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Wu did not plan on being orphaned at age 15. Wu did not plan on being responsible for the care and feeding of his father's secretary's 8 year old son, Kai. And Wu most certainly did not plan on supporting himself and his family's only surviving retainer using the card sharp skills he'd picked up from years of being left in the dubious care of his parents' bodyguards while the prince and princess attended important meetings.
Wu did plan on cheating his way through three card games, two games of pai sho, and one round of dice, but that's just what you have to do when your options are thievery or starvation.
(Well. In all fairness his options were thievery, starvation, or turning up at the Earth Kingdom embassy, pleading for assistance from the ambassador and probably getting assassinated by his aunt's seemingly endless supply of swords for hire. Of those options Wu figured thievery was the least likely to get him and Kai killed.)
Wu is now rapidly discovering that his planning skills leave quite a bit to be desired and that, perhaps, he was a bit hasty in assuming a little light theft wouldn't end in death.
"Now, now," he waves his hands uselessly at the thug currently menacing him. They're standing in a back alley off Orchid street, behind the casino Wu had, moments ago, left several thousand yuan richer. The lights of the vice district flare and sparkle behind the enforcer, giving the giant of a man a totally unearned celestial glow as he looms over Wu's cowering form. (Hey, Wu knows his strengths, bravado is for people who can back it up, if looking small and helpless keeps those massive fists away from his fragile face, well, goodbye dignity, it was nice knowing you.) "Sometimes the odds just aren't in your favor."
"And sometimes little weasels cheat," the thug growls.
"Oh he speaks, wonderful, always up for a good dialogue. Now my fine fellow, would I, an upstanding citizen like yourself, stoop so low as attempting to cheat the house?" Wu offers his best charming smile.
The thug is not charmed. He is, in fact, so distinctly Not Charmed that he grabs Wu by the shirt and hurls him up against the nearest wall. Ouch.
"Ah, hahaha," Wu says uneasily, "careful, careful, wouldn't want to damage my wardrobe."
"I don't give a shit about your 'wardrobe'," the thug snarls, "I'm here to damage you."
Well that does not sound ideal.
"Are you quite sure of that, my fine fellow?" Wu tries, "because I'm sure, given the proper incentives we could come to some sort of financial arrangement that suits both our interests."
This is apparently too many syllables for the thug to bother processing because he drags Wu away from the wall only to slam him back into it. Harder. The former prince wheezes, blinking stars out of his eyes. Somewhere on Orchid street a stranger whoops for joy even as another shouts in anger. Tinny vaudeville music spills out of an open doorway and the scent of sweat, liquor, perfume and garbage permeates the air.
For the first time it occurs to Wu that this man really could hurt him. The rough stone wall grinds against his skin through the thinning fabric of his increasingly worn jacket and his chest constricts, fear strangling his breath. His mind veers to Kai, still inside the casino, slipping wallets out of pockets, snatching the yuan and returning them lighter. The boy is a talented pickpocket with a sharp eye and sharper tongue, but he's only 8. How will he survive without Wu there to look after him?
The thug switches from holding Wu by the jacket to holding him by the throat, squeezing the last gasp of air from his lungs. Wu chokes, thrashing and struggling uselessly.
"Nobody cheats the boss," the thug growls and Wu has to bite back a hysterical laugh. He's about to be murdered by a c-grade thug and the last thing he'll hear is a line ripped from a bad stage melodrama.
"Hands off Chang," a new voice snaps through the air like the crack of a whip, followed with a streak of gold darting across Wu's tunneling vision to slap the hand around his neck. The skin sizzles, a sick meaty smell wafting up into Wu's sinuses as the thug yelps and drops him.
Wu hits the ground in an awkward tangle of limbs, wheezing as he struggles to drag air into his abused throat. Over his head, the thug - Chang - is cursing the Firebender who interrupted him. Wu, blinking stars out of his eyes, turns his bleary gaze towards the end of the alley and his savior.
"- the fuck are you doing, Mako -" Chang snarls.
"The fuck are you doing, meathead?" the Firebender snaps back, stepping deeper into the alley. He flicks his wrist, the thin ribbon of flame he'd lashed Chang's hand with coiling around his wrist and coalescing into a single hovering tongue of flame. It washes his face in golden light, lighting up all the planes and angles, making him glow like something from the Spirit World.
He's young, this Mako guy, close to Wu's own age, with bottomless amber eyes and wild, dark hair. He's a collection of hard lines and sharp angles held together with rigid confidence and deadly intent.
Wu might be a little bit in love.
"You left your post to shake down some kid in an alley," Mako says, "Zolt's pissed."
"That's rich coming from you, brat," Chang sneers.
Mako twists his wrist, the flame vanishing, replaced by a corona of seed lighting crackling around his fist. "Zolt. Is. Pissed. Get back inside before there's a brawl. I'll take out the trash."
Chang scoffs. He twitches as if tempted to haul off and give Wu a kick to the ribs as a parting gift, but stops when a steak of electricity arcs over Mako's knuckles. His lip curls but he stomps off, back into the casino, presumably to deal with this 'Zolt' character.
Wu blinks sluggishly and when he opens his eyes again the miraculous Mako is kneeling in front of his, amber eyes intent. His clothes are as patched and worn as Wu's have gotten, maybe even more so. His black hair is a little greasy as if he hasn't had the yuan for a visit to the public baths recently. Despite that, his face and hands are scrupulously clean, even his fingernails, and his clothes, despite the wear are neatly mended and tidy. The only spot of color on him other than his eyes is the bright red scarf looped around his neck.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, voice so much softer than it had been moments ago. Wu is going to marry him someday.
"Greviously wounded, I'll never recover, someone will have to take me home and nurse me back to health," Wu rasps through his bruised throat, throwing in a wink for good measure.
The beautiful Mako doesn't look amused, but he does take Wu's hands and helps him to his feet. His eyes stay locked on Wu's the whole time. Wu feels a little like he's falling even as he gets his feet under him, like that steady amber gaze is swallowing him whole.
"You're good," Mako says once they're both on their feet. He glances down, realizes he's still holding Wu's hands and drops them like he's been burned, ducking his head and looking away for the first time since he'd asked Wu if he was hurt. A hint of a flush creeps up his neck and Wu tries not to find that just as irresistibly charming as the rest of him.
"Good?" Wu asks.
"You're a good card sharp. Quick, subtle, even if the rest of you...isn't."
"Magician's trick," Wu winks, "make them look over here," he waves a hand, "so they don't see what you're doing here," he takes a risk and taps Mako's nose, giving a quiet "boop," as he does.
Mako's eyes sharpen, less like he's angry and more...intent. "You talk. A lot."
"One of my many talents," Wu says with a flourish.
Mako's burning gaze doesn't waver. "My time with the Triple Threats is almost up. I'm looking for talented people. Try not to get killed in the meantime." And with that mysterious nonsequitor Mako steps back, turns away and moves to exit the alley.
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Wu yelps despite the stab of pain in his throat, "you can't just go around being sexy and heroic and wander off after making vague promises without giving me any way to contact you!"
Mako chokes on a little coughing laugh and turns back, a half smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "You can leave messages for me with Fangli at Madame Ming's Cabaret. In three months when my time with the Threats is up, I'll find you."
"And?" Wu demands.
"And we'll make our own gang."
"You don't even know me. How can you trust me?"
Mako shrugs, "I don't trust anybody. But you owe me one. So you probably won't stab me in the back yet."
And before Wu can protest this completely unprovoked slight on his character - Mako vanishes around a corner.
"Sooo, you gonna join that guy's gang?" Kai asks, slouching over from the casino's back door where he'd been lurking, watching the whole interaction.
"Quite possibly," Wu says.
"Huh. So I should probably return his wallet."
Wu turns to frown at him. Kai shrugs, unrepentant. "What? How was I supposed to know he'd actually save your butt when I asked him to come help you."
Wu sighs deeply. Well, silver lining. At least his next conversation with Mako is going to be interesting.