Disclaimer: Legend of Korra belongs to Nickelodeon, Bryan Konietzko, and Mike DiMartino. Aceidia and DAIrinchan are just impoverished villain enthusiasts.

The Plan For World Domination Starts With Job Interviews

The meditation room was quiet. Peace and harmony flowed through the air. This was a place where one could go to feel that all was right with the world. At least, that was the case until Amon stalked in.

Zaheer cracked open an eye and watched the good vibrations dissipate around his undead ally.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I hate to interrupt your meditations," Amon said, in a voice that suggested he felt no such thing, "but it's been a month since Unalaq and Vaatu died and we haven't made a move. I was wondering if you were ready to talk about what we should do next."

Zaheer frowned. "I thought we agreed our first move should be to replace them."

"Yes. Of course. I meant, we need to figure out how to select their replacements."

"I still think we should let P'li and the others join," Zaheer told him.

Amon sighed. He didn't need to breathe, of course; he did it for dramatic effect. "I told you why that wouldn't work. We're the Terror Square. A square has four sides, but your friends would bring us up to five. We can only admit two people."

"I would hate for Ghazan to feel left out," Zaheer agreed. "But why can't we just change the name?"

"Because Terror Pentagon would give entirely the wrong impression. The word 'pentagon' doesn't suggest competence. We want to project the image of people who get. Shit. Done."

"And I remembered you felt that way. Which is why I put an ad in the paper."

Amon blinked. Old habits die hard, especially if you're not exactly dead yourself. "You what?"

"In the help wanted section." Still in the lotus position, Zaheer leaned over and pulled today's copy of the Republic City Times out from behind an incense burner. He folded it open to the relevant page and handed it to Amon.

Amon read it.

"'Do you believe the world needs to be fixed? Are you interested in world domination? Then we're looking for YOU. Please call 1-800-EVIL to apply.'" He lowered the paper and stared at Zaheer. "You realize no one's going to answer this. Or, if they do, they're an idiot."

"What's wrong with it?" Zaheer demanded.

So many things, Amon thought, but he didn't say it. What he did say was, "What's to stop the police from calling and pretending to be an applicant?"

"Well, I . . ."

"What's your plan for screening them?"

"I thought we'd just take the first two people who called."

Amon closed his eyes. He didn't open them again for a long moment. When he finally did, he said, "It was that kind of thinking that got us stuck with Unalaq in the first place."

Amon insisted on taking any phone calls that came in – and, surprisingly enough, they did. He didn't trust Zaheer's ability to weed out police or jokers. That didn't mean he enjoyed the process.

"I feel like an evil secretary," he complained to Zaheer.

"Ooh, we should totally get–"

"No."

Finally, he had a (short) list of suitable candidates, and it was time for him and Zaheer to interview them in person. Unfortunately, Amon continued to be unimpressed as each applicant proved useless.

His head hurt. He was tired of this. Amon sneaked a look at his cohort, who was meditating. Either that, or he had fallen asleep sitting up. Amon honestly wasn't sure, and he wasn't sure it mattered. It could work out better without Zaheer's input.

That was what Amon told himself, as he saw out another failed prospect. It was what he kept telling himself until two people came in at once. He nudged Zaheer with his elbow.

"Did we double-book somebody?" he muttered.

Zaheer blinked at the two newcomers, a man and a woman, and shrugged. "We do need two people," he pointed out. "Let's just hire them and call it a day."

Amon ground his teeth and looked away. "Good afternoon," he greeted the strangers. "I am Amon, and this is Zaheer."

"Yes, we know," the woman said, cutting him off. "My name is Kuvira."

"I'm Baatar," the man put in.

"We're here about the empty Terror Square positions," Kuvira continued.

"Yes, we know," Amon couldn't resist shooting back, although at least he was able to keep the mocking tone out of his voice. "Have a seat."

"What kind of experience do you have?" Zaheer asked once they were seated.

"I was captain of the metalbending guard at Zaofu for several years. Until I quit."

"Why did you quit?" Amon asked.

"Personal differences."

Amon raised an eyebrow, but realized it didn't do any good with the mask. "Can you elaborate?" he said instead.

"It was because Suyin had a perfectly good chance to take over the world, and didn't take it," Kuvira said frankly. "I couldn't work with someone like that."

"Fair enough." Amon switched his attention to her companion. "And you?"

"I have a Bachelor's degree in building evil devices," he said.

"So, in other words, nothing," Amon said.

"Sounds good to me," Zaheer added. Amon elbowed him again.

"What about you?" Kuvira asked.

Amon froze. "What about us what?"

"What does the Terror Square have to offer us? Why should we work with you?"

"Why–? You're the one who applied to join us!"

"Yes, but your track record at this point isn't exactly impressive," she pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but that was mostly Unalaq's fault."

"Unalaq's not here," she snapped. "Blaming others achieves nothing. You can only rely on your own accomplishments."

Amon and Zaheer looked at each other. "I rallied most of the non-benders in Republic City to my cause," Amon began. "We took over the city for several days, and in fact changed the United Republic's politics forever."

"But your plan promptly fell apart when the lie it was built on was revealed."

"Well, yes," Amon admitted.

"I founded the Order of the Red Lotus to work in the world's shadows," Zaheer said. "We almost kidnapped the Avatar several times."

"Almost being the key word," Kuvira noted.

"And I gave her nightmares," Zaheer added.

"So did I," Amon pointed out. "No one else can say that."

"True," Kuvira mused.

"And regardless, we have more experience than you do."

The man – Baatar, his name was Baatar – had been studying Amon with his head tilted to the side. Now he spoke. "Didn't Amon die two years ago? Aren't you really the Lieutenant wearing Amon's mask, since the image is more important than the man himself?"

Amon frowned behind his mask. "I am Amon," he told him. "The real Amon and the only one. I'm a zombie now. I feast on the flesh of the living."

"How did that happen?" Baatar asked.

"Vaatu, the evil spirit of darkness, brought me back," Amon explained, "because after I died, there weren't any good villains left."

Kuvira cleared her throat, apparently feeling the conversation had gotten off-topic. "Well. We're here to change that." She paused, eying Amon. "I understand zombies enjoy the taste of human brains."

"That's true," Amon admitted.

"You can't eat ours. I like them where they are. And if this was all a ruse to bring fresh brains directly to you . . ." She trailed off, but her posture promised dire things to come.

"Oh, no, no," Zaheer put in hastily. "We're doing exactly what we said in the ad. We're here to reform the Terror Square."

Kuvira studied both him and Amon with a critical eye, then cast it around the room. "Fine. This seems suitable. We'll work with you."

"Excellent! We meet–"

"One moment, please," Amon said. He grabbed Zaheer's shoulder and dragged him out of the room.

"What?" Zaheer asked.

"We don't know anything about these people. Are you sure we can trust them? This Kuvira seems very scary."

"Scary is good. We're villains."

"And she's a girl. I don't know how to deal with girls."

"So?" Zaheer demanded. "Aren't you all for equal rights? Isn't that your entire thing?"

"Yes! I didn't mean anything like that. I'm just not used to being around girls. The Terror Square has always been men."

"Should have come out with me and P'li and Ming-hua when we asked you," Zaheer said sagely.

Amon closed his eyes. "I have no interest in being set up with Ming-hua. Or in going on a double date with you."

"Whatever. These two are better than Unalaq. Isn't that good enough?"

Amon sighed. "Fine." He led the way back into the room, where Kuvira and Baatar watched them. Kuvira had an eyebrow raised. It was possible they had heard everything Zaheer and Amon had said.

Amon cleared his throat. "Come to this address at teatime tomorrow."

"We'll be there," Kuvira agreed. "There is one more thing."

Amon froze. Was this not enough?

"What exactly is your plan for taking over the world?" Kuvira asked.

Amon thought fast. "We can discuss that tomorrow," he said smoothly, cutting off Zaheer's "About that . . ."

Kuvira frowned, but nodded. "Tomorrow, then." She and Baatar stood. Zaheer saw them out, probably so he could leave and meet up with his friends.

Please, please don't let these two be like Zaheer, Amon thought. He was always taking time off, and worse, getting ideas about Amon's social life.

Amon shook his head firmly. These two were different. He could feel it.

To be continued . . .