Freedom Fighter

Chapter One

With a soft sigh, the teen-aged rebel rests his back against the rough tree and twirls the green piece of hay between his lips. An elderly woman and a child around seven pass under the branch, completely unaware that they are being watched. A smirk crosses the brunette youth's face as the small child runs off the path and into the woods.

"Maniko! Boy, get back here!" The woman scolds her giggling grandson.

The grumbling duo eventually continue their way down the road towards Ba Sing Se. After they're out sight, the young man gracefully jumps to the ground. He takes a deep breath before whistling a series of notes loudly, before beginning to count and leaning his back against the thick tree.

"Jet, we're here." Three figures appear quickly, but as not as fast or quietly as their infamous leader would like.

"67 seconds." The displeasure drips from his voice as dark chocolate colored eyes study each of his fighters. "You should have it under a minute by now."

"But there was a group of soldiers. They slowed us down." Smellerbee, Jet's right hand-man. Er, girl.

"You sneak around them, then!"

"They were Fire Nation." Pipsqueak explains softly, avoiding Jet's eyes.

"Fire Nation, eh?" Rage, accompanied with an enormous rush of adrenaline, shoots through his sixteen year old body with a low growl. "Where?"

"Jet, relax." Smellerbee glances at her partner-in-crime, Longshot, a tad nervously.

"Where?" The tall, tan boy snarls pushing himself back off the tree and leaning towards Pipsqueak.

"Right outside the city; by the creek." The large boy answers his leader faithfully.

"Then tonight, we'll go out and keep an eye. Once they fall asleep, we'll raid them. Now head back home and get something to eat. Meet me here in two hours." With one fluid movement, Jet removes his hooks blades and slashes an X on the tree right beside Longshot.

"Okay, Jet." The three nod before turning away and silently heading back to the camp.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jet collapses onto the ground and drops his blades. He sits there for over an hour, trying to regain his temper and slow his breathing. Sure, Jet hates Fire Nation with a burning passion, but he hates himself more.
Smellerbee takes a bite of the bread roll, then sets it in front of her all while watching Longshot out of the corner of her eye. A quiet sigh exhales and he pushes his plate away.

"What's wrong?" She asks in a whisper. The only response she gets is a shrug, causing a frown to cross her round face.

"Is it Jet? Are ya worried about him?" This time he nods before leaning his elbows on the table and covering his face. "It's okay. So am I. Somebody's just gotta knock some sense into him 'fore he hurts himself." She pauses before flashing him an encouraging smile and touching a lock of his black hair. "Now, come on. We don't wanna be late."

Smellerbee and Longshot, along side Pipsqueak, walk back out the road and find the tree with the X. However, Jet is nowhere to be seen; not up in the treetop and they hadn't seen him at camp. This wasn't like him. He never was late.
Kicking a rock, Jet ambles by the river bank and watches the sun begin to sink. He whistles a song, a lullaby which words he had long forgotten, but the tune had been ingrained into his memory. Suddenly, a loud shout echoes and Jet, by instinct, slides down the steep river bank and ducks behind a small boulder.

"Dammit, Uncle, why can't you mind your own fucking business?" A voice cuts through the air, nearing Jet.

"I was simply wondering why you are so upset." This voice was softer and older with a vague sense of familiarity to it.

"It's pretty fucking obvious why I'm upset!" The younger man roars and Jet peeks around the boulder. At first, he only sees the older of the two men, the short, pot-bellied.

"Nephew, please don't swear."

Jet gasps as he catches sight of the other man, the one with the scar, his mouth hanging open. The little noise catches the attention of the strangers. In seconds, the young man is on Jet with a long knife pressed against his throat.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Get off me!" Jet shouts, scrambling for his tiger-head blades, but the older man pins his wrists down.

"Who are you?" His voice resonates deeply and he presses his face closer to mine.

"I-" With a grunt, Jet's voice breaks off and he stares up at the narrowed golden eyes. "Jet. I'm Jet. Now get the fuck off me."

"Why were you spying on us?" The scarred young man growls, his top lip curls up in a ferocious snarl.

"I wasn't. I thought you were Fire Nation soldiers." Even in his shocked and slightly awed state, the disgust in Jet's voice is clear as he mentions his hated enemy.

"So you hid?" The attacker raises his single brow at the boy underneath him.

"What do you think?" Jet mocks his actions, arches his already angular eyebrow back and smirks.

"Nephew, let him go. He wasn't doing anything wrong." The older man calls out and the teenager rolls off.

"But, he was spying-"

"I wasn't spying. I was just hiding so you wouldn't kill me." Jet spits, picking himself up and drawing out his hook swords immediately.

"I might just kill you anyway." The amber-eyed boy circles Jet, raising his broadswords.

"Come at me, bitch."

With a cry, the man runs towards Jet, who smoothly hooks his blades around his attacker's ankles and yanks his feet out from under him. Just as easily, the other boy kicks Jet's shin before knocking him backwards and pouncing on top of him. The elder gentleman watches on, amused, as the two hormone-raged, teenage boys wrestle, giving them time to wear themselves out before breaking them apart.

"Hey, hey, that's enough, now." The older man grabs Jet by his long-sleeved tunic, pulling him off his nephew.

"Let go of me!" Jet pushes away from the gray-haired man and drops onto the ground.

Jet's feet touches the ground at the same time as his enemy got up, and they instantly began circling each other. They glare at one another, planning their next moves and sizing up wounds.

"I said: stop it!" The older man shouts, with such authority, both teens freeze.

"Sorry, Uncle." The shorter of the two young men sighs softly and blushes.

"Now, apologize to the young man. He didn't do anything to you." The sixty-something male instructs his nephew, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sorry." Jet barely hears the muttered apology and merely nods in reply.

"Now, Jet, I am Mushi and this is my nephew, Lee." The older man introduces them and the two boys awkwardly glance at each other. "We are new to Ba Sing Se. Do you live in the city?"

"No, I live out here."

"Ah. It was nice to meet you, Jet. We must be on our way." Mushi says and smiles warmly. "I do hope I see you again."

"Yeah. 'Bye." Jet mumbles, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. The red quickly deepens once he realized he that he was, in fact, blushing. He never, ever blushes. All through the short, light conversation, Lee kept glancing at him, only to look away after a couple seconds of eye-contact.

"Have a good night." And with that, the two newcomers left.

Jet wonders what the hell just happened while watching the two disappear into the fading sunlight.
Rather, Lee's ass.

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A/N: I've never written a story in present-tense third person and I apologize for all the grammar and spelling mistakes.