Don't cross Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Steely-eyed and invincible, this woman will chew you up. Aang lived in the streets - until he's promoted as her right-hand man.
But when business, feelings and pleasure start to mix in delicious ways...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐚.
Hands tied behind her back and mouth taped shut in the sweltering heat of a car trunk, Katara's heart thumps against her ribcage as she tries to get rid of the ties.
The car seems to speed over the speed limit resulting in Katara hitting her head many times. She can't recollect the events that led to this moment, her original plan was to attain revenge, maybe play a few tricks on them... that's it.
The car comes to a sudden stop, but for distinct motives. Katara seizes another opportunity to get rid of the ties when the trunk suddenly opens, revealing a figure towering before her.
Katara was all of sudden aware of all her insecurities. Aware of how far away she was from the perfection he radiated. An angel was standing in front of her, judging her from above.
Each of his perfect features scream danger as his piercing eyes bore into hers. The look in his eyes sent a chill down Katara's spine. It was a look of pure fury. She was wrong before, that guy wasn't an angel. Nothing about him was angel like. It was rather the complete opposite, the guy literally screamed danger.
"Hey! Are you looking for trouble?!" The men step out of the vehicle, armed with weapons.
Aang's eyebrows are furrowed and he stared down at them with a suggestive look, almost like he was teasing them.
"No, but you are."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
One hour ago...
Katara unlocks the door and walks inside the building with confident, casual steps. With the thought of getting the wrong address due to the entrance being empty, Katara is about the make her way back outside when the faintest sound catches her ear.
She follows the sound which leads her to some room down the entrance. The young woman behind the mask pushes the door open and grins in satisfaction when she finally locates the room.
Inside the venue, a crowd of masked men and women flirtatiously mingle as moody jazz music plays. With every certain click of Katara's heels, people turn to look her way, clearing a path for her in the crowd. Meanwhile, beneath her mask, sharp eyes scan the room for her target.
Casting a casual glance to the other side of the room, Katara finds the VIP section, marked by seats even more glitzy than the rest. She notices a man surrounded by fawning women. He's holding a glass of vodka in one hand and playing poker. No mask could cover up that aura... That's Jet for sure.
Her target.
Just as that thought is running through her head, "Here you are, Miss." Someone offers her a glass of champagne, and Katara reflexively accepts it.
