For best understanding, read 'Stone Cold' first.
Titanium
Bolin stretched out on the beach of Yue Bay, staring up at the full moon pensively. He thought of the past several months, and everything that had happened therein.
Korra's arrival.
The whole Amon thing.
The aftermath.
And more specifically, the more recent events.
After getting her bending back with Deux ex Machina (as he liked to call it), Korra began the arduous task of restoring the bending abilities back to those who had it taken from them. It was harder than it seemed, and a LOT of red tape was involved.
The Council discussed about WHO should have their bending restored. The Triple Threats, the Red Monsoons, and the Agni Kais, just to name a few, were on the temporary 'Bending Blacklist' until a decision could be made.
The result? Chaos. Pure unadulterated chaos.
The rival gangs put aside their differences for once and began reminding them of the fact that even those without bending could do a world of damage if given enough reason. Chief Beifong and her Metalbenders had one hell of a time subduing them, and even so, bails were posted by unincarcerated members of the gangs, and more damage was done than repair.
In an effort to keep the riots to a minimum, Chief Beifong began opening a new police force, hand-selecting Firebenders and Waterbenders to train in law and police work so they could utilize their bending in specific areas of expertise.
Mako was number one on her list as a Firebending Police recruit.
Korra, in addition to assisting the Council and restore bending, was number one on her list as a Waterbending Police recruit.
Asami was asked to develop new modes of easy transportation for the recruits.
Bolin wasnt approached at all. For ANYTHING.
...Other than by Mako, asking him to be the new captain of the Fire Ferrets.
So, in a typical fashion, Bolin hid behind his mask, feined enthusiasm at the 'new responsibility', and waited until everyone was out of his way before punching a crater into the side of what used to be City Hall.
He was sick and tired of hiding behind this mask of inferiority and mediocraty. He was sick and tired of being looked over or not seen at all.
But most of all, he was sick and tired of playing nice.
As he thought these things over, his eyes burning with ice-cold hatred, the sand shifted under him, as though wishing to escape his agitation. He allowed his anger to burn for a few more minutes before sighing and standing up, heading back to his apartment. He had a Pro-Bending match tomorrow, and as long as those two greenhorns he now called teammates didnt chicken out, they might do well enough to qualify for the quarter finals.