Wreckage is strewn all across the tarmac. Piles of twisted pieces of metal, charred seats, and shattered glass are barely recognizable as they sit under the stormy sky. The fire has long ceased burning. Emergency services drug the survivors out of the wreckage hours ago; now, the deal with the bodies. Inspector Sting watches from the distance through a pair of binoculars. "Those bastards, I can't believe they would go do far," he mutters. A low ranking offer walks up to him, holding a hat in his hands. "Um, sir?" he says. "Please, tell me you've found them," Sting says. "They, uh, got away, sir." Sting grits his teeth. The binoculars in his hand begin to bubble. Black plastic drips down and splatters on the wet ground and the binoculars are melted by his rage. "I want every officer available hunting them," he says. +++ Her name is Alabama Song. She owns a small tavern in the back streets of London. It's a quiet tavern, one whose only entrance is in a grimy back alley. Still, she finds enough customers to stay in business. On one dark, rainy evening, at around seven, four customers walk into her tavern. Or, more accurately, three customers walk in carrying a fourth over their shoulders. "Is she okay?" Song asks. "Do not worry, friendly tender of bar," the largest of the intruders says. "Our friend is merely asleep." The large man sets the sleeping woman down in a booth and sits down next to her. He brushes some hair out away from her face. "Five more minutes," the sleeping woman mumbles. "She's really out, isn't she?" Alabama Song asks. "She has had a long day," the large man says. He glances at his companions and sighs. "We all have." Alabama Song returns to tending bar and the large man, a man named Nero, leans back in his seat. "It is good to finally rest," he says. "How long did it take us to finally lose the police after we left the airport?" "Three hours, at least," one of his companions, a man named Kelly, says. "And what a three hours it was," Nero says. "It is a shame Johana slept through it. There were some fantastically cool moments that happened between her fight with Young and us arriving at this bar." "I can't believe she fell asleep as soon as she was done with Young," another of Nero's companions, a woman named Kan, says. "There were some crazy moments in that chase. Like that moment at the bridge." "Or the moment with the old lady," Kelly says. "Or the thing with the pickles!" Kan says. "Yes, it was a fantastic chase," Nero says. "One that, unfortunately, can not be properly described with mere words." Kelly picks up a peanut and flicks it. It lands in Johana's open mouth. She coughs as it goes down her throat, but doesn't wake up. "Are you sure she's alright?" Kelly asks. "No, she is not 'all right'," Nero says. "She has been in six fights in the past twenty-four hours, four of which ended with someone dying. And, given our decision to stay in London, we know that there are more fights on the horizon. Let her rest while she can." "Okay, I'll stop it with the peanuts," Kelly says. "We need to find a place to hide out for a few nights, where we can rest and figure out our next step," Nero says. "We can't go back to the dormitory, it'll be swarming with cops," Kan says. "The same can be said for my hotel room," Nero says. "Mr. Zuko, do you live in London?" "I do, but my place won't work," Kelly says. "Why not?" "You know how I said when Woodstock's began this boxer dude attacked me?" Kelly says. "Well, he attacked me in my apartment. Tore the door off the hinges, destroyed all the furniture, tossed me through a window. Thankfully, I landed in my car and was able to drive away before he killed me." "That is unfortunate," Nero says. "I'd hate to sleep in the convertible tonight, especially considering the rainstorm." "I mean, we can probably stay here for a few hours," Kan says. "If you want to stay, you're going to have to order something," Alabama Song shouts from the bar. "Okay, going forward, no more mentioning fleeing from the police in front of the bartender," Kelly whispers. Nero backflips out of his chair and orders a few drinks. Song hands him two bottles of beer and a club soda on a circular tray. Nero walks back, balancing the tray on his finger. He spins it before throwing it into the air. Nero rolls forward, catching both beers in his hands. The glass of club soda lands on his chin. "That was both amazing and completely pointless," Kan says as she takes her beer. Kelly takes his beer and tries to open it. Emphasis on try. He strains himself to open the beer. "Need some help?" Nero asks. "No, I've got it," Kelly mutters. Kelly taps the bottle with his glove and red sparks shoot out of his fingers, loosening the top. Kelly smiles as he finally undoes the top. Then the beer explodes out and sprays him in the face. "You, uh, must have shook it up when you through it in the air," Kelly mutters. "I am sorry," Nero says. Nero touches his soda with the palm of his hand. Using Hamon energy to bind the soda together, Nero pulls a long strip of liquid out of his glass. He moves the liquid over his head and releases it, sending it tumbling straight down his gullet. The tavern door opens and a woman in her thirties walks in. She wears a conservative yellow dress, soaking wet, and had shoulder-length blonde hair. She clutches a broken arm. Her nose has been broken, and one of her white heels is missing. "Why is everyone who comes into my bar tonight gravely injured?" Alabama Song mutters to herself. The injured woman sits down next to Nero. Nero looks at her arm and notices a silver bracelet on her wrist. "Hello Nero," the woman says. "I need your help." +++ Back at the airport, a firefighter sifts through the wreckage. He finds a charred suitcase with a large hole in the center. He has no reason to care about the suitcase, or at the very least he shouldn't care. But, for some reason, he is drawn to the suitcase. He pulls it from the wreckage and opens it. Amongst the ashes of burned clothing, the firefighter finds three silver bracelets and a rusty arrow. The firefighter picks up one of the bracelets and places it on his hand. Spikes shoot out of the bracelet, piercing the firefighter's coat and embedding in his flesh. He screams and struggles to pull it off. That's when he hears it, the ringing. A cellphone sits among the wreckage, by some twist of fate spared by the crash. The firefighter picks up the phone and answers it. "Hello there, Jefferson," the distorted voice on the other end of the line says. "How do you know my name?" the firefighter asks. "I know many things, Jefferson. I know that you're a good person. A person who saves people." "Uh-huh." "Do you see that arrow in the suitcase, Jefferson? You can feel the power flowing from it. Power that can help you save people, Jefferson." Jefferson glances at the arrow sitting in the open suitcase. "I don't understand any of this," Jefferson says. "Don't worry, Jefferson. You don't need to understand anything. That's my job." Jefferson picks up the arrow and stabs it in his shoulder. To Be Continued In Chapter 21: Summer Nights and Eye of the Tiger, Part 1