Chapter Text
Influenced by substances you perceive everything and everyone differently, the problem lies when once the sobriety gains its power back that view does not slightly change.
The lights were soft yet vibrant in the darkness of the atmosphere. It was a calm night, at least for him, who somehow ended up being dragged to a hidden nightclub. Looking around, everyone seemed to mind their own business, it wasn’t the usual enjoyable loud bar they frequented. The walls were filled with classic artworks framed with rusting gold, red velvet covered every seat, music was oddly slower and a candle was lighted in the center of every table.
Almost every gentleman that surrounded them appeared older. Gray haired men, holding onto the waist of multiple young women appearing to be impressed, with fake smiles and laughter, caressing their chests, expecting reward out of their wallets, after all those were the only big things in their pants.
Dirty looks were rubbed in his direction, hatred and disgust. He quickly realized the uniform was the main attraction, instead of holding pride, it held shame. It did not take long for the atmosphere to become heavy and perhaps dangerous.
The guy that got them there with an excuse of a good night out, led them into a table already occupied by three men. The one who seemed to be the leader suddenly shutted his mouth when the first enforcer approached, the rest of them followed, clearly expecting them. Taking a zip of his drink he shamelessly looked up and down at each one. Still it wasn’t until they connected stares when his internal alarm set up.
Something was going on with the new guys at the headquarters, and he called upon himself to dig everything up. The past three months he noticed how some of the rookies were suddenly transferred to four different bases across republic city’s borders. His commanders were never given information, just an upper order. Everyone sensed the change in the transparency within the forces, then again no one had an explanation.
Bumi was often categorized as reckless and tempestuous, he called himself passionate. Which had always led him to the poorest situations, however, not once has Bumi flamed out.
“Zano, bring another round of the usual for my new friends here.” The waiter counted rapidly how many were seated, almost running back to the counter, hitting his thigh against a chair abandoned in the way. All three men were wearing suits, he scanned them, finding similar rings on their fingers. If he ever learned something in the build-up was to gather information, no matter the circumstances, no detail was ever a waste.
The melody in the background was old, the establishment itself appeared to have some years going, the clandestine arrangements were so easy to spot, the people trying to discreetly tell the working staff to walk them to different rooms, surly filled with gambling tables scattered of dirty money.
He tried to supervise the drink making from the distance, nothing seemed reliable. The kid with the hurting thigh spilled whiskey on the bar, trying desperately to clean it up, without really succeeding. He watched as the poor boy faced the challenge of putting seven glasses on a single tray. Nothing seemed out of place, except maybe the lad in his work environment.
“Sure they are trustworthy?” He stroked his beard, and placed his glass back on the table. “They are not going to be the ones to bear the brunt, if you fail.”
“They surely are, sir.” The guy was almost shaking, his voice was low and weak. Bumi had known him for half a month, and didn't actually get his name correctly if anyone were to ask.
“I suppose then you already know the kind of work we do.” The dram finally arrived, he was an enthusiast when it came to drinking, ironically his tolerance was almost null. He usually felt comfortable around the people he drank with, a rookie mistake of him to accept a night out with cadets on probation. That night was anything but the usual.
“Not much, actually.” He figured the best he could do was to keep his attitude and pretend. As if they could smell his fear, Bumi breathed to keep his heart rate low.
“Is that so?” The man looked back to the feeble guy, who squinted again. “Take a drink then, I'll do this moron’s work.”
Bumi took the whiskey, never in his life had he drank it, it couldn’t be that bad.
After the first three glasses, he felt his tongue numb. Not even under potential danger he could keep himself controlled. He found out the name of the daunt man was Kotaro, a fire bender, and just as he imagined, part of a triad. They had been dragged here to recruitment.
Bumi wasn’t drunk, just tipsy.
Kotaro let them go after speaking a lot but saying much less. He gave them a location, and a date, offering them power and a promise of ascendancy, conventionally leaving out how. Bumi knew that the club had other stories to tell, so he started walking around, just when the needs were bigger.
Bumi still maintained his balance, walking into the halls, unsure of the location of the restroom. He still felt the glances over him, for the first time since he enlisted, he didn’t felt pleased about fitting in the crimson uniform, afraid of giving it a shame it did not deserved.
He kept looking in his pockets for a pack of cheap cigarettes he bought a few hours prior at a convenience store near the cadet’s quarters, even the box looked of low quality. Bumi refused to spend a lot of money in a hurtful vice, anyhow, he couldn’t bear a week without the burning sensation down his throat.
The club was bigger than what he noticed at first, and to be honest he didn’t pay much attention to the way they took initially. At some point on his hunt he ended up in a bar room. As a last resort he reached the counter wanting to ask where to go.
“Hey, excuse me, where is the bathroom?” The man behind the bar looked him up and down, he started to think they would judge him less if he was naked.
“End of the hallway, left.”
One of the chairs in the bar had a jacked in the backrest, just his size, black and plain. Too good not to take it.
The men’s room was exclusively lit by a little lamp attached on top of the three mirrors, making the wooden walls seem darker. So much that when he was changing his clothes, the cheap cigarettes almost fell into the toilet. Standing face to face with his reflection, Bumi poured water into his hands, making it easier to pass them through his tangled hair. Then a little more on his face to keep him concentrated.
His plan was to eavesdrop a little more, trying to find a goal, then report everything to the committee in the forces. Quick and simple.
“Do you have light?” The voice interrupted his steps. With just a glance the alcohol in his veins stopped dancing.
“Lin what the he..”
“Do you have light or not?” She cut him off. He took out his lighter, a gift from his sister, and lightened up the cigar on her hand. He didn’t even knew she smoked too, but having a fire starter and a pack of tobacco on him, Bumi could not judge. After the long take on the burning tube she turned to the barman, who apparently knew her, and let out a slow sight with smoke.
“Saikanh, I need to take some air with my friend here.” The bartender opened the counter for them to walk back to the kitchen, no objection.
Lin Beifong was the last person he expected to encounter. She was wearing a long green dress that matched her eyes and heels that made her at least four inches taller. As usual she was frowning. Contrary to what many people thought, the kids of the former team Avatar were not friends with each other. Sure they played with each other as children, all summer up until they were twelve. Not an actual conversation had happened between them in the last ten years. Trust for sure existed, a sense of familiarity, even confidence. With all of that, if Bumi was in a live or die situation he would think of fifteen more people before Lin Beifong.
The kitchen was almost empty, with a few unbothered people who didn’t care for their presence. There wasn't a single dish on the making, Bumi was drunk enough to ignore the obvious fake kitchen. Lin kept walking, him behind her without question. The music stopped the moment they changed rooms, only leaving the dry sound of the stilettos against the tiles. At the corner they faced a closed metal door which lock Lin easily bent open.
It led to a crowdless alley, dark and fetid.
“You need to go.” Lin was quick and direct, hitting the back of the cigarette letting the ash fly down to the wet ground, once again leaving out the smoke in her system. “You have been spotted.”
“Spotted?” His vision blurred with the tobacco fog in his eyes.
“Listed as one of the new recruits” If Bumi was completely conscient, or even as smart as people expect him to be, he would have been gone on the spot, he wouldn’t have even entered the clearly illegal establishment in the first place. “I don't know what shit you are getting yourself into, Bumi, but I'm giving you a chance to save yourself this one time.”
“Are you investigating this?” Whilst, in essence, he was drunk, the idea of lying to himself and bleaming the alcohol sounded much more attractive. Because if curiosity killed the cat, he had eight other lives to spare. “I can help.”
“No.” Lin was clear, and harsh.
“I know something shady is going on here, and is involving my people, I don't care if the police wants to keep it a secret, I already got my ass into it.”
“You also got your ass tagged.” The extent of the police involvement was unknown, he always knew the police business was not to mix with the forces business, an unspoken rule that had been silently followed.
“But if I succeed it won't matter.”
“Succeed how? This isn’t a competition.” Some drunk guys walked past them, Lin breathed and spoke down. “I am pleading you to get out before this makes the headlines for what I hope is a misunderstanding.”
The door crashed open, making Lin drop her cigar. “Someone has just been killed.”