[FANFIC] Truth
Title: Truth
Characters: Jet; Sneers
Spoilers: None
Comments: How you turn a defeat into victory - a study of psychological warfare.
----
Truth
The line of Perception that divides Fact and truth can be made a gaping chasm.
“The river reeds listen for the wind’s voice and bow accordingly.”
----
Afterwards, Jet remained silent and brooding throughout the afternoon and early evening, staring up at the holes in his roof as his soaked clothing dripped dry on the line strung up outside his “door.”
It had been a confined ops - only those directly involved in laying the explosives had even the vaguest idea of what exactly the foul-smelling barrels were expected to do.
It was better that way, he had convinced himself, pretending to be wholly oblivious to his hypocrisy: less time wasted on questions, explanations, arguments, less doubt.
‘Less guilt…’
Jet swore, sitting bolt upright on his creaking pallet, grinding the heel of his palm into the bridge of his nose. The pressure compounded his throbbing headache, conveniently replacing echoes of accusation and condemnation and truth and visions of wounded sky-blue eyes with blessed pain.
“The natives grow restless,” a unwelcome (but not unexpected) voice intruded, “The longer you hide in here, the wilder the talk; they’re only kids after all.”
Jet grimaced, stifling a groan as he fell back against his ratty pillow. “Handle it yourself,” he retorted darkly, throwing one bare, bruised forearm over his eyes, “Damage control is your specialty.”
“Actually, I believe we agreed my specialty would be general strategy and occasional advice on tactics,” Sneers corrected indifferently, taking a seat on the stump-stool/table beside Jet’s bed without invitation. “Damage control is… a side job.”
“What about Smellerbee?” Jet asked the ceiling, after shooting Sneers an appropriately deadly glare.
“She went chasing after Longshot, naturally,” replied Sneers, ignoring the homicidal glint in Jet’s eyes, “they probably won’t be back for…”
“I get the idea!” Jet interrupted, spitting out the words like acid and getting to his feet in one abrupt, violent motion.
“I’ll need to get Skillet to look over those bruises - that Water Tribe girl might have broken a rib,” commented Sneers, his ebony eyes placidly following Jet as he began pacing the inadequate length of his living quarters, growling like a starving komodo rhino. His tanned skin was mottled with dark-violet-black bruises from merciless water and ice.
“I think I would have noticed something like that, thanks,” snapped Jet, not faltering in his ferocious pace.
“Would you?” Sneers riposted offhandedly.
Jet jerked to a halt, standing very still as he stared over his shoulder at Sneers. “You’re up to something,” he finally concluded.
“Hm?”
“All right, don’t try that ‘I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about’ crap with me, I am not in the mood for your damn mind games,” Jet said, turning to face his lieutenant, “Spill.”
“As you were so badly thrashed today, I suppose it would only be compassionate not to torture you further,” drawled Sneers, a beatific smile spreading across his face.
Jet’s jaw and fists clenched spasmodically, but he knew Sneers well enough to remain silent, still, and patient.
Outwardly, at least.
“Funny you should have brought up ‘damage control,’” Sneers began, obviously warming up to the real reason he had bothered to harass Jet, “That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do if you want the Freedom Fighters to survive.”
A sigh that could easily be mistaken for a groan of resignation worked it way out of Jet’s chest as his shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I know,” he said thickly, staring into the distance above Sneers head, “This was an all or nothing gamble, and thanks to the Avatar and his friends…”
“It was a gamble you had to take,” Sneers interjected, not liking Jet’s tone of voice or the defeated cast of his face. He was angry, certainly, but Sneers’s sharp eyes and ears could detect significant trace of regret and perhaps… remorse?
‘Damn that Water girl’s pretty face,’ he swore internally. It had taken many months of work to coach Jet to the precipice and that water-witch’s charms and the Avatar’s innocent trust had almost made Jet hesitate. Almost - but “almost” was never something a strategist of Sneers’s degree liked to hear.
“I know I did - I’d do it again, and not let anyone screw it up,” Jet averred, fixing Sneers with hard, cold eyes.
“But…?” Sneers supplied.
“There is no “but”!” Jet protested.
“I think there is,” pressed Sneers, “Jet, you said it yourself, when we got serious about attacking Fire Nation patrols and supply lines - sometimes, we have to play ugly.”
“Yeah, yeah… but how ugly…?” Jet trailed off, realizing he had stumbled blindly right into Sneers’s rhetorical trap.
“Anyway, getting back to damage control,” Sneers said, changing the topic in order to stave off a useless argument, “We will have to disband according to the plan - it’s the only way we can make sure everyone gets out before the Fire Nation returns.”
“If… when… yeah, I know,” Jet sighed, suddenly feeling excruciatingly tired. He dropped where he stood, oblivious to the protests of his abused body, leaning his bare back carefully against the wall. He bowed his head, staring down into his hands. “If we had won, it wouldn’t matter, but…”
“We run away, to fight another day,” Sneers finished for him, his voice assuming a veneer of gentleness, “The younger kids will be dispersed accordingly among the villages behind Earth Kingdom lines - the older ones we selected will maintain contact between each village group.”
“I can’t go with you,” Jet said numbly, “Smellerbee and Longshot and you will have to…”
“I think you’ll have to wait to hear what those two have to say about that before you make any “selfless” plans to hare off alone - you owe it to them.”
“Heh - Bee’s going to be leader by default, since she’s going to kill me for making Longshot… do that… behind her back.”
“She’ll forgive you - she’s not quite as heartless as you make her out to be, you know.”
“Hmph. She did warn me about Ka… the Water Tribe girl. Better factor that into your equation.”
“Jealous women are chaos incarnate - no sane man would attempt to predict what they are going to do,” Sneers commented sagely. “But just in case, I will personally read your funeral rites as an apology for my miscalculation.”
Jet snorted, the closest thing he would get to a laugh for a long, long time; the exhalation made his ribcage creak painfully. “Urgh. You know, you might be right about having to see Skillet after all.”
“All in good time - you still haven’t heard my plan for damage control.”
Jet snapped his head up, immediately regretted doing so, but nevertheless gaped at Sneers. “I thought that was your plan.”
“That, dear leader, is why I am the strategist of our merry little band and you are not,” Sneers pointed out smugly.
“I thought you were going to have mercy on me because of how I got my ass handed to me by a twelve-year-old and a water-wench,” complained Jet.
“Don’t forget your impending execution at the hands of the lovely Smellerbee,” Sneers gleefully reminded him. Relenting, he proceeded to outline the fallback plan he had already set in motion:
“The Freedom Fighters will disperse as we’ve already planned, but they will have an additional mission: they will tell the story of what happened today to everyone they meet.”
“That’s great - let’s piss off everyone in the free territories as well, since I’ve already guaranteed the collaborators will skin me or anyone associated with me alive if they get their hands on them. Brilliant. Wish I’d thought of it,” Jet snorted in disbelief.
Ignoring Jet’s mocking commentary, Sneers continued. “They will tell the story of how a dam built by Earth kingdom hands was summarily destroyed by Fire Nation explosives, wiping out a village of collaborators that served as a base of Fire Nation operations in this valley. That these collaborators survived is inconsequential - their luck. As to who set the explosives - are children who have been living wild in the forest really capable of such an elaborate sabotage? Surely, they are too weak - why else have they fled as the valley was flooded?”
“So, we’re not evil, just incompetent? Even villages behind the lines have heard of us, you know - that was one of the reasons we decided those villages would take in a bunch of ragged orphans they’d otherwise turn away,” said Jet, although he was beginning to see the genius of Sneers proposal.
“Facts are facts, but Truth is easily distorted by what people hear and want to believe,” said Sneers, “In all likelihood, the story that a bunch of depraved hooligans calling themselves “Freedom Fighters” blew the dam will reach the free villages. But remember - the Fire Nation is the enemy of all nations. They are the ones who use fire and explosives to destroy and maim and kill. What would you rather believe, as an Earth Kingdom villager who has lived on the knife’s edge of war for time out of mind: that Earth Kingdom children willfully tried to sacrifice a village of Earth Kingdom families (never mind that they were collaborators) wholesale to erase a Fire Nation division and failed, or that some diabolical scheme concocted by the Fire Nation literally blew up in their faces? That perhaps the fabled Freedom Fighters might have had a hand in the latter?”
Jet lapsed into reflective quiet for a long while after Sneers finished speaking, his face an unreadable mask. “About the Avatar,” he said finally, in a low tone that Sneers had to strain to hear, “We have to make sure no one says a word against him or his companions. The less said about his involvement, the better. If this plan of yours is going to work, we can’t afford to throw any dirt on the “Savior of the World” or whatever the hell people are calling him.”
Sneers allowed himself a slight smirk of triumph; they had suffered a grave setback thanks to the Avatar, but Jet was still Jet. He did not have the same quality of studied cleverness that Sneers had gained through years of monastic education, but there was no denying his ability to finesse any glimmer of precious advantage from what most other would declare a complete defeat. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, encouraged by the fierce grin Jet shot him, “You’re right. Most of the kids don’t know what part the Avatar played in any case, and I already told Pipsqueak and the Duke to keep their traps shut. Though you’ll definitely want to speak to Pipsqueak to make sure the concept lodges itself in his thick head.”
Jet’s grin took on a decisively wicked turn. “Now, now - he’s going to be your teammate for the time being, him and the Duke. If Bee and Longshot really do insist on coming with me like you think they will, you’re the one who’s going to have to make sure everything runs like we planned. You’re going to have to assemble the gang when the time comes.”
Sneers’s face fell - he hated leadership, hated responsibility, hated having to waste his precious energy taking care of weaklings. He honestly did not understand how Jet could seem to thrive on teaching feckless orphans to survive and fight and spy and kill. Indirect power, exercised through such useful tools as Jet and Smellerbee, was much more appealing. However…
“As this is the last time for a long time you’ll ever be able to order me to do anything…”
-----
Incidentally, Sneers’s strategy of misinformation succeeded beyond all his expectations (even though, it should be pointed out, Sneers was and always will be a consummate pessimist). The Freedom Fighters dispersed as they were ordered, having almost to the last accepted Jet as the one and only person in the world deserving of loyalty and obedience. He had, after all, given them food, home, hope, purpose, and taught them to fight the hated Fire Nation when cowardly adults kow-towed in the dirt at the iron-shod boots of the invader. Fueled by pride and purpose, the children who were rebels and warriors carried out their mission with all their energy.
The story, the idea, the myth of the Freedom Fighters spread far and wide, whispered excitedly in stinking gutters by thin, rag-clad urchins in big cities; affirmed vociferously in crowded tea-houses stripped bare by rationing; proudly elaborated upon in kitchens and market places and loading docks. The Fire Nation had not conquered all, the stories declared - for, you see, children had withstood them, had defied them, had turned their own terrifying weapons against them (remarkably, there was little sympathy for the loss of a village of collaborators).
When the time for battle came, the ranks of those who declared themselves “Freedom Fighters” had swelled remarkably beyond all recollection of those children who had lived and fought and killed and died beneath blood-red leaves; but perhaps, that was how it had always been….
----
A/N: The idea for this story came about from my readings into various psychological operations and propaganda campaigns in modern warfare. As history has demonstrated, “Truth” is a very malleable concept indeed.
Characters: Jet; Sneers
Spoilers: None
Comments: How you turn a defeat into victory - a study of psychological warfare.
----
Truth
The line of Perception that divides Fact and truth can be made a gaping chasm.
“The river reeds listen for the wind’s voice and bow accordingly.”
----
Afterwards, Jet remained silent and brooding throughout the afternoon and early evening, staring up at the holes in his roof as his soaked clothing dripped dry on the line strung up outside his “door.”
It had been a confined ops - only those directly involved in laying the explosives had even the vaguest idea of what exactly the foul-smelling barrels were expected to do.
It was better that way, he had convinced himself, pretending to be wholly oblivious to his hypocrisy: less time wasted on questions, explanations, arguments, less doubt.
‘Less guilt…’
Jet swore, sitting bolt upright on his creaking pallet, grinding the heel of his palm into the bridge of his nose. The pressure compounded his throbbing headache, conveniently replacing echoes of accusation and condemnation and truth and visions of wounded sky-blue eyes with blessed pain.
“The natives grow restless,” a unwelcome (but not unexpected) voice intruded, “The longer you hide in here, the wilder the talk; they’re only kids after all.”
Jet grimaced, stifling a groan as he fell back against his ratty pillow. “Handle it yourself,” he retorted darkly, throwing one bare, bruised forearm over his eyes, “Damage control is your specialty.”
“Actually, I believe we agreed my specialty would be general strategy and occasional advice on tactics,” Sneers corrected indifferently, taking a seat on the stump-stool/table beside Jet’s bed without invitation. “Damage control is… a side job.”
“What about Smellerbee?” Jet asked the ceiling, after shooting Sneers an appropriately deadly glare.
“She went chasing after Longshot, naturally,” replied Sneers, ignoring the homicidal glint in Jet’s eyes, “they probably won’t be back for…”
“I get the idea!” Jet interrupted, spitting out the words like acid and getting to his feet in one abrupt, violent motion.
“I’ll need to get Skillet to look over those bruises - that Water Tribe girl might have broken a rib,” commented Sneers, his ebony eyes placidly following Jet as he began pacing the inadequate length of his living quarters, growling like a starving komodo rhino. His tanned skin was mottled with dark-violet-black bruises from merciless water and ice.
“I think I would have noticed something like that, thanks,” snapped Jet, not faltering in his ferocious pace.
“Would you?” Sneers riposted offhandedly.
Jet jerked to a halt, standing very still as he stared over his shoulder at Sneers. “You’re up to something,” he finally concluded.
“Hm?”
“All right, don’t try that ‘I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about’ crap with me, I am not in the mood for your damn mind games,” Jet said, turning to face his lieutenant, “Spill.”
“As you were so badly thrashed today, I suppose it would only be compassionate not to torture you further,” drawled Sneers, a beatific smile spreading across his face.
Jet’s jaw and fists clenched spasmodically, but he knew Sneers well enough to remain silent, still, and patient.
Outwardly, at least.
“Funny you should have brought up ‘damage control,’” Sneers began, obviously warming up to the real reason he had bothered to harass Jet, “That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do if you want the Freedom Fighters to survive.”
A sigh that could easily be mistaken for a groan of resignation worked it way out of Jet’s chest as his shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I know,” he said thickly, staring into the distance above Sneers head, “This was an all or nothing gamble, and thanks to the Avatar and his friends…”
“It was a gamble you had to take,” Sneers interjected, not liking Jet’s tone of voice or the defeated cast of his face. He was angry, certainly, but Sneers’s sharp eyes and ears could detect significant trace of regret and perhaps… remorse?
‘Damn that Water girl’s pretty face,’ he swore internally. It had taken many months of work to coach Jet to the precipice and that water-witch’s charms and the Avatar’s innocent trust had almost made Jet hesitate. Almost - but “almost” was never something a strategist of Sneers’s degree liked to hear.
“I know I did - I’d do it again, and not let anyone screw it up,” Jet averred, fixing Sneers with hard, cold eyes.
“But…?” Sneers supplied.
“There is no “but”!” Jet protested.
“I think there is,” pressed Sneers, “Jet, you said it yourself, when we got serious about attacking Fire Nation patrols and supply lines - sometimes, we have to play ugly.”
“Yeah, yeah… but how ugly…?” Jet trailed off, realizing he had stumbled blindly right into Sneers’s rhetorical trap.
“Anyway, getting back to damage control,” Sneers said, changing the topic in order to stave off a useless argument, “We will have to disband according to the plan - it’s the only way we can make sure everyone gets out before the Fire Nation returns.”
“If… when… yeah, I know,” Jet sighed, suddenly feeling excruciatingly tired. He dropped where he stood, oblivious to the protests of his abused body, leaning his bare back carefully against the wall. He bowed his head, staring down into his hands. “If we had won, it wouldn’t matter, but…”
“We run away, to fight another day,” Sneers finished for him, his voice assuming a veneer of gentleness, “The younger kids will be dispersed accordingly among the villages behind Earth Kingdom lines - the older ones we selected will maintain contact between each village group.”
“I can’t go with you,” Jet said numbly, “Smellerbee and Longshot and you will have to…”
“I think you’ll have to wait to hear what those two have to say about that before you make any “selfless” plans to hare off alone - you owe it to them.”
“Heh - Bee’s going to be leader by default, since she’s going to kill me for making Longshot… do that… behind her back.”
“She’ll forgive you - she’s not quite as heartless as you make her out to be, you know.”
“Hmph. She did warn me about Ka… the Water Tribe girl. Better factor that into your equation.”
“Jealous women are chaos incarnate - no sane man would attempt to predict what they are going to do,” Sneers commented sagely. “But just in case, I will personally read your funeral rites as an apology for my miscalculation.”
Jet snorted, the closest thing he would get to a laugh for a long, long time; the exhalation made his ribcage creak painfully. “Urgh. You know, you might be right about having to see Skillet after all.”
“All in good time - you still haven’t heard my plan for damage control.”
Jet snapped his head up, immediately regretted doing so, but nevertheless gaped at Sneers. “I thought that was your plan.”
“That, dear leader, is why I am the strategist of our merry little band and you are not,” Sneers pointed out smugly.
“I thought you were going to have mercy on me because of how I got my ass handed to me by a twelve-year-old and a water-wench,” complained Jet.
“Don’t forget your impending execution at the hands of the lovely Smellerbee,” Sneers gleefully reminded him. Relenting, he proceeded to outline the fallback plan he had already set in motion:
“The Freedom Fighters will disperse as we’ve already planned, but they will have an additional mission: they will tell the story of what happened today to everyone they meet.”
“That’s great - let’s piss off everyone in the free territories as well, since I’ve already guaranteed the collaborators will skin me or anyone associated with me alive if they get their hands on them. Brilliant. Wish I’d thought of it,” Jet snorted in disbelief.
Ignoring Jet’s mocking commentary, Sneers continued. “They will tell the story of how a dam built by Earth kingdom hands was summarily destroyed by Fire Nation explosives, wiping out a village of collaborators that served as a base of Fire Nation operations in this valley. That these collaborators survived is inconsequential - their luck. As to who set the explosives - are children who have been living wild in the forest really capable of such an elaborate sabotage? Surely, they are too weak - why else have they fled as the valley was flooded?”
“So, we’re not evil, just incompetent? Even villages behind the lines have heard of us, you know - that was one of the reasons we decided those villages would take in a bunch of ragged orphans they’d otherwise turn away,” said Jet, although he was beginning to see the genius of Sneers proposal.
“Facts are facts, but Truth is easily distorted by what people hear and want to believe,” said Sneers, “In all likelihood, the story that a bunch of depraved hooligans calling themselves “Freedom Fighters” blew the dam will reach the free villages. But remember - the Fire Nation is the enemy of all nations. They are the ones who use fire and explosives to destroy and maim and kill. What would you rather believe, as an Earth Kingdom villager who has lived on the knife’s edge of war for time out of mind: that Earth Kingdom children willfully tried to sacrifice a village of Earth Kingdom families (never mind that they were collaborators) wholesale to erase a Fire Nation division and failed, or that some diabolical scheme concocted by the Fire Nation literally blew up in their faces? That perhaps the fabled Freedom Fighters might have had a hand in the latter?”
Jet lapsed into reflective quiet for a long while after Sneers finished speaking, his face an unreadable mask. “About the Avatar,” he said finally, in a low tone that Sneers had to strain to hear, “We have to make sure no one says a word against him or his companions. The less said about his involvement, the better. If this plan of yours is going to work, we can’t afford to throw any dirt on the “Savior of the World” or whatever the hell people are calling him.”
Sneers allowed himself a slight smirk of triumph; they had suffered a grave setback thanks to the Avatar, but Jet was still Jet. He did not have the same quality of studied cleverness that Sneers had gained through years of monastic education, but there was no denying his ability to finesse any glimmer of precious advantage from what most other would declare a complete defeat. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, encouraged by the fierce grin Jet shot him, “You’re right. Most of the kids don’t know what part the Avatar played in any case, and I already told Pipsqueak and the Duke to keep their traps shut. Though you’ll definitely want to speak to Pipsqueak to make sure the concept lodges itself in his thick head.”
Jet’s grin took on a decisively wicked turn. “Now, now - he’s going to be your teammate for the time being, him and the Duke. If Bee and Longshot really do insist on coming with me like you think they will, you’re the one who’s going to have to make sure everything runs like we planned. You’re going to have to assemble the gang when the time comes.”
Sneers’s face fell - he hated leadership, hated responsibility, hated having to waste his precious energy taking care of weaklings. He honestly did not understand how Jet could seem to thrive on teaching feckless orphans to survive and fight and spy and kill. Indirect power, exercised through such useful tools as Jet and Smellerbee, was much more appealing. However…
“As this is the last time for a long time you’ll ever be able to order me to do anything…”
-----
Incidentally, Sneers’s strategy of misinformation succeeded beyond all his expectations (even though, it should be pointed out, Sneers was and always will be a consummate pessimist). The Freedom Fighters dispersed as they were ordered, having almost to the last accepted Jet as the one and only person in the world deserving of loyalty and obedience. He had, after all, given them food, home, hope, purpose, and taught them to fight the hated Fire Nation when cowardly adults kow-towed in the dirt at the iron-shod boots of the invader. Fueled by pride and purpose, the children who were rebels and warriors carried out their mission with all their energy.
The story, the idea, the myth of the Freedom Fighters spread far and wide, whispered excitedly in stinking gutters by thin, rag-clad urchins in big cities; affirmed vociferously in crowded tea-houses stripped bare by rationing; proudly elaborated upon in kitchens and market places and loading docks. The Fire Nation had not conquered all, the stories declared - for, you see, children had withstood them, had defied them, had turned their own terrifying weapons against them (remarkably, there was little sympathy for the loss of a village of collaborators).
When the time for battle came, the ranks of those who declared themselves “Freedom Fighters” had swelled remarkably beyond all recollection of those children who had lived and fought and killed and died beneath blood-red leaves; but perhaps, that was how it had always been….
----
A/N: The idea for this story came about from my readings into various psychological operations and propaganda campaigns in modern warfare. As history has demonstrated, “Truth” is a very malleable concept indeed.