"What…want…to…?"
"...her…down…Amon."
"Should we…for…"
"…it matter?"
"Look…she's…forehead..."
A quick pause, she sucked in a painful breath.
"…just make sure...morning."
"Yes, sir."
Blotches of sound graced her ears as she strained to understand what was trespassing above her. The man that had supposedly saved her had also brought her into the belly of the beast. Kidnapped somewhere, he had dragged her sickly body.
After he handed her over, they took her quickly further into whatever dungeon they festered in, and thrown her into a room, or a box, and she had been laying flat on her back ever since. The shards of corrupted wood dug into her flesh, and she could never find a comfortable position without pokes and prods.
Conversations transpired above, footsteps ricocheted like earthquakes, and she had managed to make out Amon's name several times. Too clear, the Equalists had finally gotten her.
Shaken by fear and dread, her worst nightmare was coming to fruition. But instead of restricting to the confines of her bedroom, it continued. It was as if it was all meant to be, she had the signs, and still played right into their hands- the epilogue of her psyche.
Eyes tightening by the second, stifling the embarrassment of her failure as an avatar, friend, and daughter- the shame of what she had done, and of her weakness stung like spiked whips against her stubborn heart, more painful than the nausea that had not subsided.
At the thought of Tenzin bleeding, she flinched.
It had been hours, and at first she pounded her splitting knuckles against the low ceiling of the wooden cage she was in- splinters plunged their way into her open wounds, making her entire hand throb. She cried out for help, and begged to be set free, claustrophobia tightening her windpipes, she stopped, resigning to her deserved fate.
The response was laughter, anger, pity from above, the people walking by and hearing her desperation, but did nothing to help.
She started to hate them.
The vermin that they were, an innocent girl who only tried to appease everyone, to be the best she could be, and they spat back in her face, robbed her dignity, stole her freedom.
Who had this much hate for the world?
"Amon!" a crony called just outside his door.
Butterflies rose and fell in the man's stomach as he shifted his gaze from the lieutenant to the pounding at the entrance. Would they be able to tell?
Testing how far he could push it, he took a long breath in and stretched the veins in the whites of his eyes.
"What is it, corporal?" the puppet asked- his voice harsh, rougher than it usually was.
He would have to work on that.
Taking it as an invitation, the boy stepped sheepishly in. Embarrassed he had called so loudly, he hadn't expected the leader to actually be in his study. Tip-toeing cautiously as to not anger the one blessed by the Spirits, his eyes remained downcast in awed reverence.
An annoying pause followed as the lad mustered the little courage he had.
"Spit it out," the shell remarked as Amon guided the muscles.
The young Equalist flinched ever so slightly, but snapped his spine into bravery and looked the Lieutenant straight on. Words played on his lips, but were lost as he cocked his brow.
"Sir, if I may…?"
The mustached man glared. The boy receded his thoughts and decided it was just a play of the dim light. No man's eyes could be that hollow, was he sick? At the thought he shook his head, his idols were probably impatient for the important news that he was to deliver.
"Amon," he started again, saluting. "We have the Avatar."
The masked man was taken aback. How was this possible? Standing swiftly, he eyed the small boy. His red goggled gas-mask was obviously much too large for his little frame, it kept slipping to the sides of his head, only to be pushed up quickly into place by the strangely large, thin hands.
Those were the fingers of a natural chi-blocker, and Amon understood why they had allowed the child permission into the movement. Nodding, he stood in front of the youngster and kneeled down to his level. He always did have a soft spot for children.
"Excellent news," he commended, and noted the sparkle of the boy's eyes beneath the vermillion spectacles. "What's your name, son?"
He sensed his tight face tendons, and assumed the lad was smiling, beaming beneath.
"Kuzon," he replied, his voice light and airy- he must have been fifteen at best.
The terrifying leader placed a strong hand on the shoulder of Kuzon, and squeezed warmly. The Lieutenant stiffened, and Amon turned his head to strengthen the grip. Apparently, his puppet felt something for the child, for his struggle for freedom intensified.
Easily, it was gagged back down to dummy.
Nonetheless, he could not have his most treasured soldier resisting.
"Kuzon," the Equalist leader announced. "In celebration of this accomplishment, I believe you deserve an award."
Again, the spirit of the Lieutenant surged, and he took a step forward, free of Amon's grasp. Quickly, the masked man stood, and pretended to stretch his hand, rubbing them carefully as his wrists controlled the bend of blood.
Beaten down, Amon smiled underneath the mask.
"Close the door, if you will, Kuzon. I don't want any interruptions during the ceremony."
Blind with excitement, the boy rushed to slam and lock the door shut, unaware that Amon's twine was beginning to drill into his very bones.
