Sokka vs Hannibal Lecter: Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or NBS’s Hannibal. This is a not for profit venture. Now enjoy :) 

THE BA SING SE HERALD

Breaking News: The Ba Sing Se Ripper Strikes again!

Our once fair capital city is gripped in fear as a nefarious ripper stalks among us, a wolfbat in koala-sheep’s clothing. Last night at midnight, police discovered the fifth victims of the notorious murderer. Government functionary Joo-Dee was found murdered brutally with a hammer and several of her internal organs were missing. According to one anonymous source, Joo-Dee was still alive when her organs were removed. 

While the police are content to be baffled and led by the nose by this mad dog, it is with high joy we announce that the Earth King is summoning aid from the FBI to catch this killer before he can claim another notch on his grisly belt. 

Lock your doors, don’t go out at night and trust no foreigner. Since the end of the war a number of Diaspora from the fire nation have immigrated to the slum regions of this once proud city. It is among these hot blooded and often violent people that the FBI and the Earth King’s personal task force will most likely find the Ripper and send him back to hell, from whence he came. 

See more on page B2

Sokka sits in the comfy chair and clutches his arm. His normally smiley face is dark with shame and his posture suggests defeat. Somehow even the normally strong ocean blue that he wears seem more muted and has taken on a shade of grey. And worst of all, his warrior’s wolf’s tail could use a bit of a trim and some hair care. 

Basically feeling like shit

Looking around, the water tribe boy surveys his surroundings and finds them not to his liking. There are massive windows in the second floor of this massive study but for some reason they let in very little light. Dark woods, mahogany and oak are everywhere and they serve to give the place a palatial air. 

Everything here bespeaks of great luxury, a love of the finer things in life but there’s not a single thing in this room that seems inviting or friendly to Sokka. The hundreds of antlers on the wall make him feel like he took a wrong turn and wound up in Gaston’s house. 

To say nothing of the halloween decorations at the front

Sitting across from him by a respectable distance is his psychiatrist. The psychiatrist is very much like his home; he’s smoky, refined, wears a shockingly loud suit despite its muted colors and doesn’t seem very friendly. 

Sokka doesn’t know what to say, so he says the first thing to come to mind. “What’s with the Christmas tree in the hallway?”

The Psychiatrist’s voice is exotic, probably something Scandinavian or Norse or something like that. “It’s not a Christmas tree. It is an evergreen tree, and it is festive.” His tone is measured and he has almost no facial expression. He’s like a poker player. 

Sokka just gives the psychiatrist a weird look, “Man, its frikkin may.”

The psychiatrist says nothing. As if somehow insulted that Sokka has dissed his Christmas tree. Sorry, I mean evergreen tree. 

Thirty seconds pass and Sokka sighs. “So, aren’t you supposed to ask me about my mother or something like that?”

Once more the psychiatrist’s measured response reveals nothing. “I would only ask you about your mother if I thought she were somehow responsible for your condition. From what I’ve heard in my correspondence with Avatar Aang, you seem to be suffering from what is most likely post traumatic stress disorder.” 

Sokka signs more emphatically, “I’m here because I’m crazy and I’m weak. We all went through the war together but none of my friends are having nightmares like I am.” He laughs without any joy, “I guess I am handicapped compared to my bending buddies; trained under the best swordsman in the world and still don't count. My meat love and sarcasm are still strong as ever, though; there’s something to be happy about.” 

The psychiatrist disagrees. “Not at all. Your friends with their bending powers could afford to kill from a distance. You on the other hand relied on a sword. The more personal a kill gets the more traumatic it is. I can still remember an occasion I ran over a cat a few years ago; I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to kill a man with steel.” 

Sokka glances down at his feet, and in doing so misses the expression of arousal that comes across his therapists’ face for a split second. “Then just maybe I should get a head shrink that can imagine what it's like to do what I've done. I didn't exactly want to see you, but everybody pressured me.” He sits up in his chair and confesses with great frustration, “Look . . . all my life I’ve been the last warrior of my tribe. I fought Azula, I fought the best of the fire nation and the worst of the Earth Kingdom; but now that the fighting is over I’m folding like an accordion. I should be Conan the barbarian enjoying my enemy women's lamentation instead of having panic attacks everytime someone lights a fire or candle without telling me beforehand. My dad is probably so pissed right now that his son is a pussy.” The small confession feels good, but it’s not even a drop in the ocean of frustration and fear that Sokka feels. 

“Audie Murphy was the most decorated hero in the history of the US army, but he too suffered from the same condition as you, Sokka. Murphy, like you, hunted to put food on the table and suffered from nightmares and PTSD.” The Psychiatrist’s blank face has become filled with something close to admiration and paternal feelings. Somehow this bit of human emotion from the impassive man causes Sokka to relax a little bit. 

A real life meat and sarcasm guy

The psychiatrist goes on, “Just like you pulled your sword on your sister Katara, so too did Audi Murphy pull a gun on his wife. And if I’m not mistaken, the both of you are addicted to sleeping pills.” 

This causes Sokka to become angry, “Hey! My sleeping pills are not the issue! Those are a legit medicine that I need to get by.” 

The Psychiatrist raises an eyebrow, “That’s not what Suki has told me.” 

Now Sokka is really mad and slams his fist on the armrest of the easy chair he’s in. “You shut your fucking mouth! Don’t involve Suki in this!” Getting angrier, he gives the doctor a piece of his mind. “You have no clue what’s going on with me. I don’t give a spider-rat’s ass if you’re the Earth King’s personal psychiatrist. And you know what else? All those diplomas on the wall and the goddamn antlers don’t make up for the fact that you got a little two inch Vienna sausage in your pants. I bet that’s why they call you a shrink!” 

So poetic. 

To Sokka’s surprise, the psychiatrist starts to laugh.; a hearty laugh shared between good friends and full grins. And perhaps, seeing how ridiculous his outburst was, Sokka starts to join in on the laughter. Nervously at first but louder and prouder, he starts to laugh. When the laughs are over, Sokka feels like a tiny bit of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Thanks,” he admits to the psychiatrist. 

Now the psychiatrist is starting to break out of his poker face, his smile is warm and even his high cheekbones and small eyes don’t seem so freaky. “I’m here to help you, Sokka. I think you have greatness buried in you, if you just let it. Despite what you think, I believe you have the potential to surpass all your bending enabled friends.” 

This makes Sokka smile a bit though his love of the praise is tempered by respect for his friends. “Hey don’t talk shit about my friends doc, but thanks all the same. So what now? Can you give me a pill or something so I can get the hell out of here? The pizza place closes in half an hour and If I hurry I can get a double extra super meat pizza before they shut down the oven.”

The psychiatrist’s smile continues to warm. “I’m afraid you will have to cancel your appointment with the pizzeria, Sokka. I do not believe in psychopharmacology. Pills will not heal your wounds, prevent the nightmares or the panic attacks and violent episodes.” 

This really kills Sokka’s good mood. He wants nothing more than to just forget his problems and lose himself in a giant piece of bread slathered in cheese and shitloads of meat. “crap.” 

The psychiatrist adjusts his tie asks without a pause, “We need to work with your problems and understand them. For example, do you ever have any homosexual thoughts about Firelord Zuko?”

“Yeah every time I’m alone in the shower I—wait! What??!!” Sokka sputters with outrage. “What the hell does that have to do with anything? And for that matter, what makes you think there’s anything between me and Princess scarface? I love Suki!” 

The therapist shrugs, “I never said you didn’t love Suki. I just noticed that you smelled like Firelord Zuko’s underwear drawer.” 

The sarcasm comes strong, “Oh yeah, wiseguy, and how do you know what Zuko’s panty drawer smells like, homo?”

Like water on a duck’s back is this to the psychiatrist, “I was a guest at the Imperial Palace when I came across a maid with the fire lord's undergarments. Firelord Zuko uses a different type of detergent for each type of clothing he wears. I can smell every distinct type of detergent he uses and what which goes to what article of clothing. In your case you have same awful floral smell that permeates the Firelord’s underwear. By the scent of you I would say you had your panty adventure two weeks ago today.” 

Sokka’s jaw drops, “And you found out all of this just by smell?” 

The other man nods, “Yes, I’ve a very good sense of smell. I once determined a colleague had encephalitis before his physician did.”

Sokka raises his hands, “Well whatever, but this is not relevant to anything. We’re here to talk about my war stories, not what Zuko and I allegedly did at the boiling rock.” 

A thought bubble appears above the doctor's head and it reads, “You’re making this too easy, sweetie.” He smiles once more and explains to his patient, "As your psychiatrist, it is important for me to know of any obstacles that may stand in the way of your recovery. Nine times out of ten our psychosis are a result of unfulfilled desire. It is my belief that your desires are what is leading you to feel the way you do." 

Sokka is exhasperated by this man. "Look, I didn't go to shrink school but I know myself. The need to squeeze booty is not what's making me crazy." 

The psychiatrist's gaze focuses on Sokka eagle like. "You are not crazy, Sokka. I do not believe in using that word; either medically or casually. What you have is post traumatic stress disorder. As a male you are more genetically predisposed it than females are. As a child soldier you were especially at risk for the disorder. Not to mention the stress of a broken home and being forced to assume a parental role to your sister." 

The normally mouthy Sokka has nothing to say. What can be said? He can't say anything for he feels like his chest cavity is full of led. He feels like he's barely keeping it together at the best of times. 

"A truly great man posesses a strong sense of the sardonic and this allows them to differentiate themselves from the myth making of greatness, to have greater self awareness and survive what would destroy his supposed superiors. More than any of your bending friends, you have the capacity to do great things and to seperate yourself from the pretensions that shackle others. My sarcasm and my oft times inappropriate comments are my way of testing you. There is hate in you and so much anger, hold onto those feelings and nurture them." 

The water tribe boy sits straight and gives the doctor a warning smile, "Just make sure you don't insult my friends again; or I will make you regret it." 

The psychiatrists's eyes twinkle at this. "How would you make me regret it, Sokka?" 

This takes the boy by surprise. This doctor seems to like violence more than fans of metalocalypse. "I guess I would--I don't know--hit you in the face with a tennis racket or something. Can do this later, I'm really, really hungry. I haven't eaten anything since lunch and a Super glacier double meat pizza would hit the spot." 

His therapist however shakes his head, "Normally I see my patients in one hour blocks but for you I am willing to invest much more. You may have to miss buying that unfortunate pizza; but luckily I have planned ahead and broght meat." 

This makes Sokka almost jump for joy. "MEAT!! YEAH! Good for you Doctor, um, what did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't say what my name was; but you may call me Hannibal Lecter." 

The meat and sarcasm guy claps his hands together, "Awesome, Dr. Lecter; I knew you weren't a dick." 

Hannibal's eyes narrow just a bit but he shrugs it off. He reaches behind his easy chair and produces a tray of delicate meat treats. "Beef roulade wrapped in shimo leaf and stuffed with herritage rice and cured ham on heart tartare." 

Hannibal barely has to wait a second before Sokka snatches the tray from him and starts to gobble down the treats. The boy chews loudly and makes moans of pure nigh orgasmic pleasure. "Oh man . . . it's sweet . . . it's salty . . . it's perfectly chewey . . . IT'S HOT!!!!!" 

Having eaten nearly half the tray, Sokka swallows what he has in his mouth and starts to despertely fan his mouth. 

"Indeed, these are several recipes I picked up during my travels of the fire nation. Of course I have lowered the spice level a great deal but the results seems far from perfect still." 

Sokka pants, "No it's good. Oh hot! It's the only spicy thing I really like. But I need a drink fast!" 

Dr. Lecter smirks once more. "Never fear for I have every eventually accounted for." From once more behind his chair Hannibal Lecter reaches. He produces a thermos and pours tea that's hot but not too hot. "Tea of jasmine pearls with juniper berry, wild mushroom and dark chocolate." 

Sokka greatefully accepts the cup of tea and takes it all in one gulp. "Thanks Dr. Lecter. That's the best tea I've ever had. You should show this to old man Iroh. He's nuts for tea. And these treats are the only good thing I've tasted from the fire nation." Giggling a bit, Sokka makes a joke. "I just hope those aren't magic mushrooms in the tea." 

Suddenly, Hannibal's poker face is back on. "Actually they are." 

The patient blinks, "Come again?"

Dr. Lecter explains to Sokka, whose eyes are rapidly glazing over. "I find that the best therapy is often the most radical. In many cases, the use of powerful hallucinogens opens the door to great internal discovery and growth. The effect you're feeling is the species of mushroom in the tea as well as the small amount of cactus juice I marinated the meat with." 

But Sokka had stopped listening a long time ago. His vision is totally unfocused and the tray and the thermos cup fall from his hands. He stares straight into space and a goofy smile contorts his features. 

Standing up, Hannibal walks the few paces that seperate him and Sokka. He snaps his fingers a few times in front of the boy's features. No response; that is very good. 

Dr. Lecter walks back to his chair and reaches behind it a final time. From it, he pulls up a flashing seizure lantern similar to the type used by the Dai Li. 

Dr. Lecter darkens the room and shines the seizure lamp into Sokka's glazed eyes. From inside his drug addled mind, Sokka can see many things but more importantly he can hear just one man. 

Hannibal's smokey accent comes to him from everywhere and nowhere. "There is no gravity, but you are falling Sokka. You are falling somewhere warm and quiet." 

The voice distorts, like the tones of some fallen angel, "You are falling into the spaces in your head. And there's only you . . . and me." 

Everything is going to be okay, Sokka

OMAKE: 

Author: Here's a little Omake. Just for the sheer fun of it :) Because I've been seperated too long from my passion. 

John Cleese: And now for something completely different. 

Blaring heavy metal music explodes on the speakers and we're treated to Avatar Aang riding a motorcyle through a dark forest. The rest of the gaang are packed into four sidecars on the side of the motorcycle. 

Doodly-ding-dong-ticktock!

Doodly-ding-dong-ticktock!

Doodly-ding-dong-ticktock!

Doodly-ding-dong-ticktock!

Doodly-ding-dong-ticktock!

The motorcycle picks up speed and the sidecars detach. In a brutlally metal move, Avatar Aang earth bends an entire mountain from the ground covered in razor sharp rocks. 

Aaaa-vaaa-taaarrr!!!

Gracefully and brutally the entire gaang lands on various ledges on the mountain while nonsense plays on the song. 

Bo . . . gigi . . . boba . . . chop

The Last Airbender!!!

The music goes into higher gear as each of the gaang stands for a brutal cinematic intro highlighted by lightning. 

Katara Taller than a tree!

Toph Bei-Fong, not a bumblebee!

Zuko scarface, scarface, scarface!

Soka meat and sarcasm guy!

Doodily doo, ding dong doodily doodily doo!

Avatar Aang! 

[insert brutal drum and guitar solo here]

From Spike TV 

Avatar: The Bendingocalypse 

Ozai appears before his ministers in the Tribunal's war room. "Gentlemen, it appears that the Avatar has returned.

AND i HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AS MUCH AS I LIKED WRITING IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!