Day 1: Predatory
Post-Cannon (three years after Book 1 finale).
Pairing: Amon x Korra
Rating: T
Word Count: 3.7k
Plot: A certain predator chases a long sought after prey but sometimes things do not go as expected.
~~~~~~.:oOo:.~~~~~~
Just like a tigerdillo stalks a clueless rabaroo, so does this predator stalk its prey with slow careful precision and hard won patience.
Such a prey thought it could escape, it believed it could run far away and live its life away from the hunter that seeks to devour it but such travels are meaningless when the person tracking you has unlimited resources and frighteningly powerful abilities. The years have fine-tuned this predator and taught it the ways of ambush and persistence, meanwhile that same time has dulled the senses of the prey that thinks itself unbeatable and safe.
The man once known as Amon sits on a makeshift rock bench near a brook, wearing green and taupe peasant clothes. A canteen rests on the ground by his side as he examines his surroundings carefully- red and yellow leaves begin to fall lazy from their trees to carpet the grass under a weak sun, the small hut near the stream in this Earth Kingdom forest is a peaceful and remote little landmark, so far it seems to have been a safe haven and mostly undetected by humans for years but something seems off, there is a tension in the air, a strange silence and he knows something is about to happen here, he knows all too well but he is prepared.
One the traps activates and with a loud snap of rope, logs start tumbling down the hill a few yards to the right of the peaceful brook, making the ground rumble and the water vibrate. He waits for the dust to settle and then makes his way to the source of the commotion, carefully weaving through traps and vegetation in silence, seeking out whoever tripped the alarm.
There is nothing there, he looks under logs and in near hide outs, her searches the tree branches and small caves that could have sheltered an injured intruder but there is nothing to be found but a pair of fallen fox-antelopes caught in stampede of rolling tree-trunks. Nature has taught him not to waste resources so close to Winter but the strange prickly sensation still hangs in the air so he surveys the perimeter with long disused skills yet the only heartbeats he can sense are the speedy thumps of forest animals so, with unease in such a decision, he hauls the meat sources back to the cottage.
The door is safely locked as always and only one key can open the complicated and rigged bolt mechanism but he is soon waltzing inside and walking to the back storage room of the small home, setting the fox-antelopes inside to keep them from other carnivores before he steps out and goes wash his bloodstained hands in little kitchen's sink.
He feels it then- a strong familiar rapid beat behind him that makes his eyes widen before turns, using the sink water to flung needle-like projectiles of ice at the intruder. They shatter against the wall with a tinkle and after minutes of frantic scuttling around in circles he is forced to admit that nothing is there, not even the thumping heartbeat he was sure to have sensed.
The paranoia has been growing in the past few weeks ever since commotion in the nearest town- the local festivities had been graced with a surprise guest of honor that caused too much of a ruckus, it had brought too much attention to those woods where he had hid for the past three years and ever since he had been expecting someone, anyone to stumble into his lair, he even dreamed about it and every single time the intruder had the same face, the face of the only person that had ever defeated him.
The man once known as Amon began to wonder if the loneliness he had imposed on himself, the solitary existence that he had always found comforting but was not stressing to maintain, was beginning to drive him insane. He had convinced himself that he needed nobody, he was sure this place was unknown and secure, and yet he thought he felt human presence there ever since the commotion in that town miles down the mountain and her face… Her face haunted him, its determined blue glare slipped onto his mind whenever he found himself the least bit distracted and the memory of her blood came back to tease his senses just as often.
"Stop thinking about that. Just stop." He scolded himself out loud before kicking aside a lonely chair and stomping into the living-area.
Crisp dry wood waited in the fireplace but despite the Autumn cold he had not had the courage to light it in those past weeks, afraid that the smoke might attract unwanted attention even though there should have been no one close enough to see it in that remote mountain of gigantic trees older than many of the cities in the country they grew on. He settled with a heavy koala-sheep wool blanket and sat on the rug with his only means of entertainment- piles of newspapers that he bought every month from the nearest towns.
He scavenged the pages in search for any reference to Amon and the Equalists and when he found none he turned to leisurely pin-pointing and reading any article with the slightest mention of her.
The man formerly known as Amon had hoped his obsession with the Avatar would die out some day in his isolation but so far it never had, instead it had merely mutated into something different- before, when he had convinced himself that bending was the source of all evil, he had learned to despise her and all she represented, he had desired to defeat the strongest being. Now, however, it was different, currently the image of her face contorted in pain under his bloodbending was something that sickened him, now, after having been defeated by her and forced to see the world from another angle he found himself fixating on her power for completely different and shameful reasons, now that he was so alone, now that he had lost even Tarrlok and began to see the flaws in his own beliefs, now that he saw her impressive and world-changing adventures and her actions in every newspaper through the years he couldn't help but think of her more than he should.
"I was so wrong about her…" He whispered as softly as he always did when he talked to himself about her, as if his feelings regarding that woman were a secret even to himself. And yet as much as he thought of the Avatar he did not understand why, as much as he wished he could see and touch her again he knew it was irrational because he was certain she would rather see him dead after all he had done.
The stingy tension, the hair-raising sensation of being watched was still there when he retreated to his bedroom that night. He checked every corner of the house just to be sure nothing was out of place and nobody could be hidden inside, the door locks and windows were verified thrice as well and only then did he lie in bed, waiting for sleep to come and hoping that his dreams would be pleasant fantasies of her rather than dark memories he did not wish to recall.
His slumber was slow to come because he could not help but to imagine that something moved in the darkness of his bedroom, but when his eyes did close his dreams were peppered with a myriad of disjointed images that he tried to reach but could never quite touch until… A tiny crackle began to penetrate the dreamland and suddenly he was sitting up in a flash when a pop awoke him in the middle of the night.
The sound repeated itself, just soft dry popping snaps coming from somewhere in the hut. He followed the familiar sound to find that it came from the wood burning in his fireplace with orange and yellow flames lighting the room and casting large dancing shadows.
In the last few weeks he had noticed some things appearing out of place but he assumed he had done them himself and was seeing things that were not there, yet a blazing fire was something he could not ignore, it was something he had definitely not done. The man spun around, looking for an intruder in those wobbling shadows, after all, the wood would not set itself ablaze, now would it?
"Much cozier this way, isn't it?" A voice fluttered from the doorway to the living-area, one he knew well. The curvy dark silhouette of the owner of said voice was leaning its back against the doorframe and staring at him with the glowing eyes of a predator.
It took him a moment of stunned silence to decide but then he reacted and used his dulled skills, attempting to subdue the invader. To his surprise the person shifted into position and lashed back with the exact same skill to hold off his bending so strongly that when the trespasser forced a gush of hot air in his direction he stumbled back and was toppled over seconds later when the attacker pounced and immobilized him between her thighs, her hands pinning his over his head by tugging at the blood in his veins as her hands wrapped around his throat with fingers tipped in cold ice-claws worthy of any massive carnivorous beast.
"Hello, Amon."
"Avatar Korra." Even before her the light of the flames revealed her face he already knew who she was and acknowledged it with no surprise.
"Bloodbending is not a very nice way to say hello." She pointed out quite sarcastically with those ice talons poking at his skin.
"Neither is breaking and entering private property." He replied through gritted teeth, attempted to remain stoic despite the pain of having his arms controlled so ruthlessly and the dread of what those claws could do in one rapid swipe.
"Does such a law apply to the hideouts of wanted criminals?"
"Rather than a law, it is common courtesy."
"Bloodbenders deserve law, not courtesy." Her sarcasm shifted into a spike of outrage that twisted her expression into a terrifying mask of rage.
"What does that make you then?" He shot back, arms twitching with a sickening strained wet sound as he tried to fight her skills.
"Fire must be fought with fire. The law would take my side in this, don't you think?" Korra defended without a hint of remorse and for the first time he saw that she had changed, whatever had happened to her after their parting had forced her to grow up from the naïve and trusting girl she had once been into a careful hardened woman.
"Perhaps. Yet if look at your precious legalities, invasion of privacy and stalking tend to be frowned upon as well." He kept antagonizing her merely to try and stall and to confirm his suspicions.
"That so?" Korra grinned for the first time, she looked pleased and yet feral. "Did I scare you, Amon?"
To both their surprises he laughed at the sudden wave of relief that washed over him through the pain and fear. When the burst of laugher died down, her grinned right back at her and replied- "Yes. I believed I was going insane, in fact, even in this position I'm relieved to see you are real and not a figment of my paranoid mind."
"Who says I'm not?" She jabbed at his insecurity with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"If you were, this conversation would not be happening." He sounded absolutely certain.
"Are you that convinced you could take me?"
"No, I merely know how my mind works and in it if you subdued me to this extent there would only be two possible outcomes and conversation does not feature in either." Yes, he had imagined this position before and there had always only been two outcomes- the wild dream fantasy of domineering sex or the realistic nightmare of his murder under her wrath.
"Does death?" She asked nonchalantly, never once lowering her guard.
"Yes." There was no point in trying to be deceptive.
"So you're aware that I could kill you right this second for all you did and nobody would censor me for it?"
"You could try."
"Try? I don't see you fighting back." She highlighted her words by pressing down on his windpipe just enough for the ice to draw little droplets of crimson on his flesh.
"I don't see you striking me yet." He hissed as his breath hitched slightly and watched her hesitate and pause, her face falling into a frustrated scowl.
"… I wanted to. I never knew I hated you so badly. I planned on ambushing you in the night to wring your neck and cut your air supply until your face turned purple and the life went out in those cold eyes, I wanted to stab that stony heart of yours with my flames or freeze you to death, I dreamt of bashing your face into the ground with my bare fists until all I could feel was bloody mush and shattered bone on my knuckles." The words were venomous and laced with spite and a hint of sorrow.
"Why don't you?" All things considered, he was still seriously curious.
"I'm not a monster. I'm not you." She snapped in accusatory retort.
"I never thought I was a monster. I wanted to be as strong as you, all I wished was to do what I thought you should- bring justice and equality to the world."
"Then why did you quit? Why let your unmasking stop you? I was weakened, I had nothing but an unstable and untrained type of bending and you were free to destroy me, to get revenge, to gather your remaining followers and start over, bender or not. But you didn't do it, you just ran away with Tarrlok and let him kill himself."
"Is that what holds back your hand now? Your desire to understand why I ran that day?" Suddenly the bizarreness of the situation, of talking so seriously to a person that wanted him dead and had him pinned to the ground, was hitting him but so was the understanding of why she was being so chatty herself.
"Why did you run away? Why surrender so easily? Your equalists still stubbornly try to cause trouble from time to time even now and yet you just gave up."
"I was scared." The answer spilled out so easily that he didn't even have to think about it.
"What?" The Avatar stared at him in disbelief, she probably found it idiotic that the man that had controlled people with fear had succumbed to it so easily himself. "Explain. Whether you live or die might depend on your answer."
"I was afraid. I was never a man accustomed to failure, I was delusional to the point that I believed myself invincible, stronger than the strongest, and I spent so long lying about having the Spirits on my side that I began to believe it." The man explained with a heavy heart, his ice-chip eyes boring into the cerulean of hers. "But you defeated me, your meager forces tore my superior and better prepared ones down, you pushed me back, you swayed my followers, you unmasked me and revealed my lies, you proved to be worthy of your title and shattered my ideals, you made me see myself, my world, for what it really was. I feared you, I still do."
His speech caught her off guard, she stared at him slack-jawed and he could feel her bloodbending grip loosening from her sudden inattentiveness, her hands did not to the same but trembled slightly against his neck for several long silent moments. And the Korra sighed tiredly and looked anguished.
"…Why did you have to become such an awful person? I don't believe you are evil, I don't think you ever were so why did you have to be the monster in my nightmares?" She spoke bitterly but with surprising sadness.
"Hate begets hate, monsters beget monsters, and then arrogance and power fuel them. I realized that all too late." He replied remorsefully.
"…We could have worked together, we could have joined forces to bring Tarrlok down lawfully, you could have been the perspective I needed to understand the non-benders, we could have changed the world without your extremes." The Avatar accused, still sinking in frustration and melancholy.
"You wouldn't have listened and you never needed me, you've proven that well enough these past three years." He had seen her accomplishments, from the civil wars and the Harmonic Convergence to her work with Spirits and the fight against non-bender discrimination laws; he had seen it all and he was deeply impressed but more convinced than ever that he could never have reached her, not as ally and not as a foe.
"I hated you. I thought I had forgotten you, I was sure I was over what you did to me, to everyone, but when I found you… All I wanted was to kill you again." She sounded angry and conflicted, her hands gripping his throat much too hard once more. "I stalked you, I made sure to unsettle you and scare you, I saw how lonely and sad your existence was and thought it to be too good a punishment for you, I wanted to make it worse, I wanted destroy you…"
She paused her angry growling tirade to stare at him, willing herself to just slash his neck to ribbons as he could tell by the repressed tremble of her fingers but at some point her hands loosened again and she sighed, looking miserable and on the verge of angry tears.
"Why can't I do it? Why do I feel like pitying you now that you are at my mercy?!" She asked herself as much she asked him.
"You said it yourself- because you are not a monster." He remained stoic but an internal war raged inside him, a part of him wished she would be the vengeful violent thing he had once predicted so that she would end him but another side of his psyche didn't want her hands soiled with his blood, not when she had proved him wrong and become such an honorable being.
"You're just saying that so I won't kill you." Korra accused disdainfully.
"No, you are the Avatar, your heart is too compassionate and soft for your own good and I would rather keep it untainted by vengeance and murder but, to be honest, I couldn't care less if you ended my miserable life. I'm too much of a coward to do it myself and I do not truly wish to die but I'm tired of living in constant dread and loneliness, I'm sick of obsessing over what I can't have, I don't know how much longer I can live without turning back into a monster and I honestly don't really care anymore, I have no purpose." He stated almost tiredly before glancing at the fireplace merely to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. "And if I must die, if I am to become prey in this vicious world then I would wish for my predator to be you." Truthfully, he considered that to be an honor and he could ask for no lovelier thing for his last sight than her face.
Korra stared at him for a long time, apparently trying to discern the level of his honesty while battling with herself and trying to decide what to do. Finally he felt the bloodbending cease, leaving his limbs rubbery and sore, the lethal grip of his throat relaxed as well and she stood over him, the ice claws evaporating into nothing as she extended a hand to him looking more stunning, powerful and intriguing that he ever remembered.
"Get up." The Avatar ordered impatiently.
"Don't you fear that I'll harm you? Or escape? After all, you know what I am capable of." He questioned, disapproving of her quick trust as he accepted her helpful hand.
"I'm not the same girl you fought three years ago. You don't stand a chance against me now." Her complete confidence was fascinating yet not a deterrent but he knew for a fact that she was right so he could not argue.
"What do you plan to do with me?" The man that once worn the mask of leadership, of Amon, now waited for direction.
"I won't kill you." Korra stated simply.
"A prison won't hold me unless you take my bending." He pointed out.
"I'm not going to put in prison either."
"But I doubt you'll let me go free."
"I'm taking you back but not to prison, I'm going to make you useful, I'll make pay your debt to the world under me and not in some comfy lazy little cell." She announced with determination and compassion that she could not conceal though she tried.
"You actually believe the authorities will allow that?" He was fascinated by her sureness but still wondered whether she was being naïve.
"I'm not giving them a choice."
"And if I refuse?" He had no intention to do so, having to live such lonely hidden seclusion felt worse than prison anyway, at least with her he would be out in the open again.
"I'm not giving you a choice either." Korra replied with an air of command. "The only question is whether you behave or chose the hard way."
"…I don't see the logic in opposing the person that defeated me before, found my hideout and could easily crush me. Besides, my existence has been far too dull and meaningless since my brother passed so perhaps your offer might make things interesting henceforth."
"Good answer, Noatak." The Avatar actually smiled, it was a victorious expression but for that little second he had the irrational wish that his true name could always be associated with that smile.
«This will be an interesting new journey.» The captured prey thought to himself, already wrapped around the fingers of his new master for better or for worse.