Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Korra or any of its characters.
Thanks to dandeliondreams for looking through the story and editing it :)
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No one knows.
He prefers it this way, because revelation would mean his ruin. And he has come too far and climbed too high to have his plans derailed.
Ignorance, in this case, is bliss.
-:-
(The moon is only a thin sliver in an ink-coloured sky. He runs as fast as he can, breathing ragged breaths, and doesn't look back, because he can hear the pounding of footsteps far too close for his liking.)
"The only thing bending has brought to the world is suffering," he tells the crowd, which listens intently, which feels the rock-solid conviction in his voice, which understands, fully, what he means. Bending has increasingly been seen as an abomination, as a symbol of a widening chasm. He is merely telling them what they already know, reinforcing beliefs and bringing simmering resentments to the surface.
And they love it.
-:-
(His pursuer is gaining on him. He can feel a presence coming closer at a steady pace. The man's a non-bender, he thinks – but in this desolate place, devoid of water bodies or plants, when he is exhausted and delirious, they are on equal ground.)
"Since the beginning of time, the spirits have acted as guardians of our world, and they have spoken to me." Such honeyed lies, falling smoothly from his lips. But his conscience is long dead. The spirits have never deigned to smile upon him, so he uses them anyway.
The curiosity of the crowd is almost palpable, the excitement rising. A thin smile curls his lips from behind the mask, where he knows no one can see it.
-:-
(A grunt, a thump and he is on the ground, the other man pinning him down ruthlessly. He struggles, and manages to turn and face his attacker, to face a gleaming knife with a wicked edge. The other man smiles, showing too much teeth. "I'll teach you what exactly happens to people who steal from us," he croons, and the stench of sweat, both stale and fresh makes Noatak want to gag.)
He knows how to push the buttons of ordinary people, and they're so ridiculously easy to manipulate, like puppets, marionettes obeying his every whim; people have always tended to listen to him, and he uses it without a second thought.
"They say that the Avatar has failed humanity," he says, and if the spirits have decreed thus, it is indisputable. It helps that many non-benders are considered second class citizens – uneducated, credulous, malleable... and they far outnumber the sceptics.
-:-
(He looks up in terror at his assailant's eyes, and panic makes his heart beat astronomically fast – then the knife pulls his gaze inexorably, and he stares at it, horrified. The man notices and his eyes narrow, lips twisting into a vicious snarl as he pulls back his arm to impale the weapon on the boy's face, and Noatak's mind is a big stubborn blank, the blood is pounding in his head, and he doesn't know what to do, he can't see a way out of this – he's already made a failed attempt at bloodbending, failed because he has lost his concentration, and he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to – )
"That is why the spirits have chosen me to usher in a new era of balance."
Balance is to have an equal of both good and bad, of opposing forces, and by saving as many as he can from this heinous evil, this filth, he will perhaps have achieved an equilibrium.
-:-
("NO!" he screams, and for a split second, the attacker is startled by the shrill desperation in his voice, and the knife hesitates for a while, long enough for the boy to rip one arm free, with no thought in his mind except the overwhelming desire to save himself, and then he gestures sharply – suddenly, the sweat on the man's face is transformed into two slender icicles with wickedly sharp tips. And Noatak sends them flying into the man's face, hoping against hope that this will make this horrible nightmare end, this will stop the madness – )
A burning excitement to show the crowd, to show the world what he can do doesn't give off any outward signs, because this is an important, crucial part which he cannot afford to bungle. So in the same, steady voice, he says:
"They have granted me a power that will make Equality a reality. The power to take a person's bending away." He pauses, letting the message sink in.
"Permanently."
The crowd gasps.
-:-
(He looks at the man's face; the mouth is slightly open in surprise, and his gaze travels up, past the nose, to the eyes, to the icicles embedded deep in the eye sockets, penetrating the brain and killing him almost instantly. Blood trickles out of the wounds, staining the weapons a garish red, and some of it runs down unshaven cheeks and drips onto the boy, a repulsive mixture of blood and water and vitreous fluid. The knife lies on the ground, released by loosened fingers; Noatak's stomach turns.)
As he takes their bending away, he wonders if it's so incredible that Equality is advocated and carried out by one who seeks atonement. To save the weak from those who would use their bending to abuse them, to oppress them, to murder them – at least when all have a level playing ground, he can sleep in peace.
Bending is an impurity, a contamination, a taint of the human soul. It has allowed others to kill. It has allowed him to kill. There is no place in the world for such an aid to barbarity.
But without bending, you wouldn't be here, a voice says at the back of his mind. And he answers: without bending, he wouldn't need to offer penance.
-:-
(He pushes the body off him – )
He lets the man fall to the ground, a limp, groaning mass, and thinks how pathetic he looks.
-:-
( –and he runs.)
"Your firebending is gone, forever," he tells him, unable to conceal the slight tinge of malice in his voice; he has perfected his skills, and he will stand his ground and fulfil his duty. One less deformity in the world. Then he turns to the crowd and proclaims:
"The era of bending is over!"
And nobody, not even the most discerning, is able to hear the faint note of supplication in his voice.