Match Made in Hell

Azula Sozin was a woman.

Azula Sozin was a lawyer. And a damn good one at that.

Azula Sozin was a lover.

What Azula Sozin was not, was patient.

People tried to put up with it, a few could. Mai was so bored with life nothing could faze her. Ty Lee was so happy and air brained she couldn't care less no matter how much Azula yelled. Her father locked himself in his office and only communicated with her via phone and memos so he didn't have to deal with her. Her good-for-nothing brother had long forsaken her and her short temper for a better, and calmer, life with their uncle.

The only person who could put up with Azula besides her 'friends' was her husband. Jet Feng.

Jet Feng was a man.

Jet Feng was living off his wife. A freeloader if you will.

Jet Feng was a player.

What Jet Feng was not, was sensitive.

People tried to put up with him, many could. He was a frequent at the local bar and was known for his generosity, regularly buying drinks for all the drunken sea dogs and hackneyed factory workers. He was also known as 'The Heartbreak Kid' many young women could be seen the next morning, teary-eyed glaring at Jet Feng's back, but he always brushed them off, saying she too old, too fat, too wanting, too needy, too much.

The only person whose heart he couldn't break, no matter how hard he tried was his wife. Azula Sozin.

Some say it was a match made in hell.

Those few people who did believe that were quick to stay their objections when the saw the couple walking down the street together. It was one of the few times Azula Sozin actually grinned. Not her normal insatiable 'You've lost and nut I'm not done' grin but a real grin, happy some would say.

She would always be on his left. Her flapper dangerously short while in one hand she carried a long cigarette holder, the other was wrapped in his arm. He would be smiling charmingly, pinstripe pants wrinkled while his white dress shirt was untucked and loose around the collar. The grey vest was the same fabric as his fedora, in which a Queen of Hearts was always tucked. He said it was his lucky card, the one that let him meet his own Queen.

The Fateful Night Azula Sozin met Jet Feng

In his hand was a queen of hearts, the king, a jack, the ten and the ace. A flush.

In her hand were the four of hearts, diamonds, clubs, spades and the ace of clubs. Four of a kind.

They were the last two at the table. People were gathered around, whispering and pointing, making their own prediction of the winner. Azula Sozin lifted a hand, subtly to brush a lock of dark away from her eyes. The hand then drifted forward, picking up a silver chip and throwing it to the middle of the table. "Thousand."

Jet looked at his chips. He was running low. He needed to win, there was only one way to do that. He placed his cards on the table. The crowd went silent as he pushed every last of his chips forwards. "All in."

The dealer gave him 'The Look' before turning to Azula. "Miss?"

Azula looked at her cards, though she already knew them by heart. There was no way she could lose, then why was she hesitating. It wasn't the charm emanating from this man that was blocking her competitiveness was it? It didn't matter, if he wanted to play, she would bring the ball. "All in."

No one spoke. Jet stared at Azula. Azula stared at Jet. For a moment, they both smiled, hazel glinting in amber, before they flipped their cards.

Dark caramel eyes twinkled. "You win."

The Fateful Night Azula Sozin Killed Jet Feng

"I'm home!" The door slammed followed by two high heels being thrown off their feet and into the wall. No response, only the gentle drone of the television. "Jet?" the younger looking Azula poked her head around the corner, letting her hair out of its tight bun to settle at her shoulders. Again no response only pop.

Azula turned the corner, today was not a good day at the office, busy, the heater was down and endless phone calls. She came home to this, her husband, lying on the couch and drinking a beer and chewing. No, not chewing. Popping. A vein was clearly strained at her neck.

Smugness.

That's all he ever was, smug. How she hated it. She may have loved it; nay adored it, months ago but now. Now it was just disgusting.

"Jet…didn't you hear me come in?" Her voice was anything but questioning.

Pop.

The vein grew.

"You pop that gum one more time." Azula was past gentle banter, her temper was tried and she was on full-bodied threats. There was a pause while the bubble grew. The stink of Jet's beer and the wet mould of their apartment reigned. Azula watched, foot tapping and eyes narrowed dangerously.

Pop.

"I warned you." She said before walking into her room. She paced momentarily, making her mind up in an instant. She went to her closet and after rummaging around for a few moments she found what she was looking for.

She walked back into the room, her finger resting on the trigger se face Jet, pointing the double barrel right in his face. "Bang, bang." She murmured. The gun mirrored her saying. The bullets sank clean through the muscle before imbedding themselves in the couch's stuffing. "I win."

A/N

WTF is this St??

Anyway, in some kind of random literary brilliance I got to write something. This tends to happen when I can't find inspiration for my multichapters. I write random oneshots.

So this may mean I've broken free of the dreaded Writer's Block or it may mean the general public will be reading a lot of oneshots.

This was for TrueThinker who, practically, accosted me with a forum message asking that I write her some Jetzula from Cellblock Tango.