reasonably certain that one of them might hide the not-so-dead Aunt Wu. Of course, she might have a secret underground lair which was accessed through a mystical portal of unexplainable magic but Sokka was a man of science (or at least sanity) and did not believe in such imaginative scenarios.
Sokka silently crossed the room to open the doors. Before he opened them, he thought he heard muffled breathing behind the thin paper as though Aunt Wu was standing right behind them, waiting for Sokka to freak out at first sight of her. His hand stopped midair, fingertips barely touching the niche in the wooden frame.
"Sokka?" His father whispered as he hesitated, staring fixedly at the door. There was something behind there… Was it a corpse? A ghost? A mummy?
"Sokka, I think we should-"
It all happened in a blink of an eye. Hakoda saw his son's blue eyes widen in sudden shock, turn on the spot and open his mouth wide to shout something at him, a warning or profanity, he never found out.
Hakoda had been in a war before and had fought many battles as loud and piercing as any tortured man's screams but what happened next was enough to send chills of fear hurtling so fast up his throat he almost vomited. The screen doors were silent and shadowed one minute, the next, right after Sokka had turned to call out to him, there grew a ball of light behind the paper frames so fast that he almost didn't have time to register what it was before Sokka was blasted off his feet and knocked into him.
The acrid scent of smoke, not unfamiliar in a warzone, filled his nostrils as though he had taken a trip back in time when the Firebenders had been the brutal opposing soldiers. He saw fire lick the side of the hole it had burned through the doors. It ate up the paper and the remaining splinters of the wooden frame in seconds and began quickly lunged at the walls. Soon the whole place would go up in smokes.
Hakoda quickly got up, lifting Sokka to his feet as he did but almost immediately set him back down on the floor. Sokka's back was badly burned, the skin raw and red, his clothes singed, his face sweaty with eyes closed.
"Sokka, isn't it?"
A spine-numbing chill washed over Hakoda's body even before he had raised his head to look at their unwelcome guest in her eyes. Azula, former princess of the Fire Nation, stood in the smoking frame of the door that now lay in black ashes around the room.
The fire was spreading at a terrifying pace but with one ragged breath and downward sweep of hands from the firebending prodigy herself, the flames died down like hunting dogs obeying their master's whip. Smoke furled where the fire had just gone out but he could still see Azula's features sharper than ever.
Azula had changed, that was for certain. Her hair was a bushy mess and was in need of a wash. Her pale face was so gaunt Hakoda wagered that she hadn't eaten a morsel after her defeat at the hands of his own daughter. Starvation, however, did not diminish the demonic glint in her former highness's golden eyes. If anything, the sunken skin around them seemed to magnify the malicious glare and the wide-split smile of chapped lips only complemented her completely wild expression. She was no longer wearing prison clothing but was clad head-to-toe in stolen armor that fit her despite her now skeletal body frame.
"You like it?" she purred sinisterly, licking her chapped lips. She swept a hand down her new wardrobe as though showing it off to Hakoda who was standing in front of Sokka, eyes widened in shock. "Daddy got it for me. He gets me everything I want. Anything. That's 'cause I'm his… I'm his…" She let out a bark of malicious laughter. "I'M HIS FAVORITE!" she screamed and she tilted her head backward to let out a roar of blue flames as bright as white-hot coal.
Sokka groaned, lying on his stomach on the floor. Hakoda made a move to grab Sokka but Azula shot a stream of blue flames at his fingers. Hakoda withdrew his hand in pain, sucking his burned fingers.
Azula crowed again, laughing so hysterically it was a wonder she wasn't doubling up coughing her lungs out. Her slit of a smile widened further and she switched to a battle stance. Weak as her body was from malnutrition and sheer madness, Azula still had all the firepower in the world to burn down a whole country if she still wanted to.
Before he could come up with any other ideas, however, the situation went from bad to cripplingly worse. From behind Azula entered the last person Hakoda would've picked to join this lovely tea party; Ozai, ex-ruler of the Fire Nation, self-proclaimed Phoenix King and a helluva lot more bad names that could take years to fully list entered through the burned hole.
"Hello, Hakoda." Unlike his deranged daughter, Ozai seemed just as the water tribe chief remembered him: tall, arrogant and deadly. Of course, he was no longer wearing royal robes of a king but he was not wearing his prison attire either. He had managed to steal a monk's gray habit but it did not make him look any more saintly.
Azula dropped all pretenses at once and turned to gaze at her father in total worship. Her sunken eyes grew so large they were in danger of falling out of their sockets and given the chance, she probably would've bowed down to lick his feet.
"Calm yourself, child." Ozai said sweetly, placing a paternal hand on his mesmerized daughter's shoulder. "Remember what we're here for."
Machine-like, she spun on the spot at these sacred words and took her fighting stance with a touch more eagerness. Flushed with the joy at having followed her father's orders so preciesly, the amorclad girl looked as though the world could've ended right then and she probably couldn't have cared less. Of course, to Hakoda, these thoughts disturbed him in a way that not even the old Azula could have achieved.
"I'm glad to see you again. I've expecting you." Ozai drawled as he observed his opponent through cold golden eyes. He noticed Sokka lying on the floor but merely smirked at the sight of Azula's handiwork.
"Pleasure's all mine." Hakoda answered, standing his ground. "Though, I can't agree that there was ever an arrange meeting."
At this, Ozai chuckled softly and like a docile pet, Azula let out a shrill giggle to match her father's joy.
"No, I suppose not." Ozai said. "We didn't know you were coming until just a few minutes ago, either. Azula spotted your flying bison approaching and alerted me at once."
The shrill giggle issued from Azula again. She stared adoringly at her father, craving more attention but throughout the whole conversation, he did not return her gaze once.
"So, you've been hiding out here since your breakout." Hakoda said. "How did you get here without being noticed?"
"My, my." Ozai said softly. "Slow on the update, are we not? Did you honestly think that I walked all the way here? Surely, not even a second-rate peasant like you would be that gullible."
Sunlight shone through the boarded up windows. The pale light illuminated Sokka who was breathing heavily on the floor. Hakoda's heart flooded with worry but there was no hope of escaping when they were trapped here by Ozai and Azula. Hakoda felt foolish having come with no weapons. Sokka's sword was uselessy sheathed and tucked securely under a belt.
Ozai did not ignore Sokka this time but addressed him directly, speaking a little louder and slower as though speaking to a two-year-old child who spoke no English. "How are you, Sokka? Not in pain, I hope?"
Azula sniggered loudly at this and shot another glance at Ozai to his satisfied expression. Hakoda bubbled with anger but did not dare to turn around. If they got a chance to injure him as well, Sokka would be as good as dead, but maybe he was anyway.
The former king seemed to have read Hakoda's mind. In his normal voice he said, "Doesn't look so good, does it?"
A heavy wedge dropped into the pit of Hakoda's stomach. Sokka whimpered.
"You know what's coming next, don't you, Hakoda of the Water Tribe?" Ozai asked, smirking triumphantly. "Negotiation."
Had the situation allowed it or had his voice been available, Hakoda would have laughed at the last word. Negotiation, when it came to men like Ozai, simply meant an official promise of all the cruelties they would inflict and a reminder of all the nasty things that would happen if they so much as groaned. The only question was how Ozai would dispose of them.
"I'm going to give you a chance." Ozai continued. "A chance to let your boy live. I'll allow both of you to leave my sight unscathed if, and only if, you obey orders completely and without question. Do you understand?"
The sunlight was now stronger. A bustle outside indicated that the village was soon to rise and go about their regular routine.
"What do you want?" Hakoda snarled back, hatred pumping through his veins.
"Oh, nothing terribly difficult, I assure you. I merely request that you deliver a message."
"A message?"
"To my dear brother. Tell him from me that I will soon declare war upon this land to reclaim what is rightfully mine." The relish in his voice was almost tangible. Azula giggled again.
"If you're going to declare war, why not send the message directly to Fire Lord Zuko?" Hakoda asked.
"Obviously, that cannot be arranged since his highness has conveniently gone missing."
"How did you-"
"You will do as I say and without question." Ozai cut across him. "You will state word for word of my declaration of war. You will leave with your pathetic boy on that flying beast of yours at once. And also, take this."
From a pocket Ozai withdrew something small and black. He tossed it on the floor and it rolled to a stop at Hakoda's foot. He picked it up and recognized what it was; a charred finger.
"Azula has already taken care of the old woman you were so eager to meet. Don't bother coming back here again unless it's to take out the body. You'll find the remainders in the third room to left down the hall. Try to be careful. She's quite… brittle."
Even as Azula broke out into a fresh peel of mad laughter, Hakoda pocketed the burned finger with a queasy stomach, pulled an onconcious Sokka over his shoulder and bolted for the door, half afraid that Azula would roast his back before he made it out.
It was not until he was sailing swiftly through the air on Appa that Hakoda shed tears of pure frustration. The war he had fought through, the war that was supposed to be over was upon them once more. With Katara presumed to be dead and his son dying beside him, it took all his self-restraint not to unsheathe Sokka's sword and stab himself in the guts because when it came, the war would be twice as devastating as the last one and, by the looks of things, he would be facing it without his family, his strength or even hope.
In the village below, a few tiny specks of people were pointing into the sky at the departing mass of fur that was Appa.
+Clivian+
Just before the 10:15 morning rush when all the lazybones made the last second dash to get through the doors on time, Clivian had all the arrangements made. As much as the scientist detested giving second chances to people who neither appreciated nor deserved one, he had given Salwink an opportunity to redeem himself. The assigned task had been a simple one, easy to follow. Clivian had ordered him to capture Katara and to bring him directly to a designated location when given the word. Of course, there had been the most subtle of indications that severe punishment would follow failure.
As he stared out the window of his office, the larger one which boasted a wide window through which one could see the busy business district, a huge anthill complete with multicolored ants busily hurrying across the streets. He stood at the window which spanned from one side of the room to another so that it gave him the feeling of being suspended in midair.
Height was not a weak point for Clivian who traveled by plane often and had once enjoyed parasailing, but the vast openness of his own office gave the strange feeling of unsteadiness, as though a step further would lead him plummeting to his bloody doom on the streets below. He studied the busy traffic for a minute longer before turning away. He had just remembered some unfinished work he had to attend to.
He crossed the office which had the simple yet efficient furnishings of a professional office to his organized desk. He picked up his cell phone which lay atop a neat pile of Nature magazines, keyed in a phone number and waited in his chair.
"Good day, sir." Answered a male's voice after a moment.
"I trust you've been keeping well, Walter?"
"Yes, I have."
"I'm in need of a small assistance from you. I trust you can aid me?"
"Of course, sir."
"Very good." Clivian said. He gently placed a thumb over a touch screen on his desk and recalled a couple of files after keying in his password. The documents popped to life displaying two photographs of a man and a woman. "I need you to take care of two people. I don't need more people digging for a conspiracy so I suggest a frame-up. Plant evidence and proper media coverage, etc."
"Understood, sir. And their names sir?"
"Oh, I'm sure you've heard of them." Clivian said. "Are familiar with Ethan Jones and a Yumi Kim?"
"Yes sir."
"Excellent. I want the job done today. Confirmation can be delivered through e-mail."
"Yes, sir. I'll have my boys on them as soon as possible."
Clivian terminated the call. He buzzed his assistant for a cup of coffee and laid pack in his chair. This was by no means the end of all his worries but it certainly was a start. When his coffee arrived, Clivian sipped it, savoring the rich taste.
A/N: Before you ask, yes, Sokka survives. Reviews are appreciated and thank you all so very much for reading! You guys are awesome :D