Chapter Text
Rangi bounced on her heels, staring at the cloudy night sky, grey and lifeless. Thrusting her hands against the inside of her trench coat pockets, as if the key to shoving warmth into the thread bare wreck lay just a few inches past the lining.
“Azula, where the hell are you?” She said under her breath, eyes shifting down the ends of the street.
Her nose wrinkled as she took a long drag of the Caldera night air, coughing as the menthol she always rubbed under her nose to blot out the usual undertones of sulfur, gas, and dead fish temporarily lost out.
She started the Caldera Detective Agency after leaving the service, the naive wish to make the world a safer place burning bright inside her, unextinguished by uncompromising rejections by over 12 police departments within the Fire Nation. Too fiery, an ‘obtuse moral code, incompatible with the caring stride of blah blah blah.’
Fuck ‘em. She knew justice, she would see it done.
The oversight in the Fire Nation capital was loose, and cheaply lubricated. So here she was.
She took Azula on as a partner 9 years ago after the sharp faced woman started a competing private eye. Both were dogged in their chosen profession, often arriving on scene minutes apart. After catty banter devolved into bloody lips both women realized that they needed to either work together, or one of them would end up dead.
Rangi placed her hat over her nose and mouth, hoping the ruddy fedora would help filter the mounting funk of gasoline. It did not.
The Fire Nation suffered from rising crime from increasingly desperate fire benders some months ago, it could have led to full out rioting if it were not for the quick thinking of their oh so benevolent King Ozai.
Hungry benders terrorizing the streets? Easy fix. Just douse the streets in gas, problem solved. Every morning, royal guards would pump fresh fuel onto the streets of the poor districts of the Caldera.
Publicly, crime had never been lower. All of it moved indoors, where civilized people didn’t have to see it. They even threw a parade in celebration, only going through the upside of town of course, due to the smell.
She pulled out a dented flask from inside her coat and took a swig, grimacing against the harsh taste of whiskey. The flask was wide, a light outline on the front where a fire nation emblem used to be. Rangi was plunging it back into her coat when she spotted a cherry glow coming from the far end of an alley in front of her.
Her eyes narrowed as she slowly shifted her hand from the flask to the smooth handle of the Smith and Wesson revolver she kept in a shoulder holster. Rubbing her thumb over the familiar grooves, she steadied her breathing, watching the stranger approach.
The ember breached the edge of the streetlight, revealing a severe porcelain face, framed by black bangs oiled to knife points, contrasting a dark grey trench coat and red tie similar to the ones Rangi wore.
“Sweet spirits Azula, can’t you walk down the sidewalk like a normal person? I swear, who even sells cigarettes anymore, let alone a fool stupid enough to light one up while walking on fucking gas. You have a death wish?”
Azula looked back coolly. If she heard her partner’s reprimand, she didn’t show it. Taking one last long drag, she curled the butt between her fingers and flipped the lit paper at Rangi.
Rangi bolted forward and snatched it out the air, crushing it in her fist until the heat left it.
A wide thin grin pealed Azula’s face. “Sometimes, any catches?”
“Yeah, showed up a half hour ago, insisted we both be here before discussing the job. Gives me the creeps though, looks like a real….” Rangi trailed off, lifting a single pinkie into the air mockingly.
“Hmmm, sounds fun, lets.” Azula opened the door, sashaying inside, closely followed by Rangi.
The office was lit by a single shaded bulb hanging from the ceiling over the lone desk, Rangi’s desk. Azula didn’t go in for what she called, “such pomp, slows me down.” Her only footprint was a single filing cabinet far from the door, where the receipts from their clients were kept.
A woman sat in Rangi’s chair, wearing an expensive looking Polarbeardog fur coat, crown of raven hair surrounding broad distinguished features. In one hand clasped the handle of a coffee cup with the words ‘#1 dad’ on it, and the long stalk of a cigarette holder, thin smoke curling from the hand rolled stick. The other hand holding on to the documents Rangi had left out, scrutinizing them.
Azula’s stride stuttered a moment as she recognized her coffee cup in the woman’s hand, then collected herself, leaning heavily on her filing cabinet.
“Make yourself at home, don’t mind us.” Azula said, a lilt of open hostilities promised to come.
“I won’t.” The woman shot back.
Rangi sat in the swiveling chair usually meant for clients. “Now that we’re all here, how can the Caldera DA help you today?” She automatically spit out the company tag line by habit, no emotion in the words.
“I have a job…” The woman said, each word presented on a silver tray of refinement.
“I would hope so.” Azula said, staring right into the woman’s eyes.
A frown flickered on the client’s face before she continued, gesturing with the be-cupped hand.
“My husband’s been messing around on me, I’m told if I am to do anything about it though, I need proof. Good authority, people I trust, tell me you two are the best ones to consult for a resolution to my woe.” She said ‘I’ the same way others would say official, as if that were all the proof anyone would ever need.
“Sorry to hear it ma’am, wouldn’t be our first case of a stiff turning John. Say the name and we’ll do the rest.” Rangi said confidently.
“Assuming you can pay for it.” Azula said, letting the words ooze. Rangi shot a look over her shoulder at her partner.
“A reasonable fee, we are the best after all, as you say.”
Placing the cup down heavily on the stack of documents in front of her, she reached a black gloved hand inside her coat, flipping a heavy looking black bundle at Rangi. “Half up front.” The detective caught it and peered inside.
Azula let out a low whistle at the bundle of bills. “You must be awfully steamed to throw around dosh like that, who is this? The king?”
The woman’s face stiffened. “As a matter of fact, yes, it is.”
Silence blanketed the room for several moments until broken by a barked laugh.
“HAH! I thought I recognized you.” A glint showing in Azula’s eye, “You don’t need a detective, you just need to take those pale queenly legs of yours and learn to streee-“
“AZULA!” Rangi cut off her partner, then in a fierce whisper. “That is our QUEEN, show some respect!”
“Sorry.” Azula said, easing back into her slump. “Learn to put out, your majesty.”
Queen Ursa was unphased, “I know how the papers gossip, but I assure you, I’ve put far more effort into producing an heir than he has. The nation needs a successor, if that means paying someone to photograph him pushing rope with one of his hussies then so be it.”
Rangi was glaring daggers at her partner but turned back around at this remark. “This will more then cover costs, consider it done your majesty. We will contact you as soon as the job is complete.”
“Yes, you will.” Ursa said, a threat laced like silver through her words. She placed a card on the counter and stood up, “Call me at this number when you have what I need. It will work only once so make it count.”
Rangi nodded and stood as well, holding the door open for the queen. Her majesty glided out of the room, the streetlight turned her garb into a field of diamonds.
“Oh, here.” She held the coffee cup behind her, then casually dropped it. With quick reflex, Rangi snatched it out of the air before it smashed on the cement.
The queen shot a look back at Azula and shrugged, then walked off into the fragrant night.
Rangi gently closed the door behind her and almost wrenched the knob off as she faced Azula, “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”
Azula shrugged, “She touched my mug.”
Still holding onto the mug, Rangi sighed. “So, where should we start? The usual?”
“Of course!” Azula smirked with a sparkle in her eyes.
Rangi set the mug down and yanked a few bills out of the black bundle and threw them at Azula. “You’re gonna need these.”
* * *
Couched between the extremes of the business district and warehouse district was a bustling little night club called The Buttered Vole. Originally a pub for sailors and fishermen, Hei-Ran purchased it and converted the inside of the raucous nautical haunt into a classy nightclub. She deemed it was better to just keep the name instead of throwing away thousands’ worth of neon signage. This proved to be a major windfall for the young entrepreneur, as the remote location and bland name created a perfect spot for the Fire Nation’s underworld to congregate unhurried, putting Hei-Ran right in the middle of the crossroads of everything that was worth knowing in Caldera.
When you need info, The Buttered Vole is where you go.
Rangi and Azula walked up to the door. Azula practically skipping as she went. Standing sentinel in front of the establishment was a monolith of a woman. Not overly muscled but radiating potential violence.
Rangi lifted a hand in greeting, “Evening Kyoshi.”
Kyoshi returned the briefest of nods and stepped aside to let the two enter, “Good timing, she starts in ten.”
Azula giggled as she bolted past the head bouncer, rushing through the crowd to sit at her favorite table next to the stage dominating the end of the room. After a brief but intense staring contest with the rumpled drunk who was already at that table, he discovered wisdom lay in finding a less dangerous place to watch the upcoming performance. Azula ordered a beer.
Rangi rolled her eyes and shared a look with Kyoshi, who shrugged. Both were ex-military and became fast friends. A friendship that ignited long ago, not that either liked to advertise the fact. They shared a few words and after slipping Kyoshi a paper with a date and time to do a little mountain climbing, Rangi entered the club as well.
Ambling jazz filled the air of The Buttered Vole, a man in a burgundy suit was rocking back and forth as he teased loving chaos from a grand piano up on the stage. The club was a wash of twilight. Everything entwined with red, gold, and black, tables patterned over the main floor. The right side of the club was a pitted alcove of booths, most with curtains drawn in front of them.
Rangi walked up to the bar dominating the left half of the room, neon red striping the front of the counter.
“Hey Katara, I’ll have the usual.” Rangi said.
Katara juggled cups and bottles, concocting a whiskey sour, then slid it over to the detective. “So, what brings you here?” The head bartender said, already bending together the next drink.
Rangi took a sip. Hot damn! She still found it amazing how well the water tribe girl understood liquids.
“Business.” She said over the rim of the glass.
Katara smiled knowingly and tilted her head toward the booths on the other side of the room. Rangi looked sidelong to see Hei-Ran shaking hands and chatting with a flashy gentleman in one of the central booths. Judging by the loud blue suit and barely clothed women at his sides, Rangi guessed he was a pimp. The club owner was in a strapless black dress, a fur shawl hung by the crook of her arms, and a triple string of thick pearls draped around her neck, highlighting a bob cut of midnight locks surrounding strong mature features.
“Funny ol’ world” Rangi said, gesturing with the drink in thanks, then wandered over.
* * *
The crowd applauded as the pianist’s meandering tune found its end and the curtain dropped. People rushed forward in anticipation of the next scheduled performer, a noticeable bubble still around Azula’s table.
The lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on the stage and the secondary curtain. A resonating croon filled the silence, “You had plenty of money in 1922.” A bare leg with a pink stiletto sliced the curtain, stepping into the circle of light.
“You let other women make a fool of you.” She sang. The curtains peeled away, revealing the performer in full. Her pink qipao glittered in the limelight, smooth skin revealed with each step as she sauntered up the stage, the dress slit up to her hips. Her brunette hair braided down over her shoulder. Bangs curled around to frame a bubbly face, further accentuated by the most convincing fake pink diamond earrings Azula ever saw.
She gracefully spun an aerial toward the left wall, back arched with shoulders and right heel resting against the cool wood. The performer’s eyes scanned the crowd until they met with Azula’s. Azula grinned from ear to ear.
The detective arched a single eyebrow and wiggled it. Her lady had acknowledged her, Azula never doubted who held the singer’s heart. Just wait until the end of the gig, she would get Ty Lee in her lap, right where she wanted her. She would show the performer their big score, maybe even give her special friend a little more hope for her future.
Their exchange didn’t go unnoticed, but Azula never cared about what other people thought. Fuck ‘em, she’d challenge the whole nation just to get her ‘diamond in the rough.’ Her eyes trailed Ty Lee as she swayed her hips side to side, steps weightless as she walked down the long stage. The music fading into the background of her mind.
Ty Lee extended her hand as she reached the edge of the stage. One, overly excited drunk rushed up and proffered his hand up to the beautiful woman. She kept her palm just out of reach as she slowly lowered herself with one leg, never losing balance.
Amused by the display, Azula was thrilled to see what Ty Lee had in store for the crowd. Making a show of it, the singer began to tease various men around where the detective sat. Expertly twirling between them, barely dodging hands and advancing steps. Never missing a beat, the girl in pink was smiling wide as she worked the room. Smiling genuinely. Not looking at the private eye once. Azula furrowed her brow. She’s trying to make me jealous… It’s working!
* * *
Rangi was halfway across the main floor when Ty Lee first breached the stage. The detective could have already been hobnobbing with the club owner by now, but she adopted a slow gait, stopping to take sips, turn toward loud noises. Generally, blending in.
If Hei-Ran happened to notice her approach, then the last thing Rangi wanted her to see was eagerness or anxiety in her movements. A terrible way to start potentially involved negotiations for information. No, smooth and easy. Not to mention all the free info she might get by keeping a sharp eye on the room. The Buttered Vole could be the who’s who of the underworld some nights and you never knew what you might snag to help in future jobs.
Hei-Ran was talking shop with a gentleman in a black suit, his hair slick, with a nose clearly broken many times, when the detective made her final approach.
Leaning over one shoulder she stage-whispered ‘Boo’ in the club owner’s ear. Hei-Ran turned, fake laughed still in full hostess mode, “Agni! Look at you, how have you been?” She said, reaching out to shake Rangi’s hand. All smiles and warmth. Hei-Ran’s practiced posture said ‘welcome, welcome!’ Her eyes were now saying ‘I damn well know that you damn well know that this better be good, or we damn well know this is the last time we speak.’
Her eyes softened as she felt Rangi palm an extra thick wad of bills into the handshake. “Hey Hei-Ran, how’s tricks?” Rangi said.
“Bold and beautiful! How’s the justice business these days?”
“Still able to rent three hots and a cot from our ever-caring nation, so can’t complain. Listen, I got a gig and was wondering if I could employ you’re interest?” Rangi said.
“Sure, sure. You guys have been a reliable gem when my faithful customers have needed their wrongs righted in this unjust world. A gem I trust will maintain its luster for some time to come.” Hei-Ran said, the bobbing of their clasped hands ending purposefully.
Competing with the police for jobs was a losing strategy no matter how you cut it. But, in a city like Caldera there was no shortage of legally wronged individuals who would much rather said police did not know their whereabouts. So, plenty of jobs started under Hei-Ran’s roof. A convenience she historically was happy to collect on.
“Of course.” Rangi said, smile freezing slightly. The handshake continued three more bobs, then broke.
“Then ask away my girl! Say where is your partner? The usual place, I assume?”
At this point in the conversation the main bridge of Ty Lee’s song was cresting, which means she was most likely enjoying playing with Azula’s easily earned attention. Judging by the fact Rangi could FEEL where Azula was sitting in the room right now, not a bad guess.
“Yup.” Rangi said, “So we fell into something here……”
* * *
Azula waited impatiently with a cigarette hanging off her lips as Ty Lee finally locked eyes with her. The singer had a way of playing with Azula’s heart like an instrument during each performance, the finale was always her favorite part. Ty Lee strolled over to the now enthusiastic detective. She was the prize, or vice versa, or both, either way it didn’t matter. Dynamic tension filled the room when they came together at the end of a show.
Azula could barely conceal her eagerness as Ty Lee straddled her and delicately plucked the untended cigarette from her somewhat parted lips, dropping it carelessly into Azula’s neglected beer. With deft hands the detective tucked neatly folded bills and a note into the singer’s underwear. She performed some skilled bending, her fingertips grazing the girl’s skin with just enough electricity to tickle.
Unfazed by the sensation and the goosebumps on her skin Ty Lee continued the last lines of the chorus. She grabbed Azula’s fedora and playfully shoved it in the private investigator’s face, briefly interrupting her view of the seductive singer. With grandiose flexibility Ty Lee lifted her leg up and over Azula’s head, dismounting her.
Her eyes seared with passion for the performer as she placed her hat back on her head. The singer was on the last line of the song when she grabbed Azula’s lapel. The detective bit her lip, face centimeters from Ty Lee’s. The urge to move closer was overwhelming. Ty Lee released her grip and carded her fingers down Azula’s tie, finishing the song with a little wink.
Moseying back onto the stage, Ty Lee paused in the center. She turned around and blew a kiss toward the crowd. They applauded wildly as she disappeared behind the closing curtains. Azula yearned to meet up with the exquisite performer, but duty called, and her partner wasn’t going to wait all night.
Then again…
* * *
Since no one at The Buttered Vole wanted to capstone a deal with a ride in a police car, all talks inside the club were done in code. Plausible deniability was a must, but always stretched things out. Despite this, negotiations with Hei-Ran were finally coming to a close. The night club owner was plenty flush and Rangi was financially doing as well as you’d expect an under-the-table private eye to do, so the two usually traded in favors instead of cash.
“So, two tails, a tough, and the name of three squealers in exchange for the time and date of ‘checkmate’ and the girls name?” Rangi said, providing what seemed the millionth counter offer that night.
Hei-Ran lounged in the booth, arm slung over its back, sipping a half-finished dry martini. She let the moment hang as she pretended to survey the room, savoring Rangi’s suppressed irritation. The club long ago returned to the low hum of dozens of conversations. “No name. I don’t think I can promise that, but ‘checkmate’ will be yours.” Hei-Ran said.
Rangi’s eye twitched slightly but she nodded in assent. Right then Azula materialized from the crowd, jumping into the booth next to Rangi. Both occupants stared at her. Azula looked between them, grinning like a fool, “What’d I miss?”
“Back ends covered, ready to go?” Rangi said flatly.
“How much?” Azula shot back.
“Two tails, a tough, 3 squealers and you stay out of The Buttered Vole for a month.”
“No deal.”
“Of course, deal, its already done.” Rangi sighed, “Don’t listen to her.” Looking at Hei-Ran.
Azula shot Rangi a searing look, “Then you can’t go mountaineering for two months.”
“Eat me.”
“I warn you, I put tabasco sauce on everything I eat.” Azula returned with a wink.
“Ooooo, so then Miss Lee must be a masochist. No wonder she keeps you around.”
Azula responded with a middle finger rapidly driven at Rangi’s nose.
“Does Miss Lee know you two are already married? Hei-Ran interjected nodding toward Azula, “I like the new color by the way.”
Azula froze in puzzlement for a moment, then wiped a finger along her lips. It returned with a smear of vibrant pink. Fishing in a pocket, she pulled out a twist up lipstick and reapplied her favorite shade of scarlet. “Lee isn’t her last name.” She said, returning the cosmetic to its nook in her trench coat.
“What?” Rangi asked, “What is it then?”
“THEY’RE ALL DEAD!” A barely coherent scream resonated through the club. All three girls turned toward the developing scene. A drunk man was leaning heavily on the bar, in disheveled evening wear, short black hair amiss with a pronounced five a clock shadow. Another working stiff looking for a good time and overshooting the target by miles.
“DEAD, ALL OF EM! Fuggin rainbows.”
Katara was doing her absolute best to stay professional, “Bolin, listen, you have clearly had too much to drink. I get that you’re upset about your job, but you are making a scene. Go sleep it off buddy.”
“The only thing shleepin’ is this town, soon. Can’t casch dead fish!” Bolin said, gesticulating wildly.
Kyoshi loomed up behind the perturbed man. “It’s time to go, sir.” Kyoshi said, in a smooth menacing voice, laying an oversized hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Fug you! You’ll starve too, you dumb bisch!” Bolin said, as he tried to pull Kyoshi’s hand away, failing.
The sound of scraping bar stools and chairs filled the air. Seconds after the ‘ch’ of the fatal word, patrons had dispersed keeping well clear of the bouncer.
Kyoshi’s face darkened. “Sir you have been warned. You are acting like a bum, and we have no room in this establishment for those.” She then tightened her grip on Bolin’s shoulder, rending an anguished noise from the drunk. Then with no additional contact, lifted the man off the floor by his shoulder and walked him to a small metal door nestled in a corner next to the stage.
She then opened the door and flung the man out into the street, slamming it behind him with a deafening clang. After a few moments, the club returned to its normal volume.
“Let us know when you know anything.” Rangi said, stepping out of the booth. Hei-Ran nodded in return.
Azula jauntily trailed her partner out of the club, barely containing her laughter at Rangi’s obvious blush following the bouncers display of strength.
* * *
Drumming her fingers on the desk in front of her, Rangi racked her brain as to where a king went for debauchery in this town. She poured another hit of whiskey into her mug of java. Sipping coffee flavored whiskey in a silent room was not the worst way to start a morning, but she could think of plenty better.
Rangi looked down at her watch. Eight-twenty-nine. “Fucking Azula... Always perfectly punctual. How hard would it be to be early?” They weren’t flipping burgers here, stake outs require planning, that takes time. She worked with Azula long enough to know she wasn’t dumb, but Rangi wondered sometimes how much that imp relied on luck and how much was on purpose.
As soon as the hand crossed the six, Rangi heard the door open and peered over. Azula waltzed in. “Good morning!” Her partner exclaimed in an unnaturally cool and cheery voice.
“Mornin’.” Rangi replied gruffly, “Coffee?” She gestured to her partners favorite mug already full of hot liquid.
Azula smirked, “With pleasure.” Walking over and grabbing her mug.
“So…” Rangi began tapping her fingers again, this time on the vessel she was drinking from. “Where should we start?”
“You know his majesty isn’t going anywhere near the slums for-”
“Yeah, I kind of figured.” Rangi cut her partner off impatiently.
Azula took a hearty swig of coffee. “We could always jaunt around the palace grounds, see what’s going on there?”
Rangi scoffed at the thought. “Are you really fucking with me right now? It’s too early to deal with your shit!”
“Well, well, well… Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Azula mockingly pouted. “All I’m saying is that uptown will probably be our best bet. Where are your powers of deduction my dear friend? Trouble thinking this morning? Perhaps if you slept at higher elevations.”
Rangi glowered, throwing a loose pen at Azula. “I guess we start in uptown. Not with that look though.” Rangi said, waving her hand first at Azula’s ratty trench coat and then at her own home sewn facsimile of an office workers get up.
“Oh, that.” Azula smirked, as she flung off her coat dramatically, revealing a full three-piece suit. High rise cuffed tweed trousers, white dress shirt with matching collar, wide lapelled jacket with matching vest, gold buttons and cufflinks. Rangi then noticed the new, well-polished shoes, a perfect shade of midnight black. The woman might as well have walked right out of an uptown clothing store display.
“How much of our money did you spend on that?! We need to eat to you know!” Rangi said, now enflamed with fiscal rage.
“None of it.”
Rangi paused, “What?”
“You heard me, none of it.” Azula said, Rangi didn’t know a smirk could deepen, but there it was.
“Did you steal that? You know that could complicate the hell out of…”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Azula leaned against her filing cabinet, “Keep asking and I’ll tell you.” Azula’s face radiated ‘Please, please, please ask me.’
Rangi thought it over, “Let’s go, trolley will be here soon.”
* * *
The two detectives hitched a ride on the trolley as they made their way uptown. Both sat quietly reading different sections of a day-old newspaper that had been left on the seat. The usual stench of the city started to fade as they drew nearer to the central palace. The changes were subtle, but after a couple hours the surrounding buildings lost personality, graduating into refined art deco palaces of cement and metal trim. It took serious spondulix to avoid huffing gas all day in the Caldera. They reached the opposite end of the line, having finished the entire discarded periodical.
“Read anything interesting?” Azula asked as they jumped off the streetcar.
“Nothin’ you?”
“The usual, nice weather, comics, astrology fortunes. Apparently, some merger at the fish farms we’re supposed to care about.”
Rangi examined their surroundings. “We'll split up, then meet back up at Sozin's park.” She adjusted her jacket and tie, trying in vain to look a little more a part of the upper class.
“Go get ‘em tiger!” Azula smacked Rangi’s back. “See you in a couple hours.” She then vanished into a passing crowd.
“I swear to Agni…” Rangi grumbled as she stepped off to patrol the city.
* * *
Over the next nine days, they learned a great deal about the king of the Fire Nation. Foremost, he was a creature of habit, absurdly so. He did the same things, every day, with no exception or variation. Same locations, meeting the same people. The break came on the ninth day when he finally did something new.
The pair nursed their cups of coffee at a corner café near the palace, a usual meeting place since beginning the stake out. “I got something.” Rangi spoke into her mug occasionally flicking her eyes around the room.
“Ooo, me too. You first.” Azula replied enthusiastically, wearing what was now her fifth disguise, a wool three piece with a silk tie. Rangi still wore her original home spun.
“The king received the Earth Nation ambassador today.”
“And?” Azula asked impassively quirking an eyebrow.
“He didn’t drop any of his other appointments, just left each one five minutes earlier.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning, that when it’s go time, we will know because he will shorten his appointments without anything new being announced.”
“Ah, neat. Well, mine is better. He’s using a third party to find him the girls.”
“How did you find that out?” Rangi said, now her turn to quirk a brow.
“I hit on him, no response at all. Really awkward, like no one’s ever flirted with him before. Didn’t act offended, just stilted.” Azula said calmly, slowly stirring her coffee.
Rangi’s head jerked up, “Flirted? With the king? You insane?”
“It’s not crazy if it works.” Azula said placidly, “Our paths kept crossing, so yesterday I dolled myself up in one of Ty Lee’s dresses and gave it a go. Man’s worse than a cold fish, that I could understand from a married man. He was keen on me, just…. dumb. So, he must be getting help from outside.” Azula said once again never modulating her tone, she could have been talking about the weather.
Rangi almost wished she could have been there to see her normally jagged partner acting the temptress. “So, the man has the charisma of a bent hacksaw and is super anal retentive, but still has needs. Which means he’s working with a third party that also knows his standards.” Rangi said, sloshing her coffee around in thought. “Who’s the provider?”
Azula shrugged, “There are very few pimps who have the connections necessary to work this side of town, quality control, etcetera... Which narrows down who could provide the girl. I doubt we will know before its go time, unless his majesty has timed emptying his balls with the phases of the moon.”
Rangi blew out her cheeks, “And the servants haven’t seen anyone strange or new coming or going from the palace recently. So, narrowed down is better than nothing. Now we just play the waiting game, use the time to complete Hei-Ran’s favors while we check in on the king in between.”
Azula sipped her now lukewarm coffee, “Sounds good.”
* * *
Azula sat at her usual spot in The Buttered Vole Thursday morning. She should have been in the field with her partner timing the king’s comings and goings, but the corner of Sozin and Victory didn’t serve drinks. Ty Lee was warming up for the night’s main performance. The detective appreciated her time alone in the club with the singer, it usually gave them a little extra time to chat. “Hey baby vamp.” Azula quipped holding onto Ty Lee’s hips.
“Hey, sweet patootie!” The performer beamed, playfully bobbling Azula’s top-knot back and forth. “How’s lion taming? Still paying peanuts?” Ty Lee said touching her finger to the detective’s nose while nestled comfortably in Azula’s lap.
“Peanuts for not much longer. Your beau caught herself an elephant, a real fat one. Us monkey’s will be blowing this circus real soon.” Azula brushed Ty Lee’s bangs back behind her ear, smiling.
“Oh please.” Ty Lee said, playfully smacking Azula’s chest, “Takes more than pretty words and a couple notes in a G-string to blow this joint.”
“Just you wait sugar-baby, I can already smell the whitewash on the picket fence. No lie.” Azula said, rubbing her hand along Ty Lee’s back, “Just one more job, but I’m pretty sure I’m still free tonight.” Eyebrows in full wiggle.
“I can’t doll, tonight’s sets a long one and a pretty girl needs every wink she can get. But later, I promise.” Ty Lee said, planting a kiss on Azula’s forehead.
Azula furrowed her brow, “How so? You’ve had long nights before and that’s never stopped us, remember New Year’s?” She said, eyes twinkling.
“Not this one, I’m in real demand doll. Your monkey’s a rising star. You’ll see.” Ty Lee said.
Right then Hei-Ran walked up to the couple, “Last time I checked, you’re still on the clock Miss Lee.”
Ty Lee cartwheeled back up to the stage with a squeak, resuming her vocal practice. Azula shot the club owner a scowl, one they both damn well knew the meaning of.
Hei-Ran pulled out a chair, offering a folded piece of paper to Azula, pinched between two fingers, “Checkmate.”
Azula sat upright as she snatched the paper from Hei-Ran, unfolding it and scanning the contents quickly. Guess I wasn’t free after all, just as well.
“I know how much you two love chess. Go there and I promise you will find the action you crave.”
Azula sat quiet for a moment. “Seeing as we did three months’ worth of work for you in 12 days, I’d expect nothing less.” She said, slipping the note into an inside pocket and returned to watching the performer’s warm up, completely ignoring Hei-Ran.
Hei-Ran smirked and drifted away from the table.
* * *
When Azula returned to the office at three, Rangi was already there cleaning her gun. The variation in the king’s schedule developed early, with no new engagements, confirming Hei-Ran’s information. That gave them less than one day to prepare. Of course, the club owner would wait until the last available moment to do good on a promise. Technically fulfilling the contract, but a complete scramble for Rangi and Azula. Only saving them the trouble of tailing a king when he wouldn’t want to be.
Rangi went over the checklist again. Camera, Smith and Wesson, 5 extra rounds, bribing dosh, black trench, black hat, pen, and paper. Ready to go. She knew Azula was ready, her partner never went anywhere without her .38 Colt and two speed loaders, though spirits only knew where she kept them on some of the getups they had used over the years.
They shared a curt nod and left to board the six o’ clock trolley to uptown.
A few hours later they found themselves in the alley behind The Grand Phoenix Hotel, pawing at the fire escape. Each leap at the bottom rung was followed by a hideous ‘squelch’ as they landed in what must be all the ‘grand’ hotel’s garbage, coagulated into a paste covering the ground. After five minutes effort, now out of breath, Rangi suggested lifting Azula up. “No, I think you almost had it that time. Maybe try something you learned from Kyoshi.” Azula said in a low whisper.
“Learned from… What?” Rangi whispered back, face scrunched.
“You know, tall people stuff. She is tall all the time. Just do that.” Azula said, smirking.
Rangi shot Azula a dirty look, channeling her rising anger into a wall kick, finally bringing her close enough to grab the bottom of the ladder.
“Told you.”
Rangi, using her free arm, lifted Azula up behind her, to avoid making any unnecessary sound with the catch release. They carefully slinked up next to the window of room 6-B. Rangi pressed herself against the side of the hotel aperture, unfolding her camera. Azula was poised under the frame, holding the newer unit they rented last week for the job.
Rangi waived to get Azula’s attention and signaled she would give a countdown of three, followed by alternating peeks through the window until they saw something juicy. Get the shots then bolt down the escape in a controlled fashion.
Azula nodded along as Rangi pantomimed the plan to her, giving a thumbs up at the end, then immediately stuck her head over the under hang with her camera pressed to her face. Rangi gave her partner a sardonic look and went back to unfolding her own camera.
Peering through the lens, Azula got a full view of the opulent interior of the room. Marble with red and gold accents lining the area, potted plants, silver platters full of gorgeous food. In the center of the room was a low velvety looking couch, facing away from the window, with what was clearly the back of Ozai’s head peeking over the top of it.
Azula grew confused as she drank in the interior. Where is the girl? Why isn’t he moving. Why isn’t he…. Blinking…. She saw now his head lay at an extremely awkward angle, the whites of his eyes visible. She had seen faces set like this at plenty of crime scenes, all with little chalk outlines around them.
“He’s dead.” Azula said.
Rangi barely registered what her partner said when they heard a loud ‘BANG’ come from inside the room. Rushing to peer in, she quickly came to the same conclusion as Azula. “That was the door, the girl is running for it!” Rangi said, barely suppressing a yell.
Rangi ditched the camera with Azula and ran down the fire escape, taking the steps three at a time and abandoning all pretense of stealth.
Azula calmly slung the strap of both cameras around her neck, pushing them off to one side. Then with a customary glance over her shoulder, sharply inhaled through her nose, pushing air down into her core. With a few quick motions she placed both palms against the window latch, super heating the mechanism until the small spring inside melted. Azula easily opened it and climbed inside. It felt good to bend again after so long walking on propellant.
Azula removed her shoes after obscuring the clear mud-print she left on the plush red carpet under the window, tying the laces together and running them through a camera strap. Creeping around, she surveyed the scene. Ozai sat naked on the couch, arms limp at his sides, hair dampened. His entire body slack except for his…. Azula averted her eyes. She checked the rest of the room quickly, aside from some dirty gold plates and empty wine glasses in the dining area and the hole next to the front door, now ajar, impacted by the doorknob as the girl began her flight. Nothing else stood out in the room. The detective circled back to the couch, scrutinizing the area around Ozai. A circular end table of dark mahogany stood near the body, a half-finished cup of tea on it, a remarkably elegant cheese cloth tea bag propped against the rim. She investigated the cup further, marveling at how red the drink was. Blood red, red like liquid rubies, an unreal richness she never knew could be achieved. A soft white string tied off the top of the bag, a tag attached to the far end read, ‘Ozai' in fancy calligraphy. She gently flipped the tag over, a highly detailed drawing of a blood moon present on the opposite side.
She sniffed the drink, then using a small piece of cloth from among the discarded articles on the floor, picked it up. Swirling it around, she brought it closer to her eye, “Iocaine powder.” Azula said, then looking at the deceased king she sighed. “You know, I’d like to say you would have fared better with me, but we both know that’s a lie.” Raising the cup to the king as if in toast.
As the cloth entered her periphery, her brow furrowed. She very carefully removed the cup from the cloth and placed it back on the tabletop, turning the cloth over and over in her hands. “Hmmm.”
She looked through the clothes on the floor, searching for more clues and pocketing the kings folding money. She squinted at the wine glasses on the table, then dared a look at the king’s….
*cough*
Just in case… Clues you know, I am a professional after all… Etcetera.
Azula slowly straightened, finding what she was looking for. “Shit.” She said, half stepping in different directions multiple times, not sure what to do.
Face pinched in thought, she stood stalk still. “Shit. Ummmmm… Shit.”
After a few moments, she plucked the offending tea bag from its container and wrapped it tightly in the cloth, shoving both into an inside pocket of her trench coat. Just then, beams of light sliced across the room from outside.
Azula went to the window to see several cars pulling into the alley under the fire escape. She recognized many of the faces of the people as they stepped out. Regulars at The Buttered Vole, undercover cops. “--- And there’s the other shoe. Hate being right all the time.”
The detective tried to force her mind to think quickly, she refused to go out like this, she was no one’s pawn. Then it dawned on her, in all its glorious simplicity.
She peeled her coat off, tying off the sleeves and throwing the cameras and shoes inside, followed by the rest of her clothes. Bundling it up into a ball, she hurried to the bathroom grabbing multiple towels, all drying from a shower the two lovebirds must have shared recently. She wrapped one around herself and bound her hair in a loose turban with another. Looking into the mirror over the sink, she splashed water on her face until her make up ran, then tucked up her breasts to the rim of the towel, letting one barely peek over the edge.
Nodding to herself, she grabbed up her bundle and headed for the hotel room door. Seeing no one in the hallway she adopted a stumbling slow walk and made for the outside.
The hotel staff was on high alert, rushing around after having, first, a woman bolt out the front door then having their hotel swamped with rough looking men flashing badges next. Azula kept her slow gait, looking disconnected from the chaos around her. A few bell hops and police stopped and almost motioned for her to cease, but they ultimately thought better of interfering in this poor woman’s walk of shame due to the horrifying daggers her unfocused eyes threw. They stopped thinking, period, when they then caught sight of the twins trying to signal dawn above the fields of cotton.
Azula walked right out the front door, not bothering to change until she was halfway down the street.
She knew all along her plan would work, but failed to convince her heart, which seemed to be trying to beat its way out of her chest.
* * *
The sound of thrumming blood was deafening as Rangi ran. Even skipping the final two flights of the fire escape with jet stepping, she still barely managed to intercept the girl as she blasted out the hotel’s front door, knocking over the door man and several guests. Now the detective was in full pursuit after the mystery girl, running as fast as her years of training in the military and even more of hard detective work could muster.
Rangi was not gaining.
The girl was in a tight red dress and stilettos so tall the girl’s feet appeared to be pointing straight down. Long brown hair flopping wetly with each step.
The girl was unable to move her legs in a full range of motion or heal-toe her steps. She even ran with her elbows tucked tight to her body and arms flailing out to the sides, so how the Agni-spiriting-spirit-hell-damn-fuck could Rangi not catch her! It was like chasing a gazelle!
After two miles of hot pursuit, the stich in Rangi’s side finally overcame her. Emitting a heaving, “Stop! Police!” as a final hail Mary she heavily thudded to a stop. She stooped, clutched her knees, and desperately gulped air. Glancing up, she saw the girl was gone. Not surprising, that line never worked on Rangi either.
She quickly trotted back up the street toward the hotel, noticing a waiting halo of twirling cop lights and activity. Two blocks before The Grand Phoenix she heard a pronounced “PSSSST” from the alley. Rangi peered into the darkness, slowing, but not stopping her jog, to see a familiar disembodied ember.
“Azula?” Rangi said quietly, dipping her head around to make sure no one was looking her way. With so much activity nearby, no one was paying much mind to a flush cheeked woman talking to no one. The detective slunk into the alley with her partner. When her eyes finally adjusted to the dark, she noticed the disheveled state the other was in.
“What happened to you? You look like a used hooker.” Rangi said.
“That was the general idea, yes.” Azula said, pleased at the effect. She grabbed one of the discarded hotel towels from behind her and scrubbed her face vigorously while combing her hair straight with her hands. Rangi waited while the other put herself back together. Once her signature scarlet lipstick was reapplied, Azula smacked her lips and said, “We’ve been made. Those cops up there were meant for us.”