Avatar The Last Airbender Fan Fiction ❯ Amber ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: Sorry it has taken a while to get this chapter up. Last week I saw my house for all of 20 hours in 4 days. (It's my excuse for the delay. Pretty good one, I think.) Grad school suuuuuucks. Rest assured I have already started working on Chapter 3! And yes, this IS Chapter 2! (Despite some initial confusion you all may have in the first few paragraphs). Thank you to all who reviewed. I appreciate feedback and it can only make the story better. BTW, if anyone is interested in the whole "Beta" thing, I don't really have a need for a grammatical Beta, but I would love someone who would like to read before I post and make recommendations on plot improvement! If you are interested, please contact me. If you don't like the slow pace of my story, don't read. If you like dogs, adopt.P.S. I try to make the thoughts/ dialog as funny as I can. Sadly, I am not a think tank of Nickelodeon script writers and I only have what's in my head. Which isn't much. Plus, I suck at jokes. So sorry. Wish I were funnier.

Disclaimer: I own diddly.

Story Time! Amber: Chapter 2

Sokka woke up in time to see the packed earth in front of the West palace entrance rushing up to meet his face. He connected with a painful crunch. Laying there for a moment panting heavily, Sokka groaned and curled onto his side. The cart that had dumped him there left in a hurry, clattering down the road in a whirlwind of dust. This was a sparsely populated side of the palace—the perfect place to dump a body if you were trying to make a point. There were very few people around, and even fewer willing to help that body out. Ultimate result: less chance of survival. Every thug's wet dream.

Too bad for them he wasn't as roughed up as they thought he was. Psssh, he was tougher than that. He HAD run with the Avatar, people!He worked his legs underneath him and forced himself into a crouching position. His entire body screamed in pain. He wasn't anywhere close to dying or anything, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Blue eyes slid sideways to watch a trickle of blood roll down his arm, reach the edge of his palm and plop to the ground in a perfect little crimson circle. He licked his lips and tasted the metallic tang, wincing as he tested his split lip with the tip of his tongue. He had to get into his room without letting anyone see him, even Zuko. Especially Zuko. Once he'd been stitched up by the palace healer he could pass on what he'd discovered without anyone being the wiser about him getting his ass seriously tore the hell up.

Those fuckers wanted to rile up the Fire Lord and start a civil war. What better way to do that than to beat his best friend to a bloody pulp. Not to mention that said best friend just happened to be Water Tribe AND an Ambassador. Double rainbows for everyone! Geez, how cliché could these idiots get? There just had to be more creative ways to start a civil war. Come to think of it, this really was just so… so… Fire Nation of them! Don't be open and honest about your blood thirsty intentions, no no, in the Fire Nation you need to target a friend of your enemy and send the subtle message that you want to take off the Fire Lord's head. Not on his watch—Zuko had more than enough to deal with already. Sokka would take care of this himself, swiftly and quietly.

Riiiight after he took a nice 10 hour nap, recovered from this concussion, and healed a few bones. He'd have to think of some creative story to tell the palace healer. Perhaps he could say he'd been trampled by a rhino-potamas in the garden. They had those in the Fire Nation, didn't they? He'd have to look it up. But right now, it was time to move.

Earlier…

Huff huff huff, his breath was wheezing out in painful pants. It had been a long time—a really really long time—since he'd run that fast and that far. He was going to have to do some major training when he got back to the palace if this was the shape he was in! But that old lady had some wheels. He still couldn't believe he'd been outrun by a woman with one foot in the grave.

Trotting to a stop Sokka hunched over, one hand pressed into his side. He had a major stitch going on and the unbearable heat was making him a little dizzy. The area he was in was totally unfamiliar. People around here wore much rougher commoners' clothing and were busy plying their wares or working their trade. This street was much busier than the ones he was used to, and he was shoved roughly a few times as he got in the way of frazzled tradesmen and merchants.

After a few moments, his body had cooled off some and he took better stock of his surroundings. Houses and stores lined the streets in even lots and seemed almost agonizingly organized, like little soldiers lined up in a row. Many alleys darted between the buildings offering quick escape routes if he needed them. Citizens here, while dressed much more commonly, seemed to be passingly polite. They were also studiously ignoring him. Thankfully, they seemed a little more human than the upper crust of the Fire Nation and he could tell from their marginally expressive faces that they were simply unsure what to think about him. Well, he supposed they didn't see clothes like his every day—they were a depressingly homogenous nation sometimes when it came to fashion. Or at least in choice of favorite color.

The war had only ended a few short years before and the re-integration of the Fire Nation into the global community had been slow going. Not surprising since they had been so racially isolated from all the other cultures and nations thanks to Fire Lord Bo-zai. (Like a cross between "bozo" and "Ozai"… kind of a play on words… never mind. He was the sarcasm guy but that didn't mean he always hit a home run.) Memories of the war were still too raw for many citizens of the other nations and they had been as stubborn as mule-ox when Zuko had tried to get them to set up shop in the capital. He knew how they felt.

Yawning while his body pulled itself into a deep stretch, he cracked his neck, shrugged and turned to head back to the palace for the second time that day. Let's see, he'd been running…south, so the palace had to be straight north. Spying a connecting alley with a set of stairs leading down to the next parallel street he set off at a leisurely pace. Whistling, he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and turned his face to enjoy the sun and the fading heat of the afternoon. It really wasn't so bad when it cooled off a bit late in the day. Despite having been so out of breath, he had enjoyed his sprint around the Fire Nation capital much more than he would have ever imagined. He was tired but it seemed to have burned off some of the excess energy that had been driving him crazy.

Lost in thought, he trotted down the stone steps as the alley dipped below the basement level of the houses. Cool rock at the base of the structure provided an excellent brace for his hand as he playfully jumped over the last step and onto the beginnings of the next street at the bottom of the stairs. He was concentrating so hard on keeping his balance that he didn't see the fist coming towards him until it connected with his cheek. There was only enough time to throw himself forward slightly so that it glanced off his face rather than crunching it at full force. Taken by surprise, his body fell naturally back into the reflexes he'd honed during the war. While crouching low to the ground his eyes darted swiftly back and forth to take in his attackers. He counted four ugly mugs.

The words of his master Pindao still echoing in his head from years earlier, Sokka sprang lightly up a couple steps to give himself an advantage. Shit. There were two more of these assholes coming down the stairs from the street above. Six total. Guess honor wasn't something that all Fire Nation were gifted with—there were bad cabbages in every cart. All of the men carried themselves like ex-soldiers except for one—he carried himself like an asshole. He'd probably been an officer and was most likely the one Sokka could thank for having organized this friendly little party.

Although he seemed to have been used to finer living at one point in his life, his hair was now lank and dirty. The heat had caused it to clump into gnarled knots and fly-aways stuck to the sticky sweat on his forehead. Rough lumpy features gave him a mean look and his eyes were narrowed in a beady glare. What he lacked in hygiene he made up for in ample amounts of beefcake and muscle. Dude was a freaking giant.

"Ah. You must be the Madam," Sokka said to big and ugly. "Sorry, but I'm not really interested. I took a vow of chastity, you know. I don't think my pure and innocent body could handle the excitement. Though between me and you buddy, I can see why you're so aggressive with your marketing tactics—I'm sure they have nice personalities but your ladies here are a liiiiittle on the butt ugly side. I'd be crying on the inside the whole time."

"Hn," a nasty smile spread over Ugly's face, "Think you're pretty funny, huh."

"I know I'm fucking hilarious, Hamhock. What's not funny is your clichéd response. Is there seriously not one creative bone in your Fire Nation body? Even ambushing me at the bottom of a stairwell is kind of a tired tactic. Now, if you'd added in a fire-breathing three-toed weasel-squirrel, things could have been going much differently. If you rode it for more than 8 seconds, I'd even have been impressed."

The smile slid off Ugly's face. "I don't think you're funny. What I do think is funny is sending that brat sitting up in that joke of a palace a message. With your dead body." Sokka froze. Well, that was a little more serious than he'd thought. Still pretty cliché though. He gave a deep inward mental sigh. Well, he supposed he'd found the rebels that they'd been tracking through the city—there was no other way they'd recognize him. His position had been kept pretty hush-hush, at least until they could do a formal "reveal." (Hence, the boring etiquette lessons that weren't sticking) At least his day hadn't been entirely unproductive—as long as he made it out alive. Glancing around again it didn't seem like that would be a problem.

Big and Ugly was tough for sure, but of the remaining five only three looked like any real threat. The mug on his right was short and small but he knew from experience with Aang that something like that didn't mean jack. He had a few wicked-looking knives strapped to him that may have been ornamental but Sokka knew that that probably wasn't the case. Shorty also had sported a broken nose at some point in his career, so either he was really bad at hand-to-hand or he'd had a looooot of practice.

Number Two was one of the thugs who'd crept up behind him on the stairs. While the others had been muttering to each other during Sokka and Ugly's exchange, he'd been unnervingly quiet the whole time. He seemed satisfied with simply staring at Sokka's head. That restrained quiet seemed to hide a coiled and deadly anger; his money was on fire bending as the weapon of choice for Basket Case. As if the swirling tattoos of fire curling up his neck hadn't been his first clue.

Thug Three was the odd one. He was blonde—not just regular blonde—he was Yue blonde. Sokka was certain he couldn't recall having ever met a single blonde Fire Nation citizen before. Blondie had to stick out like a sore thumb around here and he must have been teased mercilessly when he was a kid. Which would explain the downright psychotic look in the guy's brown eyes. Oh well. As fun as it had been to sit around with his thumb up his butt daydreaming, it was time to come up with a plan.

First and foremost, now that he'd identified his attackers as being the most likely culprits in the resistance they'd been looking for, he needed to get this information to Zuko and the Advisors ASAP. As much as he hated it, this meant that Operation Beat the Ugly out of Ugly was NOT a go, and Operation Turn Tail and Run needed to get its ass into motion. While there were only two on the stairs above him, fighting his way uphill was not likely to succeed if he were rushed from behind. The weakest link seemed to be with the rather plain-looking fellow on the right. If he broke past him and stuck to the wall he could likely slip past them and disappear down another side street, or at least create some distance in a crowd. The street they were currently on seemed suspiciously devoid of people—something that could probably be chalked up to Ugly.

"I hate to disappoint you, but while I have been known as the meat guy, Sokka's not on the menu tonight. I'll be seeing you ladies around." On the last few words he sprang to his right and slammed his shoulder into Timid's solar plexus, followed by a quick jab of his elbow to the gut. Kid went down like a ten ton sack of potatoes. It was beautiful. The rest of the mugs sprang at once and Sokka took a moment to sweep the feet out from Shorty, who had been reaching for a dagger, and then he was around the corner and running. There sure seemed to be a lot of cardio going on today.

He may have been out of shape, but he was still leaving the thugs in the dust. There were definitely some advantages to being lean and light in these situations. Spirits, they made such a racket as they sprinted down the street—screaming and yelling and knocking shit over. Stumbling on a loose pebble, Sokka had to will his legs to move faster. That chase earlier had really taken more out of him than he'd thought. A murmur of noise drifted towards him faintly from the distance—a market! Just a little farther….

Wham.

Sokka stared at the blue sky as he tried to push away the fog in his thoughts. He'd been doing something really, really important just now…

"Not such a tough little shit now are you?" Oh yeah, that's right. Running.

"Doesn't look like much, does he." A woman's voice? So there were seven. He should have known that those cowards would have hidden someone in the shadows.

"Oof!" Sokka curled onto his side as a swift kick knocked the wind out of him.

"Na, he thinks he's big shit acting like he's better than Fire Nation, but he's just Water Tribe trash." Gaa, what had that chick hit him with? It felt like she'd taken a tree trunk to his face; he could almost feel the concussion like it was taking an egg beater to the contents of his skull. Were his brains leaking out? He was only half-ass listening to their running commentary as he struggled to get a hold of his thoughts when a few words made him freeze.

"…take care of this scum first. Then, next month when that Water Bitch gets here Zhen will take her out. If anyone can do it, Zhen can. I mean, he's been livin' up in that place for months now! Eatin' all good and shit. All that precious 'peace' bullshit that traitor has been spewing will be a joke when the Avatar kills him for croakin' his girl. Zhen's always been good at that, did I ever tell you about his first wife? Well, he walked in on her…" Timid really opened up when he thought his opponent was down. Classic bully.

No fucking way. Killing Katara...blaming it on Zuko… That was unacceptable. Sokka didn't believe for a minute that Aang would ever let them get away with it in the first place—it seemed like a pretty half-baked plan—but the sheer audacity of even planning something awful like that just...just made him...FUCKING PISSED! There was also the off chance that even though Aang would never believe Zuko had done it, they just might get away with hurting Katara. Especially if it was true that they had already hidden a traitor inside the palace-for months now. Anger cleared the remaining cloudiness in his mind. He paused a moment then threw himself to the left, rolling on his side down the street. Three of his attackers went down like felled trees. Desperate, he rolled to his feet and tripped to a start. His grasping attempt at an escape was short-lived however, when he was tackled painfully from behind.

Pain was something Sokka had become accustomed to during his training and in practice. Not to mention the countless times he'd gotten knocked around by Toph. But on a scale of one to ten of pain, getting his ass beat by six ex-Fire Nation soldiers was pretty much a nine. Or a ten. Crunch. Or an eleven. After a few minutes, Sokka had the sinking suspicion that they had not been exaggerating about his dead body and he stopped fighting back and played up the beating. After a few more minutes he didn't have to act and one last blow to the head brought darkness.

Present…

Thinking back on the attack gave Sokka the motivation he needed to keep his body moving. There were definitely some broken ribs that were giving him trouble and his face and right arm felt like somebody had taken a club to them. He'd lost a lot of blood, this wasn't good.

Making it into the palace from the relatively deserted West gate had been disturbingly easy and he vowed to address this with Zuko as soon as he recovered. The few guards he'd encountered had been easily avoidable. Disgusted, he shook his head and snuck through the entrance to the main palace. His footsteps echoed in the towering hallway and he cringed as he stumbled and grabbed onto a nearby table, knocking over the ornamental vase it had been displaying in the process. Sure enough, he heard footsteps moving swiftly in his directions. He quickly ducked into another corridor and began the slow trek through the maze of walkways to his room.

Think think think, he had to think. How could he get the healer without letting him alert Zuko or any of the Advisors. They had never been used, but a series of bells existed in his room that connected an inner system in the walls. The alert from the bell traveled through this system and down the hallways and notified the palace help when they were needed. It had always felt way too pretentious to use it, so Sokka wasn't entirely sure how it worked (although he had been itching to take it apart and look at the mechanisms for a long time). Problem solved.

He almost cried in relief when his room came into view. His arm was throbbing and the hallway was tilting suspiciously to one side. The door loomed in front of him and Sokka swiped at the giant handle. Shit, he missed. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he tried to focus on the handle as it swam back and forth before him. Concentrate, concentrate—there we go! The smooth wood felt odd in his grip, like his hand was overly sensitized or something and it seemed to take an inordinate amount of strength to wrench the door open. Tumbling into his room with a gasp, he plunged to the ground and rested his cheek on the cool floor. The tile was soothing on his face, which He dimly realized that it was possible he was developing a fever. He needed to get moving-this was getting bad, and quick.

Too exhausted to get back onto his feet, Sokka began crawling towards the wash room. Reaching out with a shaky hand, he nudged open the screen door separating the rooms with his fingertips. His body felt so heavy, it was hard to drag himself with the one good arm. As he looked behind him, he noticed a trail of blood and ichor that marked his path from the entrance to the wash room. He blanched and his face turned a little green as he noticed how much there was. It would really suck if the thugs' plan worked.

The bell was almost within reach, he just needed to pull himself up to the counter. Why the hell had they put one of the bells in the bathroom, anyway? What an absolutely moronic place to put it. Did they think he needed help washing his ass? Come to think of it, there was another bell beside the breakfast area. And one beside the dressing space. Not to mention the one beside the bed… Whoa, whoa, whoa, right now Sokka did NOT want to think of the implications of THAT.

Grasping the edge of the counter with his good hand, Sokka gritted his teeth as he flexed and pulled. His torso seemed to grow heavier as his strength dwindled. The other arm dangled uselessly by his side and Sokka gave out a strangled cry of frustration. This was not happening-he was stronger than this. Shouting his defiance, he pulled harder on the counter and gave a grim smile as his body began to slowly inch upward towards his goal. The smile slipped off his face as his fingers lost their purchase on the smooth stone, and he tumbled backwards. He was just able to stop himself from cracking his already-abused skull on the floor but he found that he was unable to move himself any further. His body felt like lead and patches of blackness were growing in fuzzy spots in his vision. The fuzzy spots began to grow like a mold, blotting out the dim light of the room. Helpless, Sokka plunged into the darkness.

Final Note: Yay Zuko! Next chappie! Amor vincit omnia! ALSO! I will be explaining the absence of Suki, etc later and hopefully give a little more insight into Sokka's thoughts. Right now I'm still just trying to introduce the story.