(OOC: Yeah, Hangestsu, moving it here is the right call so I went ahead.)

Sidewalk: Southside, almost Southeast

Overhead the soft light flickered, sputtered, and struggled to assert itself among the dim streetlamps lining the streets. It won out, adding a fuzzy warm glow to Iluak as Mei tried to look at him. Carrying him put them in close proximity, closer than Mei could recall them ever being, and the professional healer part of her mind was throwing her hands up in frustration in the face of it. It had been a drunken way of…trying to help her. She hadn’t needed it, but the idea he thought of it all…

“You…” she started. “I…” words were flitting about her mind, darting out of the way to achieve the greatest amount of frustration. “Well…thank you…for the thought.” She cleared her throat and then tried to guide the drunken healer around an overturned trash can. “The poor man was just drunk and upset. We would have worked it out in a moment. You’d be amazed how often you can work through things just by a few words and a smile. It does tend to result in less…punching.”

They rounded a corner and a satomobile rumbled past them expelling dark smoke in a trail as went. Iluak wanted to be in the southeast, which would put them near the clinic. Mei looked up at the buildings and street signs, her eyebrows knitting in concentration. “Um…still another block over,” she replied. “We can walk faster if you--is your hand alright?”

It was a bit tricky to scratch your hand when one of them was draped across someone’s shoulders. To his credit Iluak was attempting the action in the most nonchalant way possible, but it was hard to ignore the arm reaching across and in front of her. He was reaching for his tattoo, which Mei had never asked and Iluak had never spoken about. It was a Water Tribe symbol from the ice dodging rite of passage, she knew that much. Most people didn’t permanently put it into their own skin, happy to carry just the title with them in their life. That’s what their father had told them, anyway. Mei wondered if perhaps Iluak had gotten the tattoo with bad ink that was…giving him an allergic reaction? Possible combination with alcohol in the system? That and the coffee together? Was that kind of reaction even possible?

A figure lurched out of the miasma of sickly yellow in front of them, its details lost in the diffused light. The dark circles under the healer’s eyes looked worse and his expression took on the look of someone who had downed an entire warm pitcher of ale after eating greasy noodles for an hour.

“Do you need to stop for a moment?” With her free hand Mei motioned to her belt where her waterskin hanged where it always did. “I have water if you need it.”

((I messed up and forgot to mention adding another tattoo to Iluak. Don't worry, it actually has story significance.))




Listening to Mei verbalize her frustration with the drunken healer almost sent him into a fit of laughter. She had lasted longer than anyone else in the city before seeing his obnoxious side.

When he got agitated enough to scratch at the symbol for yuans inked onto his right wrist he was nervous enough not to notice he was practically embracing Mei-Zhen.

He panicked before realizing that his itching was, at most, just a little weird...just as long as she didn't probe into it's origins. Most assumed that he got it while drunk but it happenend before the bender had even had his first taste of alcohol.
"It's the symbol for yuans. It itches every time I think of...someone. It reminds me not to chase money." It was actually true. Every time he looked at his right wrist the healer wanted to start a yuan bonfire in front of his clinic.

It was a good night for paranoia. Dark. Foggy. Flickering lights. Itching tattoo. The damn thing only itched for two reasons. Either he was feeling content and needed a reminder of his misery or "that man" was near. When he saw a sillhouette in the fog Iluak panicked. When he heard the man singing a far too familar jazz song he almost willed himself into a coma.
"...come to do anything, sell your body and soul. Make you kill a man...it'll ruin your soul. Come to silver come to gold..."

Iluak closed his eyes as if Koh himself were walking toward him and opened them only to see a tone-deaf man happily walking down the street singing a song about the corrupting power of money. The alcohol might as well have been frightened out of him.
"Sorry...sorry...that song...b-bad memories attached to it."

Iluak slid down the nearest wall and stared into the street. When Mei asked if he wanted to stop he nodded silently. When she asked if he wanted water he stretched out a shaking hand. He didn't want to speak. Not right then. Now Mei had seen another side to Iluak Chu. Emotional wreck.

He could take "that man" and "that song" but in conjuction they were devastating. He then discovered that all it took was a combination of that song and the mere thought of that man to cripple him.
After a few mintues of silence Iluak finally spoke.
"Miss Yao...Mei-Zhen, will you please not ask what that was about. I'll answer any question you want but not that."

(OOC: Oh! Sorry about that. I didn't realize.)

Sidewalk: Southside, almost Southeast

Being an enthusiastic fan of jazz, Mei was familiar with the song that wavered through the night, however out of tune it was being performed. It was the kind of tune she would think Iluak would like just based on its lyrics. Instead he stood rigid, eyes closed, with the look of a man that expected the death blow to come any second.

The out-of-tune singer, a rotund man with a pink face, shuffled past the two of them, grinning as he sang. Mei smiled and nodded to him. “Evening, sir.”

He nodded back and continued with his song. In a few moments he was swallowed by the yellow smog in the opposite direction. The Saloon was out of sight now and for a brief moment Mei wondered if Ling was alright. She was. That was Ling. Knowing her, she was probably having a sea-lion turtle of a time and those poor men wouldn’t know what happened.

Iluak pulled away from her and staggered over to the nearest building, sinking down to the sidewalk and nodding to her offer to stop. Mei unhooked her waterskin and held it out as she kneeled next to him. Her wide blue eyes watched him with concern. How often must he have heard the song and how bad must those times have been to create such a visceral reaction. Mei had never seen anyone look so…haunted.

They sat in silence for several minutes, as silent as the city could ever be at any rate. A satomobile popped and groaned in the street, and somewhere off in the distance there was a shout of indiscernible emotion. Attempting to heal the results of the punch from the Saloon crossed her mind, but the doctor looked in no mood to let anyone near him even for positive purposes. Her heart thudded. Iluak gave so much of himself to everyone it was a wonder there was anything left of him. He gave so much he would take a punch because Mei had looked uncomfortable. Not everyone cared, but he did and he didn’t deserve to look so sick.

“Alright,” she said when he stated he didn’t want to speak of any of it, “but if you ever…well…if you need help for anything or want to talk about it, I’ll be here. Not--not here on this sidewalk, specifically. I mean in the other way.” Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away, down the street towards their destination. “When you’re ready we’ll go and get you set right. I’m sure you could use a nice tea, something to calm the stomach. You look…erm…nauseous.”

As she ran forward, she couldn't help but smile. The lessons her tutors had imparted on her hadn't been for naught; she was able to see the boy lighting something with his gauntlet.

Fireworks.

So she had been right. The question she'd asked her gang hadn't been random; she was getting their opinion on the kind of fighting style she'd be up against. They'd fought most every kind of bender (except for Airbenders; there didn't seem to be many of those in Republic City, save the Avatar) and plenty of non-benders, and she'd managed to achieve victory over her opponents by adapting her fighting style to be effective over theirs.

The flash and smoke were impressive, and as soon as she landed, she pushed off with her legs and did a backflip, landing on her feet again. She couldn't see through the smoke billowing in front of her, but then the boy made his biggest mistake: he gave himself away. Like the animal that she borrowed her namesake from, she stepped toward the wall and, putting a hand on it, she ran foward like a shadow, hugging the wall. In the series of pops, whistles, and flashes, she barely caught a glimpse of an outline in the smoke; even if she hadn't seen the boy's figure, she would have used an estimation based on where the fireworks that were currently going off were.

As soon as she dashed forward, her steps drowned out by the fireworks the boy had set off, she found him in the smoke. Smiling, her hands flew forward, precisely positioned, and reached out to strike five points along his right side: three up his side, one on his bicep, and one on his shoulder blade. If the hits did what they were supposed to do, he wouldn't be able to use that arm for at least an hour.

"Tea..." Iluak said as if it were a word from a language he could not possible understand given centuries of study.
"Yes. Tea sound wonderful." It was only a half truth. Tea with Mei sounded wonderful.

He tried to smile but only managed a weak, pathetic counterfeit no reasonable person could mistake for an indication of happiness.
"Now you know why I'm not such a music afficionado. Luckily, it doesn't come up that often." He reached his hand up to his assistant. It was more for reassuring human contact than actual physical support.

Once up and next to Mei he began to feel better. The shock of that song and thinking of the man who made it so horrible faded with the feel of soft hands and kind eyes.
"You are an exceedingly kind woman, Mei-Zhen Yao."
It took a great deal of will for Iluak to let go of Mei's hand after he took it but he managed.

He looked down at his feet as he walked and couldn't speak. It took him until they reached the same block as the clinic until he found his voice again.
He was no human map but if he could see his clinic and the apothecary it was next to they were in the southeast side of the city and therefore no longer a prospective target of thugs. Thugs he was unfamiliar with in any case.

"Would you please give me a few moments? I garauntee nothing will happen to you." It was true. Mugen Yuan, the owner of Iluak's clinic had assured him that for the sake of business he was brokering a deal to safeguard the clinic. While he did despise the man Iluak knew to trust him when it came to business.

Once inside Iluak changed into a clean kimono of a simple dark blue hosting no patterns and combed his hair. A few drops of rose oil, which he used as an astringent, were placed behind his ears. After coming his long brown hair and parting it down the middle he hoped that he looked and smelled less like he felt.

"Did you have a certain place in mind for tea? He pulled at the strap of the large water skin slung across his back he had taken from the clinic. It was usually something he didn't take on his self-destructive jaunts but this was no longer one of those.

Onigumo had fought chi blockers before. He didn't consider them much of a threat. When Bao Yu dodged his first attack he didn't panic. When she blocked his second, he felt a tiny amount of concern. When he felt a single blow to his hamstring and sudden debilitating cramp he fell over onto his side he decided to rethink his readiness concerning chi blockers.

Arcs of panic ice jutted from the ground. In a blind grab for self-assurance Onigumo looked over to Chook who he more than trusted to take out a half naked woman. He was ensnared by a bolo and without the use of one of his arms. He'd seen Chook once kill a man during a single axle jump he wasn't the type of man to be ensnared like a hunted beast. Then again, he didn't think himself the type to be felled by a single kick.

The normally taciturn bender grimaced and let out a frustrated scream as he straightened out his leg. It hurt like crazy but he could put a little weight on it. He already felt like he was running out of steam. Most fights didn't last past two attacks and for Onigumo a counter-attack was such a rare thing as to be nearly non-existent.

The calm eye of the Red Monsoons kept his outward calm but inside was ready to eviscerate the chi blocking bitch with his teeth and then her own teeth after knocking them out.
He reverted his giant ice wall back to water. The liquid rose again, this time as a wall of scythes ready to reap.
"Messing with the Red Monsoons...that simply isn't done."

He swung his arms in small, fast arcs which caused his curved water blades to do the same. The siege of liquid blades stretched to nearly ten feet and rushed toward Bao Yu like a tidal wave up murder by dismemberment.


Tsubaki's mother was fond of projectile weapons. Overly fond, her father would say. It was that fondness that meant months of dodging wooden practice knives if she was to earn a Miss Pretty doll. If she had asked for a weapon there would have been no issue and therefore no ludicrous test of skill but she was an eight-year-old girl at the time and would no be swayed.
That same Miss Prety doll sits on a shelf in her room as a testament to Tsubaki Ito's ability concerning dodging projectiles. Gentle sways and a few sharp turns that put her side to her enemy took care of them.

The chi blocking that Tsubaki employed, on the other hand, was not the forgone conclusion her dodging was. The bald-headed man in sunglasses, Chook was far too close. The kind of close that should have been preceeded by some flowers and dinner if she was to keep her reputation.
She didn't have room to throw any kunai. No time to swing her kodachi. She'd used her one gas cannister and her other weapons seemed equally useless. For a woman with so many weapons she felt poorly armed at that moment.

Memories of gagging and coughing on the floor of an Equalist training room came to mind. There were several instructors of chi blocking but the only one willing to spend extra time with motormouth new recruit to bring her up to speed was a tiny man with a tiny pencil-thin moustache.
"Here. If you can't find a chi point do this."

Tsubaki lashed out her left hand at Chook's forehead. As comically pointless as it looked it gave the mediocre chi blocker what she needed. An exposed throat.
She curled her fingers just short of a fist in order to fit into such a narrow gap between Chook's chin and chest. There was some tension as Tsubaki struck for the man's throat. She worried if she would hit him right. If she'd hit him hard enough. If he could someone create a throat shield with his spit.
Come on, you can do this. You're a good fighter even without a weapon. When this is over you're getting a shiny new decapitating chain thingy, you just have to take this jerk down.

Tsubaki took years to untrain her instinct to shy away from blades in order to ingrain new ones that told you to go toward them. Smothered attacks did little good. If you can contain your enemy's sword while still in it's sheath you have created a perfect victory.
This would not be a perfect victory but by gravitating toward Chook's weapon it would have less impact.

The lessened impact still hurt, Tsubaki found out. What should have cut her stomach opened merely scratched one of the beasts tatooed on her back. Judging from where the blade was sticking out it was the giant unagi who took some damage. The other three beasts gracing the entirety of Tsubaki's back were left unharmed.

Given the shocked look on Chook's face that he was not elbow deep in her entrails Tsubaki found it simple to rid the unworthy man of his wonderful weapon. A knee to his solar plexus and then a boot to his groin put the weapon's former master on the ground. Before the pain could fade he heard all too familiar click and felt the cold steel embrace of a blade around the whole of his neck.

"You could have cut my head off two different times with this." She pulled at the chain. "It's best for trapping and then quick dismemberment. Talk about pearls before swine." She playfully pulled at the chain that with a swift jerk could make Chook one head shorter.

Not going out for tea made Iluak's body feel heavy. He had changed and even put on something to smell nice. It was his most un-Iluak action in quite some time. It further disheartened him that he would now have to play Mei's patient.
"Haven't you heard the saying: Doctors make the worst patients. It's true. I hope you know what you're getting into."

Heaving a sigh and looking to the ceiling Iluak tried to think like someone on the other side of his services. First: A brusque order to change into a gown.
When he was down to his boxer shorts Iluak saw that the first order could not be obeyed. All of the gowns were being washed. Instead he sat nearly naked on the padded table where he looked at his patients.

Waiting was horrible when it involved being exposed and pending bad news. It made him worry. Not about his health. His nose had been slightly broken, he'd hit his head on the floor after being punched and he fell on a bottle not too long ago during his lapse into near catatonia due to that one damn song and the thought of Mugen Yuan.

It was embarassing. A sweet woman he couldn't help but like was going to be exposed to the horrors of his body. The alcohol abuse. The lost fights. The falls. The effects of pharmacutical remedies that didn't quite make it to his patients. At that moment he wished he could cover himself in complete darkness and never offend another human eye ever again.

Reactions such as Mei dropping the tea pot to Mei scalding her eyes with the tea to get rid of the image of Iluak's form came to mind. He nervously knocked aside his kimono and bent over to pick it up and froze in that awkward position when he heard the rattling of a tea pot and cups. He prayed that it came from the other room and he wasn't bending over in his underwear in front of the sweetest woman he'd ever met.

Afraid of One's Own Shadow

(OOC: Hey! Sorry! Did you mean left side or right? He has the dragon-gauntlet on his left! Sorry if there was a misunderstanding. I can change my post to fit whichever one it was!)

Like darts, her digits jabbed Jun’s side. The swift needles of chi-blocking punctured his energy and he realized immediately, what he was up against. Taut for a moment before dropping limp, his right arm dangled lifelessly as the smoke cleared. The annoying technique rustled him. The way his hand’s fingers lay naturally bent, the way his limb felt like an actual weight dragging him down- extreme thoughts of amputating his helpless arm became more vivid. As frustrating as it was, he protected himself from breaking his peace, breathing in and out. An entertained smile nestled against the curve of his cheek, a hint of cockiness found in its upwards slant.

“You’re one of those, huh?” He spat on the ground, “Lame.”

Careful to snap his one-working arm back after swinging it, Jun expelled fire from his gauntlet. This time, a steady flow of flame coursed through its mouth. Sweat shook from his wet bicep as he withdrew his limb. Under the mask of the flame, he dropped to the ground, one leg bent as he swung the other in an attempt to sweep her. He felt the way his idiotic, meaty arm moved according to inertia, slamming against his body in its helpless dance. A burden, he thought, not only of his arm, but of his frank cluelessness. How could he have not seen the signs that this district was territorially bound by whatever gang this was? Remembering the past beatings and the past narrow escapes of his “independent” lifestyle, he pushed himself up with his free arm after the attempted kick, determined to keep his distance in case she evaded it. Jumping back and with renewed confidence, Jun kept his ground.

((OOC: I meant to have her disable his gauntlet arm, but I can deal. LOL.))

You're one of those, huh? Lame.

From her point of view, the fact that she'd managed to disable one of his arms in five seconds didn't seem pretty lame, unlike his arm. (OOC: Insert rimshot here) Upon completing her chi blocking, she leapt over him and landed on her feet, only in time to see fire shooting from the dragon's mouth. Narrowing her eyes, the Black Fox pushed off with her legs, sending her into another backflip; for some reason, she didn't flip forward, and it was a good thing she hadn't. The boy had tried to sweep her legs out from under her, she noticed out of the corner of his eye.

This was getting ridiculous. Yes, the boy was a good fighter, but this needed to end. Now, one might expect the leader of the Shadowhand to be honorable, but one would be mistaken. She didn't have a gang for nothing, and she was going to use every tool at her disposal to take the boy down.

As she let out a sharp whistle, one of the men blocking the alley's entrance and exit took a step forward. He drew back his coat, revealing several flasks strapped to his person; with a fluid motion, he raised his hands and sent the contents, water, spilling onto the ground in front of him. Another motion with his hands sent the liquid flying upward in the form of a mist, As if cooling soup, he blew toward the mist and turned it into a fog.

Such is the advantage of a Waterbender.

Smiling in the fog, Kayako took a few steps to the side and placed her right hand on the wall; the left reached to her belt and produced her signature weapon: throwing knives as sharp as her tongue. A flick of her wrist arranged them to her satisfaction, and another sent the knives flying out in all directions in front of her. They flew silently through the air, and one of them was bound to hit the boy, right?

(OOC: LOL, sorry! )

Jun’s feet scraped a crescent in the ground. Fruitless, he thought. The Black Fox was too agile and he was too bulky. As he propped himself up again, he dashed forwards, his gauntlet out. However, he stopped as soon as she whistled, the high-pitched shriek stopping him in his tracks. Alarmed, he saw one of the henchmen reveal the flasks. A disgusted, defeated pallor drained his face. It was an absolute disaster of a mistake to have agreed to a so-called “one-on-one.” He realized his position: stuck between the walls of an alleyway and outnumbered. Snarling disapproval at her, the fog settled in. He felt the cold caress of the mist against his lumbering arm, bringing a nagging notice to his handicap once more.

“Hey, I thought this was gonna be a fair fight.” He said as she disappeared into the fog.

Then knives came flying out from the wisp. He snapped his gauntlet out, deflecting a knife as it clanged coldly against the hard exterior. However, he didn’t have time to react to the others as several dug into his skin and through the loose fabrics of his clothes. A sick warmth dribbled from his torso, the knives embedded in him like pins of a voodoo doll. And like a loose doll he fell to his knees. His mouth was slightly agape, the groan of pain having slipped out seconds before. Eyes wide, he looked down upon his bloodied body. His hands gravitated towards his bleeding muscles, shaking fingers taking a swath of blood with them.

Weakened by his wounds, Jun kept his gauntlet at the ready. His chest heaved hard as he panted, sweat trailing down his cheek. A certain vigor burned in his gaze. If he was gonna go down, he was gonna have a hell of a time doing it.