TARRLOK
HE STILL REMEMBERED WHEN MOTHER HAD COME. He had been eight, Noatak, eleven. She had strode like a god out of a brutal blizzard, tall and proud and beautiful, even after the ravages of a life of suffering had taken what they could out of her. Father had been lonely, accepted her with open arms, not least because she brought several bottles of cheap booze, the kind Father liked. Father had gotten drunk, just like he always did at night, and the sounds from the bedroom had kept Tarrlok and his brother up all night. Then, come morning, he had awoken to find Mother there, making breakfast. She had smiled, and even then, he had known there was something wrong with that smile, but he hadn't cared. She was making breakfast, real food, and she served him and his brother extra portions, pinched their cheeks, and told them that she was their mother now.
That, he felt, was the last time he had ever actually had something approximating an emotion. He had felt…
He had felt…
He shook his head. He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, really, though, did it? Emotions just got in the way. They made him think, and whenever he tried to think, he got scared and weepy and wanted to run away. His head would hurt and his mouth would go dry, and Noatak would get frustrated with him, and that would just make it worse. So he pushed the memory of emotion aside, and just watched the life drain from the eyes of the old woman on the ground before him as he crushed her heart in her chest.
He didn't know how long they had been in the building, how long it had been since they had begun painting the walls red. He wanted to leave, wanted to go back to the tent and have dinner and not think about it. But no, Mother said they couldn't, not until the job was done. He hadn't asked what job, because he didn't care. It was the job, and Mother would tell him when it was over.
Somewhere in the depths of the building, peeling out over the screams and the sobbing and the begging for mercy in a language he didn't pretend to understand, he heard his brother laughing. Noatak always laughed when they did the things Mother told them to do; it was just his way. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, and the things he did, he did with gusto, enthusiasm, imagination. He was almost as imaginative as Mother.
Almost…
Tarrlok didn't go in for all of that. He just moved, not saying a word, barely making a sound, from room-to-room, crushing their hearts in their chests. His face held no expression, and he felt not a thing.
He didn't even feel fear, or the slightest bit of apprehension, when he heard the sound. He was in the hallway, moving from one room to the next, mechanically following the sound of weeping and what sounded like children pleading to the gods. It was dark, and cold, and the earth shook and quaked, and every once in a while, explosions rattled the walls and sent bursts of light flashing through the windows. It was right after one of these explosions that he heard it, a strange whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, as if something was flying, end-over-end, through the air. His curiosity aroused, he turned, just in time for the boomerang to come flying out of the darkness and into his chest.
He felt no pain as he fell, no pain, no regret, no sadness. Even when the young Water Tribe boy with his painted face loomed over him, made the sign to ward off the Evil Eye over his face, and pulled the boomerang from Tarrlok's chest, he felt nothing. He watched, the life draining out of him with every beat of his heart, as the young man drew a knife, the blade catching a glimmer of light as it flashed for his neck.
His last thought was one word.
Finally.
He had no fear as the darkness took him. He even smiled, which made sense.
After all, he had known the darkness for a very, very long time.
Fun Fact: Even at his worst in LOK, I never hated Tarrlok. I guess I just have a...well...let's just call it a soft spot for people like that, people who get trapped into a dark place because they don't think they have anywhere else to go.
We all end up paying for the sins of those who came before us, don't we?
Also, Kaelyn, I know, right? But at least he's aware, and he's going about his idiotic course of action quite intelligently.
Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara has to talk some sense into Korra, right before she gets the word. Stay tuned!