PFF2 Ch3 Scene97

Plight of the Freedom Fighters 2

Chapter 3, Scene 97


It had been a long, sweltering, stinky walk from the yawning harbor up to the capital city; Jet figured it must have been a three-hour trek, if not longer, due in no small part to the shuffling, congealed mass of delegates and nobles. The mass had cleared up the closer they had drawn to the capital city - traversing the winding path that curved up the side of the dormant volcano whose crater housed the Fire Nation's heart of power. And though he and Longshot had been standing that entire time, even though so many of his muscles yearned for a good half-hour sit break, what really made the pending conclusion to this long wait worthwhile was the fact that the stench of their 'peers' didn't hammer in from all sides.

Seriously. Jet knew it was hard to stay clean while traveling across any significant body of water, but did these people even try?

At the head of the line - just a few minutes away, thank the Spirits - a cluster of old men, bowing, murmuring to their guests, serene, respectful...and amongst them, almost obscured by the people in front of the two Freedom Fighters, stood Aang, nodding, bowing, fixing people with a polite gaze as only he could in a situation this steeped in political sludge.

Jet had to admire him for patience that unending tide of delegates, but he certainly didn't envy him. He must have been standing there all day, meeting the conference-goers, doing the Avatar thing, and if he was tired or cranky, he didn't show it. Now that was something Jet envied, being able to play so close to the chest after dealing with this sort of thing.

Then again, he probably had a lot of practice. He was the Avatar, after all.

"I guess we should do this like proper diplomats, representing our province and all that." Jet popped his neck again (he'd been doing that with increasing frequency the longer he and Longshot had to wait, because the cramps wouldn't stop building up). "I'm sure Aang will appreciate it, at least."

Yeah, probably for the better. Longshot sighed and adjusted his hat. What he wouldn't give for a little Airbender merriment right now, though...he could use the morale boost.

At last - at last! - the people ahead of them were sent off, venturing out into the maze of mansions meant for people far richer than the Freedom Fighters, and soon enough Jet and Longshot would be there too. Even though Jet didn't really care to spend the next month in a place so...cushy, it'd be nice to sit down after all this standing -

"Jet!"

Aang leapt forward - up, away from the collective of geriatrics wearing mostly red (but a few green and blue mixed in), landing in a crouch before the two Freedom Fighters, his monk robes billowing out around him. He straightened up, beaming, and said, "Great to see you!"

Jet jerked back in response - then felt his muscles relaxing, his cheeks tingling as a cool grin curled up on his lips. "Aang."

"How was the trip?"

"Long, but not entirely boring." Jet crooked his head. "We Freedom Fighters have ways of entertaining ourselves."

Aang gave a nervous chuckle and glanced over to Longshot. "Hopefully it wasn't too much of a mess to clean up."

No, they were pretty fortunate. Longshot sighed and shrugged, but Jet could still see that phantom grin flitting across his face. Jet required more attention than a curious toddler.

"Hey!"

Aang laughed, clapped Longshot on the shoulder. "But seriously, I'm glad to see you guys. I've been doing nothing but greeting people since I woke up, and..." A grimace crossed the Airbender's face as he leaned in close to the two Freedom Fighters, finishing his thought in a whisper. "It's soooo boring. My company isn't exactly the most energetic group around."

Jet hiked an eyebrow, looking over the Avatar's head, towards the assembled diplomats; as if on cue, one of them heaved a dry, rattling cough, and the Freedom Fighter swore a cloud of dust spewed outward. "I see what you mean."

"Unfortunately, being the Avatar is a busy job." Aang chuckled again, and that desperation to be freed from his duty flitted away and vanished behind that childlike grin of his, the sparkle in his gray eyes. "One of these days, you may just have to kidnap me."

Jet crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "I want to put the Freedom Fighters on the map, but not quite like that."

Aang beamed and led Jet and Longshot over to the waiting diplomats. "You'll be sharing a mansion with a few other delegates near the palace. Once I've finished business here, I'll be heading up to see Zu - the Fire Lord, Ambassador Iroh, and Sokka. I'll send for you when we're ready; the information you have takes a pretty hefty priority. I don't think it's the kind of thing we can just ignore."

"Having the Avatar's backing gives it most of that weight," Jet admitted. And...okay, yeah, here came the professional part of the wait. He balled one hand up into a fist and clamped the other around it in front of his chest, and saw Longshot mimic him to his left; he bowed to Aang and the heart-attacks-waiting-to-happen perched behind him, and even though he was being sincere to at least one of the assembled lot, he felt a smirk crawling out across his face.

- - -

Well, Longshot figured...it wasn't too bad here. Very red, though.

When they first arrived, he had crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the quarters he and Jet would be occupying in during the conference: the walls had been painted a deep crimson, and two four-poster beds with covers matching the color of the walls hunkered against one side of the room with a brown, gold-trimmed, ornate night stand dividing them. A couple chairs leaned up against the opposite side of the room (again, very fancy, with cushioned seats backs and everything), separated by an armoire that looked heavy enough to give a skunk-bear a concussion - Pipsqueak may even have had trouble hefting it up. One wall had a pair of windows lodged into it, overlooking a courtyard situated behind the building, beneath one of which lounged a far-bigger-than-necessary oakwood desk...Longshot had speculated he'd only ever use it to write his letters, and figured the noble whom the Fire Nation had evicted for the two Freedom Fighters to be here either used it for some serious paperwork (unlikely), or just had it to impress visitors (he was more inclined to believe this). This was a guest room after all, lending itself more to the latter.

Then there was the matter of the banners hung up in the room - one crimson and black, bearing the Fire Nation's insignia, the other green and brown with the Earth Kingdom's, both hanging side-by-side. Longshot remembered Jet snorting when he saw them, and knew him well enough to hear what had gone unsaid. So perhaps it had been better on his leader's mental stability that Longshot had taken the Fire Nation banner down, folded it up, and stuffed it into a corner of the room where it would spend the rest of their stay unseen. It was a little awkward (Spirits knew how many faux paz were involved with messing around with the possessions of the people hosting you), but Longshot figured as long as he remembered to hang it back up before they left, they'd be in the clear.

Sitting at that grandiose desk now, taking advantage of the elegant calligraphy set their host had provided, Longshot peeked out into the courtyard below. Jet was down there, practicing with his swords, swinging them around in tight, quicksilver arcs, attacking nothing but the air. From here, a few stories up, Longshot spotted the sweat beading on his leader and friend's brow, how his face twitched with every swing, yielding a split-second snarl before vanishing again. He swung a foot around, heel out (that killer roundhouse kick that had seen the end to the 'fist fight' on the boat), and - at one end of the courtyard, Longshot spotted a trio of young women in the midst of adolescence huddling together, giggling amongst each other, blushing - swooning for the man with the rat tail and the swords.

Jet had that affect on girls.

It was good that he was occupied, though - it kept his mind off where they were and why they were here, and it allowed Longshot enough time to write to his wife. Turning his attention to the rucksack beside the desk, Longshot dug around for a rolled up piece of parchment and unfurled it, weighing it down with two stone weights that he'd found in one of the drawers. (He knew it was impolite to snoop, but he didn't have anything else that would have done the trick, and he'd attempt to assuage the pending guilt by claiming his necessity had outweighed the fact that he'd snooped in the first place.)  He'd been meaning to write a letter to Bee for a while - but it was best that he'd waited, because if he'd sent one off while on the ferry, he wouldn't have had much to say other than, "Um, well, nothing much happened, but Jet got into a fist fight."

No, the past day alone had been more than eventful enough to fill the letter up.

Where to start, though? Longshot reached for the quill, coming to a stop halfway, furrowing his brow. He had a feeling that he should omit the story of Jet's antics on the boat - it was the sort of thing that would be best told in person, if for no other reason than to see Jet squirm a little bit. Other than that...okay, yeah, that would work. He plucked the quill from the inkwell and began scratching out the letter.

- - -

"Dear Smellerbee,

"We've arrived.

"As expected, there was a lot of protocol and nonsense (I prefer your word, "schmoozing") going on from the second we docked in the harbor.  Obviously, the Fire Nation wanted to put on a show to the rest of the world.

"The Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes are well-represented, and the most important people are being put up at the main palace.  We lesser mortals have rooms in what I suspect are seldom used wings of the palace that have only recently been rebuilt, or requisitioned homes of nobles.  Either way, the less I have to deal with the more arrogant delegates, the better.")

"You'd be proud of Jet – when our delegation was presented to the Avatar and his precession, Aang of course immediately jumped out to greet him (scandalizing some of the diplomatic fogies). We have yet to meet the Fire Lord in person, but I intend to keep Jet in line; I only hope he doesn't give into the urge to address the Fire Lord as "Li."

"(I think Jet's more pleased about being right after all, that the scar-face and his uncle were, in fact, fire benders.)"

Longshot paused, considered the passage and sighed, remembering the day Sneers' people had dug up that particular bit of information - Jet had been intolerable for weeks.

"The actual conference begins two days from now.  We're expected to attend a welcoming banquet tomorrow starting at noon (I was afraid they were going to say dawn!), which I suppose is meant to give us time to settle in and…

Before Longshot could finish his sentence, he heard the door slide open behind him - he whirled around, saw a few stray splotches of ink drip onto the parchment (now Smellerbee would really make fun of him for being so messy without the rocking ship as an excuse).

Jet stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a serious gaze set on his face, his twig arcing down with the light frown on his lips.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but Aang just summoned us to the palace."

Ah - well. Longshot stole a glance at his unfinished letter. He supposed he could put a letter to his wife off for an audience with the Avatar and the Fire Lord. Sheathing the quill in the ink well, Longshot pushed to his feet and headed to the door, reaching down and scooping up his rucksack without breaking stride. The pertinent information Sneers had copied down for them was inside, and Longshot figured it was better to come with everything in hand - that way if they actually needed it, there wouldn't be any break in the flow. He slung the rucksack over his shoulders and fell into stride with Jet, sliding the door to their room shut behind them.

As they walked through the halls of the mansion, past a handful of other delegates idling in the hallway, Longshot lowered his gaze, keeping it on the mahogany floor.

Was Jet ready for this?

"Ready for what?" Jet asked, looping one thumb into a pocket. "To present our case? I think I'll be able to manage with Aang at our backs."

No...he meant about confronting the Fire Lord.

To Jet's credit, the man didn't miss a beat, though the put-on was still pretty transparent. "I dunno what you're talking about. This is for the good of the world. I'm willing to put aside my differences for that."

Longshot felt a sly grin inching across his face. Jet was full of ostrich horse crap and he knew it.

"You're the one who brought it up." Jet planted one hand on his chest and glanced upward, pushing a faux snootiness that he must have learned from watching Smellerbee do the same. "I'm but a humble servant to the people."

Okay, okay, no need to ham it up. Longshot shook his head, felt his smirk sink, vanish. But seriously. He'd be able to handle this, right? He'd be able to act like a professional?

"Yes. I swear to the Spirits and to that beautiful number I met in Bi Nan that I'll be the perfect diplomat." Jet quirked his head to one side and fixed Longshot with a grin that didn't entirely set the archer at ease...but it was better than nothing, he figured.