𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 ᪥ 𝙄𝙧𝙤𝙝 𝙄𝙄 ˡᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵏᵒʳʳᵃ

𝐓 𝚑 𝐫 𝚎 𝐞

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𝐀 𝚛 𝐫 𝚒 𝐯 𝚊 𝐥
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          𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙆, 𝘽𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙆 𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 her emerald and honey eyes as she attempts to navigate through it with her hands up to defend her scratched and bruised face. In order to better absorb the sound of her enemies' movements around her, she takes slow, shallow breaths and holds it every so often to the point of light headedness, proceeding with light footsteps. Her head whips around at every shadow she spots from the corner of her eye, keeping her anticipated gasps as quiet as possible, and with each one her throat stings terribly.

          The gash on her forehead slowly oozes blood into her vision, more crusts itself to her neck and arms, and her shirt had been charred open across her stomach to reveal a blistering, bloody burn. Her body aches with every step and she could've swore her ankle was broken, and her shoulder had popped out of place and fixed itself back into position at least three times.

They're taunting her, torturing her until she can't fight back anymore. But Terra is trained to fight to the death, to stay on her feet no matter if both of her legs are broken clean in half. Her cheeks burned where she was slapped across the face with whips of water, she grows more and more frustrated at the countless purposeful hits to her face.

          They don't want her dead just yet. This is all a game to them.

          Halah freezes in her spot as a light breeze blows a piece of hair past her nose, tickling the tip of it. The smoke is beginning to settle, and as she watches it slowly fall and disperse across the ground, the silhouettes of her attackers become clear, and they have her surrounded. Again.

          Their faces are but a black void among their masks. The green lenses of their goggles glint in the light, sinister grins glowing white, shoulders shaking with each taunting giggle. Though they are faceless, Halah knows exactly who each and every one of them are. She will never be able to forget the evil beings who stole her from her home and hid her away for years.

          All at once, they turn to the right and begin circling her with each step in sync. At their sides, their gloved hands spark and sizzle with electricity. A cable with dense platinum spheres attached to the ends whizz around at one's side, itching to coil around Halah's ankles and bring her to her knees. Their fixed gazes so haunting, it makes her blood run cold under the layer of sweat coating her skin. Halah stands her ground, taught to always wait for the first move, and simply listens for anything over her own ragged breathing and through the ringing in her ears. The first shuffle of boots and shifting of clothing come from behind her and she easily blocks their attack, even with only one arm functioning. But all too suddenly, she's being shot at left and right with every weapon in sight and it's then she struggles to keep up. She knows she doesn't stand a chance, with her inability to air bend and little knowledge of fire bending, and they knew it and took advantage of her lack in skills.

          The space between Halah and her attackers diminishes in seconds and a jolt of electricity ignites a fire through her chest and sends her crumbling to the ground in a quivering and whimpering mess. If those attacking her aren't her enemies, it's weakness, and Halah curses herself over and over again every time she let it show.

Laughter echoes in her ears as their glowing green stares tower over her. Halah goes to raise her arm to retaliate, but a foot holds her in her spot and she cries out in pain. Above her, an electrically-charged baton is raised above her. After one final howl of laughter, it speeds directly towards her weakened, defeated body—