Summary: Cross-over. They were the Reckless Racoons. Trevor, Mike and Jenny. The laughing stock of the Pro-bending world. So for the life of him Mike couldn't figure out why Harvey Specter, best Pro-bender in the world, wanted him on his team. If that wasn't digging your own grave, Mike didn't know what was. Set after the Equalist attack on the Arena. Rated T for mild swearing.
Disclaimer: Once again borrowing fictional characters that aren't mine. I'm only writing this down once folks, that's painful enough as it is.
A/N: I should start with a warning here. I don't really know how this story happened, only that I have a pathetic love for Alternate Universes and for bending two entirely different fandoms into one story. I seriously doubt that many Suits fans watch Avatar: The Legend of Korra, and the other way around, but once I started writing I couldn't stop. Both worlds are too much fun to play with and all Suits characters make for way too badass benders.
Anyhow, despite this little Frankenstein's Monster of a story, I hope you'll enjoy reading as much as I do writing. Buckle up and hold on, 'cause you're in for a long ride.
Wildfire
"Welcome back, Mr. Ross."
Mike groaned, shutting his eyes to protect them from the harsh lights of the Emergency Ward. At least, that's where he thought he was, if the pretty nurse by his bedside was anything to go by. He tried to push himself upright, but the movement made him aware of the pounding in his head and his stomach rolled uncomfortably in response.
"I might puke," Mike moaned, letting small hands push him back onto the narrow bed. He was feeling way too miserable to worry about preserving what little was left of his pride. "That's what you get when you decide to head-butt with a rock disc," the woman responded dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.
"You have a terrible bedside manner for a nurse," Mike whined, his hand reaching up to grasp at his forehead. The room was still spinning lazily and he desperately willed it to stop.
"I'm your doctor," the woman said, her bright blue eyes narrowing slightly. A silence fell, and Mike shifted nervously on his bed. Then she laughed unexpectedly, her hand reaching for something behind her on the sterile looking counter. "But I'll take the compliment," she said, dangling a badge in front of Mike's face. Dr. O. van Pelt was the only thing he could make out before she stowed the badge away.
Mike slowly released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I think I'm just going to blame it on the head injury, doc," he said, smiling when he heard her chuckle in response. "I figured," Dr. van Pelt said softly, shining a small light in Mike's eyes and holding his head still when he tried to move away. "Can you rate your pain for me Mr. Ross? On a scale of one to ten?"
"I'd say a twenty. Give or take."
She hummed, her fingers gently palpating his forehead where a massive bruise was probably decorating his face. "Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?" she asked, her face pulling into a sympathetic smile when she touched a particularly sore spot. "I was, but I think I'm feeling better now," Mike lied. It wasn't like he could afford a hospital bill on top of the monthly rent, so the sooner he'd get out of here the better.
The doctor frowned, but if she could see right through Mike and his bullshit—which he had no single doubt she could—she kept silent. Instead, she placed a small metal bowl with water on the metal drawer beside the bed before putting both of her hands in it. The water molded around her fingers and she quickly placed them on Mike's forehead, the liquid burning a bright blue. The relief was almost instant.
He hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep when he opened his eyes again to a now empty room. The room was illuminated by the light above the counter on his left, the harsh ceiling lights turned off probably so he could get some rest. The metal bowl lay forgotten beside him, along with a few clean bandages and a roll of medical tape. The room was way too small and underequipped for the Republic Hospital, so either he was at the small Emergency Post at the edge of Dragon's Borough or…
Holy shit.
Mike lunged off the bed, his heart slamming against his ribs. He remembered putting his gear on, the lights of the Arena, the redhead and the firebender and laughing with Trevor and then… then nothing. What had happened? Had they lost? Was that why Trevor wasn't here? How much time had passed?
Without warning strong hands hauled him up, lifting him by his armpits onto the bed. They moved to steady him, one hand against his breastbone and the other on his left shoulder. Mike gulped for air, swallowing hard when the familiar scent of his childhood friend filled his nostrils. He hadn't even heard the door open and close.
"Relax, Mikey. It's just us, Trevor and Jenny," Trevor said slowly, concern lining his otherwise carefree face. Jenny was hovering nervously behind him, hugging a battered red helmet to her chest while she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Mike managed a shaky smile at her and she smiled back just as quickly. Minutes passed, and Mike felt his heartbeat slowly return to its normal rhythm, the tightness in his chest easing with it.
"Sorry, just freaked out there for a second, I think," Mike said shakily, suddenly feeling stupid. He raised his head to look his taller friend in the eye, and he was relieved to see only concern there, not pity. Trevor squeezed his shoulder in response and let Mike go, stepping back to give him some space. "We figured. Do you need something? Glass of water? Tampons?" Trevor teased, grinning.
Mike barked a laugh. "Asshole," he grinned back, punching Trevor in the shoulder. Despite the situation, Mike felt himself relax. If Trevor was cracking jokes, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. "Seriously, guys, what happened? The doc said I tried to break a rock disc with my face? I have a gap in my memory the size of your mother's a—"
"I'll tell her you said that, she'll love the compliment. And you lost, that's what happened. Fortunately you didn't damage anything important."
"Trevor!" Jenny interrupted, breaking up the banter. That shut Trevor up soon enough, but his eyes still twinkled. Jenny carefully placed her helmet on the edge of the bed, and moved to sit beside Mike on the bed. "Don't listen to him, Mike." She smiled softly at him before her face turned serious, and for some reason Mike felt his cheeks heat up under her close scrutiny.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Six hours ago…
"You're kidding."
Trevor smiled awkwardly, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his head like he always did when he was nervous. "Spirits help me, you're actually serious. Holy shit Trevor, do you realize how totally screwed we are?" Mike exclaimed, his voice involuntarily rising an octave.
"It's not that bad…" Trevor tried, watching Mike pace the small bedroom from the safe edge of the bed. The rest of the dark blue blankets were buried underneath their red and gold Pro-bending uniforms, helmets, and a couple of old bending scrolls Mike had bought on the market. The bedroom was tiny, a wooden desk and a chair crammed into a corner. Daylight streamed in through the single window above the bed, illuminating the Pro-bending posters and picture frames decorating the walls. They always discussed Pro-bending tactics at Mike's place, and nowadays this bedroom had become more familiar than Trevor's own.
"Not that bad? Trevor, last week you said we're up against the Waterlily Weasels! Those guys are losers compared to them! My grandmother could take on the Weasels!" Mike said, his hands tugging at his blond hair. The glass of water on the nightstand stirred simultaneously, but Mike was way too busy panicking to notice.
"Hey, I can't believe I'm saying this, but Grandma Ross is one tough old lady," Trevor replied. His ears were still ringing from their last encounter, and for the umpteenth time that week Trevor thanked his lucky stars that Grandma Ross was a non-bender. If she weren't, he'd probably be dead right now.
"You're trying to change the subject," Mike pointed out, still pacing the room.
"Yeah, I am. Is it working? Do I need to tell that story again about the time I got my di—"
"Alright! Alright, Jesus. I still have nightmares about that one, asshole," Mike interrupted, a small grin pulling at his lips. Trevor grinned back and mentally congratulated himself on diffusing another possible temper tantrum threat. Mike could never stay mad at him for more than a few hours, but today Trevor preferred his ears not bleeding, thank you very much.
"I'm serious, Trevor. What are we gonna do?" Mike said quietly, pulling Trevor out of a very unpleasant flashback. For a moment he looked lost, like all the times he'd stood on Trevor's doorstep without knowing how he'd gotten there in the first place. They weren't family, but they were brothers, and if Mike didn't think he could fight this, Trevor would fight twice as hard for the both of them. That was just how they worked.
"What we do best," Trevor said, a small flame dancing between his fingers before he crushed it in his right hand.
"Kick. Ass."
"You're kidding."
"Yes, in reality I am leaving the country to go on a honeymoon with my non-bending fiancée who lives in Ba Sing Se."
"Okay, I'm going to let that sarcastic remark slide, but only because you're trying to divert my attention. Really, Jessica? You're telling me this now?"
Jessica squared her shoulders, placing her hands on her hips. He might be the team Captain, but she wasn't about to allow him to scold her like some disobedient child. "You know as well as I do that I received orders just two days ago, and I had far more important matters to attend to at the time. Besides, or—"
"Orders are orders, yeah, I know," Harvey finished absently, pouring two glasses of scotch and handing her one. The bright sun flooded in through the open windows of Harvey's spacious condo, reflected by the glass in their hands. Yue Bay was always bustling this time of the day, and Jessica found herself watching the endless stream of colourful boats docking and setting sail again. They sipped their drinks quietly for a few minutes, both too engulfed in their own thoughts.
The truth was, Jessica liked being a Pro-bender on Harvey's team. At first she'd been quick to dismiss the idea of engaging in such a ridiculous form of entertainment. Bending was their personal weapon, and she'd been taught to use it to protect herself and loved ones from harm. Not to purposely use it against others for fun.
Her family was the Northern Water Tribe's elite. They had close ties to the government, earned through trust, hard work and results. Their job required a certain degree of discretion, and so far they had never failed to live up to their reputation. Not many people truly knew what they did, but rumours had a way of spreading quickly. Jessica wasn't born yesterday, and she had heard people call them names since she was a little girl. Bodyguards. Spies. Secret Assassins.
Murderers.
Of all the names, that one stung the most. The Black Lotus was many things, but they weren't ruthless killers. Of course, there were times when Jessica doubted her orders or felt conflicted. But killing? That had always been an absolute last resort when a mission unexpectedly went haywire. Of course that happened once or twice, but what did people expect? That they talked with every enemy who wanted their head on a silver platter? The people of Republic City couldn't possibly understand, and if they could they didn't want to. They needed to blame someone for all that went wrong in the world, and they had found a suitable victim.
Meeting Harvey had been refreshing. He was an intelligent man, who hadn't been as quick to judge her as everyone else had. He respected her and above all he respected her secrecy, probably for the same reasons she respected his. She hadn't felt like straying from her own carved out path until she met them, the two people who accepted her not out of fear, but out of friendship. If only she'd realised sooner that this was the one thing she truly wanted.
"I'm sorry, Jessica," Harvey said, pulling her from her train of thoughts. He lazily twirled the last of his scotch around in his glass, before downing the rest of it. His jaw clenched with the bitter aftertaste and their eyes met. "I know you never wanted this to happen."
She nodded stiffly, not trusting her voice enough to say something back. Her life was the Black Lotus, the Black Lotus was life. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Story of her life.
The roar of the crowd was about the only warning Mike got before a rock disc slammed into his chest, momentarily stealing his balance and breath.
"Son of a bitch!"
Another disc swirled Mike's way and he barely dodged it this time, stumbling as it scraped his left shoulder. Right, he probably deserved that one. The earlier blow had the adrenaline in his blood peaking again in seconds, and Mike felt his growing anger add to the sudden rush of energy.
This match was starting to become a serious pain in the ass.
They weren't outnumbered but they were definitely outgunned, and Mike was growing sick and tired of his team being tossed around like a bunch of amateurs. And how far from the truth was that, anyway? He'd told Trevor that this was the way this match would go down, but Trevor had begged him to join and he was always the spineless little shit who couldn't say no. Like his job, he would probably never get his precious thirty thousand yuans back.
Or his grandmother wouldn't. Whatever.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth, boy?" his opponent drawled, strands of red hair escaping her helmet and she blocked Mike's responding blast of water with ease. Their elements fought for dominance, water crashing against rock in the chaos that they called the Arena. The crowd went wild with every hit and every conquered zone, lights flashing and colourful banners held high above excited faces.
They had lost the first round, which hadn't been a surprise for either teams. Mike figured that they probably thought their team was a huge joke. Hell, challenging them had been their first big mistake. Challenging them in public their second. They were an ant about to be crashed by a boot, with thousands of spectators to watch and humiliate them.
Which is why their opponent had to be holding back on them, because Mike's team was still standing and that really wasn't possible, was it? They were probably just really distracted. Or they were discussing what they were having for dinner at the gala, prawns or lobster. Or Trevor had somehow convinced them to tie so they could split the money afterwards. Whatever explanation, there was just no way this round was going so well for them because they were the better benders. No way.
Another opening presented itself, and Mike immediately took the chance. He quickly tucked his arms in, twisted his upper body and he finished the spin with two powerful kicks of his legs. The water easily followed his momentum, meeting its target with precision. The blow was powerful, enough to send the redhead reeling back into the second zone. Mike let out a shout of victory.
The crowd screamed simultaneously.
"Whatever was eating at our racoons in the first round is water under the bridge, because Mike Ross is on fire! And not just our favourite waterbender, I'd rather not be on the receiving end of Jenny's stony wrath anyda—"
A rumble of laughter pulled Mike back to the match. "You just got your ass handed to yourself, Donna," the tall firebender said, his deep voice lined with amusement. He was tall and powerful looking, bending with an ease Mike secretly envied. "Then why don't you go play with the puppy for a little bit, Harvey," the woman—Donna, apparently—shot back sharply, but Mike was pretty sure the redhead was hiding a smile when she narrowed her eyes at her teammate.
"Hey! This puppy here knocked you back a zone, show a little respect!" Mike interrupted, hotly, feeling his face burn up against his will. They were making him feel like he was twelve again, and it made his skin crawl.
"Yeah, you tell 'em Mike!"
Mike spotted Trevor on the left of his peripheral vision, cracking a roughish grin with two enthusiastic thumbs up before taking the brunt of a rock disc. His friend had lost his helmet somewhere during the first round, and red scrapes decorated one side of his face. He looked like shit, if Mike was being completely honest, but somehow Trevor never lost the appeal of a three year-old on a sugar rush.
Feeling the familiar fondness for his childhood friend settle in his stomach, Mike grinned back and forced his head back into the game. Two minutes. They still had a shot at winning this, and for Trevor, he'd give it everything he had left. Might even get him some of that money back. Heh.
"Trevor, switch!" Mike shouted, rolling to the left so he was now in the centre of the first zone. Trevor reacted without hesitating, fire erupting from his fists before taking Mike's place on the far right. Battling the firebender gave Mike the tactical advantage, and he pounced without hesitation.
"A daring move of Ross, going in for the kill! Nice duck there Evans, and looks like Paulsen is making a swift recovery with a combo attack at—"
He barely evaded the first couple of fire blasts, his right arm swinging in a counterattack. Steam erupted in his face as a result, and he instinctively side-stepped to his left, feeling heat scraping the majority of his right bicep. Mike quickly blinked the involuntary tears of pain away, a string of impressive curse words escaping his lips.
"Spirits, that looks painful! Fantastic move of Specter there, I was beginning to wonder when the triple fire fist would make an appearance. Things are getting hot here in the arena, and the Racoons are fighting for a chance at moving up in the tournament—"
Where was the ring of that fucking bell when you needed it?
He quickly glanced at the time panel. One minute. Mike ducked, grateful for the helmet or he'd be sporting a not-so-charming grandpa haircut right about now. He gritted his teeth and plunged forward, sending blasts of water to the other side with all the strength he had left. The liquid collided with fire mid-air, steam blurring the glass of Mike's helmet as a result. Just as quickly, flames dispelled the fog and Mike twisted his body around them. He had barely recovered from the spin when a couple of rock discs soared his way. Mike's sturdy arm protectors caught them and he winced with the impact.
Then, without warning, something far heavier slammed into him.
Time seemed to slow down and Mike felt weightless and disoriented, like a puppet being tossed through the air, until gravity decided to pull him back down from whatever had crashed into him in the first place. He vaguely heard Trevor yelling something but it was lost over the sound of ringing in the background—the bell? Really?—and of blood rushing through his ears and Spirits he couldn't breathe.
"—m sorry, sorry, Mike, are you okay?"
It was Jenny, sprawled on top of him, her face red from exertion and an apologetic look in her eyes. She tried to climb off him but elbowed him in the stomach while doing so. "Sorry, sorry," she said repeatedly, quickly grabbing Mike's hand to pull him upright. "I'm okay, Jenny," Mike rasped. Bleeding internally, but okay, he added mentally.
Finally standing, Mike ignored her concerned look and let his gaze automatically shift to the scoreboard. And felt himself do a double take. "We're tied? We actually have a shot at this?" Mike said incredulously, turning wide eyes on Jenny. She shrugged back but her face glowed with excitement.
"I don't believe it," Mike said quietly, removing his red helmet. "Well," Jenny said, "you better start to, 'cause we have one more round to go and I'm not losing now!"
"That's my girl!" Trevor shouted, sounding positively overjoyed. He ran over to them, clapping Mike on the back. "We are going to crush them! I told you we could do this, Mikey! Let's show them what the Reckless Racoons are made of!" Trevor cried, doing a fist pump before returning to his position. The female fans on the first row nearly fainted when Trevor waved at them. "He always had a way with words, our Captain," Mike said absently, grinning at Jenny when she laughed heartily.
"Aaaaalrighty folks, it looks like the Racoons are rrrrready to rrrrrumble! There's nothing more dangerous than an opponent with nothing to lose, and so far they are holding up a spectacular fight! Let's see if our beloved Datura Dragons are going to breathe fire ooorrr get burned!"
Mike squeezed Jenny's arm in a silent 'good luck', before taking his original position on Trevor's right. "One day I'm going to torch that guy's smug face, with his fucking metaphors," Mike heard Trevor mumble, and he nodded in agreement. "Dude, I think I just found the one thing my grandma and you agree on," he whispered back, and Trevor faked a shocked look at him that made Mike laugh despite his growing nerves.
They had two ways of winning this, either through winning the round or by a knock-out. The latter was definitely not happening on their current level, so they had to focus on gaining territory. The Datura Dragons had the same options, but they were known for getting the most knock-outs in Pro-bending history. They would probably try to prevent a tie from happening and focus on a knock-out or gaining territory, like them. A one on one was always unpredictable, and there was simply too much at stake here.
The Datura Dragons took their positions. Mike felt his heart rate pick up speed, his arms and knees bending slightly when the earthbender Donna winked at him. He had knocked her back once, and he'd do it again.
Then the bell rang, and they moved all at once.
Something had shifted in the air, like their earlier fight had simply been a friendly training routine between friends. This was different, and Mike realised they had only scratched the surface of the true power of the Datura Dragons. Panic took over when he saw Jenny stumble back into zone two, and then zone three. He barely dodged a rock disc aiming for his liver, but it slammed into Trevor instead like that was its final target all along.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Holy Spirits, this round is an absolute warzone, folks! Evans just took a bullet for Ross and Griffith is hanging by a thread in third zone! Specter is pushing Ross into a corner and Pearson is single-handedly taking on two Racoons at the same time! Sweet mercy I can't look at this genocide and neither can the audience—"
They were now in the second zone, first defence to Jenny who was barely holding her own in third. They couldn't even fight back anymore, only evade and block in a desperate attempt to hold their ground. Had this been the plan all along? Just fooling around a bit in the first two rounds, giving them the impression they could win before crushing them like a bug? Why hadn't he seen this coming?
For some reason, the firebender and earthbender switched places, much like Mike and Trevor had done earlier. The redhead wasted no second and send rock discs spiralling their way. Mike rolled to the right, away from Trevor and the fireballs scorching his uniform. He caught one disc with his forearm protector and deflected another with a burst of water, barely covering Trevor's back. The team Captain was too occupied with battling the waterbender to pay much attention to the flying discs. Too occupied to notice the single rock disc bouncing off the rope, being redirected towards him.
Towards Trevor. Without his helmet.
On auto-pilot, Mike felt himself move forward, his eyes on the rogue disc. His bending suddenly forgotten, Mike almost stumbled over his own feet trying to get to Trevor. He could make it, he had to make it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his best friend on his watch. With a final cry Mike jumped, just in time to push Trevor out of the way before the rock disc made contact, exploding against his helmet in a cloud of dust and debris.
Then, everything went black.
A/N: That's it for now! Please let me know what you think, right now I still have the chance to turn back and lock myself in the tower of shame (with chocolate, mind you). Side note: I am fully aware of the fact that it seems unlikely that a Pro-bender can participate in a round without a helmet, but the plot wants what the plot wants. Also, I'd love to hear your thoughts on my version of Jessica. Gina Torres was and always will be the epitome of Firefly for me (together with Nathan Fillion of course), so don't be surprised to find an even more badass version of Jessica Pearson here.
Love, Yve