Title: Crystal City
Author: xxZanexx23
Fandom: Legend of Korra
Disclaimer: If I owned the show, why would I be writing this? I am just a fan of this amazing series and writing for the love of writing. I hope this story will entertain and possibly inspire other future authors or writers to take up writing. Please enjoy, and comment or review if you desire.
Lin Beifong sat perched behind her desk. Her hand delicately guiding a pen onto paper, as her words transcribed onto it.
The victims of this violence are benders and nonbenders. But those who put the law into their own hands never achieve justice. They simply become mindless menaces of fear, sadness, or anger. As the Chief of this police force, I will do everything in my power to protect and maintain equality. Neither vigilantes nor criminals will run these streets.
I swear on my Oath,
– Lin Beifong
Her quill stopped moving. Then she grabbed the paper and an envelope off her desk. The document went inside; and she raised herself up while sealing it. Then she too moved – around her desk, then out the door.
Soon she passed gangs of six-by-six feet cells. The chambers occupied bad-tempered men and women who snared and cursed at her as she passed. Instead of looking away, she stared at each of them, too. The faces were young, old, and everything in-between; they looked like a circus of generations of human beings with no boundary on the cruelty that they could commit. Each of them would rather hide behind facades than conform to the real face of the world: nasty, mean, and unfair. However, behind those masks, each one had a story. None of them justified what they did.
"Chief Beifong!" a voice interjected behind her.
"What is it Saikhan?" Lin asked, turning towards the saluting man wearing metallic armor.
He walked closer to her holding a small stack of folders. "The name and photos of the new inmates have arrived." Generally, they received more than what she was given.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Lin replied. "Before you leave though," she handed him the envelope she was holding, "I need you to deliver this."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, giving her another salute before marching the other way.
While starting to walk again, Lin began to read the contents. Each page had a photo, number, and reason for conviction. The first page started with 138804; it included the photo of a woman with frizzed orange pieces of hair, sticking everywhere. The chief read her crime, "Killed her friend for loving someone else." She sighed; just what she needed, another lunatic who thinks, if they cannot have the person they love, no one can.
Her eyes roamed uninterested along the other pages. They were all your usual stalking or murder cases. Then she stopped on number 138813, page 117. Her eyes hardened at the picture. It was a male: "17 years old. Name: Rohan Remiro." It was not the obsidian hair with a hint of red, but the indigo eyes the person had. Those eyes stirred memories within her.
"A young boy was sitting cross-legged with six books on his head. His eyes closed. Then they clumsily open as a beeping goes off in the background. "Did I do it?" he asks, bluish purple eyes staring directly at someone.
"Yes," Chief Beifong replied, "you really did it this time." Then she turned towards a nearby closed door and opened it. The room had dim light, flickering candles, but she still saw the figure resting on the desk in the middle of the room.
Just at the upper ridge, where the sun's blazing disk separated the clouds, each band darkened an incredible illusion of a green flash. Hovering over the nearby sea, the flash's illumination caused the sea to sparkle. It illuminated a pathway of light towards land. Through sandy beaches, the light crept. It was like sea serpents moving into a makeshift hospital room, where through one of the building's windows, a woman sat confronted by a reflection. She was starring pass herself at a green flash enchanting the rising sun, which was indeed a rare natural phenomenon. One after the other, the band's refraction of light lessened until she could only see herself again.
The woman was humming while she rubbed her bulging belly; and she softly whispered to her unborn child, "It won't be long before you come."
A crackling of a door opening brought her attention away from the spectacular scenery. Two figures quietly entered through. The smaller one, a miniature figure of the taller, carefully maneuvered his small, chubby fingers around a little tray that he was holding. On the other hand, the taller figure, a man in his mid to early thirties, held a much larger tray that had a wide arrangement of breakfast dishes.
A smile lit up her face; and then it soured as she pointed a fierce glare in the direction of the man.
The man began to sweat as he stared back at the glaring, scowling pregnant woman. Assuming it was just another mood swing, he quietly placed the tray on the edge of a nearby table. The woman's glare never left his figure.
"Honey," he probed, taking a deep gulp, "… did I do something wrong?"
The intensifying of the glare was all the response he needed. Now sweating bullets, the man shrunk behind his miniature self. Unlike the terrified man, the child was oblivious to the tension in the room.
The child, a boy about four years old, walked towards the pregnant woman. His chubby cheeks and disheveled dark auburn hair matched the woman's own. A smile returned to her face; and she patted the space beside her on the bed for the child to sit. The boy placed the small tray down and sat beside the pregnant woman.
"Momma, we made breakfast for you," the child said, before beginning to yawn.
The mother moved closer to the boy. Resting her hands on the back of his head, she coaxed her fingers through his hair. Gently combing his wild curls, the expecting mother began humming softly again. After a few seconds, the child was breathing lightly beside his mother.
"Thank you sweetheart," she quietly whispered, "Now go to sleep, Rohan. Your father shouldn't have waked you up so earl..."
The child was suddenly falling downward. The bed, his father, and mother had disappeared; and he was now alone with the sound of razorblades piercing through the air.
Knock… Knock
In an instant, Rohan's body staggered upward in a ferocious blur. He had been sleeping rigidly in a plain, cold black chair. That was before his mind took over. In his dreamlike state, he was oblivious to the person who had entered into the room. Dim light, flickering candles, and creepy statues made the room's scenery similar to that of a horror novel; and oh, how he hated those.
Rohan scrunched up his eyes, carefully attempting to discover the identity of the figure. The person, who had knocked on the wall, was moving towards him. Each step the person took, the candles' light flickered. Rohan exhaled a sigh of relief when it aligned with person's face and revealed who she was.
Her dull and cold eyes, a marking of seeing the harshness of the world, still reminded Rohan that even though some wars had ended, people were still fighting. This woman's appearance was simply cold. He swore that if there were a sun inside that room, it would have frozen over as soon as she had walked through the door. The woman began striding towards him. Her movement, silent swift glides trailed by the light flapping of her dark, black jacket. Her aura, a mixture of leadership and sharp, icy temper, commandeered respect. Despite the room's dim flickering lights, her eyes locked solely on him; and he swore, she could see in the dark.
"Why," she asked, inching closer. "Why come back now?"
"Honestly, you shouldn't have," Rohan leaned back in his chair. "I know my birthday is near…" His eyes strayed from her face to look at the candles. "But I don't think I can blow out all these can-."
"Cut the crap, Rohan!" She slammed her hands on the table. "Why are you in my city?"
Her fierce, piercing stare met a harmonizing wave of bluish purple, eyes that seemed to become dimmer or brighter as the light shined unsteadily in and out. The emotions in his eyes were like a dancing butterfly, passively and aggressively struggling against the howling icy winds of a turbulent storm. If the candles were not in that room, it would still be lit-up with an illumination of a million frolicking butterflies, threatening the impendent darkness.
"You know..." Rohan replied, "I would have never imagined a Master interrogating her favorite pupil."
"After three long years," her hands tightened around the wooden frame of a chair, directly opposite of him. "You have the audacity to come back..." her question, "why?" still floated in the air.
"I was just passing by." he responded, noticing her hands tearing into the wood.
"No," she said, then taking her hands from the chair to slam her fists onto the table again. "You were wrecking one of my ships!"
"What," Rohan waved his hands mockingly in the air, "metalbenders can't fix metal or something now?"
"Whatever," she leaned forward over the table, pointing, "Tell me the real reason you returned."
"I'm telling the truth." His hands lowered to the table. "Really," he licked his lips, "I was just passing by."
"Stop joking," she replied, "You and I both know this is dealing with your hatred for the equa-"
"You're right." The frolicking butterflies in Rohan's eyes were in flames. "I do hate them." Hatred was burning in him, but his face stayed calm under fire. "But I came here for answers."
"I see," the woman sighed, "even though you won't admit it, your hatred still clouds your judgment of the democracy we uphold here."
"No," Rohan leaned closer, "I am just tired of being one of the victims of the terrors of so-called democracy."
The door beside them banged open. A man, clad in dark metallic armor with matching arm braces and shoulder plates, ran through the door. Despite wearing metallic boots, his movements were silent and swift. Just like the woman, his eyes showed a deep understanding of battle, but none with the current situation.
"Chief Beifong…" his words rushed out, faster than he could remember someone else was in the room.
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Sorry for interrupting," He said, glancing at the new inmate. "The Avatar's appearance is once again causing commotion."
Chief Beifong's eyes never strayed from Rohan, "Another nuisance."
The lieutenant was feeling uneasy. The intensity of Chief Beifong's and this inmate's glares were like parallel polarized forces, one calmly freezing and the other burning restlessly, but refusing to meet in equilibrium. He knew that this young man was from the incident earlier that morning, but he rarely saw people able to argue back with Lin Beifong. "Exactly, who is this kid?"
"Congratulations." Rohan grinned, "Am I supposed to call you Master Beifong still or is Chief Beifong more suiting now?"
"Whatever," she leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar, "You're free to go." She did not release him. "But remember this: I would have you rotting behind bars if wasn't for this city's council being full of snakes." She shoved him back into the chair.
She marched to the open door. "Be careful of snakes, they always bite you in the back." She waved her hand behind her. "Let's go Lieutenant." Then she walked out the door, never looking back.
It took awhile for them to let him go. Despite the Chief saying he was free, there were still protocols to go through. They lasted forever.
Rohan was walking fast, almost running. Each of his steps landed in a small pool of water drenching his black pant legs, but luckily, he did not slip. However, his small, green crocheted cape connected by a sharp horn of a Komodo Rhino on his right shoulder, on the other hand, was drenched from the stream pouring down from the heavens. A spark illuminating through the dark sky, and a loud roar soaring through the streets, followed.
Rohan continued forward guided by strong gusts and howling winds caressing his face. Unlike those scurrying for shelter, his eyes illuminated hope through the dark streets, merging from the treacherous light of lightning. Soon Rohan came upon the docks.
The sea's dangerous heaves threatened those nearby. He was; and bracing himself, Rohan struggled as chunks of the powerful current splashed into his body. It was powerful, but the earth beneath his feet prevailed. When he regained his composure, he quickly maneuvered into the nearest open building he saw. Hope lost.
Inside, his nose registered the foul stench of booze. Around him, men were merrily flirting with women and drinking to their heart's content. He had assumed his entrance would have set all eyes on him, but it seemed someone else had already captured the spotlight. She, a slender, but muscular girl seemed to be in an argument with three of the drunken men in the room.
"Come here girl," one of the drunken men sloppily said.
The girl was physically shaking as her brown hair danced; and it was as if all of them were shaking – one due to anger, the others due to gay laughter. However, the two males standing beside the girl, who were also struggling to hold the said girl back, were not. The drunkards paid no attention to them or their silent warnings.
One of them hobbled closer, wearing a shirt too small for his large stature. "Marty, you were right." The drunkard's eyes roamed the young woman's shapely figure. "She's a pretty young thing," He took a quick shot of his drink before returning to leer at her. "How about you lose these lads, and you and me beat it?"
The girl lifted her head showing mix emotions. Her cerulean eyes were a deadly cascade of fury, anger, and irritation. Rohan knew a fight was coming; and he by no means, was going to stop it.
"As much as I would love to see this one-sided fight," the taller, dark haired boy said, slowly releasing the girl and moving in front of her, "I don't have the money to fix this place afterwards."
"Tough guy, eh," the third drunkard interjected, with his elegant greatcoat bellowing behind him, "keep your mouth shut." His black fedora dazzled, as he pushed the boy out of the way and moved towards the girl.
"It's dangerous," the girl was glaring at him as he spoke, "for a little girl like you to be in these parts of town." He mockingly pointed at the fallen boy. "How about you lose these two lads..." He leaned closer. "And roll with some real men?" Judging by his appearance, this man was the leader of the small group.
"Sorry guys," the other brown haired boy beside the girl said, helping the fallen boy up, "I'd advise you all to leave."
"What? "Are you going to make us?"
"No, I won't, but," he stood up while leaning slightly forward, his right hand covering one side of his mouth, and he pointed towards the steaming girl, "She can be quite scary."
"Boss, these guys don't listen well." The first brute slammed his hands together. "Can I teach 'em some manners?"
"Yeah," the girl's hands ignited into a fiery set of flames, "Let's try that," she said, as the fallen boy gave a warning:
"Korra-"
One of the thugs own hands burst into flames. A fight was about to begin, Rohan thought. However, before that could happen, the leading thug placed his hands that were emitting a cold, sleek sensation, onto the flames. As the fire died down, the leader's eyes remained indifferent. Then he gave a nod to his companions, and they swiftly marched to the back door of the building.
Rohan was not the only one bewildered by their actions. The whole room remained quiet until the soft click of the door closed.
"Well..." the shorter brown haired boy looked right to left at his companions, "We showed them!"
"Yeah Bolin, but how weird was that though?" the girl, Korra, said, nodding in agreement.
"On a scale of one through ten?" the dark haired boy replied. "Ten." They all nodded.
As the group continued to banter, Rohan watched passively until a loud bang of the back door reopening shattered his eavesdropping. Out from the door, thugs poured out faster than buzzard wasps protecting their hive. The so-called leader he saw from earlier was back with friends – lots of them.
The seemingly de facto leader pointed at the girl. "That's her," The drunkard looked behind him at the thugs armed with weapons. "She's the Avatar," The group of three slowly began to back up. "She attacked some of our guys earlier this week." The horde of thugs began charging forward like Komodo Rhinos. "Teach her why you don't mess with the Triple Threat Triads."
Time seemed to freeze for a second until the brown hair boy, he had assumed to be Bolin said, "Let's get out of here."
Watching from his spot, Roan finally realized the incoming stampede of people approaching his direction. It was scarier than the time he was running from angry buzzard wasps in the blistering desert. As he shifted away from the two boys moving pass him, he accidentally bumped into the girl. She was fine as she continued moving, but he was not. The impact pushed him into a nearby table spilling a purplish drink onto his black shirt. Looking up from his spot on the ground and mess, their eyes met.
"Sorry," the girl apologized over her shoulder. Still, to Roan, despite the liquid and food in his hair, his mind stayed on the girl and her friends as they ran out the door.
Sometime later…
Korra angrily marched in the direction of the ships from the docks. She was about to begin her descent into the now calm sea until she heard Bolin yelling from behind her.
"Korra…" He ran towards her. "Korra, wait!"
She stood silently, allowing him to regain his breath.
"Mako," He panted. "Didn't mean it like that."
"We must have heard two different things then."
"I know Mako can be insensitive sometimes…" He relaxed. "Well... most of the time," He began making motions with his hands. "But, um," Bolin's eyes strayed away from her. "He truly does care." He glanced back at Korra. "He is just trying to protect you."
"Bolin," She softened her tightened fists. "Protection?" she asked. "Do you mean protect me or his chance at winning the championship?"
"Um,-"
"I'm the Avatar!" Her arms flailed around in the air. "I don't need anyone to protect me." Her arms crossed over her chest. "Certainly not some…" she stumped, "arrogant fire-bender…" she stumped again, "who thinks he is such…" she stumps one last time and shouts, "such a cool guy who can do no wrong!"
Bolin sighed; his brother and Korra's relationship always had to be so complicated. They had feelings for one another – even he could see that. But their stubbornness always stopped them from acting on those emotions.
"You know, Mako…" Bolin said, inching closer. "He has a hard time being friendly."
"Yeah," she regained that space from Bolin. "But, I'm starting to think…" Her eyes strayed into the sea as if she was looking for an answer. "Whatever this thing I am trying to earn from him isn't worth it anymore."
Bolin closed the gap between them. "And if you don't try to find out," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "then you'll never know if it was worth it."
"I should be following my own advice." Bolin thought, sadly as seconds passed.
A loud honk ruined the comforting atmosphere between the two. Then in the distance, a hazy outline of a ferryboat approaching the dock appeared.
"See," Bolin smiled, "things are looking up already. Now you don't have to swim home."
"Thanks Bolin," Korra said.
"No problem."
Korra smiled; then she grabbed her stuff of the ground.
"Uh, Korra," Bolin pointed a single finger out towards the sea, "I think you probably should hurry on that ferry before it leaves you."
Korra laughed; and with one last smile, she began jogging towards the ferry.
Then as if he forgot to tell her something, Bolin exclaimed, "Hey Korra," she turned towards him. "If things don't work out for you and Mako," he bounced his eyebrows up and down. "I don't mind being the Avatar's rebound."
From the distance, he thought he saw an outline of Korra's smile. Seeing that she had left, Bolin began his own trek back to his home. Soon he entered the market district, where his eyes roamed through a nearby jewelry store where something had captivated his attention. The darkness decorating the inside through the window signaled the store was not open, but something was illuminating inside. Near one of the display cases, Bolin saw a small flame burning on a single candle, but the flame was fading as the glimmering of violet and cerulean crystals became brighter.
Title: Crystal City
Author: xxZanexx23
Fandom: Legend of Korra
Disclaimer: If I owned the show, why would I be writing this? I am just a fan of this amazing series and writing for the love of writing. I own Roan's story and personality, but the image or his appearance belongs/ was influenced by ReojiSensay on Deviant art. I hope this story will entertain and possibly inspire other future authors or writers to take up writing. Please enjoy, and comment or review if you desire.
Authors' Notes: I have gone through a lot of thinking lately, and I have decided to give Fan Fiction a shot again. I hope that I can have a longer and more pleasurable time than before. I will try my best to update this story, which some of you may have read before. I am going through it, editing, and rewriting it so that it can be better than before. I hope that I can enjoy my time writing this as well, as the first experience was not the best.
I hope that I also can gain more of a response with this one, as unfortunately, I did not with the other. Thanks, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Until next time, I bid you all farewell.
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