Danev
It was incredible to me how quiet he was now as opposed to how he'd been just yesterday: screaming at the top of his lungs, flaring his dagger at Fluke, ready to kill him.
Fluke tried to tell himself and me he wouldn't have, but I knew the man better than he did.
He would have killed Fluke right then and there had he been given the chance. And he'd certainly thought that he'd found it. A second too late and the boy could have been dead, or at the very least, the one lying here instead.
"You did the right thing," Oreke tried to assure me again as I sat by Aden's bedside once again, watching him as he lay sleeping yet again, and once more because of me. First it'd been because of the short-sighted attack on the Fire Nation, and now, my short-sighted defense of Fluke.
"If this'd happened a year ago," I said. "I wouldn't have stopped him. I'd have asked for the knife to do it myself."
Maybe a month ago, such a comment would have surprised Oreke, but ever since our first introduction, she'd possessed some sense of an idea about who I was, what I came from. In the last month too, she'd learned a good deal about my past–from what I remembered about my mother to the day the Hornets had fallen.
Granted, she didn't have all the details, but she possessed at least enough to be able to convincingly pretend to understand.
"It's different now," she said. That, at least, wasn't her pretending to understand. The evidence was all here–Aden lying alone in a room in the medical wing where no other soldiers of the 29th were situated, all ready to leave by tomorrow morning.
I prayed Aden wouldn't wake by then. I prayed that the 29th would leave, and Aden would wake to see us all gone. Maybe then he could get his chance to leave, go back to the slums, and live out the rest of his life the only way he knew how. With the 29th though, there would only be death. I couldn't tell if it would be his, Fluke's, some poor sod who got in the way, or some combination of all of those. All I knew was that if I could ensure they never saw one another again, that Aden went his own way, things would be for the better, and none would complain.
"Yeah," I sighed. "Different. Now I need to keep my only friends left from getting each other killed." Or rather, one from killing the other. She understood what I meant though.
"And you too," she said, placing a hand on mine, a pleasant distraction from the reality of things.
It was my last day with her–an understanding that bittered each moment spent with her. I would have liked to not be able to think about Aden or that simple fact for a single minute, but those two things, from early this morning, had made the day a hellish slog. Even when it shouldn't have been. Even when I should have been trying to enjoy myself for one of the last times I would have in a good while, whether it would be on the run from the Fire Nation, or at the gates of hell.
I nodded. "I will," I promised.
A moment of silence passed between us as her mind seemed to remain focused on me, but mine, on the other hand, shifted to the very prospect I'd just been considering–escape. How? There was none as far as I could see, much as Fluke seemed to wish otherwise, but if there was one, I'd have found it. We wouldn't escape Citadel. We wouldn't leave unless part of a Fire Nation column. Then, maybe then…
I don't know.
I didn't know anything.
"Come on," Oreke said as she stood, seeming to pick up rather easily on my vexed mind. "Hospital room's a crummy place to spend your last day here."
She offered me a hand, and though I took it, I asked as I stood with her assistance, "You're not needed around here today?"
"Day's quiet enough. It'll be during the night as you kids get your last drinks in you before leaving that I'll be busy."
"And him?" I asked, looking towards Aden.
"Room'll be locked, there's security, and I'll be informed if I'm needed. Please, just don't worry about him right now."
I knew she was right. I nodded my head, allowing myself to be pulled along after to somewhere far more pleasant than this.
The base was eerily quiet, and the medical wing was no exception. It was one of the few occasions where the wing was this empty, but as Oreke said, I imagined that was bound to change when night came.
She didn't seem too concerned about the coming nights' duties though as she led me by the hand out of the medical wing, and I wondered just where she was taking me to take my mind off of things.
I'd have anticipated a trip down the flight of stairs that would have led back to ground level to where everything was. I expected perhaps a trip to the park where the 114th's earthbenders were being forced to repair the damage they'd caused, or maybe even a small evening visit to the city before curfew.
Instead though, she led me up the flight of stairs.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
I was met with no specifics for an answer, though, only told, "You'll see."
No shit I would see. The point of me asking though was to find out before needing to see. But as we drew closer to this mysterious destination, the more I thought I was starting to get a sense of things.
We passed by what seemed to be individual rooms with shut doors, and some open, women not too different from Oreke inside. Some minded their own business while others noticed the two of us and let their attention settle before whispering unheard somethings to one another.
"What are they talking about?" I whispered to Oreke, that seeming to be the preferred mode of communication here.
"Don't worry about them," she said as we passed one dormitory or another before stopping at one. Hers, I take it.
Oreke fished through the limited pockets of her outfit in search for keys, drawing some attention from neighboring rooms whose residents poked their heads out, making the occasional comment about her bringing a boy home, me being cute, or any number of other things that brought a flushed redness to my face.
It was a relief when the door was finally unlocked and I was dragged inside before she shut the door behind me, locking it. She motioned me deeper into the room, and so I stepped forward that way.
It was far from poor lodging. There was a bed in the further left corner that, though the same size as ours in the military barracks, didn't possess an upper bunk to bang one's head against. It was made, albeit rather sloppily, clearly not subjected to the same meticulous inspection that ours were in the military.
Aside from her bed however, she was also afforded a number of luxuries that I could only dream of. Adjacent to her bed, against the far wall, sat a desk and corresponding chair. On the desk, an unfinished letter that I couldn't help but notice began, "To my family who fights their own war at home."
I wondered about the context of the statement and considered asking, though felt inclined not to reveal that I'd been snooping on somewhere that I shouldn't have been. Instead, I let my attention fall to the rest of her room, honestly quite a nice place to stay, and quiet too, the steel walls doing their job and then some in canceling out the sound from the communal hallway.
"Nice place you got here," I said, figuring something was needed to break the silence.
I turned around, expecting an answer, and found myself unprepared for what I saw–Oreke at the doorway, her hospital robe unknotted, letting it fall simply to the ground. Perhaps I should have turned away in the instance that she might not have been anticipating me to turn around quite yet and was simply changing, but once I had sight of her body, it was impossible to turn away.
It was unlike that of anybody I'd seen before. It wasn't starved, nor worn and torn from a life spent in the slums' squalor. It was healthy, skinny where it should and plump where it ought to be. My eyes raised up higher past her midsection and instead to two breasts that hadn't been subjected to a life of being bound avoid lustful eyes on the streets, but instead were free and beautiful.
Oreke wasn't an idiot. She knew where my eyes had settled, and let the rest of her robe fall from her arms to the ground, showing off all of her that was to be seen.
She took a step closer to me, leaving behind her robe where it lay crumpled and sad on the floor, now free too of the responsibilities that came with it. One more step was all that was needed for the distance between the two of us to be closed, allowing her with ease to reach a hand forward to take mine.
It wasn't my first time seeing a woman's body. Not even in this context. Back with the Hornets, Bee and I had been similarly close, but with Oreke, the comparison wasn't fair to the past. This was different. This wasn't a rebounding bout of lust left in the absence of Riu. This was real, she was beautiful, and I was paralyzed.
She raised my still hand and placed it on her left breast. It was warm, and soft, but not too much so. There was little to no basis to compare it too, not because I'd never gone so far with Bee before, but because I was done thinking about her now. I was happy where I was, and wanted all of me to be here for this.
I let my hand close around her breast, squeezing, and leaned forward to kiss her.
Our mouths met, and seeing that I no longer needed a guiding hand to tell me what to do, she let go of my hand, instead now wrapping her arms around me to pull me closer.
When we parted from the kiss, her eyes met mine as her hands traveled to the laces of my uniform-gray tunic, undoing them with some clumsiness as her hands shook.
"You ever do this before?" she asked me, first to do so likely as a may to mask her own unease.
I nodded my head, careful not to bump it into hers just an inch away, the warmth of her breath hot against my face. "You?" I asked.
She shook hers.
So I would be her first?
The realization was a startling one, and one at that to make me doubt this more than before. It was pressure, it was nerves. I hardly considered myself the right choice for somebody's first time, and the shaking in Oreke's hands, did she?
As though noticing my own doubts, she quickly assured me of the lack of her own, and pulled me in to kiss me, now taking the initiative. It wasn't a peck either. It was deep, sincere. She closed her eyes, I saw before doing so as well, leaning deeper into it as well as my embrace before opening them and parting to tell me, as though worried she hadn't yet made it abundantly obvious, "I want you."
And she could have me.
Before long, I was as deprived of clothing as she, pushed back onto her bed by an act that was rather bold for somebody who'd never done this before. All the same, I did not stop her, but welcomed the advances, taking her into my arms, dedicated to ensuring that this last night between us would be one to remember.
Some time later, we both lay breathless on the covers of her bed, she atop me, in my arms, caring nothing about the sweat or the mess we'd made. It didn't matter. We were happy, and we were alive, her breasts pressing against my chest.
She was asleep, eyes closed, heart beating at a steadily slow rate. Our time together normally spent with me visiting her in the medical wing as a patient, it was rare that I ever saw her in the state of absolute peace that she was in now, her sweat-damp hair draped over her closed eyes.
I was more than happy to lay there a while longer, though I knew my curfew was quickly approaching as was Oreke's shift.
Fortunately, her slumber wasn't one that lasted long. She woke up with a moan not too dissimilar from the ones she'd been making a few minutes ago, and pushed herself off of the bed to get a better look at me.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," I said back before leaning up to kiss her.
She kissed back, and smiled, asking after, "How long was I out?"
"'Bout ten minutes," I answered.
Satisfied by the answer, she nodded her head and leaned back down, placing her head atop my chest.
"I don't want you to go," she said.
I didn't know what she was referring to. This room, Citadel, both, but I chose to answer the first possibility, not sure if I was ready to approach the other topic just yet, and said, "You have a night shift don't you?"
"I can miss a day. Besides, they have more than enough to fill my place."
"And I have curfew," I said.
I didn't want to leave. There was nothing in the world I would have liked more than to stay in that exact same spot for the rest of my days, our bodies pressed against each other, not a care in the world but when we should get up to grab a meal before getting right back to it. But obviously, that wasn't the case.
"You're already on base," she said. "You won't miss it."
That much was true, but then there were barracks inspections, and I told her just as much.
"What are they going to do?" she responded. "Execute the 114th's staff sergeant."
Most likely not. And besides, that was hardly what I was worried about.
I chuckled, and in response, Oreke clung onto me tighter, saying, "I don't want you to leave."
I held her back, saying, "I don't want to leave either."
But I have to. She was smart enough to realize that too. There was no stopping that. All she could say in answer was, "Then promise to come back."
I was leaving tomorrow. That much was beyond question. I would go to war, or I would find a war to run away from war. Either way, whichever way I went would take me hundreds if not thousands of miles away from Citadel, away from Oreke. That simple reality tore at me in my chest, but it was the truth of things.
I wondered if, maybe someday, that would change. If, maybe someday, I could come back to Citadel, either as a deserter needing to hide my face, or a returning war hero. Both seemed just as unlikely as the other, but if there was a single chance in a sea of doubt that I could see her again, lie in this bed with her again, then it was a chance worth pursuing.
And to do that, I needed to believe it could be done. Whether it was at war, or on the run, I needed to live. I needed to come back.
So, I opened my eyes to look Oreke in hers, and said, meaning all two words, "I promise."
I would end up spending the night there. I couldn't have thought of any better way to spend my night in Citadel, nor any better way to give me a reason to come back.
Fluke
We were finally done.
I wasn't sure if I'd done well, or done poorly, but they dismissed me as though it was a routine checkup at the medical wing.
"You can go," one of the men said, motioning for me to stand from where I'd been sitting on the opposite side of a desk that bore similar materials to those as when I'd been tested: a candle, rock, and glass of water.
They'd asked me questions. About my name, birthplace, what I remembered of my childhood. It hadn't been a single interrogator as it'd been with the sages back in the slums, though today I'd shared the damp room with the interrogator, assistant, and two Fire Nation soldiers blocking my exit.
I'd sat with a racing heart, fearing I knew the reason for my presence there as I awaited to be momentarily seized from behind by the two masked firebending soldiers and hauled away to spirits knew where.
Only instead, they'd asked me questions. I answered honestly so far as I could for fear that a lie would be obvious to them.
When they asked for my name, I gave it to them–the one they'd given me when first I came. When they asked what my name had been before, I answered "Fluke," not a lie in the slightest.
"Is there anything else you would be called?" the interrogator asked.
I looked at the assistant. The two of them had assured me upon entering that I wasn't the only one who had undergone this questioning, perhaps to reassure me and have me lower my guard, but with the questions they asked, it was given away rather quickly.
So that's what they want to hear, I thought. Aegis. A damning name if ever there was one.
But there was another name too, one that had also been used, more frequently too, not subjected to the same degree of being forbidden to be spoken.
"Luke," I told the interrogator who looked towards his assistant who read something off of a parchment paper before showing it to his superior. The latter shrugged, appearing to see nothing there that confirmed nor denied that, and so they moved on to the next questions.
"Date of birth."
"I don't know, sir."
"Parentage."
"I don't know, sir."
"Anybody we can talk to for reference and verification."
Reek and Mishi. Those were the only names that came to mind. And the monk Gyani too apparently.
"Dead, sir."
"Does the name Gyani mean anything to you?"
The interrogator narrowed his eyes as he said this, watching me closely. There was indeed a right answer here. At least for me. They already saw the recognition of the name. There was no avoiding it.
"That's the Air Nation cultist that was killed last year, sir."
"That is correct. Do you know the man Gyani, or know him perhaps by his other name, Lee Shuni?"
And there I could survive by answering honestly yet again. I knew nothing of this man, what he'd been after, anything about him as much as I wished I could have known more. In this moment though, my lack of understanding had been a life saver.
"No, sir," I said.
They believed me, the interrogator and the assistant whispering unheard somethings to one another before turning back to me.
"Do you know a man by the name of Mishi Junjie?"
So that'd been his last name. Once again, they had certainly seen the recognition in my eyes.
"Yes, sir," I answered truthfully.
"How?"
How? He'd practically raised me. It was a damn good answer to give if I wanted to get myself killed. Fortunately though, I was just one of hundreds others who knew that man. I hardly needed to go into the specifics.
"He was one of the few merchants who stayed open," I said, hoping this sufficient. "Would buy goods from him with what I had and trade with him." In terms of being sufficient, it wasn't. The interrogator continued to look at me, closely, knowing there was something more there. Something deeper. Shit.
It was complete and total improvisation, but it was the first thing that came to mind.
"He was nice to me, sir," I said. "He would feed me food going bad or stale. Saved my life more than once by doing that."
That answer, at the very least, would appease the two of them.
Their last request of me was a simple one. They asked to see me bend. And I knew the consequences if I failed to comply. It didn't take much to appease them. Just the most basic of manipulations of the flames that danced across the wick of the candle on the table.
Its path trailed left and right, towards the ceiling, tickling its surface before separating from the wick to float on its own before I extinguished it, leaving the room in darkness. I was released shortly after, left alone in an empty corridor with less than a half hour left before lights out on our last day here.
The way back to the barracks was an easy one, but in consideration of where I'd been held for questioning, a few stories higher, it was a bit longer of a trek–one that took me down a familiar hallway, right past Jeong Jeong's firebending dojo. There were no other firebenders like myself waiting at the door, no light emanating from the sliver of a crack beneath the door.
It was dead quiet inside. Jeong Jeong was gone. If not from the city, which I wouldn't have been surprised by in the least, then his room, his role, his purpose for being here if not his purpose for being at all if our last conversation had been any indicator.
My hand instinctively neared the door, wondering if there was any chance that inside, a surprise would be waiting for me, that he wouldn't have left just yet, that I could have a chance to, just maybe, leave with him, get away from the fate that I knew otherwise awaited me.
Raava had said I could trust him. And trust him with what? He'd left me. It was said that I could go to him, ask him for help, I had, and his so-called 'help' had amounted to little more than a reinforcement of what I already knew–that I couldn't stay here. All the help that'd been. I'd been left with nothing, with nobody to turn to, and now even Jeong Jeong was gone.
My hand drew away from the door. There was nobody in there, I knew. There was nobody else.
There was only me and my many mistakes.
Everything I'd tried thus far had been a misstep, a mistake, a critical error. It was hard to keep my mind from wandering to them as I roamed the hallways of the Citadel military complex one last time. The Rats, Hornets, Miro, Reek, Aden. All the people I'd misstepped, brought to points as low as death because of my idiotic efforts to 'help.' Idiot.
Raava had told me to go to none other than Jeong Jeong, and I'd done the exact opposite. And now, they suffered for it.
At least that'd proved to be the case for Aden. I made it back to the barracks just in time for lights out, 500+ Fire Nation recruits settling into their bunks for their last night for a while that wouldn't be set in the field. Even with hundreds others like me by my side, however, I was alone. Adjacent to where my bunk was situated, Aden's usual spot was vacant, him most likely still recovering in the medical wing. Recovering from an injury that though not delivered directly by me, was completely a result of my actions.
I never should have said anything. Should've kept my damned mouth shut. But instead, Danev'd had to step in and safe my worthless self once again. He too was missing. The bunk below mine, no different from Aden's, was also empty. I wondered if his disappearance was in any way related to Aden, and wondered if I might find out, if Aden might march with us when we left tomorrow, if I would need to spend every night fearing him more than I would the Earth Kingdom.
And all because I couldn't listen.
I should have known what to expect. Idiot! I scolded myself once again. For a brief few weeks, Aden hadn't hated me. Us remaining Hornets had actually been a family, and it'd been nice. Even with everything going on with my damning name, I hadn't felt alone. How was it that, be it a Hornet victory on the streets or good terms with the only thing I had to consider a family, I always found a way to muck things up?
I sighed. I knew I would get no answers there, and prayed I could at least get some sleep. I prayed for more than that too, speaking to Raava silently, praying for a response I suspected would not come for months more.
I asked for things to be alright. I asked that I might still find a way out, and I asked that Aden would be alright.
I couldn't be responsible for the loss of yet another 'friend,' even if that designation only went one way. I couldn't be responsible. Not again.
And so, I prayed.
Aden
There was no thought in my mind upon waking other than that I had to get out.
Had to get out of Citadel, had to get out of this medical wing, out of this room, out of this damned bed.
Whatever they'd pumped me full of to keep me sedated was finally starting to wear off. I was still trying to process it–that Danev. Danev of all people, had taken Fluke's side. After what he did to the Hornets. After getting them all killed.
Fuck!
It was the burst of energy that I needed to push myself up from my hospital bed, lathered in sweat from a sleep I couldn't remember, but hardly had seemed restless.
There were no windows. I had no idea what the hell time it was, only that I'd spent more time here than I ever should have.
Here, with the Fire Nation, as one of their soldier pawns. The joke was so fucking ridiculous that even now I felt on the verge of laughing out loud, which I would have done if I wasn't still grimacing from the pain in my face.
Danev'd got me good. I would give him that much. It didn't take much to remember a time when I could easily overpower him and take him down during sparring back at the Hive. I never needed to be second in command, Riu's head bitch so long as I knew I had the ability to make him mine when it came down to it. I would actually feel proud of him the times that he managed to get a hit on me. Even near the end, when he'd become faster, I'd always been stronger, and I was alright with that. I wanted him to get better. I wanted stronger hands for the Hornets. We'd been in it together since the beginning after all. The Hornets were all that I had.
And they were gone now. All dead.
Because of Fluke.
Bullshit.
The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't believe it to be true. That so many of our own, after winning too, could so quickly be snuffed out, and as a result of the actions like some fucker like Fluke…it couldn't be real.
But it is.
Fluke had confessed to it, Danev hadn't countered it, hadn't called him out for what I wanted to believe might still be some sick lie. It was the truth.
Why?
It always led back to that same question.
I finally stepped out of my bed with a pained groan, wondering still, why?
Why had Fluke gone to the Rats when we'd won? No. That was an easy one. Because he was a fucking traitor. I knew from the beginning that he was never one of us. He'd dicked us over too many times to help the Rats with his information games. Sure; he'd been there for us once or twice, but when it'd come down to the decision of helping us or sparing a Rat or two, it was obvious where his loyalties lay.
So why did Danev stand up for him?
That was the one that really got my head pounding as my hand probed for the doorknob that would get me out of here.
Danev, who'd given so much, more than me, perhaps even more than Riu, for the Hornets. He'd known. He'd known what Fluke had done, and let it be. Why?
He'd enabled Fluke. He'd given him the freedom to get my family killed. Why? He'd protected him when I wanted to do what was right–to make him regret what he'd done, to give him what he deserved.
Why?
The door was locked, I realized. From the outside. I slammed my weight against it, watching as it budged from its hinges. A few more hits and I would be out, lock be damned.
He'd chosen to stick with the Fire Nation, to train with them, accept their promotions, and seemingly go to war with them, the damned idiot.
Why?
I slammed against the door again, feeling something fall to the ground–metal, a screw most likely. All it needed was a small bit more.
Danev had turned his back on me. All for a traitor that'd gotten our family killed, all for a nation that didn't give two shits about us, all for a petite whore nurse who won him over by spreading his legs for him.
Why?!
I slammed the door again, and it opened, but not as a result of my own efforts. Rather, in the threshold appeared a woman–a nurse.
Danev's?
No. It wasn't her. This one wasn't quite as skinny, quite as pretty. But all the same, she was in my way, staring like an idiot while making stupid comments such as, "You're awake" as well as "You should get back to bed."
I didn't have time for this, or for any of her.
"Get out of my way," I said, shoving past her.
Rather than let me go, however, the dumb bitch decided to clasp onto my arm as I tried shoving past her, holding me back from continuing further down the hallway. Couldn't she see I was done there, trying to move on, get the hell out? Was that her reason for holding me back maybe?
It hardly mattered. I pulled my arm away from her hand to make sure I wouldn't lose any more time than I already had.
But once again, the whore in a dress that was made for something visibly more than just being a hospital nurse, clasped onto me again, insisting, "Please don't go anywhere. We don't know if you're fit to move."
If I'm fit to move?
I didn't mean to hurt her. Not that much at least. I just wanted to get her off of me when I freed myself of her again and shoved her against the wall. It was just the right angle, however, or wrong, I supposed, from anybody else's point of view.
Her head slammed back against a steam pipe, the sound reverberating as a hollow echo down the hallway, and she fell, face forward to the ground with not too dissimilar a noise.
If there was one thing the slums had taught me, it was how to spot a dead man. It so happened that, in spite of their differences, men and women didn't die too differently from one another. As with one another, it was sudden, unexpected, and, if you were lucky, instant.
I don't think she had time to process that she was about to die as all that there was of her now was an expressionless face staring straight at the cold steel paneling of the ground, a steady flow of blood coming out of her nose.
I took a step back, eyeing her where she lay, unmoving, dead.
Perhaps I should have felt at least a pang of regret, something of remorse, but how could I? Man or woman, the colors she wore were the same–red, that of the enemy.
I let my eyes drift away from her and instead on the corner in front of me that would take me through the hallways and, with hope, closer to an exit. I moved, walking at a brisk pace, wondering if anybody had heard the scuffle that'd resulted in one of their countrymen's death. However, it seemed as though the majority of the medical wing had been completely empty but for me and her as I came across no others even as I found a door that would take me out, fortunately unlocked as opposed to the other.
There was a faint glow ahead that lit the hallways, not belonging to the burning of a torch or gas lamp, but instead, a window. Stopping by it momentarily revealed to me that morning had come, only vaguely however.
Just over the gray wall of Citadel that stood tall only a few miles away from the military complex, the first rays of the sun were just beginning to make themselves known. Their light, though faint, was concentrated and overpowering enough to nearly blind me as I was forced to squint and raise a hand to block it.
But it was morning. The Fire Nation's 29th would be moving out soon, and I had to be out before then.
And my mind drifted to Danev and Fluke. Or, at the very least, Danev. He was still in here, in the Fire Nation's grasp, about to be shipped off to war, and the odds were that he wouldn't make it. Hell, seeing what the Fire Nation thought of our kind, the odds were there that none of the 500+ street kids wearing their uniforms would make it past the year.
Though faint, it was there–the inclination to change my route of exit, head towards the barracks, get him out, but that was idiotic. Is it? I've faced worse odds before.
The base was still sleeping, though not for very long. If there was ever a time to try such a thing, it was now.
Would he do the same for you? I was forced to ask myself.
I lowered a land, still squinting as I allowed the growing rays of sun to bask my face as I came to know the answer.
No.
But that didn't matter. Because unlike Danev and Fluke, I understood something very simple–what truly mattered: the people you fought for, the Hornets, family. It was all that mattered on these streets, and nothing could change that.
But they'd abandoned that.
I saw Danev take Fluke's side, throw family into the gutter. He wouldn't leave him, not now. Damnit.
I would go back then. To the streets. I would put together the Hornets again, make them anew, leave this city, find Danev, bring him back. He didn't know now, but he would. He would remember what family was. He would come.
Would he?
To him, the Hornets were nothing more than a gang, and he'd chosen a new one–the Fire Nation, as well as a new family–that bitch Oreke. He'd made his choice. And even if I tried to put the Hornets together again, remind him of where his real loyalties lay, it would have been too long. He would become more like one of them with every passing day until he was lost. The Fire Nation would see my new Hornets as just more manpower, and they'd do what they did to the last Hornets. Tried as I might to fight, it's what they would do.
"Damnit!" I cursed out loud.
Unbeknownst to me, this'd drawn the attention of three Fire Nations I didn't know had walked my way until one of them said, "Woah there, language!"
I turned to look their way, the sun no longer directly in my eyes.
"Proper Fire Nation soldiers watch themselves with the profanity," the same tall one said. Their height, voices, faces–they weren't slum kids. These were mainland soldiers.
Fuck do they want?
"That really surprise you?" said a shorter, stockier one. Look at 'im. Dirt eater through and through."
"Oh, yeah," the last of the three exclaimed. "Can really see it when you look close, huh?"
"They do stand out a certain way," the tall one said again.
It was hardly a well-formed plan that caused me to punch the center tall one across the face. It was unclear even to me if there had been so idea to rid this base of every Fire Nation person, realizing they would never view Danev as one of their own, and so I had to fix this now, or if it'd just been a seething anger that'd caused me to do so.
One way or another though, the punch had caught the soldier off guard. He recoiled back, clutching his bleeding mouth. I would have gone for a second punch too had the short stocky one not returned the favor first, punching me in the side of my head, throwing me to the ground.
"Fuck!" the one I'd punched cursed, clearly forgetting his pronunciations about Fire Nation soldiers and their discipline.
I coughed from the breathlessness that'd followed the blow, looking to my side as the other two soldiers helped their tall comrade up who said, wiping away some blood from his lip, "Drag his ass back to the barracks!"
But that wouldn't happen. I wouldn't let it. So as the other two uninjured soldiers approached, readying themselves to take me to the lion's den, I gathered my strength into a single fist, punching the short stocky one straight into his nose, bashing it in with a horrible crack of bone that sent him immediately to the ground.
Not fully standing as I was, it was easy for the tall soldier to kick me in the stomach, sending me to the ground as the other helped up the one whose nose I'd punched him.
"Fine," the main soldier said with a grimace. "Put his ass back in the hospital."
But they wouldn't do that either. If there was one thing I wasn't going to allow to happen, it was for them to bring me right back to the Fire Nation. I wasn't like Danev, or like Fluke. I remembered what mattered–the freedom of choosing your own family rather than it being chosen for you. That wouldn't change no matter how hard the ash makers tried. I wouldn't let them.
I didn't know if I could beat them all, but that didn't matter. I just knew that they wouldn't be taking me back there.
So even as I lay on my side on the floor, bleeding from my mouth, I found it in me to give them one last blow.
I couldn't tell which one I'd kicked, but I did identify that his knee bent backwards when I struck him right there.
He fell to the ground, and I attempted to rise to continue the fight, but was sent down by another foot shortly after.
The soldiers didn't need to say anything, nor did I. We all understood something right then. They wouldn't be taking me to the barracks, or to the medical wing.
I was no longer there, on the floor, forced to look up at them as they kicked and punched once again. Instead, I was watching somewhere from above as three Fire Nation soldiers gathered around a sad pathetic figure huddled on the floor.
And like that, I watched die an idiot boy who'd failed to realize that the world had moved on without him.
Fluke
Thousands of Fire Nation soldiers were gathered at the staging area: infantry, armored, motorized, cavalry. Everyone.
It was the whole of the 29th brigade that was present, in full kit, armor equipped, packs filled with standard-issue supplies, ready for the order to be given to report to our respective units and await deployment.
As it was, nearly everybody, at least regarding the slumdogs of the 59th battalion were far from where they would have to move themselves once the order was given to move. That order would come sooner rather than later, and there was talk that a few soldiers were missing still, likely just loitering. All slum kids, surprisingly, were accounted for, which made us look good at least, all things considered.
Considering the delay and the time we had to loiter before being sent to our respective units, it'd been Danev to come to me, nearly late for rally-up, wearing a stupid grin on his face, hiding something he seemed positively eager for me to ask about.
Needing a bit of good news in my day, I gave in.
"Okay tell me," I said after Danev had been leaning against my tank as I sat atop for nearly a whole minute. "Why the stupid grin?"
"Not going to ask where I was last night?"
He really wants me to lead the way to it, huh?
"I was kinda hoping you'd passed out and died in some gutter, if I'm being honest."
Danev gave a voiceless mocking laugh, but the snide remark wasn't enough for him to drop his sheer enthusiasm.
Danev hadn't been the only one missing last night, of course. So too had Aden been absent from our little bloc of bunks, but his reason for it being far more obvious.
I couldn't help but notice that I hadn't seen him yet in the ranks of the 59th battalion either. I wondered if he'd just avoided my line of sight or if he was still out cold in a medical wing bunk, not considered important enough to delay our departure.
I couldn't help but hope for the latter, not sure if I was ready to encounter him after what'd happened yesterday, and not wanting him to wing up in the middle of all this-off to war. I'd failed to get out, much as I'd tried. I had my doubts Aden would fare any better without getting himself killed.
"Fine," I said, not exactly in the mood to ruin his, also wanting to take my mind away from Aden. I adjusted the way I was seated atop the tank, shifting my leg so my thigh would no longer scrape against the edge of the ladder rung that led up the chassis' side. "So where were you last night?"
"Oreke invited me over to her place."
I let out a little whistle, clearly approving. "Nice place in the inner city?" I asked, wondering if she had an actual house, two stories even perhaps, a chimney, kitchen, something actually complete.
"Eh," Danev said. "Not quite. Dormitory on base."
"Ah," I said, disappointed.
"Don't 'ah' me," Danev said, scolding the noise I'd made. "It's not just about the room. It's…it was…"
He was struggling for words in a manner that was too amusing to ignore. It was hard to stifle my laughter, especially in consideration of the fact that, if what I suspected was true, it shouldn't have been that amazing. It was far from his first time.
"Spirits' sake," I scoffed. "It was that good?"
"Yes!" Danev exclaimed, no longer forcing himself to keep it in, more than glad to exclaim instead.
"Oh come on," I said. "You've fucked people before. Couldn't have been all that."
"This was different, man. When you actually know the person, when it's not just for a quick lay,...shit."
"Oh brother," I said, sighing.
"Oh you scoff now," Danev said. "But you'll see when it happens to you too."
"Right," I scoffed. "Because Earth Kingdom women will be lining themselves up for us."
"I didn't mean them," Danev said. So who does he mean then? Someone like Mykezia. It was small wonder my mind drifted to her immediately at the thought, but I quickly forced it aside. I was more than positive that whole affair went only one way. "And besides," Danev continued. You're too young. I meant after."
"After," I echoed, my voice softening.
There was little question about what the front was–death. I'd tried to get away from it, tried to heed Raava's warnings, and I'd failed. Maybe there, I could figure something out, whether it was leave, get behind their walls, anything, but for now, this march was happening. I wouldn't get out, I wouldn't leave. Not here at least. All I had to be thankful for was that I was traveling via a multi-ton steel behemoth rather than my own two feet–a fact I was sure I would have more than enough time to dangle over Danev's head throughout the course of our journey.
Because after that, who knew how much time any of us would have left.
I suspected that Danev was mustering up something to say in that regard, but wouldn't have time to finish his thought before the final horn came, signaling it was time to get to our respective units.
Danev noticed the cue, head perking towards the origin of the noise before looking back at me. "Fluke," he said, as though meaning to reassure me, but I didn't need it. There was nothing to say.
I just nodded my head, and said, "It's fine."
He took my word for it, though I wasn't sure he quite believed it. At the very least, he honored my decision, and gave my tank a last pat on its side as though it were a pack mule before equipping his helmet to scurry off towards the 114th.
I myself had no need for a helmet, at least now, and so shifted my seat to scurry back into the bowels of our armored unit, closing the hatch shut above me, greeted with the musky biosphere that was Gan, Gunji, Dojai, and I packed inside no more than 300 cubic feet of space.
"Say your adieus?" Gunji asked amusedly as he tapped on his gauges to get updated measures of them before we were set to head out.
"Oh don't be mad at me because I actually have friends," I retorted.
"Quiet on deck," Dojai ordered, though not without reason. "Need to listen to mobilization orders."
We'd already been given our marching orders, but still, something was always subject to change, and so we had to keep our ears open for any changes that would be relayed to us by our commander, lieutenant colonel Chaasa of the 62nd armored.
Rather than orders, however, or even the final call to move, there was a different noise that emanated from outside, far more confused and sporadic.
The hell?
I looked from my gunner's position towards Gan and Dojai who seemed no more aware of what was going on than I, but the brief nod they gave me said clearly enough, 'go see.'
Back to my hatch now, I opened it, poking my head out to see a number of soldiers running past our tanks towards something that seemed to be going on by the wall, only a few yards away.
There was already a group gathered around…something.
What the hell is going on?
"Fluke," Gan called out. "See what's going on?"
I didn't yet, but something certainly did feel out of place. I crawled out of the tank hatch and slid down the side on approach to the scene that seemed to be gathering so much attention as I only caught fragments of scattered conversations around me.
"-see what happened with-"
"-just fell? I don't-"
I worked my way past the other tanks of my column, towards the scene of all the fuss, seeing from just behind the growing crowd, a limp hand, not in uniform, foreign, but also somewhat recognizable in the vaguest of ways.
I shoved my way past the crowd of other soldiers, and there he was, covered head to toe in his own blood, body a mangled mess, the selfsame person I'd thought free of all this mess–Aden.
No.
He was motionless, dead on contact. I looked up at the wall, scaling dozens of feet up–the fall was more than enough to kill him.
He jumped?
I looked back at the body. His eyes were closed, having shut them in his last moments.
He'd jumped. Why? Because of what happened? What I'd said.
I found that my breath had halted in my throat, not coming out just right as I stood in the center of a growing crowd that eyed the body with a mix of disgust and curiosity.
He'd jumped. He'd killed himself. Damnit, Aden. My mouth, quivered, trying to make sense of it. Why? Why did you do that? I was trying to stop this from happening, damnit!
"Alright!" an officer from some other unit called out. "Back away. This is the garrison's job to deal with. It's out of our jurisdiction! Back to your units."
The soldiers of the 29th followed their orders, backing away, muttering a number of things.
"First casualty of the 29th then, eh?"
"Shit way to go."
"Heard he was a washout anyway."
My body felt cold even before I found my tank again, crawling back up the ladder one rung at a time, my hand's shaking even as I grabbed the hatch to close it shut behind me.
"Well," Gan said upon seeing I was back, though turned away from him so he might not see the look on my face, mouth quivering, eyes reddening. "What happened?"
I wouldn't give him an answer. I didn't have one to give. Not one that he'd understand at least. But to me, it was clear. Once again, I'd tried to help. Once again, I'd tried to do something right by those I cared about. And once again, I'd failed, instead responsible for the fate they'd met.
The 29th's missing soldiers reappeared soon enough, and then finally, the brigade was moving.
Gan did not press me for answers, deciding to focus his attention elsewhere–namely on driving the tank forward.
It was all well and good by me as I faced away from the rest of my crew, only staring down at my own lap where I sat as I felt a single tear roll from my eye, knowing that, once more, I'd failed those I tried to protect.
Aegis.
What a sick joke.
Captain Zar'un
The 29th Brigade had departed. I saw them leave through the Grain gate from my office window, and as it'd closed behind them, knew too that my one window of opportunity had as well.
Damnit.
I'd only needed a little more time. Slowly, but surely, we'd learned more, gotten closer, and I knew that, somewhere there, the boy we were looking for was part of that armored column. I wondered if maybe he'd been the one to jump, but that would have been far too convenient to be true. Besides, the suicide had been to the late Hornet recruit, not even a bender, more than likely nobody of importance.
But all the same, the one who was important was out there, and gone now.
I'd met with the officers of the 29th one last time before they'd left. I'd considered saying something, but I knew all too well how that would wind up. Deming would make it his chief priority, use the weight of his entire division to find one damned boy no matter how much it would destroy the war effort, and once done, if he somehow managed to succeed, would use it to push his way into the higher echelons of Fire Nation society where he would manage to do more harm than he already had in his current position.
No. If somebody had to be responsible for discovering him, it had to be somebody responsible with it. Preferably me. I knew his value to the Fire Nation, and I knew what it would earn for me–a chance to make something real of Citadel, make it an honest city that wasn't a simple military provisions stop on the way to Ba Sing Se. I could have done so much for the people here.
But alas, that hadn't been the case. In fact, I couldn't help but try to tell myself that there was nothing lost as much as gained. Citadel had its food now. It had provisions, a strengthened garrison, and a more active role to play in the Siege of Ba Sing Se. I'd lost nothing but a chance for more. But what did it matter? A siege like that, destined in time to fail more likely than not, would see thousands killed, and this 'Aegis' would more than likely be one of them.
As I said, nothing lost.
At least, that's what I tried to tell myself. And it didn't work.
"Damnit!" I cursed, kicking my office chair aside, knocking it to the ground with the clatter of wood on wood.
Keep your cool, Zar'un, I scolded myself as I picked it up again and forced myself to sit, hoping that might calm me to some degree.
It hardly did. Instead, it just placed me face to face with my failures–piles of paper stacked atop one another: journal entries, correspondances, reports. All useless.
I swiped them from the table, watching as they gently flowed down in the air. Some to the ground, some back to my desk, and even one to the flame of a lantern that sat on my desk.
To hell with it, I figured, not caring enough to save it. It'd all been worthless anyway.
At least, that was what I figured until something about the page began to shift. I expected it to light aflame, but it did no such things. New characters appeared now, in the gaps left on the parchment, hidden until now by its exposure to the flame.
What the hell?
I quickly grasped the paper, and read what'd just been unveiled of Gyani's journal to himself:
I spoke to Mishi today. By proxy of course. He told me that Aegis is doing well for himself. 5 years old, and he's made a living doing what most of his age do–pickpocketing and breaking into houses to rob them blind. Mishi stated his desire to get him to stop, offer him employment at his shop instead, but I, perhaps mistakenly, advised otherwise. The way I see it, there is no better way for the boy to learn how to hide from the world than by making it his living. Unless he appears to truly be in a situation he can't get out of, I told Mishi, I would leave him be.
Mishi has agreed to do just that, but he hardly seems glad about it. Still, I can't help but notice that he seems to almost admire the boy. That's hardly any surprise to me. He takes after his mother after all. And he too is getting attention from those around him, though I pray not too much. They've given him a new name–one I hope he sticks to so he may better keep himself safe.
They call him 'Fluke.' I suppose because they believe he gets lucky only once, but I know better than that. At least, I hope I do. He'll need to be lucky much more than once if there is to be any hope for us, for the World. The spirits have made it clear–in these times of imbalance and darkness, it is only he who can set things right for now. Someday, I hope that may change, if only to free him of the burden, but for now, it is clear to me that that boy, Fluke, Aegis, he is our last hope.
I knew that name. No. I know that name.
Fluke. One of our firebenders. The last one that'd been interrogated, cleared, and mistakenly so.
The paper fell from my hand, floating aimlessly to the ground, and my eyes turned instantly to the office window behind me. In the distance, plumes of smoke of tank and truck engines flowed to the sky as the 29th Brigade, as Aegis, Fluke, left this city behind.
I had him.
A grin grew on my face. He was out of my grasp, but I knew, I had him. And I had to get him back here. Now.
I couldn't send somebody. Not straight to Deming. He would sense something was off immediately.
Instead, I scrambled quickly for my quill which I'd swiped to the ground as well as a blank piece of parchment atop which I began, knowing it to be my only chance:
To General Iroh, Dragon of the West, Heir Apparent of the Fire Nation,
And so I wrote, knowing finally what I was after, and just how to get it back.