First fic. Not much for writing but Angela asked so here I am. This is a soul mate AU. There will be abuse (physical/emotional/mental), blood, gore, smut, torture. Maybe M-PREG, I'm still on the fence about that because I am in NO WAY an expert on such things.

I listened to "Symphony of Destruction" – Megadeth.

I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

Forge

Prologue

"You DISGUST me!"

Thrown to the floor with naught but a smidgen of strength left, the teenage boy falls to his bloodied knees and scraped hands, his arms quiver under his weight and his legs feel boneless. A warm, cruel intentioned hand wraps around his tender throat and forcibly hoists him to shaky legs; he's now eye to eye with his attacker. Wrapping numbed fingers around the man's wrist, the boy hopes to somehow weaken the man's hold and get some much needed oxygen to his brain-this doesn't work for it increases the man's ire towards him, and it's shown by the violent shake he's given and the tightening of his throat.

"Listen to ME boy." the cruel man speaks, voice like the devil's, "No one will know about this-this MISTAKE of yours. Got it?" the boy nods weakly, hands still holding the man's wrist, "If anyone and I mean ANYONE, asks about it, you tell them "it's none of their business". You tell them you "don't HAVE a soul mate". Understand?"

The boy rasps out a weak, "I-I understand."

Lips pulling back into a disgusted grimace, the man tosses the boy to the ground and fixes his attire, "You aren't WORTHY of a soul mate."

The man spares the boy a wretched snarl before the click-click-clicking of his sharp dress shoes make for the exit, bitterly shutting the lights off and slamming the door. Leaving the boy within a dense room of nothingness, a cloud of undeserved despair beginning to loom over the boy's crumpled form.

Lying upon the cold tiled floor, the teenage boy curls in on himself, his body screaming in pain, tears prick the corners of his eyes and he wants nothing more than to let those tears flow free, but after the humiliation he suffered from the cruel man who calls himself his "father" he can't find it in himself to do so. Instead, cold fingers search out the scritch-scratched name of his soul mate. His MALE soul mate. Rolling on to his back is agonizing and fairly uncomfortable for the lashes he'd been given start to sting and remind him of his failure. He's still fingering the name of his soul mate, something he'd taken to doing once he found that it gave him a sense of security.

A column of light fills the room with a feeling of not belonging, he doesn't look at the person who gently chides him for being "stupid" as they gingerly help him into a sitting position, he doesn't look at the person who studies his freshly given wounds, he doesn't look as the person removes his ruined shirt and begins scrubbing him down with alcohol. He can't bear the thought of knowing his little sister is the one picking him up and putting him back together-it's like a slap in the face, an unintentional insult proclaiming that he's still weak compared to his "oh-so-perfect" sister.

"Really Zuzu," said girl speaks up, he doesn't flinch as she rubs an alcohol soaked cotton-ball over a particularly nasty lashing, "You need to learn some self-preservation instincts. I know you're dense, but this is the eleventh time this week-we're running out of medical supplies."

"Zuzu" or Zuko is sixteen years old and living with a horrid man for a father and a sadistic sister, younger than him by a year or so, his mother who'd been his savior and his father's soul mate had taken to running away, leaving him with people who see him as nothing more than living trash. Their father says she ran off with some man but Zuko knows a lie when he hears one, he may not be all that great when it comes to lying himself, but he's lived with Azula long enough to hear a lie and even though the boy loved, and still loves, his mother, he can't help but feel a little resentful towards her.

"You're going to need a haircut Zuzu," Azula continues, she's now bandaging his torso in gauze, "You're starting to look like a commoner."

And while the bruised and broken teen may not care what he looks like, a high-class family such as his, do. Some say he's handsome but the majority say he's pretty (and that in part is why his father finds him a disgrace). His hair's of midnight silk; eyes like the sun, equal in color and brightness; skin and body sculpted from fine marble-although-there's a horrid splash of reddened skin covering the left side of his face.

Another "lesson" reminder from his father.

Most people try not to stare out of politeness, but some whisper and talk behind their hands. Zuko's not entirely sure who he hates the most.

Azula now sits before him with a contemplative look; her eyes (so much like their father's) are trained on the chicken scratch upon the center of his chest (right where his heart is). Without much thought, Zuko knows she's looking at the name of his soul mate.

"What kind of name is "Jet"?" the girl frowns in disgust, "It sounds too-COMMON." Zuko doesn't reply, doesn't care to, "We're going to have to get rid of it."

Finally, Zuko deigns to speak, "Father's already tried."

And it's true, once the man found out Zuko's soul mate was destined to be of the same gender, he "flipped out" more or less and tried to carve it out of Zuko's chest with a pen-knife of all things, sad to say, it didn't work. With each treatment, the scrawl of letters prevailed, clear as day. Now his chest is a battleground of scars crisscrossing one another, all in the name of removing the unsightly "blemish" from his skin.

Oddly enough, Zuko finds himself wondering who Azula's soul mate is.

"Unlike father," said girl begins to speak, "I have a better solution than mutilating your body." this of course captures Zuko's attention as Azula pulls something from her blazer's pocket, it looks like a tube of lipstick, "This is concealer." the girl begins as she unscrews the lid, "We're about the same skin tone more or less so this SHOULD blend in with the rest of you."

Zuko feels his brows knit, "And you're sure the-," he hesitates, "-the "thing" won't show?"

Azula rolls her eyes, squirting a bit of the flesh colored makeup upon her index and middle finger, "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have suggested it."

Watching the girl's hand approach his bare flesh has Zuko unintentionally bracing himself for pain-but when nothing but cold creamy liquid touches his skin, he feels the tension melt from his body. Curious, he peers down at the warm fingers massaging the makeup onto his chest, he finds it odd that both his father and sister's hands are warm, considering their behavior, and to his amazement, the imperfection is disappearing. Not a hint of the messily scrawled name apparent ANYWHERE. He's not sure whether he should thank Azula or not, but the girl makes the decision for him as she begins packing up the medical supplies.

"You can thank me by going to the pharmacy and buying more supplies."

"Of course."

"Now," the girl stretches her arms above her head, "You've wasted enough of my time, get out of here."

Without having to be told twice, Zuko forces himself to his feet, his body stings and the bandages make him itchy, but he'll live-now to somehow get passed their father without alerting him to Zuko's destination. He stops within the doorframe.

"That stuff," he begins, refusing to meet his sister's eyes, "What is it?"

"Concealer." Azula snorts, "Here." Zuko turns just as she tosses the aforementioned object, he fumbles but he manages to keep a hold on it, "Have it. It's old and it's almost gone anyway."

"I-," Zuko struggles with himself, "Thank you, Azula."

"Didn't I tell you to get out?"

And with that icy remark, their bond severs, Zuko knows she's done being "nice" to him for today and as he makes for a quick escape he's instantly flanked by two guys in matching black suits and red ties, he backs away as if scalded and makes to look as threatening as he can, although he feels more like a kitten with its hackles raised. Behind him, he can hear Azula approaching.

"What's going on here?"

"We're from a branch of the Dai-Li Bureau and we've been ordered to evacuate your family."

Zuko frowns but straightens up, "Why are we being "evacuated"?"

"You're family is deemed important to the world and therefore must come with us."

"What about the rest of the people?" Zuko asks, he's equal parts alarmed and angered.

"Come with us." the man continues speaking like Zuko hadn't said a word, "Your father is waiting with the rest of the personnel."

The sixteen year old bristles, before he can so much as retort with a snide remark, Azula pushes past him with a, "Drop it Zuzu."

Scowling after his sister, Zuko follows hesitantly-if Azula is just as confused as he is, then this couldn't possibly be some orchestrated assassination attempt. Can never be too paranoid. But-why would they be evacuating their family? What reason do they have to uproot them?

BOOM!

The house shakes. Somewhere within the house, glasses break. The air fills with the droning of agonized moans and terrified screams. Guns pop like firecrackers. A siren blares its screeching alarm, signaling the oncoming horde, drowning out the rattling guns. It's as if someone flipped a switch. Zuko feels like he's been doused with ice water-but he doesn't have time to collect his thoughts when his whole world turns upside down and he finds himself staring at the polished floor of his home.

"Hey!" Zuko shouts, he begins wriggling, "Let me go!"

He's being held fireman carry, the man assisting him ignores him like before and continues on after his companion, Zuko grasps onto the back of the man's suit only to find the man is made of metal-as seems to be the trend for today, Zuko doesn't have much time to contemplate such an odd find. A window shatters nearby and before he knows it, the metal man jumps OUT of the shattered window. Alarmed, he holds on tight to the man's clothing. When they hit ground, he loses his breath. His vision blurring and darkening around the edges.

"Hey stupid." Zuko feels something prodding his bruised side, he winces, cracking his eyes open to see Azula glaring down at him, "Get up!"

A pair of hardened hands grab him under his armpits and lift him, he's manhandled towards a metal helicopter and he's not entirely sure what he's doing but he think he might be babbling something, it's when he thinks he's seated, he gets a hard slap across the face. The babbling stops. The ringing in his ears stop. Blinking, he finds himself staring in the face of his disappointed father and an embarrassed Azula. Most likely embarrassed by her brother's behavior.

The men that enter the helicopter, armed to the teeth with weapons, don't say anything as they seat themselves and the whirring of the 'copter begins-even HE'S embarrassed by his display of weakness.

"We're relocating your family to Avatar," a man speaks, "Is that okay, Mr. West?"

"That's fine."

"We'll be there within a three days time."

After the man finishes speaking, a calm dark falls over him-he dreams of fire sanitizing his body, scrubbing him clean; he dreams of voices all calling out for him; he dreams of a messily scrawled name written above his heart-when he wakes, he finds himself lying strapped to a metal examining table. His eyes meet that of a slimy looking man who's also looking back at him, his expression reads arrogant, confident, Zuko hates it but he can't find it in himself to hate the man, he hears the hissing of the locking mechanisms releasing, looking down at himself he sits up and stretches his limbs,

"How are you Event-9856?"

"Good." Zuko automatically replies.

"Excellent," the man goes on, "You will begin you're Sentry duties tomorrow. You're uniform is waiting for you."

I honestly didn't plan for it to turn out the way it did, I simply allowed it to take me where it wanted.

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