Author disclaimer: I don't own the Legend of Korra baddies or their likenesses! Only the backgrounds did I try to think up.
Author note: The world of Avatar the Last Airbender and Korra have been established by Bryke as coming from a 19th century type world setting to the 1920's in Korra. Industrial technology improved productivity by leaps and bounds by the late 19th century, but with decrepit human working conditions. That type of human beleaguering in the name of progress to me embellishes Zaheer's past. As a non-bender, and from a poor surrounding, he would have to find some kind of work to get by, hence the factory in this chapter. When the power belongs to the select few, you can see where his anti-society sentiments would begin.
"Alternate years"
Chapter two "Zaheer's past: The Factory"
"Oh, she's really pissed," P'li commented. She was peering through the door slit at a huffing Korra who laid sprawled on her back in the cabin. The room was as trashed as she had predicted, with small scorchmarks along the walls. The sheets had been torn off the bed and thrown about and the four year old lay tangled in them in a moment of fugue.
Zaheer scratched his jaw beside her and met her eyes with a grin. They had sated their excitement and release an hour ago but didn't lay around languishing in their passion as they usually did. They were up and ready to see the Avatar as soon as they could.
"So how you wanna play this? You're probably already Bad Cop with being the one who nabbed her," P'li observed. Zaheer ran a hand through his short hair, thinking.
"And I was hoping Ghazan would do that role and I would be the better half. Well, you are a woman, P'li."
His girlfriend slammed a fist against his shoulder. It hurt as well as a man's punch. "You just figured that out in our cabin?" she joked.
Zaheer pressed against her front, looking up into her eyes to assuage her anger. "I have always noticed you," he confessed. The combustion bender's eyes softened as she gazed down at him.
"Well, how is me being a woman supposed to be the better role for the Avatar?" P'li asked. She slid her arms low around Zaheer's waist. Zaheer leaned up to press his lips to hers.
"Just try to recall a motherly instinct. She'll be looking for a friendly face after all that," Zaheer suggested. P'li smiled wryly.
Korra's eyes flashed open when the cabin door unlocked. She scrambled to her feet as the tall woman stepped in. She was staring at her in an intense way and it didn't make her feel too good. Korra pooched her lower lip out and stood with her feet apart in a wide stance.
"Where's my Mommy and Daddy?" she asked petulantly. P'li tried to smile as calmly as she could.
"Are you hungry, Korra?" she asked. Korra opened her mouth, closed it and sucked on her lower lip.
"Yes….but I wanna go hooooome," she confessed, sitting down on her rump as the dread threatened to engulf her again. She hugged her knees to her chest. The tall lady had been with the scowling man who had told her to make Naga sit, but she hadn't done anything to her.
Zaheer chose that time to duck in behind P'li. Korra's eyes widened up at him, then she scowled.
"I wanna go home! NOW!" she thrust her hands up in a desperate striking motion. Small spurts of flame erupted from her fingertips in untrained arches. P'li stood in front of Zaheer, calmly deflecting the spurts away. So the Avatar could touch some of the elements even untrained. She would be impressive once fully trained.
"Calm down, Korra. I promise, we will go to where it's safe," Zaheer said smoothly. His voice could calm most people and it even served to deflate some of the child's ire. She tensed, relaxed her arms, and held her hands out in stance again.
"I want my Mommy and Daddy!" she called out and chewed her lower lip. Zaheer watched her impassively.
"A good life won't be foreign to you if you calm down," he suggested. "Wouldn't you like some roast turtle-duck and potatoes to eat? I know you're hungry."
The little girl's stomach growled despite herself. She hugged her middle and sat in the pile of sheets on the floor. "Okay…."
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Zaheer asked. He left the cabin, leaving P'li with the Avatar. Peering back through the door slit, he noticed Korra edge somewhat closer to the tall woman who sat on the edge of the cabin's bed. Isolation were key in establishing trust. Food and rest would also tell Korra that she could trust the people she was with. It wouldn't mean she wouldn't be without either if she struggled against being indoctrinated, however.
Zaheer recalled that lack of food would make anyone do about anything. This recalled nugget of information from his youth would come in handy now. Yes, if Korra wouldn't cooperate and trust them, she could do without a few meals as well.
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"Boy! Get up!"
Zaheer opened his eyes and sat up as fast as he could. His father was stinking drunk again and in another foul mood. He shoved his blankets off his legs and stood, his body lanky and thin. Skinny arms protruded from his dirty tunic.
"I'm up, Dad. I'm up," he muttered. The tall long-haired man glowered at his son and took a sip from a large ceramic bottle in his hand.
"Finally, lazy bum. Get going to the factory! The foreman won't pay you and we won't eat if you don't go," he growled.
Zaheer sighed and took the lid off a pot on the hearth. He stirred the spoon resting inside and took a few bites of lukewarm stew. The pot had been sitting there for two days now. It wasn't like his father cared about supplying any food for him and he had to eat where he could find his meals.
"I know…I know… it's how we eat," Zaheer said, and stood up, pulling on a heavier over tunic. His father scowled. His pulled up one pant leg and tapped the bottle against the limb of wood beneath.
"It's not my fault those firebender soldiers maimed me! I can't work in the factory now, and you know it," he griped. Zaheer paused to draw a ladle of water from the bowl resting on the kitchen table. He would have to draw his father more water from the well before he went to work to last the day, so he collected the wooden bowl up in his arms.
"I know, Dad. I know." His head was starting to hurt and his mouth opened in a long yawn. Long hours of hot exhausting work coupled with yelling from his sole family member made Zaheer want to split his head open. There was no relief from this life that he could see.
It was all he knew. Avatar Aang and Firelord Zuko had tried to pour money into the Fire Nation colonies left in the Earth Kingdom, supplying monetary funding for factories and other businesses to make the Colonies thrive. And it may have worked in the other Colonies, but in his town, Zaheer saw only decline.
No one official would visit and while the factory was prosperous, the people of the village were locked into long hours without breaks in downright inhumane conditions. Zaheer's job as a child had been to pull sticks and other debris from the arduous cogs of the factory's machines to ensure a smooth operation. Some children had lost fingers or broken their hands inside the parts if they weren't careful. Zaheer worked slowly so as not to suffer the same fate, and the overseer hated him for it. He had taken to standing behind him with a switch, and nicked his bare legs from time to time if his nimble fingers didn't unclog the wheels fast enough.
His legs were scarred from behind. Zaheer would not risk working faster and becoming crippled like his childhood friends. He would suffer the blows.
Now, he stumbled down the porch of their hut to stagger to the communal well. Several huts in the district all shared it, and a bucket had been tied with a rope to the area, to prevent anyone from stealing it. Zaheer blinked several times as he stood in place in line. He spotted several neighbors and childhood friends. All those same friends waved in greeting, but all didn't speak to him much. They didn't speak much to anyone, as they blinked tired eyes ringed by dark circles. They were all doing what they could for their families and Zaheer knew he wasn't the only one with a useless father who had taken to the bottle. Other of his friends had older siblings who were benders, and they had gone off to join the teams building districts in Republic City. Several were put to use building Air Temple Island, Zaheer knew.
He wished with all his heart he were going there. He tried to do his meditations late at night before bed like the Air Nomads did, and read anything on their philosophy that he could find. The local school had been shut down by the factory's overseers, so there wasn't much he could do about finding any more than the scrolls his friends saved for him from those missing older siblings in Republic City. If he were a bender…..he wouldn't be waiting in line in the dirt for a bucket of water and then going to what accounted to no more than slavery in a crude factory. He would have been selected for the building teams in the City.
But he wasn't a bender. No getting around that. Zaheer sighed and lowered the rope attached to the bucket into the hole in the ground. He heard a distant splash and then dipped the rope. He pulled, feeling the heaviness in the bucket, and drew upward. Catching a full bucket of water in one thin arm and trying not to slosh it all over the dirt was a feat when he was so tired he was seeing almost double.
"Hurry up, Zaheer!" a young mother griped behind him. Zaheer nodded and trudged past, holding onto his father's wooden bowl with both arms. He carefully made his way home and set it on the porch ledge.
"Here's the water, Dad," he called dutifully. His father slid open the side door from the main family room and scowled at him.
"About time, boy. Now git goin'!" he growled. Zaheer caught the jacket his father tossed him and trudged along, low shoes stained black by the charcoal in the factory. He walked as quickly as he could, falling in with the other boys and girls. The tall iron chimneys of the factory spewed black smoke day and night. Zaheer had never been to the Spirit World, but he imagined that must be what the Seven Layers of Hell looked like. He kept his gaze low and pulled his jacket around himself tighter. The weather was cooling and the winters inside the factory were nothing to scoff at.
You would think with close proximity to all those machines you would find a warm area to work with. But outside of the blast furnace rooms, there were too many nooks and crannies where the cold could seep in. Zaheer waited to write his mark on the scroll of names to mark his arrival on time, and filed in with the other children.
One of the overseers marched into the tall room where they were lined up and stopped. He held a ledger against his skinny chest and his twig like fingers ran through his long hair. Zaheer watched him impassively. This was a prime example of production falling through the cracks. The man was positively ugly, but put all his pride at looks into his hair. It was long, luxurious and always gleaming with scented oils. He was never without one of the factory's girls at his side, and Zaheer could only guess what he wanted them for.
His looks aside, the overseer, one of twenty, was as ugly in character as he was physically. His only calm words were for his female "assistants"; anything else he said, he spewed venom. This venom was reserved for the child laborers, the older matrons on assembly, the fathers still able to work, really anyone below his station. And it rankled Zaheer more than he could express.
And now, he was standing, ledger clutched to his chest with one hand, skinny finger twining through his hair with the other. He then used that same finger to wipe the edge of his long nose before purposely clearing his throat.
"What's his problem today?" the boy behind Zaheer murmured. Zaheer visibly shrugged in front of him, to show he had no clue.
"Weeeeeeell, today we're trying something different. All the overseers had us a LOVELY meeting," the overseer began. His nasally voice grated on Zaheer's frayed nerves. He really could use some sleep.
'I'll bet you did,' he thought. He tried not to scratch the back of his leg with one foot. His dull eyes picked out bright brass buttons on the overseer's clean coat.
"Today, you will all learn the value of team work." At his words, strange clanking noises sounded at the rear of the room. Zaheer peered over his shoulder in line, as did all the children and the looks on their faces told him the situation was not a normal one.
"Today, we will begin our duties linked together in one line. You will all work and move as a team, or suffer as a team," the overseer smirked. The thin girl at his side looked tormented, as she gazed at her neighbors. Three factory workers were carrying chains with manacles up the line, and stopping at each person to affix a manacle to each thin right ankle.
This couldn't be happening. This really couldn't be happening. A million litanies similar to this sped through Zaheer's mind, but the cold metal clanking around his bare skin, his pant leg pushed up by the worker, proved to be cold hard reality. Zaheer stood on his left leg and shook his right. The metal was closed tight on his flesh, with hardly a half inch to spare. And he was linked to the child in front and behind him, on and on to the front of the row of kids. There was no getting out of the manacles unless he were unlocked from them. A bad feeling tore his stomach; he felt like he was going to be sick.
"Mr. Overseer?" one of the girls deigned to ask what every child had to be thinking. "What if we have to go to the restroom?"
The overseer smirked. "I suggest you hold it. Now let's move."
Zaheer's mind blended to a place of cold panic. Just move…..walk with the one in front…. When the boy in front moved half a step earlier, Zaheer almost tripped and fell. With their shuffling movements, the line could only go so fast and the overseer almost skipped beside them as they trudged along.
"I suggest you all learn to move together!" he snapped, his tone waspish. Zaheer felt a slow hatred burn in his chest. He inhaled slowly and exhaled to match, a slight meditative breathing technique he'd read from the Air Nomads. The line of chained children stopped beside the side of a machine as tall as the cavernous room. They were to collect debris from the lower part they were stopped against. The overseer sat on an offered stool his daily girl set down for him and crossed one foot over his knee.
"Begin!" he called. The thin girl waited at his side, small hands clasped before her waist. Zaheer and the others peered into the machine bits, and tried to place their fingers in between the cogs carefully. The machine was in operation on the other side, and small bits of metal moved in rotation before their eyes. You had to be quick and careful to keep your fingers.
Zaheer bit his lip and wedged his thumb and forefinger around a metal wheel. His fingertips found bits of leaves and twigs. He carefully pulled the debris out and dropped it into a bucket at his left side. These buckets were spaced in intervals along the row of children and Zaheer had to share this one with the boy in front of him. Small chirping noises accelerated in sound as his fingers pinched in deeper. Zaheer was surprised to feel warm feathers ruffle against his fingers. He pulled out a small bird and gaped down at it in surprise. The newborn bird chirped at him raucously, and he felt a smile pull at his lips.
Who knew a bird could build a nest in these machines? Zaheer was just wondering what to do with it when the overseer grabbed it from his open palm.
"Hey!" Zaheer yelled. The overseer smacked him openly with his free hand. Zaheer fell to one knee, his cheek burning.
"I'll take care of this, just get back to work, dimwit!" he shrieked. The girl at his side looked appalled. She looked like she was going to say something to the overseer, when her pretty dark eyes fell to the manacle encircling Zaheer's right ankle. She bit her lip and lowered her head.
Zaheer didn't blame her. Why offer to be manacled when you could have a few free days from work? But it still didn't make her decision hurt him any less.
"Yes, sir," Zaheer ground between grit teeth. The girl's eyes were huge and sorry as she turned to follow him back to his stool.
The day was long and arduous. Zaheer accepted half a meat bun from the factory workers passing out the noon meal and the children all ate standing. It was a good thing the water girl only went down their line twice throughout the day or he would be bursting to use the facilities.
A girl further down the line didn't fare so well. She had cried to the overseer she had to pee and he deliberately ignored her. So she had wet her clothing, tears streaming down her face. It was all she could do, chained to everyone. Zaheer took off his coat and passed it up the line to her. The girl flashed a grateful smile over her shoulder and tied it around her wet waist. Zaheer knew he would have to wash the coat once it was returned, but that was to be expected.
The end of the work day was coming and Zaheer picked his right foot up, rattling his manacle and chain. The boy in front of him was doing the same.
"Hey, can we all try to walk right foot first at the same time?" a boy four up called back. Several children called back in response.
"I don't wanna trip this time," the boy behind Zaheer agreed. Zaheer rubbed sweat out of his eyes with his wrist and nodded. He could feel moisture seeping through his short hair, creating sticky rivulets down his neck and into his collar.
The overseer came back, a frosty drink cradled with his twig like fingers. "Okay, that's the day. Move forward!" he called.
The kid at the front of the line tapped his right foot up and down, shaking his manacle. Everyone could hear the clank clank from where they were.
"Forward right! Three, two….now"! he called and stepped forward with his right foot. Every child in the line stepped forward, right first, and the chain made an audible CLINK! Their unison sounded good, Zaheer noted as they stepped with the left, and then the right as one unit.
He flicked a glance to the overseer and the ugly man did not like what he was seeing. He was sucking his fat lower lip obscenely, a scowl darting across his features.
Zaheer turned his head back front, and clanked in unison with the others. Out of the cavernous machine room, a factory worker was waiting with a set of keys. He fastidiously crouch-walked down the line, unlocking every ankle from the manacles as he crabbed along.
The girl who had pissed herself shyly gave him his coat back. "I'm sorry if it's damp," she apologized. Zaheer surprised himself by rubbing his thumb across the soot along her cheek, cleaning it off. The girl flushed bright red.
"It's okay, don't worry about it. See you tomorrow," he said. The girl nodded, smiling happily at the brief touch. Zaheer felt something warm move in his chest until he felt a sharp crack across the back of his bare shins. He fell screaming in surprise, then pain, when the cuts from the switch opened and he felt warmth seep down the back of his legs.
"Think you're hot stuff, do ya? You'll regret that!" the overseer shrieked. Zaheer raised an arm above his head to protect himself but the ugly man was going for his legs again, cutting open old scar lines with his bamboo switch. Zaheer shouted as fresh blood dotted the sand on the factory floor.
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Zaheer waited at the door of the chamber holding the avatar and a servant finally brought him a rather large plate, with steaming turtle-duck and plumped potatoes cradled high. He commanded the servant to wait at call at the door and entered the room. The avatar was sitting very close to P'li's leg, almost leaning her brow against the edge of her long tunic, until she noticed him.
"Can I see Mommy and Daddy?" the girl whimpered. P'Li raised an eyebrow to her lover.
Zaheer let his face fall impassive. He casually held the china plate in one hand, then opened the door and handed it back to the servant outside. The servant stood there waiting, looking confused.
"They are not your concern any longer, Avatar. Do you want to eat?" he asked. Korra's eyes brimmed with tears and she sniffled, head moving up and down. Her small stomach growled audibly.
"Yes…." She admitted.
Zaheer gestured with one hand and the servant sighed, setting the plate of warm food back into it.
"Then your Mommy and Daddy don't belong with us," he said sharply. Korra's eyes, wet with tears, met his in confusion. But he did set the plate and a fork down on the carpet. She knelt down and begin to eat in big bites.
P'li watched her carefully. The child pulled the plate next to her leg and almost leaned against her as she ate. Zaheer raised a brow and met her eyes. Korra was already latching onto a somewhat friendly face. This would prove useful in their training.
"Get her some water, Zaheer," P'li suggested. Zaheer nodded and called to the servant to fetch a glass. Korra smiled around her food at the tall woman. Zaheer noted this. Luxury was allowed at her command, it seemed to the child. Again, very useful.
P'li rested a large hand against Korra's dark head. "Do you want to learn firebending first?" she asked. Korra nodded.
End for now
End note: Just for the record, kidnapping children is not okay with me. But it is fun to get into the baddie's more human side.
Sincerely, penpaninu 3/14/2015