Work Text:
The leader of the Denied laughed, her voice echoing in the enclosed space. “So this is the army you bring to fight us, Avatar? A non-bender like us, a healer, a king who stole his throne, a blind bandit and a monk? You are outnumbered, outmanned, and outskilled. You will perish here, surrounded by the weaklings you call allies.”
“Ooh, I’m so going to love kicking their asses,” Toph grumbled. “No one gets to insult my friends besides me.”
Tagah cracked his knuckles beside her. Inside of him, the adrenaline began to flow and he swore he could hear the air singing to him, bracing for the fight.
I love this.
“One correction,” he interrupted politely, letting a grin break out over his face. “I’m not a monk.”
Then it was a blur. Step, step, shift, push that woman into a wall with the air. Step, dodge a blow or two, knock out an entire swathe of Denied with a controlled air blast. Dodge more blows, run with the air lightening his feet towards the staff–
“You will not get it, bending scum!” Another terrorist appeared right in front of him, his tattooed face incandescent with rage as he blocked Tagah’s path.
Tagah flipped him with a flick of his wrist and tossed the terrorist over his shoulder, uncaring about what happened to him. He had bigger priorities. Namely, Soram’s staff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the others, fighting ferociously, and a sweep of pride ran over him as if they were his own kids: Aang was in the Avatar State, something Tagah had seen sparsely with Sonam, wielding all four elements with the skill of a bender twice his age; Toph was metalbending (he was still amazed that was a thing, and very glad the earth benders of his day hadn’t figured it out, otherwise they would all have been fucked) and giving the Denied no mercy whatsoever; Zuko was wielding fire like he was Wan reincarnated; Katara was wielding water and ice like no bender he’d ever seen before; and Sokka was…wreaking havoc on the terrorists.
I am glad to fight alongside such skilled warriors. I am glad to know such brave kids.
“You are not an Air Nomad!” A terrorist spat, stepping in front of him and snapping him out of his reflections. “You are a- a monster!”
Just like you think all benders are, even though it’s your group that’s trying to encroach on rights and destroy the world if you cannot take it over? Ugh. Hypocrites. I hate them so much.
Tagah rolled his eyes and carefully bent the air out of the terrorist’s lungs until they collapsed- alive, but unconscious. He stepped over their prone form and approached the staff. Thanks to the others, who were successfully dealing with the rest of the Denied, the staff was within his reach.
He reached out and grabbed it. In his hands, the staff glowed a bright, blinding gold, and he could’ve sworn he heard Sonam’s voice briefly:
That’s my brave warrior.
*
“I’m not the only one who saw that, right?” Sokka queried, much later.
Toph let out a dreamy sigh. “Muscular, talented, and violent. What a guy.”
“No, Sokka, we saw it too,” Katara replied. “And it was…”
“Terrifying?”
“Sexy?” Toph suggested.
“Surprising,” Zuko mused. “I didn’t know air bending could be that destructive.”
“Let’s be glad he’s on our side,” Sokka shuddered. “I’d hate to think what he’d do if he weren’t.”
(He’d kill them all.)
Everyone nodded in fervent agreement.
“I wonder if he can choke people,” Toph mused.
“Toph!”
“Katara, it’s a genuine question with potential applicable use! It could be a good interrogation tactic!”
“Or murder,” Sokka pointed out.
Katara buried her face in her hands. “I hate you all.”
Zuko snorted. “That’s rough, buddy.”