Chapter 2 – Triple Threat

Disclaimer: I own nothing

-0-0-(Republic City- January 2017 ASC(After Sozin's Comet))-0-0-

Asami gasped when she woke up. Then she groaned.

Shoulders stiff, neck strained, black wavy hair on her face. Groaning louder, her arms wandered around. She felt strangely naked.

Probably because, somehow, she was not wearing any pants.

Her pillows were strewn along the floor. Her blanket was barely hanging on at the foot of her bed. Her tank top were pulled up, exposing her midriff to the cold morning. Her shorts were MIA. Naturally, she suspected Korra; her analytical mind did not even give a chance for her to worry for her virtue since she knew that she was in her own room, in her apartment. Rubbing tired olive-green eyes, sitting up and pulling her blanket to cover her bare bottom, she checked her door. The deadbolt was on.

So, not Korra. Her roommate had a strange sense of humor from time to time. Few months ago, Asami had woken up holding an optimistically-sized male genitalia made of rubber, courtesy of Korra; coincidentally, she started sleeping with her door locked right about then. Plopping back down, Asami tried hard to remember her dream, all the while wondering how the heck her shorts could have gotten away from her during the night.

Her head was foggy. She'd gotten to sleep earlier than usual last night, almost normal people's schedule. She remembered waking up briefly when Korra came home and went through the front door. And before that, she remembered the cup ramen she had had for dinner. And nothing much else. She couldn't even remember work yesterday.

Two minutes of lying around, she was finally wide awake. Sighing, she decided to get up before the delicious rubbing of the blanket on her lower part deviated her morning. She showered and, clad in a bathrobe, dragged her feet out of her room.

She found Bolin passed out in her couch.

That explained the unusually heavy footsteps last night.

It was a testament to how lousy Asami felt this morning that she did not even wonder why Bolin, who was wearing only boxers, was covered in tribal tattoos all over up to his face. There would be time to demand explanation later, starting from why Bolin was here, but now Asami needed coffee.

But, of course, she was out of coffee. Korra's stash of some strange water Tribe coffee was sitting there on its jar, but Asami was not very fond of it – Asami had tried some and found it strangely salty, Korra had said she'd brewed it wrong. Next to it, an old cut out box of cereal that contained Korra's packets of instant coffee.

Now, Asami might be a lowly lecturer and occasional high-school science tutor, but she was born into the privileged society; not only with a silver spoon in her mouth, but the entire set of silver cutlery. If not for years and years of friendship with Korra, Mako, and Bolin, she would have snobbishly closed the pantry door and turned her nose up at the instant coffee.

While the water boiled in the kettle, she made her way to Korra's room across the living room from hers and knocked on the door. "Korra", she called miserably. "Morning."

A single long grunt sounded and Asami took it as permission to open the door a crack. A large furry dog came out from inside the room and sniffed Asami's hand as a greeting. Asami scratched Naga behind her ear and returned to the kitchen, leaving the giant dog to terrorize Bolin.

Ignoring Bolin's screaming and the sound of something falling, Asami prepared three cups of coffee. Korra came out of her room, as haggard as Asami felt inside, when Asami made her way to her own room, ruffling Bolin's hair along the way. She got out fifteen minutes later, resplendent in a dark pantsuit and crisp white shirt, to the smell of Korra cooking eggs and bacons. Bolin was face down on the dining table – which was a small round table one would normally find in an outdoor café, the only kind their tiny apartment could afford – with Naga, the affectionate white furry beast, licking his toes.

Flipping eggs, Korra asked as Asami sat down. "Bad dream?" she transferred some bacons onto a plate. "I heard you last night."

"Can't remember", Asami winced at her first sip of coffee. "But, must've been. My bed went nuclear. Pillows everywhere."

Korra chuckled but did not ask further.

"Do I wanna ask?" Asami frowned at Bolin over the rim of her cup.

"Later", Korra put a plate for Bolin and fanned the scent of eggs and bacons towards the boy. "You could use the laugh."

Bolin gasped and rose. "Bacons", he dug in.

Asami and Korra, as they sat down, ready for breakfast, stiffened. They suddenly realized what must happen. An intense stare later, green versus blue, they began eating fast. Asami won and hastily said her goodbye, running to the door with her purse. Still smirking, she tidied up her hair, thanking her luck that she wouldn't have to give Bolin a ride today.

Their apartment was described as rustic by those with optimism. Perching on a suburb of Republic City, the slightly crooked and decrepit townhouse-turned-apartment had two storey, four apartments. And no parking zone. Asami parked her car in a public parking lot down the street.

The lot was a large space surrounded by fence, headed by a single portal with a currently unmanned guard post. It was not unusual, but it didn't mean Asami enjoyed opening the portal herself. As she let the metal bar rise, a rough hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

The man's breath was more dangerous than the small knife he held to Asami's face. "Purse and keys! Now!" he wheezed. "And then, you and me, we gonna have some fun! Get it?"

Asami was not impressed. "Uh huh", she managed before she kicked the man right into the guard post. Calmly, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.

A couple minutes later, the door was opened and she stepped out. Tidying up her hair, she adjusted the strap of her purse and checked the content of the drunk's wallet as she made her way to her car. The fifty yuans she found would pay for her lunch – the man was a drunk, not a bum, and he could afford to lose some money – and the ID and driver's license, she would maybe ask her assistant to send to Mako.

She got in her car and drove out, feeling better about her day. There was something about hitting people who deserved it that was just so… refreshing. Guess it was true what people say: you cannot take the vigilante out of the Assassin.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Mako arrived late to lunch to Bolin's applause and the girls' groan. Winning their daily bet, Bolin ordered cheesecake for himself. Asami pushed a ten yuans bill towards him and picked up her drink. Officer Mako of the RCPD took off his uniform hat and Asami braced herself.

"So…" Mako started. "I got an interesting delivery today."

"Oh?" Asami tried to look innocent.

"It came from the University", Mako deadpanned.

"Yay?"

"Asami!"

Asami groaned. "What? Way I see it, I did you a favor. I did your job for you. Wow, now that I think about it, cops in this city are—"

"The guy's wrists were broken", Mako said. "He's got concussion, lost six teeth, and he won't stop blubbering since he wakes up. And you didn't leave any sign you were there at all."

"What can I say? I'm awesome."

"How the hell did you that?"

"Played a lot of video games? You'd be surprised how much you can learn from them."

Bolin sat straighter. "Hey, can I borrow your—"

"No", came from Korra and Asami. "We have a tourney this weekend to determine who gets to vacuum", Korra explained.

"And speaking of vacuums", Asami smirked, nudging Bolin with her elbow. "Spill."

Bolin tugged on his hoodie lower over his head. "I joined a gang."

Five minutes later, after the girls stopped laughing themselves silly.

"It's this new sci-fi movie", Bolin explained. "I play alien gangster who invade Republic City."

"Didn't they make something like that already?" Mako frowned.

"It's a franchise."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Asami put down her glasses and leaned back on the couch. "You'd think people who graduated from high school have better spelling than this", she fought the urge to toss the paper she was grading to the coffee table and put it off tomorrow. "I mean, listen to this—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there", Korra put her foot down – well, Asami's foot; she was polishing her toenails. "Girl, it's too early in the week for any sciencey talk."

Asami chuckled and looked the other girl over. Athletic, tall, well-toned limbs, yet pretty with warm caramel skin and bright blue eyes. Sitting there in blue tank top and shorts, it was hard to imagine Korra Waters as an attaché to the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Republic. Korra looked more like the head security to said Ambassador.

"You've got a date tonight?" Asami asked. Korra blew a raspberry, further trampling upon the class she hailed from (daughter of a Tribal Chief, basically a state governor). Asami wondered if that was why they were such good friends; two peas in a pod.

"Why? You're setting me up with your student again?" the last time that happened, the result had been rather disastrous. Lee had ended up dropping Asami's class mid-semester.

Their front door was opened and Mako walked in, prompting the girls to throw their hands in the air and screamed. "Donuts!"

"Still not funny", Mako scratched Naga's ear as he made a beeline to the bathroom with his bag. Five minutes later, he was out of his police uniform, comfy in sweats and shirt, and his ever-present scarf. "Where's Bolin?"

"Running late", Korra went back to Asami's toes. "They're shooting a night scene. The aliens are supposed to touch down in this one. Bolin said something about being hooked to wires then thrown off a building?"

"So, Mako, how's work?" Asami smirked.

"Well, the drunk that someone beat up and left down the street from here, yeah… he turned out to be the nephew of some big shot Navy Commander."

Asami winced.

"And he's filing assault charges against whoever beat him up and stole his wallet", Mako narrowed his eyes. "Say, Asami, however could some random staff member from your work find his ID?"

"Uh… he picked it up on the ground?" Asami hoped her smile was convincing.

"You left partial print on it", Mako said flatly. "I took care of it."

Asami deflated visibly.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Channeling her inner regal aristocrat, Asami said. "I will tell you that this street needs more police presence. Drunks everywhere."

"You're lucky this time", Mako said gruffly. "He has a car in the same lot and there's a gun in the glove compartment. Fortunately, he was too drunk to get there before he got to you."

"Found drugs, too?" Korra asked interestedly. "Contrabands? Illegal porn? Pirated DVDs?"

"No, just empty bottles and some weird ring", Mako slouched, picking up the TV remote.

That got Asami's attention. "What ring?"

"Gold band with red center. Got a cross on it", Mako flipped the channels. "In any case, Asami, no more beating up drunks, okay?"

Their stare held for a few more seconds. Until Korra asked the impertinent question. "Who's cooking dinner?"

-0-0-0-0-0-

Bolin had called that he wouldn't make it to the delicious baked potatoes and spaghetti and meatballs Mako had whipped up from whatever had been lying around the fridge of the two privileged girls who were still learning how to fend for themselves in the big city (after four years, anyone would think Asami and Korra would've had learnt that to keep their fridge well-stock, one of them had to go shop for grocery). Calling it early, Asami had gone to bed before Mako went home, carrying Bolin's dinner in a lunchbox.

As usual, the 'waiting' was the worst part of nights like this: When Asami went to bed early and waited for half an hour just in case someone came and checked on her. Last time that happened, Korra had called the cops and Asami, after she snuck back in, had spun a lie about emergency call from the university (that turned out to be a prank) and she had, in a fit of impulsivity, jumped out her room window (literally) instead of taking the few extra seconds that would be required to navigate through the living room and go out the front door. It was truly a test of their strength of their friendship that Korra bought that. Thankfully, the cop Korra had called was Mako.

And there she waited, sitting cross-legged impatiently on her bed, staring at the clock on her wall, willing the tock to tick faster. It took all her willpower not to rip off her sleeping shirt and shorts, and get into her night outfit.

Patience, the weapon an Assassin must keep the sharpest.

It didn't stop her from opening the hidden space she had carved out of the side of her box-spring and taking out the bundle that contained her gears. She unfolded the deceptively innocent Pokémon blanket and lay out her stuff on her bed. A pair of dark leather boots with slightly raised heels (because the World is run by sadistic male entities with unhealthy fixation on the female buttock) with cleverly hidden plating between folds on the shins, dark tight trousers that looked trendy enough to wear on the streets and still afforded real mobility, plain cotton shirt that Asami got from a random store, and a leather jacket with strips of Kevlar stitch under the front and a plate of it in the back with the Republic Assassins insignia – regular Assassins symbol with a small Republic insignia tucked between the lower prongs – on the cuffs of the sleeves, and a small outline of the White Lotus symbol on the collar.

And her weapons, the ubiquitous hidden blades fitted under a pair of stiff leather bracers thin enough to pass for big punk rock cuffs; a pair of gloves with solid padding on the inside of the palms and the outside was tear-resistant, liquid absorbent layers; belt with small pouches where she kept tiny breakable glass globes of chemicals, small marble-sized bombs, and extra clips for the small Walther PPK she had holstered at the back of the belt.

Wearing her Assassins gears, Asami could pass for a low level Goth or a Black Widow cosplayer if no one asked about the hood (strangely, no one ever asked about the hood). The last fifteen minutes, she spent staring at her gears while reciting her syllabus in her head (and realizing, with a slight panic, that she hadn't prepared the midterm questions yet, which was due for submission and evaluation in two days). When the time finally came, she nearly leaped at the jacket and bracers like a rabid child in a toy store.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Running through the rooftops never failed to give Asami that flush. That rush.

Like the aftereffect of weeds that she did not smoke when she'd been an eighteen years old PhD who had just started teaching at Republic University of Science and Technology (anyone who called it RUST to a proud members of the University could count of getting a smack in the face) and was sort of tricked into it by her students who were mostly the same age as her because she wanted to be liked. Running through rooftops gave high adrenaline rush that mellowed quickly into a serene clarity of mind. Her inner geek liked to think that this was her superpower; metabolizing adrenaline into brain juice?

She dropped into an empty alley and pushed back the hoods of her jacket and her coat; an outer coat that dropped to her knees. Her coat she could button up to hide her outfit and it came with pockets and its own hood, and the Republic Assassins insignia carved on the buttons. She had tied her hair into a low ponytail and it draped over her left shoulder. A simple dark chocker circled her neck.

Hugging herself, playing an average Republic girl out clubbing or something, she whipped out her phone and did a little research. By research, of course, it meant Asami was hacking into the RCPD database with her Assassins-issued smart phone.

Modern Republic Assassins operated on an organizational system that was based on a system pioneered by the less-known Assassin Opia Apito; her 'ghost bureau' protocol (the fact that the Caribbean Assassin's name was listed with less than impressive note, despite being a bureau leader, was a testament to her system). The Republic Assassins didn't have an established headquarters or any knowledge of who their Mentor was or even any semblance of structures – apart from the traditional master-trainee and bureau leader-operatives systems, and some unknown 'overlord' figure who controlled their communication and network, who arranged their positioning, fake ID's if needed, mediation with the local law enforcers, and doled out the occasional missions – but, judging from some of the high-tech equipment and gears an Assassins might unexpectedly find in their domiciles, the Republic chapter must have a high-tech R&D establishment somewhere, doling out chemical concoctions, explosives, gadgets, strange guns and ammos, and many other doodads like some R-rated Santa's workshop.

Asami had an advanced degree in engineering and she was a genius when it comes to machines. Computer sciences were way above her skill set, but the smart phone she was using was equipped with numerous hacking apps developed by the Assassins, the kind the public would never know about. Asami remembered her fellow Assassin initiate joking about it; she'd said that it was entirely possible that the Assassins had a cure for cancer and was holding it as potential bargaining chip for any future complications with the government.

Not true, of course… ;-)

The police database search yielded the basic information: name (Rik 'Gripper' Ling Wak), age (27), gender (male), address (12/1 Orchid St., Nera Hill District), crime (public intoxication, firearm possession), notable affiliation (Triple Threat Triad, which was new info, and he was listed as a nephew of Admiral Lu Sano of the Republic Navy). Under others, the arresting officer (Mako) had listed the car he had parked in the lot, the gun found in the glove compartment, and the guy's previous record, and the tip that led to the arrest.

The truly useful bit of information Asami had gotten was the precise location of the drunk's cell. A little further check and Asami encountered the first snag in her mission; the Gripper shared a cell with two other criminals undergoing the same process as he, and one of them was a rapist (rapists gave her the willies, which was natural, and she always felt this urge to stab them repeatedly in the throat when she met one).

Resisting the urge to memorize the rapist's face, she did not need the temptation, Asami marched into the crowd, hailing a cab.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Perching on top of a donut shop across the street from the RCPD Headquarters, Asami pulled her hood low against the light drizzle falling off the Republic City's night sky. This wouldn't be the first time she had broken into the RCPD and she doubted it'd be her last. Times like this, Asami never failed to crack a small smile.

She often wondered what her sixteen-year-old self would think if that girl could see her now. At sixteen, she had been all about finishing her PhD project so she could join her dad's company and together they would conquer the automobile world. And maybe she could do professional racing on the side just to annoy her dad; she had contemplated street racing, but her dad had never annoyed her that much.

And yet, as soon as she'd got her degree, she had packed her bags and gone to visit her grandmother in Fire Nation, only to get herself into this whole Assassins-Templars business.

And she would have no regret.

"Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember…"

"Nothing is true", Asami whispered. She would never again embrace the ignorance.

From her position, she couldn't see the top of the Headquarters; the building being the tallest around the block, sitting smack center and surrounded by wide lawn and road. However, the rooftop hatch should still be accessible. Their contacts within the police would have informed the Bureau should such pertinent asset was no longer viable.

And the only way to check was to break into the HQ through the other entry point: the sewer.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The United Republic of Nations had started as a 'shared state' between Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, and it ended up declaring independence after decades of rallying support among Fire Nation officials and preparing its military and infrastructure. The Republic Independence War had been rather bloody and, surprise surprise, triggered by the Templar who would have used it as a reason to subjugate Republic territories into Earth Kingdom.

The Assassins had sided with the Republic and suffered great loss. Officially, to the Templar's knowledge anyway, the Templars had lost the War, but defeated the Assassins soundly and kept a pressure on the remnants ever since; for the past seventy years, they had been under the impression that Republic Assassins were no more than a dozen or so operatives who kept fighting the good fight but as free agents, independent from each other, too weak to organize. They might have been right, regarding the number of the Assassins, to be fair, but very very wrong about the Assassins being no more than unorganized rabbles.

Asami, unlike most initiates from the Republic, had been trained in Fire Nation by Fire Nation Assassins, but she knew that her Master was a Republic Assassin – the man had come back to the Republic after her initiation with her on the same flight and introduced her to some key people within the Republic network. However, the practice of Republic initiates being inducted into the Order by the Fire Nation Mentor was so common that they were under the impression that the Republic chapter was either under the management of the Fire Nation chapter or was a branch of it; the secret of the ghost bureaus protocol was shared only to full-fledged Assassins.

That was why, according to her master, the Order's presence in the Republic, while strong, was a well-contained secret. For example, the Templars had been trying to set a foothold on Kyoshi Island, hence controlling a lucrative piece of land rife with tourism potential, but had been unable to do so due to several problems: the whole island being declared Important Cultural Heritage at a very inconvenient moment (and their member in the Republic Council who could've reversed it had suddenly died horribly in a freak yacht accident), the islanders whom they had spent countless of man-hour to charm and guile into selling their properties suddenly changed their minds and rejected any further attempt to renegotiate, the media suddenly picked up on stories about how Kyoshi Island was an important piece of cultural heritage, yada yada, and so should not be corporatized.

All that bore Republic Assassins' invisible handprint.

So was the vast network of tunnels under the City.

The two council members who had proposed the construction of the tunnels, the advisor to the president at the time who had sold the idea, and Iwa Nishi, the City Architect at the time before the War, all had been members of the Order. The tunnel itself had been instrumental in the urban guerilla at the earlier stage of the Independence War when the Earth Kingdom forces had overwhelmed the Republic Army and occupied the City for a few harrowing months before reinforcement from Fire Nation and Water Tribe arrived.

It was possible to navigate the entire Republic City through the tunnels and they connected to important buildings and most dwellings that dated back to the time before the Independence War, which counted for more than 80% of the current infrastructure.

Sadly, being autumn, it rained a lot and the tunnel smelled musty and rather wet.

Entering the basement of the RCPD HQ, Asami wondered if she could sell to Korra that Naga pooped in her room, hence the smell. Shrugging, eyes scanning the dark archives room, she just hoped that Korra wouldn't find out that she was out at all.

Crouching in the dark, Asami fished out her phone and made a single call, and hung up at the second ring. She waited.

Two minutes later, the door to the archives was opened by an old janitor. The small hunched man let Asami out before he locked the door.

"Hi, Bob", Asami smiled awkwardly. "How're the grandkids?"

Bob the janitor grunted something.

"So… uh… elevator?" Asami cleared her throat.

Bob led her to the service elevator and, with a swipe of his employee card, unlocked the buttons. Asami pressed one and gave Bob a tiny wave as the elevator door closed.

She blew out a breath and pushed down her hood, patting her hair to tidy it. The elevator stopped and she stepped out.

There were two cells in the room, one processing office with a couple of guards in it, and, lying on a cot, was her target. And the rapist inmate she would try not to kill and had tried not to memorize… yeah, the moron perked up like a dog when she entered and totally made himself stand out. Seriously, he was asking to be killed.

Ignoring the wolf-whistle and lewd suggestion that she should take off her coat and show 'a little something something', Asami flashed her most charming smile at the officers as she headed to the office. One of the officers walked out to the receptionist window to greet her. "Yes?"

"Hi— aahhh!" and Asami fell like a klutz. "Oww! My ankle!"

"Oh, God", the guard hurried to the door while his buddy, who had been sitting on a chair reading a comic, looked up interestedly.

"Oww…" Asami sniffled, already with a small glass globe of chloroform subtly held in her hand. "It hurts…"

"Are you alright, miss?" the officer crouched next to her. "Can you stand?" Sir Gallant held her elbow. "Here, let me help", his other hand circled around and found Asami's other elbow. Asami actually admired him not taking advantage and would hate what she had to do next.

With the officer's help, she stood up and checked the other officer; he was still in the office, peering out the receptionist window. As Asami and the first officer hobbled to the office, the second officer moved to the closed door. When the second officer got behind the door, his field of view obstructed, Asami cried out to mask the sound of cracking glass from the globe she grasped and broke, and went down, dragging the first officer with him. The first officer had not anticipated it and was slightly unbalanced. Asami dropped the damp wad of corn-silk-covered-glass and shoved her chloroformed palm to the man's face.

Pushing the unconscious man off of her, Asami shrieked like a murder victim. "Oh my gosh! Help! Quick! He just fainted! Does he have a heart condition? Is he having a heart attack?"

"Miss, it's okay. Please calm down and stay where you are", the second officer knelt down to check on his buddy's breathing. When he leaned to put his ear on top of the other man's mouth, Asami grabbed his other ear and yanked, unbalancing him, spinning him on his back, and pressed her still slightly chloroformed gloved hand on his face too.

Sighing, she put her hood back on and sat up, dusting herself, rubbing the residue of the chloroform on the side of her boot. The two officers made an interesting sight; both on their backs, one was lying on the other's chest, forming a T.

Which reminded Asami of the next step of her mission. She crouched low, picking up the wad of corn-silk covered glass she'd dropped and ignoring the criminals' inquiry, staying low behind the office's lower wall, and snuck inside. Keeping herself out of sight, not that it mattered much at this point, she raided the filing cabinets inside the small office. She found the paper record of Rik Ling Wak and scanned it for extra tidbits that didn't make it to the digital version, and found a bag containing his personal effect.

She tore the bag open and went straight for the gold ring.

She hadn't found this ring on him that morning (not that she was being thorough) and Mako had found the ring in the car. And, yeah, it was a Templar ring. The marking of the ring signified that the Gripper was an upper-middle ranked Templar; meaning he served someone who probably served someone, but he had people serving him and they definitely had people serving them.

Very irregular for a Templar of his rank to be drunk early in the morning and mugging a random girl on the street.

Slipping the ring and the man's cell phone inside her pocket, she grabbed the keys and made her way to the cell.

Mr. Wak was still blissfully asleep in the cot. The other man in the cell was smart and kept a quiet wary eye on her. The rapist was stupid and actually trying to flirt. So, as soon as the door was open, Asami pulled out her gun and shot him on the thigh (she was aiming for the crotch but changed her mind mid-trigger-squeeze). For good measure, she kneecapped the screaming man on both knees and kicked his head to the wall to shut him up.

The third man had curled up in the corner, crying for mercy (really smart), and Mr. Wak had woken up from the noise.

"You saw nothing", Asami whispered to the crying man (a petty thief); the man nodded and went back to covering his head with his arms. "And you", she turned to her target. "You're coming with me."

"Like hell I—"

Asami aimed her gun at him.

"…okay…"

Smirking, Asami called Bob and hung up after two rings.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Taking the elevator to the top of the building had sealed Gripper's fate. Technically, the service elevator didn't go up there; it didn't have the button. However, there was a false panel with the special button that was sort of an Assassin's secret and Gripper saw Asami use it. Now, she had to kill him.

Oops.

Well, Gripper did not know, so he didn't resist much when Asami pushed him out of the hatch and onto the rooftop. Up there, Asami interrogated him with some well-aimed jabs. Two broken ribs later, he was ready to talk about what he did for the Templars.

"Where?" Asami growled as soon as he finished telling her about the weapon stockpile.

"South City Wharf", Gripper wheezed through his pain, chest falling up and down rapidly. "I-it's in a container. R-24-24-CD."

"What are they for?"

"I don't know!" he winced, regretting the raised volume. "I don't know what t-they want, okay. They asked me to gather men and weapons and that's it."

"I need more", Asami said. When Gripper did not say more, she reached down at the man half-lying on the ground and, with surprising strength, yanked him up by his collar. "I need more", she whispered again. Lesson no.1 in the Art of Forceful Interrogation for Ladies: when you were a pretty and generally non-threatening looking gal, you whispered because it would freak the crap out of your source; raising your voice would only make you look like you were trying too hard, like a Chihuahua out-barking a bulldog.

"I d-don't k-know any more", Gripper gulped. "Please, I swear, that's all I have."

Asami stared into the terrified brown eyes for a few seconds. "Then, may you find in death peace that you haven't earned in life."

"Wh-wha… AAARRGGHH!"

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was close to midnight and Asami was perching on top of building across from South City Wharf where one of their containers had, for no reason at all, exploded. Later police investigation would find that the container had been loaded with illegal weapons and explosives and their CSI would surmise that the gunpowder somehow exploded because of the change in air pressure or something. Asami was not worried. CSI always went with the no-foul-play when the chance of foul play was very very slight. Either way, they would be distracted.

Also, a cache of weapons in a container owned by a known member of Triple Threat Triad? If that was not a distraction, Asami did not know what was; even if said member of Triple Threat Triad, the official report would say, had been confined in the RCPD Headquarters, somehow escaped to the roof, and fallen to his death (totally masking any bruises and broke bones Asami had inflicted on him).

And, as expected, the phone rang.

Asami put Gripper's phone to her ear and waited.

The person on the other line had the same idea. He or she hang up first.

Smirking, Asami dropped the phone and crushed it under her foot.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Ah, the Templars…

Starting out as a religious paramilitary group during the Crusade, Templars had enjoyed heights of power rarely matched in history; they had made debtors of kings and popes, and brought to knees might empires and ancient civilizations.

They were basically bullies and bullies, no matter what kind, relied on numbers.

Getting them inside the abandoned building on Jawwa District was easy, she simply had to put Gripper's ring in it. Just as Assassins wield stealth and subterfuge, her master once said, you can always count on the Templars to enforce strength and control.

Even to their own kind.

The Templar ring had a GPS tracker in it, no doubt.

The building she'd chosen was a boarded up rundown apartment building (getting the few bumps squatting inside to get the heck out had been more difficult a task but she had managed it with a few yuans). Hidden inside a wardrobe of rotted wood, tucked in the corner of the receptionist area in the lobby, she waited and peeked through the hole on the wardrobe door.

They had sent a dozen Triple Threat Triad, led by Lightning Bolt Zolt, the gang leader himself. Asami smirked, pushing her bunched up coat deeper in the corner so it wouldn't snag on her foot. Zolt was a known Templar and a man of a rather flamboyant taste. He stood there, hands on a cane, Templar ring around his right index finger. His powder red suit and fedora looked cocky in the dark and a discerning audience would notice a brooch bearing Templar Cross on his hat and the stitching on his cuffs also bore the Cross symbol.

Lightning Bolt Zolt snapped his fingers and his men, armed with pistols and switchblades, and a couple came bearing shotguns, marched forward and spread around the ground floor with as much grace as a horde of rhino in an antiques store.

Asami counted to thirty, giving them a chance to spread out some more. More than half the men ascended the stairs slowly, wary of ambush. Not all gangsters were fools, as it turned out.

Someone had found a usable chair for Lightning Bolt Zolt and the Triad boss sat right there in the middle of the lobby like he owned the place (which was a possibility). Legs crossed, finger tapping the globe at the top of his cane, Zolt looked smug rather than wary; he had the face of someone who'd faced many oppositions that had not even been able to touch him. A man drunk of power.

And he was sitting right there, ten feet in front of the wardrobe with only two of his underlings between him and Asami's blades. Two other stood behind him with their backs turned and their attentions at the front door. The only lighting came from the harsh glare of a portable emergency light one of them had put on the floor.

Asami finished her slow count.

The door of the wardrobe burst as she leaped out. Zolt's face flinched into shock as his two guards fell from the cut on the side of their necks. Asami whipped out her gun and shot the other two guards who turned around a tad too slow on the heads.

Zolt scrambled up, grabbing the top part of his cane – it was a concealed sword – but Asami kicked his hand, bruising his fingers. A left hook connected with Zolt's jaw and sent him to the ground. Kicking the sword cane aside, Asami waited while keeping her ears trained on the stairs for any hurried footsteps; her Walther PPK was small and concealable, but it had no silencers. The Order's fashion wizards could do a lot about making clothes that were functional, protective, and able to conceal small weapons, but even they could do nothing against bulges.

Zolt's hand dived into his jacket and he pulled out a revolver. Asami's free hand flexed and her hidden blade jutted out as she slammed it point first in a side hook, severing Zolt's trigger finger and catching the revolver by the trigger ring. She flipped the revolver up and caught it. Delivering a kick to Zolt's nose, she turned to the stairs and dropped four rushing gangsters with both guns.

She emptied the revolver and threw it at Zolt, again, scoring his nose. Zolt flopped on his back and screamed in pain, hands on his bloody face. Asami dived into the darkness behind the lobby desk under the stairs, reloading her gun. She waited and let Zolt's panicked screams do its job, her free hand searched her pouch for two smoke bombs; spherical clay marbles filled with chemicals that produced thick chalky smoke when exposed to the air.

She put a fresh clip between her teeth and cracked the smoke bombs in her grip.

"Boss! Boss, you good?"

That was her cue to count to five. And she stood up and, scanning the room quick – she counted three visible gangsters – and threw the cracked clay marbles to the floor. They hissed and spewed out thick smoke. Asami fired half her clip and heard two drops. She crouched back down behind the lobby desk as bullets sailed her way.

Crawling around the side, she kept low and fired into the clearing smoke at the remainder of the gangsters ready near Zolt. They dropped and Asami got up, reloading. The remaining three, one of them with a shotgun, ran down the stairs and she intercepted the first one with a flying knee that drove him into the wall. She shot the second, the shotgun dude who was too slow, in the face and the third one lunged at her with a tackle.

The goon caught her side and brought her down hard, she lost grip of her gun. Straddling her, the man launched his fist. Asami titled to the side, evading the meaty fist, and reached out, poking the man's eye without putting much effort. She only wanted to make him flinch and it succeeded. The slight lessening of the weight on her was all she needed to buck her hips up and wrapped her leg on the man's neck, and yanked him off of her.

Spinning and rolling on her back and getting up in a kneeling crouch, she waited until the goon get up. Behind her, Zolt was weaving audibly, still on the ground. The other gangster she'd kicked into the wall found his bearing and joined the fight. Now, it was two against one and the two each had a switchblade.

The newcomer gangster moved first, stabbing; Asami hopped back a little. The other lunged ahead (Asami wondered if he'd been a football player) and, this time, Asami sidestepped and let him rush past, pivoted and slashed his lower back with her hidden blade. The other moved for another thrust but Asami's front kick scored his gut first and he staggered back. The tackler spun and swept a wide arm, whether hoping to score with his tiny knife or with his meaty arms, nobody knew. Asami, while almost as tall, was vastly outweighed, so she ducked and punched the man's ribs. As he doubled over, her knee met his face.

The other goon came again with a slash. Asami stepped into it, gripping his arm and putting her back on his chest; with her hip, she unbalanced the man and threw him over her shoulder in a simple judo flip. The man fell hard on his back and Asami drove her heel on his chest. And then she leaped with her hidden blades out like talons at the tackler in a bloody takedown.

Sliding her blades off the tackler's gurgling throat, she stood up and turned to the other man who was still on his back and struggling to gasp for air. Asami stepped around, putting him clear in Zolt's horrified field of vision. She crouched and calmly plunged her right hidden blade on the man's throat, stopping his gasp.

"You…" Zolt tried to scramble up but crashed back down. "Assassin…"

-0-0-0-0-0-

Lightning Bolt Zolt had been a hard man when he was younger. He was a middle-aged creep now, but he was still tough. He survived all Asami had dealt him at Jawwa, he survived being thrown into the trunk of one of the Triple Threat cars, driven not very gently across the Republic City before the cops came, all the way to Dragon Flats Borough. He had barely said a word when Asami dragged his bleeding sorry butt up to the top floor of the construction site that had gone bankrupt, although it might be because Asami had slapped a piece of tape over his mouth.

Thirty minutes later, he was tied by his wrists by chains to a skeleton of a beam right in the middle of the wall-less floor, wheezing and suspended by the chain. Asami hissed and rubbed her left fist, hoping she had not just bruised her knuckles. She must've broken or cracked all of Zolt's ribs and ruptured some organs, but the man still would not talk.

Plan B.

She went to her coat that she had discarded on the floor and took out her phone. "You know, if you are waiting for you Templar friends to come for you, they won't", because she had left Zolt's ring at Jawwa with his dead crew. "So, this is your last chance. Talk."

Zolt glared and said nothing.

"No?" she accessed an app and her phone turned into a clone of Zolt's; she had cloned his phone back at Jawwa and destroyed it for fear of GPS tracker.

"Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember…"

"Everything is permitted", Asami whispered to herself, squashing any emerging shred of mercy. She shoved the phone in front of Zolt's face and watched his eyes go wide.

"You… you bi—"

A punch to the gut silenced him. Asami really was not in the mood to suffer any insult.

"Speak", she said coldly. "Or they will join you in hell."

Zolt's bravado was gone quickly. "They're just kids. Spare them… please, spare them."

"Then, tell me what I want to know", she bargained.

"Amon!" he cried out and broke down, sobbing. "Those weapons are for Amon!"

"The Equalist?" Asami hid her surprise.

"Amon is a Master Templar", Zolt heaved. "Why do you think his stupid racist tirade got so many supporters? How do you think is he still alive? The Templars' backing him up and protecting him!"

"When?" Asami demanded in a cold hiss.

"I don't know. I don't even know what he's planning!" Zolt cried. "That's all I know! Please let me and my kids go!"

Asami sighed and gripped the man's shoulder, pushing him upright. "Then, I end you now in the name of those you've ruined. May you find comfort knowing that your death is a step towards peace."

She pulled out her hidden blade of Zolt's gut and waited for him to stop moving. When he did, she closed his eyes.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Asami punched the number and waited for it to ring twice before hanging up. She slipped her phone back inside her coat and, standing in the middle of Gripper's small apartment, she tapped her foot, hands on her waist. God, she was turning into her mother.

The Order had been notified and they would send people to take care of Zolt. She'd been careful enough to mimic the work of a hit group of the Agni Kai Triad. In fact, the empty non-active construction site where they would find Zolt belonged to the Agni Kai. The Order's crew would do the rest.

Her tapping foot and hours spent binge-watching NCIS Los Angeles with Korra ("They have hotter guys there!" had been Korra's sole motivation) gave her an idea. She began checking the floorboards and, son of a nut, found a hollow patch right under the coffee table in the living room. Upon closer inspection, she found no way to open it without ripping through the linoleum; she deduced that this was where Gripper kept his quick getaway stuff – she pictured a bag filled with clothes, guns, and booze. She moved her search back to the kitchen and the only bedroom there, and found a loose floorboard in the kitchen.

The kitchen happened to have exposed floorboards and she pried them open with her hidden blade. She found a cell phone and a flash drive. She scanned it with her Assassins phone for bug and trackers, found none, and took it with her. Back to the living room, she tried the patch she'd found and her assumption was correct. A getaway fanny pack containing cash, credit cards, and a set of keys – car key and normal looking key- with a Beretta lying on top of it. She took the bag with her.

She had just clicked the fanny pack around her waist when the door clicked.

"I don't know why we can't wait until morning", one of the men grumbled.

Asami was in the shadows when the men in dark hoodie came in. They were not cops, of course. Gripper had been only associated with the Triple Threat, not a real member, so it would be unlikely for the Triple Threat to enter his house, even if they somehow had gotten wind of his death, to remove evidence or something. Also, there was the thing about Zolt. It should have distracted both the Triple Treat Triad and the police.

So, Templars? Most probably.

"Amon said we need that flash drive", Equalists! "Election's coming soon and we need that info."

Asami cursed the layout of this simple apartment; a single square space that was the living room, smaller than her room back home, and on the far side was the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen. There was a coffee table in the middle of the living room, with a couch, facing a TV and that was it. There was absolutely no way to hide aside from hugging to the shadow, avoiding the glare of the light from the streetlamps outside, and the Equalists only needed to turn on the light to see her.

And they did.

The Equalists had entered, carrying a flashlight each. One of them had moved deeper and the other lagged a couple of steps behind. The one on the front was scanning the room with his flashlight; the one at the back was patting the wall for the light switch, which was located between him and Asami who had been silently creeping closer in the dark.

When the switch was on, the Equalist at the back saw Asami's boot flying to his face. The impact sent him towards the open door and the sound of it hitting the wall was like thunder. The other one cried out and instinctively spun around, swinging his flashlight like a baton.

Asami ducked and punched his exposed side. The man grunted and staggered back, Asami lunged at him like a feral cat and brought him down in a flurry of punches; her last punch bounced the back of his head against the floor and he was out.

They had not gone down quietly. Asami's training kicked in as she rolled away and positioned herself facing the door where the other Equalist was down cold. Five seconds passed and she was about to relax when hurried footsteps sounded down the hallway.

Asami always carried four extra clips with her and she now had only one full clip in her gun and her only spare left was maybe half full. She was definitely not staying.

And not using any obvious stuff like smoke bombs. The Order of Assassins' presence in the Republic was truly anonymous and she was not about to mess that up. As the matter of fact, the Republic City underworld was convinced that, judging from her handiwork, Asami was three or four different hit-men hired by various Triads as external consultants (she was that good at mixing up her MO and covering her tracks).

But, she was not so good that she could stand her ground with whatever weapons she currently had against four… five… six… or more gunmen. She dashed back, dodging bullets, and smashed herself out of the bedroom window.

From the second floor.

Flailing hands caught a tree branch that snapped. Her fall was slowed enough and she rolled off her downward force across the asphalt. She would bruise. Getting up, patting down her coat (ah, blue-blooded upbringing would never die), she rounded the building to where she parked her car (well, Zolt's car). Three dark vans were waiting there, half a dozen men in black outfit and hats were milling around, some were openly carrying guns.

Asami snuck around, crawling from car to car until she got into hers. The sound of the door unlocking was like a gunshot in the dead of night and it drew their attention. She slipped in, keeping low as the men shouted at her to show herself, and she turned on the ignition.

Lightning Bolt Zolt had been crappy when it came to car maintenance; the car coughed but didn't turn on.

"Crap!" Asami cringed as the window glass exploded. She tried again and, at the third try, it turned on. Which was good because she was this close to promising God anything to get out of this. And Asami had more scruples than an Assassin had a right to; whatever she would have promised, she would have kept.

She backed the car as bullets thudded on the exterior, blowing glass. She left rubber burn on the ground on her way out. On her rearview mirror as she tore through the city, she saw the three vans racing after her. Thankful for the relatively empty road in the hours past midnight, she headed to South City Wharf.

She floored the gas but the vans were slowly gaining momentum. They got close enough to fire at her and she kept low.

Just a little more…

She sped through Rose Garden, made a turn into Tosako, and ran the traffic light into South City Street. Speeding ahead, she drove towards South City wharf and rammed through the portal despite the security guard's protest. Inside the compound, she moved towards the stacks of containers and made sure the collection of RCPD officers still working on the exploded container saw her and her pursuers.

Soon, sirens followed the pursuit and the Equalists' attention were distracted by the four police cruisers chasing after them.

So, naturally, Asami headed for the pier.

Ah, the thrill of the chase. The young intrepid Assassin could not help but giggle; if only Korra could see her now. And she called Asami unadventurous since she started working at the university. Granted, Asami had rarely ventured further than the occasional drinks at Jasmine Dragon after work, fending off the advances of men, but it was not like Korra was doing any better.

There, in front of her… water. End of the line.

To be an Assassin is not to be fearless, said her master once. Fear is good. Fear is a weapon. Master it. Use it.

And she was so very afraid.

She remembered her initiation, kneeling in front of her master in her robes with her hood down, reciting the Creed after her master. And when she was done, her master had placed a hand on the crown of her head, spoken words of blessing, and put her hood on for her. He'd helped her stand and finished the words of the Creed.

"We work in the dark to serve the light", he said as he fitted her first hidden blade bracer on her left forearm. "We are Assassins", he concluded and, with a smirk, he leaped off the tall lighthouse tower where her initiation had taken place.

And Asami had jumped after him.

"I work in the dark to serve the light", Asami swerved sharply; her car drifted, presenting her side to the water, only a foot away from the break line.

I am an Assassin

She dove out of the car through the shot up glass of the driver's seat window, a Leap of Faith out of a moving swerving car into the water.

Four hours later, a sleepy Asami was back in her apartment, having breakfast with Korra. The morning news reported the series of incidents happening the night before: Gripper's apparent accident/suicide (they were still trying to determine that), Lightning Bolt Zolt's sudden death (and the speculations regarding the who, what, and how surrounding it, and the potential repercussions for the people of the City), the break-in of Gripper's apartment and the high-speed chase that ended at South City Wharf where a car belonging to Zolt had been found abandoned and shot up and three unknown dark vans evaded police chase.

"Wow… that is so messed up", Korra said with mouth full of toast.

"Hmm?" Asami looked up from her cereal. "Oh, yeah. Messed up. Pass me a banana?"