Watched the finale two days ago and I'm still feeling emotional. What a ride. Truly, what a ride. I'm torn between wanting more, more, more of comics or books or mini-series set in the Avatar universe, and a feeling of completion and satisfaction that DiMartino and Konietzko managed to wrap this up so beautifully. All I know is that Aang and Korra's adventures, which have formed such a big part of my childhood and now my early adulthood, will stay with me as one of the best stories I have had the pleasure of experiencing.

Meanwhile...back at the Batcave-sorry, I meant, Wu's place.

Chapter 2: Wu Down

Click.

Click click click.

One after the other, the lights came on, bathing the bare underground warehouse in a patchy fluorescent light that flickered erratically.

"Well this place has seen better days." Prince Wu surveyed the chamber with a critical eye. The basic concrete framework seemed to be sturdy enough, but the metal sheeting on the walls and ceiling were peeling off in places. A layer of dust coated every surface in the place.

"It's been three, four years since this place saw use," replied Hiroshi Sato, coughing into his handkerchief. Still clad in his prison clothes, he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Are those mech suits still functional?" Wu pointed at a nearby set of power armor.

Sato shrugged. "Could probably work with a fresh batch of capacitors. But I don't see how they'd be any use if—if you really want to go up against Kuvira." Sato still seemed stunned by the stupidity and audacity of the idea. "Her mech are far superior in terms of firepower, power capacity, and durability. Matter of fact, lots of her designs were based on mine. And her man, Bataar—he knows what he's doing, and he's buffed them up good. Not to mention they have the most important advantage—numbers."

"I detect some grudging respect."

"I don't have much of an ego. There are better and brighter minds than mine around. Varrick being one of them. Another one—" he hesitated "—Asami. My daughter—I would never have imagined my company growing to the heights that it had under her care."

Wu was still examining the mech suit. "Well, you're the genius I do have. So let's work with what we've got. What else do you have around here?"

"Old Equalist weaponry." Sato pulled open a nearby locker. "Some shock gloves, stun batons, smoke grenades. Standard fare. Still usable from the looks of it."

"So basically to electrify people? Stun them?" Wu walked over to the drawer. "Could be useful."

"Unless you can get within punching range of a well-trained Earthbender—not so much."

Wu winced. "Well, we'll have to think of something else to get around that problem. How about vehicles?"

Sato's eyes seemed to brighten. "Well," he said, smiling, "I might have a few old designs that may interest you."

"An underground garage?" Wu raised an eyebrow, looking around the enclosed area, illuminated by a skylight.

"We kept some of the rejected designs here. Vehicles that never made it into production. Such as this one."

Sato laid his hand on the motorcycle. Bigger than most standard models and painted in grey, its body was sleek and layered with sheets of plate metal. Wu noticed that the handlebars were protected by two curved, sloping shields that reached up to where the rider's shoulders would be.

"Based on a previous Equalist design, and fitted with modifications for vehicular combat and assymetric urban maneuvers, including cables and nitro boosters for short-range jumps."

Sato ran his hands down the cool metal surface. "We called it the Thunder. More powerful engine, twice the acceleration, and with retractable shields—" he rapped his knuckles on the sloping shields "—to protect the rider from projectiles such as metal blades from Republic City's police—or Kuvira's army."

Walking around the bike, Wu had to admit he was impressed. The design was sleek and streamlined, and bore no resemblance to the clunky civilian mopeds he was used to seeing. He remembered that he had a sports bike in his old palace garage. If Kuvira hadn't already trashed the place to the ground, I would have liked to race both of these babies and see who's the fastest.

"So why didn't you Equalists make more of these?" Wu asked.

Sato made a dismissive gesture, with a hint of disappointment. "Far too expensive to produce. Every inch of this bike is made from a special platinum alloy that is resistant to Metalbending. It was created specifically as a counter to Republic City's ground forces."

Wu surveyed the control panel of the bike, marveling at the sleekness of its design. He noted the rail sockets on either side, most likely all-purpose ports for fitting a variety of equipment and weaponry for a multitude of scenarios. Grappling hooks, light cannons, smoke canister launchers—really, anything small enough, and you could fit it on this bike.

Sato turned away from the bike. "Once Amon had control of the skies via airship, it just wasn't worth the cost to produce more Thunders. You see the three of them here? That's all that's left."

Turning around, Wu put a hand on Sato's shoulder. "You mentioned that you had blueprints of some newer equipment that you weren't able to build. Some sort of advanced combat suit, and a flying vehicle more versatile than a biplane."

Sato rolled his eyes, sighing dejectedly as he tugged at the sleeves of his old prison shirt. "Those designs are worthless. The amount of raw materials, manpower and expertise required to produce them—they might as well be castles in the sky."

Wu squared his jaw thoughtfully.

"If I provided the materials and manpower," he began cautiously, "can you manufacture those designs from your blueprints?"

Sato blinked, staring back blankly. "Y—yes, I suppose so. But the amount of money and—"

"I'm the prince of the Earth Kingdom," Wu said simply, and he couldn't help but sound smug. "Right now, I have access to half a billion yuan in a personal trust."

"Still, we need hundreds of work-hours just to manufacture the basic components!" Sato protested. "Specialist labour, production facilities—far too much work for just two people!"

"I know. But let's say I supply you with the resources you need. Can you produce them?"

Sato nodded cautiously. "Well—if you could—I suppose I could."

"Good." Wu squeezed Sato's shoulder reassuringly. "Leave the rest to me."

"Why are you doing this?" Sato's voice was sincerely bewildered. Just a day ago, he was serving one of a thousand days of a long prison sentence. Now he was on the run, and an accomplice to a scheme too mad to succeed. He was helping a deposed monarch to overthrow the single most powerful person in the known world apart from perhaps the Avatar confusion was all too understandable.

Wu gestured towards the Thunder. "Kuvira commands an army with numbers and technology far superior to anything the Republic has ever seen. If I'm going to fight her, I need to even the odds. I need to gain an edge—in tactics and in technology—and for that, I need you to make me some new weapons."

"That's not what I meant." Sato shook his head slowly. "I mean—why are you doing all of this? Overthrowing the Great Uniter? Mounting a one-man vigilante campaign?" He blurted. "You—I read about you, you once cried in the middle of a press conference because a heckler yelled at you from the crowd! You came to the hospital in a stretcher because of a 'severe injury' before the doctor found out that the 'blood' on you was grapefruit juice! You were humiliated by Kuvira in front of a national audience, and you slunk away with your tail between your legs, and went to the shopping mall on top of us—" Sato pointed above "—to mope and make a fool of yourself like a little child!"

Wu raised an eyebrow.

"I mean," Sato took a deep breath, and continued, "what happened to you? Now you're breaking into prisons and discussing combat tactics like you've been doing this all your life! I heard about you being missing and being found in a spirit pod. What—what happened to you in there? In that other world?"

He looked into Wu's eyes. "Are—are you even Prince Wu?"

Wu locked eyes with Sato for a full minute. All that either could hear was the other breathing. Then, slowly, Wu stepped back.

"You know that boy you were talking about? That weak thing who couldn't stand up for himself, who only cared about the ladies, who never gave a rat's behind about his kingdom and those in it?" Wu asked.

He clenched his fist.

"He died in the Spirit World."

Ten days ago

The Spirit Wilds

"You." Wu's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, staring dumbly at Zaheer.

"You killed my great-aunt," he mumbled.

"Your—" Zaheer's own face registered blunt surprise. Then he regained his composure.

"I should have known your name was familiar. Prince Wu. Next in line to a throne that has long overstayed its welcome." Zaheer strode in a half-circle around Wu, making the young prince crane his neck to maintain his gaze.

Zaheer closed his eyes, smiling briefly. "A strange thing indeed is fate, to bring us together in the most unlikely of places—the great-grandnephew, face-to-face with the killer of his matriarch."

Wu backed away a few more steps, never taking his eyes off Zaheer.

"So what will you do now?" Zaheer raised an eyebrow. "Now that you've found out that the man you begged to be your mentor—is your sworn enemy?"

And Wu did something neither man expected.

He charged.

"Argh!" Screaming shrilly, the prince collided painfully with Zaheer, his head slamming into the older man's elbows. Dimly, he felt himself being pushed aside, and he tumbled off balance onto the hard ground.

"Anger. Rage." Zaheer smirked. "I would never have expected such raw emotion from a boy raised in luxury and excess."

Wu clambered to his feet unsteadily. Mako's training, he remembered, and lowered himself into a boxer's stance. His fists came up, his elbows curved, and he desperately tried to keep his gaze fixed on Zaheer even as his hands shook like bells in the wind. I have no chance against him. No chance.

What am I going to do?

"What did you know then, about the city of Ba Sing Se under the reign of the Empress?" Zaheer circled Wu with slow, even steps. "Did you hear how its citizens struggled to feed themselves, even as she dined in wealth and splendor? Did you know how they suffered as what little they had was taken from them to fill her coffers? Or were you too busy enjoying yourself and living the life of a prince, blissfully unaware of the true state of your kingdom?"

"Your great-aunt's death was necessary," Zaheer said coolly as he swung his arms behind his back, unconcerned. "I did not kill an empress. I freed a nation."

"You are a murderer," Wu stammered. "A—a monster."

"Kill one person and you are a monster—that's what they say." Zaheer shook his sleeves down over his hands. "Yet if you kill hundreds, thousands—people remember you very differently. How many people died in Hou Ting's prison camps, how many starved as her taxes bled the land dry? Can these deaths be counted? Should they not be mourned?"

He glared at Wu with scorn. "Or is her death special simply because she is an empress?"

"She," Wu hissed, "was family."

"The drive for revenge is powerful. And here I am." Zaheer opened his arms. "Your chance has come. Avenge your family."

The older man dropped into his own stance, and Wu was suddenly overcome with the distinct feeling that he was severely outclassed. Zaheer's very frame radiated raw strength and agility, and his body coiled up like a snake preparing to strike. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer to Wu, his curved fists raised above his head like the stinger of a scorpion.

With no choice, stupidly, blindly—Wu struck. Hurled a punch right at Zaheer's face, one that he regretted as soon as he spotted the glimmer of satisfaction in the older man's eye. The blow hit nothing but wind as Zaheer skirted the blow—then, a blur of movement—and pain. Wu felt the breath explode from his nose as his stomach caved inwards. He stumbled.

Zaheer withdrew his fist. "Going straight for the face—ambitious, but misguided, especially if your enemy is taller and stronger than you are." He readjusted his stance. "Your blow will be weak, poorly aimed, and ultimately costly."

Wu leapt forward clumsily, aiming another punch at Zaheer. This time, the older man didn't even budge. With lightning fast precision, he smacked Wu's arm aside even as his foot swung in a clean arc that cut Wu's footing from under him.

"Don't stumble into a fight like a drunken monkey!" Zaheer growled. "Your enemy has many weak points. His fingers, his toes, his eyes, his beard. Use them! Do not strike blindly at his face simply because it is all that you see!"

Wu coughed, sputtering breathlessly as he struggled to get back up.

"You are angry. And you are filled with hate." Zaheer stepped closer. "And it gives you strength. It fills your mind and your body. It pounds through your blood like the rhythm of a war drum." He raised a finger, mockingly, almost like an instructor facing a student. "But do not allow it to blind you."

The young prince managed to struggle onto all fours.

This is not one of Mako's training sessions. Because by now, I would have already screamed 'Wu down!'

Why am I getting up again?

Wu struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. Glaring at Zaheer hotly, his hair unkempt and caked with dirt, he raised his fists again.

I have never felt this angry.

"When was the last time you stood up for yourself?" Zaheer closed the distance, and struck Wu quickly in the chest. Reeling from the shock, Wu stumbled backwards. But his guard was still up.

"When did you last choose to stand and fight, rather than flee to the safety of your comfort and luxury?"

Zaheer's palm strike went straight towards Wu's face. But somehow, the prince raised his arms in time. The blow connected painfully against his fingers. But it also made Zaheer draw back.

"Yet here you are. Defiant, angry, and filled with purpose. Your rage gives you focus, it drives out your fear. Even now, you are becoming something more than yourself. You are finding strength you never thought you had, discovering a drive that you thought only existed in other people."

Mako, I wasn't raised by a pack of cops in the woods! His mind drifted back. Mako's face appeared in his mind seamlessly, his expression disdainful and slightly annoyed. The stalwart policeman, taller, stronger, probably more handsome. The man who could do things Wu couldn't.

"No more Avatar, no more legions of guards, no more friends to protect you here." Zaheer stepped closer. "Now, you fight for yourself, and yourself alone."

He struck fast, so fast that Wu barely had time to blink before he felt the air leave his lungs. Zaheer's fingers closed over Wu's throat like a vise. Weak, breathless and near collapse, Wu felt himself being pulled closer.

"But beneath the anger—I sense something else. A burning passion that keeps you fighting." Wu's vision began to darken as Zaheer's face loomed over his own.

"What is it?" whispered Zaheer. "What do you fight for, Prince Wu?"

The prince gasped for air, sputtering even as Zaheer's grip tightened mercilessly.

He answered honestly.

"I don't—know—who I am."

Then sheer, instantaneous relief, flooding his lungs like life-giving energy, and the feeling of the ground beneath him and Zaheer's bare feet inches from his face.

"You are the prince of the Earth Kingdom," Zaheer said quizzically. "That's who you've always been."

"No." Wu coughed and sputtered as he struggled to his feet. "That's who I always thought I was. That's what all those courtiers and maids have been telling me since I was a boy. That I was special, that I was a prince, that I deserved to enjoy myself and live life to the fullest."

"But I'm nobody." Wu struck the ground with his fist. "Just some helpless guy that Mako has to protect all the time. I get in trouble, and the Avatar comes and bails me out. I tell myself that she's into me, that I'm a ladies' man."

He shook his head. "I can't even fool myself. She's not even thinking of me. Nobody is. I'm invisible. I am nothing but a liability. Team Avatar spends, like, half the day worrying about whether I'll be caught or injured or killed, and they hope that I just stay out of trouble. That's all I am. An escort mission!" He spat.

"I can't protect my people. I can't fight Kuvira. All I can do is stay in that house with people who look at me like I'm a divine ruler, and expect me to play the part." Wu struggled into a sitting position. Zaheer was no longer in a combat stance; he had withdrawn his fists, and was listening with rapt attention.

"But I can't. Because I'm no prince, and I'm no future king. I'm just a weak, stupid boy who was born into a very rich family, and who can't do anything on his own. And now that the people around me are in danger—I can't do anything." Tears welled up in Wu's eyes as he faced Zaheer, no longer with any trace of fear. "That's why I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you killing me. Because you know as well as I do—"

He turned away.

"—that I wouldn't be worth the energy."

Wu slumped, breathing heavily. His hairstyle was ruined, his clothes damp. Part of his mind wondered how he could be dirty and disheveled if he was in the Spirit World, far away from his physical body. How could the dirt and water of the Spirit World stick to him?

Better explanation. I'm a spirit here, right? So this is my spirit. This is how I really look like. Dirty, soggy, useless.

"That's why I'm fighting you, even though I look completely pathetic." He glared defiantly at Zaheer. "Because I want—I need—to feel something other than useless."

Wu saw a flicker of movement, and screwed up his eyes in anticipation of the blow.

Instead, he saw an outstretched hand.

"Get up," Zaheer said quietly.

Wu took his hand, and was pulled up roughly to his feet.

Wu stared in shock as he realized that his great-aunt's killer was smiling.

"So," Zaheer said, "I see you for what you truly are."

"A coward." Wu turned his gaze away.

"No." Zaheer laid his hand on the young prince's shoulder, causing him to start. "A warrior."

Wu blinked in confusion, his head tilted to one side. "All this spirit stuff must be making you dizzy. I'm a wimp. I just told you that I'm soft and I can't do anything."

"Indeed." Zaheer nodded. "But you have bared your soul to me, and I see the deepest drive within you—a dissatisfaction with who you are, and a passion to become someone—something—else. True, you have masked it by wallowing in the wealth and excess that is part of your heritage. But it beats within you still. Here, in the Spirit Wilds, far from Republic City and Ba Sing Se and all your money and comfort and fame—you may have the chance to let it run free. To let your inner drive emerge."

"I have looked into the eyes of many before you," Zaheer continued, still smiling, "and the desire to change and to better oneself—it is rarer than you think. Ghazan and Ming Hua, they were formidable and powerful benders on their own right, but they never sought to stray from the roles they had chosen for themselves; they remained outcasts and bandits even after we took an entire city, and they desired to stay that way till they finally fell. Only P'Li saw the potential for the Red Lotus to become something more, and change the course of the world for the better."

He closed his eyes briefly as a fleeting expression of grief crossed his face. "And only I saw what was possible for one to become—to enter the void, to become wind."

"Strength can be a hindrance. Power can be a crutch. Avatar Korra let herself be bound by her role as the Avatar, never straying from the confines of her duty—and when it was taken from her, she was broken and lost. Perhaps even your friend Mako is not as strong as he appears. Perhaps he only appears strong because he has always stayed the same—always playing the same role in the team, always being the one person doing the one fixed thing, like a cog in a machine, turning and turning dutifully over and over."

"But you," he pointed at Wu, "you don't belong. You don't fit in a team, you aren't part of a group of friends. You're invisible and you've always been so, and right now, nothing remains of the life you used to lead. You are broken, lost, confused, and humbled. But it is here, when you are at your lowest point—"

Zaheer clenched his fist.

"—that you are open to the greatest change."

Zaheer's brow narrowed. "It's your choice. You can cling to your past, or you can abandon everything you have ever known in pursuit of strength you have never imagined. And I can teach you how. What do you say?"

Wu closed his eyes, breathing deeply. So much was going on, so much didn't make sense. But every one of Zaheer's words reverberated off his heart like a gong. And the blazing fire within him—the heat that had arisen in the spur of combat—was rising.

Become something more.

He opened his eyes, and stared straight at Zaheer's.

"Teach me," he exhaled finally.

Zaheer smiled.

Present day

The Shining Lotus Hotel, downtown Republic City

10.30 pm

The hotel manager jerked up from his nap as the chimes tinkled, indicating that a customer had just walked through the doors. As best as he could, he stood upright, quickly shoving the paperback romance novel under the reception desk. Ahead, the garish fluorescent light flickered on the poorly-made metal chandelier.

"Welcome to the Shining Lotus Hotel, how may I—" he began, then paused as his eyes lit up in recognition. "Why, it's Prince Wu! It's an honour to have you here, Your Highness!" He bowed deeply with a wide smile, while silently panicking—the previous set of rooms hadn't yet been cleaned. What's the prince of the Earth Kingdom doing here this time of night?

The young prince bowed in return, meeting his smile with a tentative grin of his own. "And a pleasure to meet you too, sir."

"Can I interest you in a room tonight? We are one of the best hotels this side of—"

"Thank you," the prince halted his sales pitch with a raised palm, "but actually I was wondering if I could make a phone call. I'd like to pay for it."

The manager hesitated, clearly flustered. "A—a phone call?"

"Yes. I can't call on a normal telephone, you understand—just need to be discreet. I was hoping you'd let me use the front desk phone."

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Truth be told—I've got this girl, you know, and I promised her I'd call. But I've got this other girl living with me and—well, let's say I can't really use the phone at home. She'll know."

The manager's eyes widened, then he coughed nervously. "Of—of course, Your Highness. Here, have the front desk phone, I'll be out back to give you some privacy—" he bowed, and excused himself.

The prince of the Earth Kingdom, playing the love game with two girls at the same time! It was almost scandalous. The manager scratched his chin thoughtfully as he took the chance to use the bathroom. Something interesting to add to the gossip at the Mahjong game tomorrow night.

Prince Wu waited until the footsteps had subsided, then picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"Mr. Wei? This is Prince Wu. Yes, I apologise for the late hour, and no, everything is fine." His eyes darted across the window near the front door, scanning for any intrusions before proceeding. Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved a folded piece of paper. "I'd like to make a transaction via the trust."

Quickly, he outlined the details of the transaction. He could hear his broker's concern and panic loud and clear. "No, no, this is not an impulse purchase. I'm just acting on insider information. Just get the paperwork done, and we'll discuss this in person. But only after the stocks are mine."

Per protocol, he provided the confidential information that would authorize the purchase. Password and unique number code.

"Yes, that would be all. And please, don't get too worried. Good night now, Mr. Wei, and thank you for your time and patience." He replaced the receiver.

Mr. Wei had handled Prince Wu's expenditure since the day that he had become next in line to the throne. All his splurges on fast cars and luxurious holidays—Mr. Wei had handled via the trust fund. But this was the first time Wu had dabbled in the stock market and real estate. It was necessary to soothe the broker's well-founded concerns—not least because Wu needed the whole thing to be discreet.

Well, at least until tomorrow, Wu mused dryly. If Wei was as good as Wu knew him to be, the transaction would already be complete tomorrow, with the ink barely dry on the paperwork.

By ten in the morning, when the stock market opened, Prince Wu would own fifteen percent of Future Industries' public shares, as well as full control and ownership of Yan Na Wei Manufacturing, a sister corporation.

He placed a twenty yuan note under the telephone and strode out the door.

Sato was getting his materials and manpower, one way or another.

Now let's see if he can make use of them.

Grandma Yin bit her fingernail, worried. Wu had been out for almost five hours, and the tea she brewed had long since turned cold. Asami was away on a late-night meeting with that other science man—Varrick, she remembered—and Korra was spending the night on Air Temple Island.

Should I ring them up? She fretted. The thought of her dear prince out there in the big, wide city was almost too much to bear.

Then—

"Grandma Yin!" Wu called cheerily.

She spun around, beaming. "Oh, my dear prince. You're home! Where were you? I was so worried!"

"Don't worry about it, grandma," he said laughingly, pushing open the front door. "I met this really smart girl in a restaurant downtown, and we talked and talked for hours!"

"Oh, you, always sweeping some poor girl off her feet." Yin smiled, the kindly wrinkles around her eyes furrowing. "Now, don't you be breaking too many hearts now; girls don't like to be played around with. Mako's grandfather learned that lesson one time too many!" She wagged her finger theatrically, though still smiling.

"I'm heading to bed, grandma." Wu yawned, stretching his arms dramatically. "Republic City's nightlife can really take a lot out of you."

"Of course, my dear. Would you like some tea first? I can brew a fresh pot!"

"It's alright grandma, thank you. See you tomorrow!"

Grandma Yin smiled meekly. She locked the front door and was getting ready to head upstairs when she spotted her red shawl, draped neatly over the back of a chair in the foyer.

Yin paused, puzzled.

"I'm sure I didn't leave it here," she mumbled, scratching her head. "Maybe I forgot."

She picked it up, sighed, and shuffled upstairs.

"Must be a part of getting old."

Wu reached his room. The bed beckoned, and the moonlight irritated his bleary eyes. He could hardly believe it himself. In the past three hours, he had orchestrated a prison break and revived the Equalist movement, even if it was with just one person.

And he was bone-dead, stone cold, utterly and completely exhausted.

I forgot. Wu thought, frustrated. All that strength training and physical exercise doesn't carry over into the human world.

Fighting sleep, he took another good hard look as his body. His arms were skinny and slender like the legs of a hawk-chicken. His body looked like it still hadn't hit puberty. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure he was even done with puberty.

Come on now, all that intense combat training in the Spirit World—and not even a muscle pops in my real body?

Wu sighed. It was as if he had been pushed back to the starting line. He had to begin all over again.

He braced himself under the window frame, and reached over head. His fingers closed over the wooden beam.

He pulled. His muscles strained. His shoulders ached, and he felt fire running down his arms. His forehead barely touched the top of the window.

One.

If he was going to pull off any more stunts like what he did today, he would need to know his physical limits. No better time to test them than now—sleep-deprived, cranky, and very exhausted. Doing pull-ups in the moonlight. What a crazy day. Might as well roll with it.

Two.

The weakness was foreign, alien. He felt like he had been forced back into the body of a child. His arms screamed from underuse, his fingers ran slick with sweat.

Three.

He could feel the 'shakes' coming. The tingling, involuntary trembling of the muscles that indicated imminent failure.

Fo—

Crack.

The beam split in two, and Prince Wu tumbled to the ground, off-balance. The shock lasted only a moment before his reflexes kicked in and he rolled over his shoulder, dissipating the momentum.

"What the—"

He rose to his feet, exhausted and even angrier. Quickly, he scooped up the wooden pieces and dumped them under the bed. Please, please let Auntie Yin already be asleep…

Wu massaged his shoulders. The pain was throbbing now, all over his torso. The bed beckoned. Rest, and the night, and sweet, sweet slumber.

But he said no.

Strength is in the mind, Zaheer had taught him. Train your mind, and your body will follow.

His body may be the weak frame of a young prince unused to any hardship whatsoever. But his mind was that of a hardened warrior who had survived ten years in the Spirit Wilds and had faced down the worst horrors the Spirit World could offer.

If his body was weak, he would train and train until it was as strong as his mind.

Remember what you're fighting for.

Wu got down on all fours, straightened his legs, braced his arms, and lowered his chest to the hardwood floor.

Weakness must be purged from the body.

Shakily, he pushed himself up.

One.

Sometime past midnight

Republic City Square

Three trucks. One armored vehicle. All four bearing the Republic City police insignia. Amidst the controlled chaos of the citywide lockdown, they were almost invisible.

In the shadow of the armored tank stood a man. Heavy-set, stern, his hair cropped short to military standards, he watched the empty street ahead with hands folded behind his back and a keen roving eye fixed ahead.

"Major Tu. We're all set." The soldier poked his head out from the back of the nearby truck.

The major nodded, never taking his eyes of the street.

"There's a reason why the Great Uniter will win this war, soldier," he murmured, half to himself. "It's because she understands that in any battle, the enemy's morale is just as important as the strength of his army."

He patted the exterior of the tank, running his palm over its cool metal surface. On the outside, it looked no different than a standard light assault vehicle fielded by Republic City. But its interior concealed a powerful weapon, smuggled into the city for the very purpose of sowing havoc. Even from the outside, Major Tu could almost hear the hum of the energy cells, beating steadily within the tank like a burning metal heart.

"We may be expendable, my fellow comrades," he said, turning to the rest of the troops in the truck. "But make no mistake. What we do will sow panic and fear into the people of Republic City, from the lowest citizens all the way to its cowardly president. What we accomplish tomorrow will be worth the work of a thousand soldiers."

Spitting into the ground, Major Tu grasped the rails on the side of the tank and hauled himself up. The turret hatch sprang open as he activated the controls. As the burly officer lowered himself into the armored vehicle, he turned to his soldiers with a final smile and salute.

"Long live the Great Uniter."

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