Tenzin Gyatso looked over the week's charts for the fifth time in a row, the tension building in his eyebrow muscles as he furrowed them. He set down the report, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
His partner and his secretary looked at him expectantly, and Tenzin gave another sigh. "As you both know, the World…is in trouble."
"A bit melodramatic, isn't it?" Izumi cracked a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. Neither of the men laughed.
"Our circulation is down the third quarter in a row," Tenzin continued. "And I'm running out of ideas."
Izumi shrugged. "We could use an exciting headline."
"Well, what do we have for today?" Tarrlok asked.
"The trolley strike. Again," Izumi said blandly.
Tarrlok frowned. "What's wrong with the trolley strike? Starving working battling the profiteering trolley companies played out before the suffering of the innocent, riding public. It's epic."
"It's boring," Izumi replied. "Folks just wanna know: is the trolley comin' or not? No one cares why, certainly not enough for it to be a headliner."
"Plus, I hear the strike's just about to be settled," Tenzin said. "The Governor put his support behind the workers." He shook his head bitterly. "I swear, that man's a socialist."
Izumi raised an eyebrow. "He's your brother. And as far as our readers are concerned, a hero across all four nations."
"No, he's right," Tarrlok muttered. "That man is trouble."
"Be honest: neither of you liked that he was gaining popularity in the polls from the very beginning, God knows why." She turned to the ponytailed-man, meeting his cool blue eyes with little hesitation. "Mr. Tarrlok, you ran an editorial against him day after day. And now guess what?" She shot a pointed look between the two co-owners. "He's the governor."
"Well, how can I influence elections when no one is reading my paper?" Tarrlok snapped. "Which brings us back to the problem at hand: we need to sell more papers. And the way to do that is…?"
"Big pictures attract more readers," Izumi suggested. Both Tarrlok and Tenzin made a face.
"And bill collectors," Tenzin said. "Do you know how much big pictures cost?"
Izumi let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, if we can't attract readers with big pictures or headlines-"
"There's an answer right before our eyes, we just need to think this through," Tarrlok muttered, only half to Izumi and Tenzin, as he stared at the floor in thought. There were several moments of silence before any of them spoke again.
"Maybe we could cut back personnel?" Tenzin offered tentatively. "I hate to put anyone out of work, but-"
"No," Tarrlok said. "We're in a war against the Journal and the Sun, Mr. Gyatso. You don't cut troops when you're heading into battle."
"A few salary trims?" Izumi tried.
Tarrlok shot her a sour look. "Yes, starting with yours." Izumi frowned.
"Maybe simply lowering the price of the paper?" Tenzin said. He regretted putting that option on the table almost immediately as Tarrlok frowned deeply at him.
"Yes, bankrupting us even faster!" Tarrlok glared at Tenzin. "Our goal is to sell more papers. Think it through."
Another several moments of silence passed, when Izumi piped up again.
"Wait, we don't sell papers. The newsies sell papers."
Tarrlok's eyes lit up. "You're onto something. Now, how will they sell more papers…?" He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Right now, we charge 50 pieces for 100 papers, correct?"
Tenzin leaned back in his chair, eyeing Tarrlok cautiously. "Yes…?"
"What if we raise the price to 60 pieces per 100? They'll have to sell ten more papers just to earn the same as always."
"Excellent idea as always, sir," Izumi said, taking down notes in her notebook. "But it'll be awfully rough on those children."
"That's also my concern, Tarrlok," Tenzin said.
Tarrlok waved his hand dismissively. "They'll be fine. If anything, this'll be good for them; they'll be learning a real-life lesson in economics. Why, I couldn't offer them a better education if they were my own."
"Tarrlok, I'm still not sure-"
"Honestly, Gyatso, they'll be fine. I wouldn't be surprised if at the end of the week, they're begging us to raise the price for them even more." Tarrlok straightened his tie, a self-satisfied smile creeping onto his face.
Tenzin let out a heavy sigh. "Very well. The price for the newsies goes up in the morning."
The sun was low in the sky when Jinora started packing up her papers and notes into the old, thin briefcase. She frowned at the note on her desk reminding her to catch Korra's show that evening for another review. Jinora loved Korra; they'd been childhood friends, and she was happy that she was making a living doing what she loved, but Jinora swore if she had to write one more review for some little vaudeville show in Republic City she was going to lose it.
She was a serious reporter. It would have been nice if someone would finally treat her like it and give her the story she deserved.
"Turning in for the day, Jinora?" Jinora's ears perked up at the sound of Shung's voice, and she smiled sadly, shaking her head.
"Unfortunately, I still have a show to attend later tonight. I get an entire half-page to fill this time," she said, her voice rising in mock-enthusiasm. Shung chuckled sympathetically.
"You'll get your story one day, Miss Gy-"
"Shhh, Shung," Jinora interrupted, her eyes widening. "You know no one other than you and Varrick knows my real name."
"Right. Sorry, Miss Wen," Shung said, smiling softly. Jinora returned it.
"I'm beginning to doubt Varrick will ever let up and allow me to do a real story, but thanks for the vote of confidence, Shung. You're the only person in this place that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out."
Shung chuckled. "Don't give up so soon, Jinora. You've got a good, honest voice, and a way with words that most of the guys here would kill for. But don't tell them I said that."
Jinora couldn't help but smile. "Thanks. I'll… I'll try. But for now," she said, picking up the note and crumpling it up in her hand, "it's off to more sideshows for me."
"Well, we might be getting more readers anyway, so hopefully enough people like your article, and-"
"More readers?" Jinora's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you heard? Mr. Tarrlok and Mr. Gyatso have brought up newspaper prices for the newsies. Mr. Varrick and every paper owner in Republic City caught wind of it and have decided to bring it up to 60 pieces, too. Prices are rising all over."
Jinora frowned. "Won't that hurt the newsies?"
"It'll give them extra incentive to sell more papers for sure," Shung said, his smile fading. "Still, it's only ten more pieces. They should be fine."
"Ten pieces they could be using to feed themselves," Jinora said. "Doesn't anyone know that most of them are orphans?"
"I guess, but that doesn't seem to be stopping anyone," Shung said sadly. "Anyway, I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Miss Wen."
Jinora nodded, managing a small smile. "Right. Say hi to the Missus for me, Shung."
"Of course. Have a good evening!"
Jinora waved him off, then looked back to her clean desk and sighed softly. If her father and so many other newspaper publishers were raising prices, it couldn't be hurting those boys too badly, right?
She could only silently hope so, as she left the building and walked to Korra's small, brightly-lit theatre. Jinora tried to bat the thought away as she stepped around puddles on the sidewalk.
Still, something about the news still troubled her, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.