Disclaimers:
I do not claim to be a master of the English language so I do hope you forgive me for my future mistakes. I do not own the Legend of Korra brand and the Fallout franchies. For those who are fallout lore gurus, I may change some lore here and there for my own convenience. For the Legend of Korra fans there will be no Bending of any kind in this fan fiction. Why? *shrugs
Glossary is at the bottom of every chapter.
Trigger warning for drug addiction and gore.
Now that that is out of the way. Please enjoy… or not.. you don't have to if you… want. I mean.. *grumble grumble
Her heart is beating fast but she is calm, adrenaline runs through her veins effectively slowing down time, at least for her perspective. She ducks to avoid a tire iron to her face. That could have been it if it wasn't for the painfully telegraphed move by her opponent. A smile forms across her face, her opponent isn't as amused as her though. Whats his name again? Lord… something.
"You can dodge all you want missy! But you can't run away from LORD IRON!" the guy yells.
That's the name!
She could have sworn that her previous opponent had a similar name. Lord two shanks or something to that effect. No matter, they'll all be dead when she's done with them anyway. Its not to say that she likes killing but out here in the wasteland a person's life is just another stepping stone on the road to survival. Why wouldn't you end another man's life if it means waking up another day? Just like eating and sleeping, not the desire but the will to kill is a primary need for anyone in this god forsaken place. If not? Then you better start growing legs little fishy because you are out of the water. As the saying around here goes.
The guy charges at her once again, and again she dodged the attack but this time she made sure to punish her opponent's mistake. A sharp kick to the back of the man's head sends him face first to the cemented floor. High from the chems the man almost as if didn't felt her strong kick, however he did leave a pool of red from where his face had just landed proving that his body is taking the damage.
Frenzied from his anger and chem consumption the man runs at her flailing his tire iron about. His face is bloodied and some of his are teeth missing. Although that might not be because of the kick she thought. A quick side step and a sweep of the leg and her opponent is right back on the ground but before he could get up the young woman delivers a punch to the face, forcing the guy to stay flat on the ground.
The crowd roars with enthusiasm, hyped by the bloody spectacle of battle. The cheering placed her back to reality as she saw a steel cage surrounding her and chemmed up raiders beyond it. The audience yearns for what they came to see and she was not about to disappoint them. She grabs hold of the tire iron off the ground. The tire iron that her opponent was using and the tire iron that will end him. She held it above her head but before she strikes it down she takes a second to examine the man's face. His face all bruised and red, his mouth gushing blood like it was a fountain and although his eyes are nearly shut she could see the fear in them. Scared of whats to come, scared of her.
She struck down on the head of the man squishing it like a dull knife on a tomato. This of course gives the crowd another thing to cheer about.
"And the winner and still! undefeated! Korra!" the announcer said with his exaggerated voice.
The young woman steps out of the cage, her hands still red with blood. Luckily there is someone waiting to give her a towel. "Outstanding performance my girl! That's the third one they let you kill this week" the man said while twiddling with his mustache, his voice coarse like a ghoul's should be. Funny how a ghoul can make wearing a fake mustache slightly fashionable.
"Well, they're not exactly here to see a friendly competition" she responds halfheartedly while accepting the towel. Things weren't always like this however. They used to have legit clients with legit fighters who came for the competition and not for the killings but all of it changed after the merc group known as The Gunners invaded their little operation and made it the way it is now. The mere thought of them makes her blood boil not to mention their leader, that smug bitch, Kuvira. Although it wasn't the way it was before, the excitement is still there and her passion still strong. Everyday she trains her body to become more stronger, faster and more durable because this is her calling and no one is going to take it away from her especially not some raiders pretending to be some private militia.
"I'm getting changed"
"Come see me after you're done." he said. She nods absentmindedly walking off to the locker room.
After taking off the tape wrapping around her hands she began removing the laces of her corset, Korra began to breath much easier without its vice-like grip on her breast. Her corset removed, revealing numerous scars and not to mention her fit upper body complete with hard rock abs. Hardened by the harsh wilderness of the wasteland, she has fought countless mongrels, mirelurks, ferals, and pretty much anything that could maim and kill. She admires her well toned body whilst wiping the sweat covering it after which she wore a fresh polo shirt to once again cover her muscular body.
She closes her locker it echoes as it shuts tight in the empty locker room. She was about to head out when she felt an itch on her right arm, its the arm that she normally uses. Her hand clenches up, she could already feel sweat running down her forehead. Sitting down on the bench she pulls out a syringe that has two canisters attached to either side of it. Plunging the needle to her arm she feels a surge of energy running through her body, heating her up like a kettle. Her vision becomes red with blind anger, she suddenly felt the urge to punch something and that she did. A mold of her fist was now on one of lockers effectively breaking the lock in the process. The locker swings open to reveal nothing. Good thing no one was using it. Usually she doesn't feel the pain but tonight is different. Her body must be getting used to it. Like all bad things in the wastes, everyone gets used to it; The meat, the water, the radiation and the weather.
Her vision still blurry she picks up her bag and sets out to meet up with the ghoul, Varrick. Who also happened to be her manager. She found the ghoul sitting at the bar trying his luck on one of the raider girls. She wasn't entirely sure what was said due to her hearing getting muffled by the chem but a slap across the face gave the impression that it didn't go well for the ghoul.
Both of them met when Varrick walked in to Goodneighbor looking for some fighters for his newly formed fighting ring. But he wasn't looking for any other fighter, no, he was looking for the best and the best he saw. A young woman with fierce blue eyes and tan skin was running circles on two men. who by the looks of it was finding it hard to keep up with her. Her long pony-tailed brown hair sways back and fort as she bobs and weaves dodging their attacks. Didn't took long for the other citizens of Goodneighbor to take notice of them and quickly a handful of people turned into a cheering and screaming crowd. She just had this effect on people, the way she moves and the way she strikes her opponents with grace and style presents a form of entertainment that the crowd has never seen. It was destiny that they met, is what Varrick would tell her over and over.
The ghoul turns to her and almost immediately puts on a frown at the sight of her. "Korra" he sighs. It looked like he was about to say something but decided not to. This annoyed her for some reason. "What?" she said irritated. "Nothing, my dear!" he said in a cheery tone. "Here is your cut of the money" She takes the caps but not without glaring at the ghoul with her blazing blue eyes. "I suggest going out the back door my dear" She seemed to get what Varrick was trying to say but goes towards the front door anyway. "Why does she have to be a junkie?" Varrick said to himself downing a glass of whiskey.
By this time the theater is nearly empty, the raiders and junkies all went back to their respectful camps except the ones who are too hopped up on chems or too drunk to even move. Korra feels excitement as she gets closer and closer to the front entrance of the theater. She kicks it open and drops her duffel bag on the floor. "Let me guess. You're all from Lord Iron's clan and you all want to avenge his death. Is that it?" she shouts at the empty street emphasizing the air quotes on the word clan. It didn't stayed empty for too long however as four men carrying weapons came out of the shadows, their faces are that of a pack of wolves about to attack a lone elk, ready to pounce at any moment.
She maybe undefeated in the cage but its safe to say that four armed men against a hopped up raging cage fighter no matter how skilled is definitely a one sided affair, favoring the raiders. A loud bang! Echoes through the alleyways. The five of them looked to the source of the sound and it was Varrick and a few other men holding pipe-rifles.
"If anyone of you lays a finger on the girl, I can guarantee you a piece of lead to the face courtesy of me and my friends here" He said. The raiders looked among themselves and decides to run off spewing insults and profanity in their retreat.
"What do you think you're..." Korra was cut off by the sight of the end of barrel pointing right to her face, at the other side was Varrick. "What? You're gonna kill me?" she continued stuffing her fear behind her rage. This has happened before but not the extent of a gun to her face but she knows Varrick doesn't have the guts to do it and all of it was because of her Psycho addiction.
"I'm sorry my dear but you're not welcome here anymore." he said. His face showing a rare seriousness.
Korra scoffs at the statement. "And what will you do without me? I'm your best fighter!" she gains confidence hearing herself say that. She was with him from the start of this shit show and now his cutting her off? There was no way, no fucking way she thought.
"Look I'll give it to you straight. You are a danger to yourself just as much as you are a danger to those you fight in the ring. If you insist on being a junkie then get out of here. I don't have time nor the patience to babysit you or anyone else for that matter. Whether you like it or not, you're a liability waiting to happen and when that time comes I don't want to be the one cleaning up your mess." He stands down putting his gun to his holster his bodyguards didn't do the same however.
His words struck her harder than any punch she had ever taken. "I've poured just as much blood, sweat and tears into this -she points at the theater- and now you're saying I'm out? Who- What gives you the right? You son of a bitch!" She pulled her hand for punch but was struck down by one of Varrick guards from behind.
"Stop! Stand down!" he ordered them. "It doesn't have to be this way Korra."
She stares at the ground. Her eyes was starting to get wet, but she grits her teeth and held back her tears. "You. Need. me." she said almost begging. Cage fighting was her life and it made sense to her. A person rarely finds something to be passionate about out here in the wasteland and now that her only source happiness is gone. If you can even call it happiness. And now what else is there?
"No I don't Korra." he rarely calls her by her name. Guess that means he's really serious this time she thought. She slams her fist to ground tears running down her face.
Varrick felt pity for the girl but he knows this was for the best. The Wasteland no matter how cruel has ways of making people find their way when they are at their lowest. He just hopes that she finds it soon before the chems starts catching up.
The journey from the Combat Zone to Goodneighbor was not a lengthy one but for Korra it was as if she walked for days, still daze from the chems she found refuge from her own thoughts and commonsense at the Third Rail and its sad excuse of a beer. The Third Rail a bar ran by a robot who dons a very strong English accent and a very sour disposition. And seeing of course that this is Goodneighbor the bar is also filled with smugglers and junkies alike, truly you can never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. The tag line that Goodneighbor proudly wears, along with it's own view of freedom which is suffice to say archaic.
"I'm thinking the match didn't go very well?" a pale young man sits on the stool beside her. He waved his hand to order some wine. Korra was too busy wallowing in her self pity for her to notice the gun for hire and friend Iroh II. "But wait…" he drinks. "You should be dead if you lost, are you? Am I talking to a ghost right now?" Korra was brought back to the world with that idiotic line of questioning. "Varrick fired me, Okay? I'm officially retired from fighting." she said turning away from him.
He took pause to take in what she said. "So what? Your strong, your capable, and with that jerk out of the way you could do whatever you want" he was clearing trying to cheer her up but she was too caught up in her anger and too chemmed up to even realize it. "So what?! Do you know how hard I trained to be the best in that ring, how much I sacrificed and now all I have to show for it is a hand full of caps and a few cuts and bruises." she turns to him again but this time she unintentionally shows him her swollen eyes red from her previous tears.
"Okay, I'm sorry I didn't know you felt that way." he said holding his hands up in surrender. The worst thing for him to do is piss her off even more. A lot has happened between the two of them but those were just business and right now he is stepping into personal territory which he does not want to get in to. Not yet anyway, not like this.
"What do you want?" she asked her face still pissed as ever. He always wants something.
"Now that you're umm… retired, I'm looking for an extra pair of hands. Nothing serious. We just need to escort some broad to Bunker Hill and we're done." The two of them use to do jobs like this all the time back before she was knocking out or killing people in the ring.
"I'm busy." she sips her drink. "I understand. I don't want to get punched in the face like last time but if you change your mind we're leaving at sunrise so you have plenty of time to sober up. Oh, and by the way the pay is five hundred caps." Her ears twitches at the mention of the reward.
"You're lying!"
"Its true, I found it hard to believe too at first but she already gave me half of the payment in advance" He shows a bag of caps.
"Who is she anyway?" she asked now suddenly interested.
"I told you. Its just some broad who probably has a bad rep from raiders" he smiles at his friend's renewed interest on the subject.
Korra slams her hand on the counter and spilled some drinks in the process. "Damn it Iroh! If you're not going to be honest with me then fuck off!" He always do this. Making go to some mission I don't know anything about she thought. Her brow furrowing in her anger.
"Calm down Korra. Okay. I'll tell you..." he whispers to avoid anymore attention from the other patrons. "the truth is.. she's a synth"
Korra's stomach churned from the mere mention of the word synth. Flashes from her past came to her within seconds of its mention. She feels the beer she had consumed rising up from the confines of her belly but she managed to hold it in before she messes up the counter that the robot diligently wipes every now and again. A synth… finally. She could never forget how The Institute ruined her life but before she gets ahead of herself she has to know if the information is legit or not.
"Are you sure?" She looked at him in the eyes searching the truth in them seemingly over her drunkenness in an instant.
He knows that look she was giving him he thought. "Korra please at least wait until we get paid"
"Guess that means you're sure huh?" she smiled. Iroh nodded but with a concerned look on his face. This is not going to end well.
Glossary:
Chems – addictive drugs! VERY BAD!
Psycho – a kind of chem that makes the user feel less pain and the strength of two men at the cost of impaired perception. May kill if taken in high dosages.
Ghouls – post-humans that mutated due to prolonged exposure to intense radiation. They have mutated into seemingly immortal beings at the cost of their skin rotting and in some cases their ligaments. They look like Deadpool but worse and without the regenerative power.
Raiders – any group of people that pillage, plunders, murder, or otherwise ruin the day of anyone unfortunate enough to not be one of them.
Combat Zone – A re-purposed theater that now serves as a fighting ring for would be matial artist. Owned by Varrick and also due to her "protection" Kuvira.
Goodneighbor – a town known for its many dark alleyways and its no rules rule but ironically has a mayor.
Synth – Robots that are made to look like human being made by The Institute to blend in and infiltrate the towns of the wasteland.
The Institute – an advance scientific organization that is known and feared for its ability to produce synths.
Bunker Hill – the trading spot of the wasteland where everyone is neutral.