Note: This story is going to be co-written by myself, Bolinlover123, and my friend Boasamishipper. We are going to switch off every chapter or so, but the story will always be in my account.

Warning: this story will contain harsh themes, cursing, and violence. During Bolin and the other refugees' time in the reeducation camp, we will try to make it as realistic as possible. Both Boa and myself, make things angsty.

That being said, we hope you enjoy and review. Thank you :)

Reminder; this story takes place after 'Reunion" when the refugees, Bolin and Varrick, head up north on the boat, after getting past the check point.

Define Your Meaning of War: by Boasamishipper and Bolinlover123

This is it, boys, this is war, what are we waiting for?
Why don't we break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype,
Save that for the black and white

I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked,
But here they come again to jack my style
That's alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight
Stops my bones from wondering just who I, who I, who I am
F.U.N. "Some Nights"

...

"Bolin," Varrick whined from his sprawled position on the floor of the boat. "This is ridiculous. How much longer until we get there?"

"Varrick," Bolin said, pinching the bridge of his nose for the thousandth time (and Spirits, damn it, if that area hadn't gone completely numb by now), "it has literally been an hour and a half, okay? Ninety minutes, and some unknown number of seconds. We are going up north, and it's going to take a while for us to get up there. This isn't one of your warships. It'll take a while. Okay?"

"Okay, okay, sheesh!" Varrick huffed, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, kid, you get angry when you're on the run."

No, he fought the urge to say, I get angry when you're constantly pushing all of my buttons like a toddler in control of the radio set! He understood that Varrick's constant complaining was his coping mechanism. The man was used to the fine life of caviar and things given to him on a silver platter with the push of a button, hand delivered by Zhu Li. But Bolin wasn't Zhu Li, and he sure as hell wasn't going to wait on Varrick the entire time they were on the run.

Baraz looked unimpressed, and Ahnah-the waterbender girl whom Bolin assumed to be his girlfriend-looked like she was fighting the urge to start laughing.

"Damn," said the man. He'd lit a cigarette several moments earlier, and the thick smoke easily filled the air around them. Baraz had offered Bolin and Varrick one, too, but Bolin had had enough cigarettes to last him a lifetime during his childhood, and Varrick hadn't been used to lighting one on his own, so they'd both declined. "Did you expect you'd be on the run in the lap of luxury?"

"To be fair, I never expected to be on the run in the first place!" Varrick shouted, flailing his arms around like a crazy person. Bolin snorted as the sole bird on the boat railing flew away, squawking as if it was affronted. "I didn't think that Kuvira would turn absolutely insane—"

"Shh!" In a flash, Ahnah's hand covered Varrick's mouth, preventing any more complaints from coming out. Bolin's respect for her rose. "You never know who could be listening, Varrick. The walls have ears, you know."

Varrick didn't speak. Bolin actually sighed, leaning back. He rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze around them, not to mention the peace and quiet as their boat sailed by the coast of the town.

"Drink, Corporal?" An older man in his forties hiccupped, eyes red-rimmed as he swung a bottle of liquor around. He was seated with a few other fugitives, whom were also chugging down beers as if there was no tomorrow. Bolin knew the man's name was Tzu Ji. Tzu Ji hadn't been as quick to trust him and Varrick, as Baraz and Ahnah had. He still viewed Bolin as the enemy, which was why he kept referring to him as a Corporal, his rank back in the army. Bolin couldn't say he blamed him.

"Ah, no. I'll pass. Not of age yet, you see." He chuckled awkwardly.

In the last hour on the boat, Bolin got to know some of the others who'd escaped with Baraz and Ahnah. One of them, a man named Jiron, dubbed the name "Tricks" for the yo-yo he seemed inseparable from. After watching him put on a mini-show with it, Varrick had asked what made the toy so special to him. It turned out the small plaything had been one of his five year old daughter's favorite things to watch. He had been teaching the five-year old before Kuvira's siege started, before she was shot in the head by an unruly Earth Empire soldier.

Hearing those stories made Bolin surer than ever that his decision to join Kuvira had been the wrong one. What had he been thinking, going away from his family? From Opal, for that matter? That last thing he had said to his brother had been nasty, defending everything Kuvira said, and, at the time, he had felt a small satisfaction at the way Mako frowned at him. Like had had proved Mako wrong for once. He'd been drawn in by the promise of fixing everything, by leaving the world in harmonized perfection. Little had he known that attempting to make the world perfect and balanced left it more scarred than possible. There were always two sides to every story, after all.

Had he really been so nieve? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Hey, Tricks?" he asked. The man looked up from his yoyo. "What was your daughter's name?"

His face turned dark, like the sun disappearing from behind a cloud. "Mei-Mei," he said shortly. "And that's all I have to say about that."

"I have a brother," Bolin said, not knowing where he was going. "His name's Mako." The thought of Mako hating him now- like he knew he deserved- made his eyes burn, especially at the thought that he may never see him again.

Tricks looked nervous. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because… I don't know." Bolin sighed; and he really didn't. "I just wanted to tell you that—that I know what it's like to go through this. I know what you're going through, Tricks. You're probably blaming yourself, and I should know—I've gone through that, when my mom and dad died. It'll hurt for a long time…a really long time." Bolin laughed self-deprecatingly. "But I swear, it'll get better."

Tears were in the man' s eyes. "Thank you, sir. Erm. Bolin."

Ahnah stood up suddenly, taking her hand off Varrick's mouth—the man in question gasped like he'd been deprived of oxygen for a thousand years—and gasping herself.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, Spirits, no…"

"What's wrong?" Baraz leapt to his feet, followed shortly by Bolin and Varrick. "Storm ahead? We can dock for the night—"

"Not a storm," she stammered. "Worse."

Bolin's breath caught in his chest as he saw another boat approaching them. It wouldn't have bothered him under any circumstance…but when the flag of the Great Uniter flapped on a flagpole in the middle of the deck—and since everyone on their boat was a refugee…

Spirits, they were screwed six ways to Sunday, weren't they?

"Monkeyfeathers," Bolin swore. "Fucking monkeyfeathers."

"Everyone, you have to stay calm," Baraz ordered. "Bolin, Varrick, can you talk those guys out of not searching our boat?"

Varrick snorted. "Hate to say it, bucko, but I think that me and the kid are out of luck, here. You saw what happened at the last checkpoint. I can't rig something up to get us out of here, and if the Flaming Wonder over there," he jabbed a thumb towered Bolin,"lavabends then this hunk of junk will sink fast. Reminds me of this time that Zhu Li and I were testing certain types of lava on my yacht in the Fire Nation—"

"What he means to say," Bolin interrupted, "is that we can't do what we did last time."

Varrick looked annoyed. "Isn't that what I just said?"

"What did he just say?"

Bolin nearly leapt out of his skin to see one of the soldiers from the other boat leaning against the railing. How the hell he had gotten there was beyond him.

"N-nothing," he covered lamely. "My friend's just remembering one of his vacations in the Fire Nation. He misses it." Behind him, Ahnah, Tricks, Tzu Ji, and Baraz were nodding like bobble-head dolls.

"Why would he want to go to the Fire Nation?" the soldier asked in pure disbelief. "Under Kuvira's rule, the Earth Empire is the perfect place to stay." Then, all of a sudden, the soldier stalked closer to Varrick, grabbing the man's head and tilting it from side to side. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No, sir," the inventor said quickly—too quickly—and he jerked backwards. "I think you'd remember seeing a beautiful face like mine…th—though not as beautiful as yours, my man! Do you use a certain moisturizer, because I can never get my forehead to look as shiny as yours. Then again, we were just trudging for the woods for days on end and I don't even know when my last shower was and—"

The soldier held up a hand, halting Varrick's words in their tracks. "I remember you now," he said, smirking. "You're Varrick, aren't you? We met once while I was with the Great Uniter herself." Varrick blanched. "And that must make you Corporal Bolin." He added, turning to said earthbender," Members of Kuvira's inner circle on a boat with this sorry excuse for people? No wonder you were considered traitors to the Earth Empire." He paused. "My name is Master Sergeant Luong, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."

With that seemingly harmless statement punctuated by a fierce smile, the soldiers from the other boat leapt onto theirs, and started yelling, brandishing nightsticks and charging the refugees. When one of the men jumped on top of Ahnah, Baraz flipped out, sending a wave of fire toward the man that sent him overboard and into the cold water.

Bolin yanked violently against the arms holding him, trying to break free, but with no success. He kicked out at the guy on Varrick's right, who groaned and collapsed to the deck, clutching the area around his groin. Varrick stood in front of Tzu Ji and a girl named Al-Mura, brandishing a screwdriver and daring anyone to come over near him.

"Thanks, Bo!" Varrick called.

"Don't mention it!" Bolin called back, and with another kick, the man holding him let out a cry and his grip on him loosened for a split second. The second was just long enough for Bolin to twist out of his weakened grasp and run backwards over to Varrick, wishing desperately that he could lavabend without sinking the entire boat and drowning its passengers.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Ahnah, move!"

"Tzu Ji, get out of the way!"

"If one of you motherfuckers makes any sudden moves—"

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Hey!"

Bolin's eyes grew wide as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun held by Luong, whose face was stern, like Bolin was a misbehaving student that needed reprimanding. The barrel was pressed roughly against his forehead, and Bolin was already breaking out in a sweat. His heart was hammering so hard against his chest that he thought it would burst.

"Alright, you pieces of maggot shit, listen up!" said Luong, his grip on the gun never wavering. Bolin's blood pressure skyrocketed. "What I'm about to say is exactly what's going to happen now, and if it doesn't—if you put one fucking toe out of line— Corporal Pretty Boy over here will die with seven holes in his chest and the rest of you will die in a watery grave."

"That'll be better than living under Kuvira's rule!" shouted Tricks. "Anything would be better than living under a ruthless bitch for a dictator!"

In a flash, one of Luong's men shot Tricks in the chest, and the man's look of stunned absolution didn't fail as he went over the side of the boat. Tricks' yoyo had fallen from his fist and onto the wooden deck of the boat. It rolled over to Bolin's feet, then stopped with a horrible thud as it met the tip of his boot.

"Anyone else have something to say about our Great Uniter?" Luong asked rhetorically. No one moved a muscle. Even Varrick had nothing to say on the matter. "Excellent. Now my men are going to escort you onto our boat, where we'll be taking you all to a work camp until we have further use for your kind." Luong smirked. "And if any one of you tries to escape or pulls anything funny, I'll make sure that you get the same treatment as the man we just killed. Am. I. Clear?" his final three words weren't a question, but a promise bathed in blood.

Ahnah, Baraz, Bolin, Varrick, Tzu Ji and the others hastily murmured their assent.

"Excellent." Luong's grin reminded Bolin of a shark-squid. "The Great Uniter will be most pleased of your cooperation."

And he pistol-whipped Bolin across the face.

Varrick shouted, Ahnah gasped, and Baraz took a threatening step forward, but each of them were prevented from helping by Luong's men. Barely conscious from the pain in his cheek, Bolin was yanked to his feet by Luong, barely able to stay still with his head swirling. The muzzle of the gun was rammed into his diaphragm, and he nearly choked, his breaths gasping and his blood pounding in his ears. Luong grabbed hold of Bolin's arm again and, with the gun trained on him (not to mention the potential threats to Ahnah, Varrick and Baraz), he was marched onto the soldiers' boat. Ahnah, Varrick, Baraz, Tzu Ji, al-Mura and the others were practically thrown aboard after him.

Already feeling like a trapped animal, Bolin looked around, trying desperately to find any area of escape but failed. Short of jumping over and swimming to shore (an idea with absolutely no merit whatsoever), he and the other refugees were trapped.

Monkeyfeathers.

They were taken back to shore and chained to one another, the soldiers making sure that one couldn't run away without taking the rest down with him. Bolin was at the front of the line, Varrick directly behind him. To the earthbender's surprise, the older man didn't say a word.

Guess he's in shock from all that's happened. He was right, we shouldn't have gone with Ahnah and Baraz. Fucking monkeyfeathers, why didn't I listen? The only sound that the fugitives made were short breaths and Al-Mura's quiet sobs. After what seemed like miles, they made their way to a large building that Bolin recognized as a HQ. Kuvira had been planning on setting these up in every small town and big city, just so those who were loyal supporters of her could enlist and talk with other soldiers.

The fugitives were marched into the building, and the sound of the large door slamming closed behind Bolin echoed harshly in his ears. The feeling of being trapped with nowhere to go intensified, and it took literally every ounce of willpower that he had to not throw up or run away on the spot—neither of which were plausible. Bolin would end up taking down Varrick or Tzu Ji with every move he made. With Luong and the other soldiers in the lead, they made their way down to a windowless corridor just wide enough for six people to walk through at a time. The ceiling in the hallway was short, and Baraz had to duck in order to keep from getting a concussion by way of banging his head on the ceiling. A few dim lights hung from the walls, allowing them all a glimpse of the dirty gray floors. Bolin's stomach clenched as he noticed the dirt stains looked darker than the rest. Almost like dried blood.

They entered a packed room and moved through a sea of faces and a cacophony of raised voices. Everywhere they turned, they saw different people standing around, speaking in weird accents, the colors of their skin ranging from dark to fair, the healthy and strong to the sickly and fragile. Some held religious scriptures in their hands. Some were dressed in fur coats. Some wore nothing but underwear and a shirt.

Bolin blinked. Why're they all in here? What did they do? Then it hit him. They weren't of Earth Kingdom descent, and therefore weren't worth a yuan in Kuvira's book. Spirits, he really hated himself for being part of her shit-eating cult. Really, what had he been thinking? A man at the front desk looked down through his glasses at them.

"Name and rank?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Master Sergeant Luong and the Seventh Battalion. We're escorting newly received prisoners-of-war." The master sergeant puffed out his chest, looking like someone suffering from a superiority complex. "That includes Corporal Bolin and Corporal Varrick." The man at the desk's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "They'll be sent to Zhangfu 13, of course," the man said, writing furiously on a scrap of paper.

"And the others?"

"They aren't worth the shit they produce. Put them wherever the fuck you want." Luong turned to his men, snapping his fingers, and Bolin and Varrick were unchained from the rest of the group. Before Bolin could even consider running away, the master sergeant pushed the earthbender and the inventor into the arms of the two bulkiest men in the battalion.

The man at the desk looked up at Ahnah and Baraz. "Earth Kingdom descent?" Ahnah shook her head, but Baraz nodded.

"On my grandmother's side." Said Baraz.

The man gave an uncaring nod and printed their nationalities on the paper before asking the other fugitives the same. Only Baraz, Tzu Ji and al-Mura were of Earth Kingdom descent. The others had no relation to the earthbenders whatsoever. Then nurses ran into the room, combing through the fugitives' hair, checking for lice, then pulled out buttonhooks to look beneath their eyelids for trachoma. The nurses inquired about their medical history, about their blood.

No one came near Bolin and Varrick.

"You have a plan?" the older man muttered through the corner of his mouth. "Come on, kid, you have to have a plan."

Bolin shook his head despondently. "Nothing," he said quietly.

One of the doctors reached for al-Mura, who screamed and flung herself at Baraz, shaking like a leaf on a branch in a thunderstorm. "People wearing uniforms make her think of Earth Empire soldiers," said Ahnah quietly, her face a mask of pain. "Soldiers that killed her girlfriend. It traumatized her."

Bolin's jaw clenched in anger. His heart leapt in pity for al-Mura. Even Varrick stared at the girl with a new look of respect. Luong glanced at al-Mura again before shrugging and scrutinizing his fingernails. He gestured to the fugitives with a quick sweep of his hand. "Send her, him, and him to be detained with the corporals," the master sergeant ordered, referring to al-Mura, Tzu Ji, and Baraz.

"The rest of them…send them to Camp Yangzhou." Baraz's eyes went wide with utter horror and anger as he lunged for Luong, sparks flickering at his fingers.

"NO!" he yelled. "Damn you, no! Don't take her away from me, please! Let me go with her, you can't take Ahnah away. She's all—she's all I have left, please!"

"NO!" Ahnah was fighting even harder than Baraz as the soldiers unchained her and the other fugitives whose names weren't called from the others. "No, please! Baraz! Please, Baraz, don't let them take me! Please! BARAZ!"

Luong punched Baraz in the face, causing the man to collapse onto the ground, clutching his nose as blood leaked through his fingers.

"Shut up!" the master sergeant ordered. "Shut the fuck up. Jinn, take the woman and the others away."

"NO!" Ahnah screamed, but the soldiers paid her no mind as they frog-marched her and the others down the rest of the corridor, the woman's screams fading into silence a few moments later. Baraz cried, burying his face in his blood-streaked hands and his shoulders shook from the force of his tears. "Please, please," he pleaded, knowing that no one was listening. "Please, don't take Ahnah away…"

"Come on!" Varrick said, and Luong swiveled around to look at him with an expression of distaste on his face. "Hey, you can't take her away from him. That's just not right!"

"What makes you think your opinion matters to anyone, Corporal Varrick? You and your thoughts aren't worth a hill of beans in this world," Luong spat. "Under Kuvira's rule, there's no place for people like her. Only the strongest can survive." Varrick went silent. Bolin felt like he was tied to a psychotic ostrich-horse galloping toward a burning stable.

This can't be happening. It c-can't be happening! Baraz, Tzu Ji and al-Mura were roughly escorted over to Varrick and Bolin, whose breathing escalated. This couldn't be happening. This kind of thing only happened in the movers, not in real life. Never in real life. Not to him.

At the thought of movers, his mind suddenly flashed to Republic City; to Mako, then to Opal. Would her ever see them again? Or Kai, Korra, or Asami? If he died in here, would they ever know what had happened to him or would they be left wondering forever if maybe he was alive somewhere? Would they just write him off as Kuvira's bitch and never think of him again? He wasn't sure which scenario was worse. Under Luong's orders, Bolin, Varrick, Tzu Ji, a silent Baraz, and a still-crying al-Mura stumbled down the corridor as they were led back to a small room and thrown in. Bolin's legs immediately gave way and the earthbender fell with a thud to the hard ground.

"Get some rest," Luong said, leaning against the doorframe. "Tomorrow you're going to be shipped off to Zhangfu 13. Tonight will be the last night I can guarantee you that you won't be murdered in your sleep."

And on that note, the door slammed closed, leaving the five people lying on the ground, listening to the deafening silence surrounding them.