The Ice Butcher

A Short Story
By
Mike Senter

Based on events and places from Avatar: The Last Airbender

PART 1

Tynan glanced with cold eyes at the half-melted icicle protruding from the bloody corpse of the Fire Nation soldier lying near him.
“Serves you right, scum,” he sneered at his lifeless companion and motioned to the four other mangled bodies, “serves them right, too. You just don’t screw with pissed off people like me; it’s not polite, not polite at all.”
With a halfhearted wave of his hand, the icicle melted to liquid and floated carefully through the air into a large water canteen at Tynan’s side.
“Waste not,” he sighed, standing up to leave.
Kicking aside the hardly recognizable body of a middle-aged woman and collecting a few scattered coins from the leaf-covered ground, Tynan began walking along the small path that a terrible slaughter had occurred on only a short time ago. The slaughter of a noble family and their single, untrained bodyguard who were undoubtedly traveling to the annual Fire Days Festival for a short holiday.
This was a message. This was a message meant to affect all members of the corrupt Fire Nation. It was a simple message, yet difficult to accept.



“WHY HASN’T HE BEEN found YET!?”
Three pale Fire Nation soldiers cowered before the thunderous voice of the great General Yamamoto, “Please, Sir, the Butcher is virtually untraceable! He kills, and then just disappears!”
“Do not waste my time with information that I am ALREADY AWARE OF! Go to the villages! Interrogate everyone, and do not return here until you have discovered the Butcher!”
“Y-y-yes, S-sir!”
“Get out of my sight, you fools.”
Before the final soldier exited, Yamamoto stopped him, “Let it be clear that I want this criminal out of the way of my army, soldier. Your orders are to destroy him.”
“I understand, Sir”
“Leave,” growled the general, turning to the wall behind him.
Shaking his head in disgust at the scrambling sounds of the man escaping his office, Yamamoto looked up at a small poster board cluttered with short articles and tattered wanted posters. As he contemplated the sketches, his memory drifted back to when the murders began.
It had all started after the raid of an insignificant tribe of independent Waterbenders. Yamamoto had received the news that members of the Northern Water Tribe were branching off from the mother tribe, and forming renegade strike groups. Although the initial attacks were mere annoyances to the expanding Fire Nation, it was a problem that could easily be turned into a solution. The immobilization of these petty attackers would serve as a warning to any and all who dared defy the power of General Yamamoto and his great Fire Army. Half of Yamamoto’s feared and infamous division, “The Burning Legion,” was sent out with orders to annihilate one of the larger rebel entities. As was expected, the raid was a complete success. A complete success that is, until the triumphant return of the soldiers. At least, most of them, and far from triumphant they were.
Every soldier was individually debriefed and interrogated, and all the stories meshed together perfectly. The target was found and destroyed, or so they thought. Strange disappearances of flank marchers began happening, then more and more frequently. It was “angry sprits” or “ghosts” according to the men at first, and this was of course dismissed as a logical explanation. One soldier however, caught a glimpse of a man, garbed in the traditional blue cloak of a Waterbender. Other sightings were reported, of more than one man, sometimes even of three different Waterbenders at one time. Sketches were quickly drawn up and the dignified march back to the Fire Nation occupied zones became a nonstop charge. The survivors of the guerilla strikes were all dead-set on one single thing. The capture and execution of the phantom Waterbenders.
Yamamoto stiffened at the memory of the hunt for these phantoms, but relaxed instantly and even managed a tiny contemptuous grin upon remembering the gruesome executions. This hunting had taken a great amount of effort and had spanned over five years. The murderers became easier and easier to capture as soon as their killing pattern was recognized. Their primary targets seemed to be each and every soldier who had participated in the siege of the Waterbender strike group, with the occasional incident of the slaughter of an entire family. Finally however, after five years, all of the renegades with the exception of one had been captured and “taken care of.”
The general glared defiantly now at the image of that final wanted man, dubbed The Ice Butcher for his brutal utilization of ice techniques. The roughly drawn sketch contained the face of a younger man with shoulder-length, dark hair and cold, gray eyes that seemed to penetrate the observer’s skull even while in the form of a crude drawing. This was the face of a man unknown to Yamamoto, but not for long. A face that was familiar to only those who are presently rotting in tombs. The face of The Ice Butcher. The face of a determined man born with the name Tynan.

PART 2

Scanning the Fire Nation infected metropolis before him with his cold, piercing gaze, Tynan grunted, “Only one more to kill, and the bastard is in there of all places. Ha! Finally, a challenge presents itself.”
He dropped gracefully down from his perch in a large tree and adjusted the stolen Fire Army armor that he now donned. With a soft laugh Tynan started off towards the doomed city, toward the only remaining soldier of The Burning Legion.
The city was disgusting. Propaganda littered the alleys and store-fronts on every street. Fire Nation guards casually socialized with townspeople, in an attempt to create the allusion of friendliness which was offset by the gleaming weapons they were armed with. In virtually every nook and cranny, beggars fought over the tiniest scrap of sustenance, and went unnoticed by the so-called law enforcement.
Adopting a nonchalant facial expression, Tynan searched for the home of Staff Sgt. Hiro Todai and his loving wife and loyal son. It would be a large estate, in the center of the city, and most likely guarded by skilled warriors.
“There you are,” Tynan smiled to himself, as the castle came into view, “a bit extravagant, aren’t we?”
The structure rose high above the surrounding rooftops, it’s rich, wooden exterior glowing in the setting sun. In its entirety, the ma$$ive home stood at about ten stories. Guards armed with halberds patrolled the balconies that circled the tower, and a watchman was visible on the roof.
Checking to see that he was alone, Tynan shifted into a stance and pulled half of the water from his canteen and separated it into four mid-sized water balls. With a deep breath, he wound his arms then quickly thrust them outwards, causing the balls to elongate and freeze in the shape of sharp icicles. He then flicked his left wrist four times and with each flick an icicle erupted from its stationary position in the air and rocketed towards the oblivious guards. Tynan was rewarded with four faint screams followed the thud of the watchman hitting the ground, and he knew that his missiles had found their marks.
“Sleep well,” he hissed, and quietly took off running toward the castle, being sure to duck behind any possible cover.
Upon arriving at the huge double doors at the entrance, Tynan moved with the shadows into a slot next to the actual doorway. He swiftly drew water from the canteen and froze it into a crystal dagger which floated to his palm. Crouching in his hiding place and listening carefully, Tynan tensed as he detected footsteps. The approaching man was no doubt coming to investigate the noises caused by the previous icicle attack. Whatever the guard’s train of thought may have been, it was violently interrupted as he found his throat being ripped apart by a razor sharp ice dagger. Gurgling softly, the rapidly fading man looked upon the last face he would ever see and died, eyes wide with fear.
Tynan pulled the cadaver into his concealed corner and restored the dagger to his canteen. Vaulting over the body, he turned and struck the door. Using the momentum from his spin, he sprinted silently up the face of the door to grab onto the ledge formed by the doorway. He was now hanging directly above the large oaken doors, waiting patiently for them to be opened.
The doors did open, and an anxious soldier stepped slowly into the emerging moonlight, leaving his back unguarded. Tynan seized the opportunity and when he dropped behind the doomed man, his right arm twisted like a creeping vine around the victim’s head. He then yanked back forcibly, which instantly snapped the fragile spine.
Tossing the corpse aside, Tynan shut the large doors and ran softly to the lavish satin stairs while murmuring to himself, “upper floor, red door, by the bamboo. Should be easy enough to find.”
And it indeed it was easy. He encountered no resistance of any kind on the short journey to the Sgt.’s sleeping quarters.
“Time to finish this,” Tynan breathed triumphantly, and he slowly opened the red door like one opening the door to his destiny.

The great oak double doors burst open with a thunderous slam. Tynan rushed out, wet with blood. His facial expression was victorious, yet his eyes were wild and fearful.
“I should have known he’d have some kind of alarm! Damnit! Reinforcements will arrive any second!”
“Hey! You there, halt!”
Tynan glanced at a single soldier approaching him from a dark alley at a brisk pace. The man had his weapon drawn.
“Halt! By the order of General Yamamoto, you are under arrest,” he declared.
Tynan winced, and then a sudden idea came to him, “General Yamamoto. He’s the one who ordered the attack! This is just too good to pass up.”
He turned from the soldier as if to walk carelessly away, which of course sped the pursuer’s pace. The soldier was now charging with his sword raised high, prepared to swing down into Tynan’s supposedly unprotected back.
As he heard the whistling of the blade through the cold night air, Tynan spun downwards and clenched his fists like he was bending water. The fang of steel buzzed overhead, narrowly missing its target, and the soldier coughed, abruptly stopping his attack.
“Come now, what’s wrong,” Tynan asked mockingly, “Are you feeling alright?”
The soldier could only offer a weak gasp in reply.
“Right,” Tynan explained, “I suppose I should tell you what’s going on. See, about seventy percent of the human body is composed of water, and this presents some very tempting possibilities when I’m in battle. I could have easily caused your little heart to burst, frozen your throat shut, or immobilized your limbs and done what I wanted with you. You got off quite easy, because I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
His boyish grin hardened and he pulled the head of the unfortunate man close to his, hissing, “You’ve got a small ice cube in the veins of your neck which is slowly yet surely expanding. As soon as it hits your heart, you’ll die a very uncomfortable death. I need you, my insignificant plaything, to run home to Daddy Yamamoto and tell him the Ice Butcher would like to have a physical chat with him next to the river by the town gate.”
Tynan threw the man bodily from him and turned menacingly, “I would run faster if I were you.”
He smiled sadistically at the panicked scuffling and wheezing of the frightened man running away from him, but was disturbed by the noise of arriving reinforcements. Without even a backward glance, the Butcher ran off into the darkness, to wait patiently for his final enemy.

General Yamamoto watched moodily as the body of Tynan’s messenger smoldered and burned in the open field before him, “The Butcher will die for his impudence, and at my own hands. I will not make it a quick death either. The fiend will suffer.”
One of the general’s advisors tapped him lightly on the shoulder, “might I suggest a back-up plan, my general?”
“Continue,” Yamamoto growled.
“Sir, the results of our last census revealed that our population currently contains a member of the infamous Yu Yan archers. It would be beneficial to have him attend the battle, in the case of an upset by the underdog, if I may be bold enough to say.”
“You are suggesting that my defeat is a possibility in the impending fight,” Yamamoto responded loudly, “This is very upsetting to me. Perhaps if I add more flesh to the fire over there I will feel better.”
Sensing his endangerment, the advisor quickly explained, “I only mean to say if you are to become bored with the fight, all you would be required to do is signal the archer to end it.”
This fortunate reply calmed the general enough for him to command slowly, “bring this archer to my office immediately. We have critical matters to discuss.”

PART 3

Tynan looked with mild surprise at the small army the marched toward his position on the river bank just outside of the city, the hated general taking the lead.
“My my,” he complimented, “you’ve got yourself quite the entourage haven’t you, general?”
General Yamamoto halted his entire personal guard force and in an impressive display, they parted and formed a human arc, each end starting at the bank of the river to designate the arena. Tynan grinned broadly and jumped from his position in a treetop to land squarely in the center of the arc. Yamamoto shed his grand ceremonial battle robe to reveal a battle-scarred chest and thick, burly arms. He moved as though floating on air, the arc parting to admit his imposing presence.
Yamamoto dropped into a solid stance, with his left arm raised and right arm drawn back. Tynan followed suit by spreading his legs and leaning back confidently, being sure to keep his hands centered in front of him.
Casting a fleeting look at the trees that were concealing a strategically placed Yu Yan archer, Yamamoto took in a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and attacked.

The initial strike was so sudden it almost caught Tynan off guard, but he ducked, barely dodging two jets of raging flame. He immediately countered by waving water from the river over the general’s feet to encase them in hard ice. Swearing softly, the general slashed with burning fists at the ice binding his feet to the ground, allowing himself just enough time to roll away from a sharp missile of ice aimed at his head. He quickly thrust both arms into the air and sent a seven foot high wall of fire in Tynan’s direction, which was defeated by another wave, this one of water.
He’s weaker than I imagined, Tynan thought to himself, all I need to do is wait for the opportune moment.
Dodging a fiery blast, he saw it. The opportunity he wanted was right there! Yamamoto was obviously tiring himself and getting sloppy, but not sloppy enough.
Just wait a little longer. Make it count.
Yamamoto dropped low and fired three blasts in quick succession at his enemy’s legs, followed by two more at chest height, spinning clumsily to avoid a ball of ice. He swung his leg diagonally up from the ground to kick away a second ball and immediately responded by sweeping his other leg along the dirt, which sent a low fire wave creeping towards Tynan.
Tynan jumped the burning ground and rolled on his landing, covering his maneuver by sending a barrage of ice shards in all directions. A maniacal grin slid along his lips as he heard the agonized screams of Fire Nation soldiers behind him struck down by the razor sharp slivers. To his disappointment, the shards had been swallowed by Yamamoto’s defense.
So he’s still able to defend fairly well, and I’m started to get tired. It’s time to finish this, Tynan’s mind raged.
The fight had slowed noticeably. Both men were panting, and circling along the edge of the man-made arena. On occasion, each warrior would send a blast towards his enemy, only to have it knocked aside by its target.
Both men locked gazes, their unwavering eyes staring through soft flesh and breakable bone, probing each other’s mind for a weakness, a fear, or even the slightest hint of doubt. General Yamamoto saw it then at that exact moment. He saw it in those cold, icy eyes. The hate for the Fire Nation, the frustration at having lost a family, and most importantly the determination. The determination to obliterate the killer of his people. But it wasn’t just them that Tynan was fighting for, and Yamamoto saw it. Tynan was fighting for every person who had been oppressed, fought, and died in the invasion of the Fire Lord’s army, and he would not fail them. Even if that meant his death.
When the general saw that determination, he was truly frightened, and he averted his eyes to the ground.
Tynan’s mind soared, there it is! Take it, now!
“This is for my people!” he roared, and fired two icicles with exact precision into General Yamamoto’s thighs.
The great general fell forward, landing painfully on his knees. He looked up, shaken, and bellowed in pain as his arms were also impaled by cruel spikes of ice.
“Look at you,” Tynan spat,” the great General Yamamoto, killer of all who defy the power of the Fire Nation.” He began circling the fallen general slowly, “You are pathetic! Defeated by a single mortal man. What would your Fore Lord think of you now?” He paused, and then walked slowly away before turning to face his defeated enemy, “Any last words?”
Yamamoto stretched both arms in front of him, using the remainder of his strength, and crossed them in an X.
“Die,” Tynan sneered, and in one smooth motion, he pulled a stream of water from the river, stretched it, froze it, and sent an ice cold guillotine straight for the general’s throat.
Before the severed head of the once powerful General Yamamoto bounced on the sandy ground, a single arrow pierced the fresh midday air and buried itself deep in the heart of the feared Ice Butcher.

As he fell to the floor, Tynan felt at peace for the first time, and he smiled genuinely. He stood up, and saw he was no longer at the bloody arena, but back in his home, the snowy north. With not even a backward glance, he walked away from his once painful life, and into the great white city amongst the cheers and welcomes of his smiling brothers and sisters.
Although he was physically dead, Tynan’s spirit lived on in the hearts of the living. It sent a message meant to affect all who suffered as a result of the Fire Nation’s cruelty. It was a simple message, and not at all difficult to accept.

Wow, this was pretty good! Good job! It was interesting. Too bad no one else has replied to this.