A Cog in the Machine

by Masterdramon

Harmonic Convergence is but a year away. Korra has spent her life training with the Red Lotus, preparing for the day she will restore balance to the world. But a dawning revolution, forged in the name of equality, could spoil their plans. To learn more, Korra takes on a new name and infiltrates Future Industries...but what else awaits her in this brave new city? Eventual Korrasami.

13. Book One, Intermission: Fire

A Cog in the Machine – Book One, Intermission: Fire

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own The Legend of Korra. All Avatar-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Viacom, Bryan Konietzko, and Michael Dante DiMartino.

[-]

A/N: While I normally try to keep this series a fairly firm "T," please note that the following piece dips into some rather heavy territory. Content warning for large amounts of child abuse, as well as explicit but non-graphic descriptions of the sexual assault of a minor.

If these are not your cup of tea, this Intermission can probably be skipped with minimal effect on the present-day narrative. Still, I hope I was able to deal with the subject matter in a relatively tasteful manner, without sugarcoating the seriously fucked-up nature of child slavery.

My thanks for your consideration.

[-]

"Next!"

The line proceeded forward an unsteady pace, unbalanced by the shackles that linked them together. But they kept moving, nevertheless.

They knew what'd happen to them if they didn't.

"Alright, here we've got a pretty young thing from Chin Village!" called out the auctioneer, cupping the next girl's cheeks and forcing them into a crude smile. She squirmed slightly, but otherwise didn't resist. "Bit of a nasty scar on the neck, but you're in luck! No throat means no backtalk. Shall we start the bidding at, oh…twenty gold pieces?"

Behind them, another girl watched on in silence as the various well-armored men in the audience placed their bids. A plump man with a receding hairline eventually won with forty-five gold pieces, pawing at the Chin girl like a piece of meat as he led her off the stage.

Despite that the girl couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, there was little doubt in anyone's mind what her new owner intended for her.

She herself was only eight. She didn't have a name, or at least none that she could remember. She supposed she must've had parents, once, but that'd been a long time ago. For as far back as she could recall, this had been her life.

Places like this were the dirty little secret of the Earth Kingdom. Centuries of Ba Sing Se's isolationist policies had left most of its provinces at least nominally independent, and though Kuei had worked in his twilight years to reach out to them, his daughter had only exacerbated the problem further.

There were no other "kings" or "queens" across the continent any longer, but there were numerous petty tyrants and warlords – most of them rogue veterans of the Earth Kingdom military who'd decided to conquer a small plot of land, and somehow managed to hold onto it since.

Avatar Aang had done his best to clamp down on the practice, and the jails of the United Republic were filled with the results. But despite the White Lotus' best efforts to conceal the information, most knew by now that the once-great airbender had taken gravely ill, and wasn't expected to recover.

He had, at best, a few years left. Years that warlords like Du Jun were more than happy to take advantage of.

A former general before his discharge for taking bribes, Du Jun was the current owner of the territory she'd lived in for most of her life – a small village and the surrounding forests. A non-bender, he'd nonetheless managed to assemble a strong following out of sheer charisma and force of will.

His massive frame and nigh-incomparable skill with a bow didn't hurt, either.

These auctions had been his idea. Periodically, he'd send raid parties out to neighboring provinces or villages, kidnap young girls – and occasionally, young boys – and sell them off to his most loyal men to "keep."

In a purely mercenary sense, it was quite a brilliant scheme. He was able to enforce the loyalty of his troops and make a tidy sum, all at once.

Slavery had never been a fully sanctioned practice in the Earth Kingdom, but it was hardly unheard of, either. The continent was simply too big for the protections of the law to reach everywhere.

And, inevitably, places like this sprung up between the cracks.

This wasn't the first time she'd been sold; not by a longshot. If she had to hazard a guess, going by the very limited information she had available, she'd have wagered she was from one of the outlying colonies on the very edge of the United Republic. Her family had either been slaughtered by Du Jun's goons, or else simply abandoned her when they came.

Either way, it was at only age three or four when she'd first been chained.

Since then, she'd bounced her way between six different owners. While it wasn't unusual for a girl to be returned to auction once their owner grew tired of them, usually this only happened once or twice across their lifetimes.

But she was a…special case. And not in a good way.

She was paraded onto the stage naked, of course; they all were. Their prospective buyers needed to be able to inspect the merchandise, after all.

In her case, however, that made her "flaw" extremely obvious.

"What's with all the burns?" demanded the deep, rumbling tones of Du Jun himself, who was sitting in the front row. This in itself was rather unusual – it was generally thought that he had more than enough slaves of his own.

Indeed, covering her legs and torso were numerous scorch marks of varying sizes, some mild and others rather grotesque. She felt the heavy eyes of every man in the crowd pass over the scars, as well as the rest of her barely developed "features," but felt no particular shame in it.

Probably because this'd happened to her so many times before.

The auctioneer gulped and cleared his throat, under the unflinching glare his boss was giving him.

"Ahem…according to her previous owner, this girl is a firebender, but her bending is somewhat…" the man said nervously, reading off a thin scroll. "Err…unusual."

"Unusual?" repeated the warlord, leaning forward slightly. "Explain."

He coughed again. "Well, sir, the thing is…" he replied. "No one, uh…really knows. She's been a problem case for a while now."

"Has she, now?" he asked softly, though somehow that only made him sound more dangerous. Slowly, he rose from his seat. "You know, I don't think I like problem cases."

The warlord strode over to her, grasping her by her thick, unwashed mess of hair and forcing her head back, until they were eye-to-eye. She stifled a groan of pain.

"Show me," he said, his teeth bared in a cruel, lopsided grin.

She blinked, unsure she'd just heard him correctly. This wasn't what she'd been expecting at all.

"I said, show me," Du Jun ordered again, less patiently this time. He tossed her to the ground and then took a step back, his arms crossed. He was clearly expecting a show.

The girl tensed up, uncertain what to do. She'd never been given an open invitation to cut loose with…well, whatever you wanted to call what she did. She'd always been told to press it back down, to hide it away, because it made her less "appealing" on the market.

This close to the former colonies, firebenders were hardly unheard of; even some of Du Jun's men had the ability. But what she did…wasn't firebending. At least, not of the sort she'd ever seen anyone else perform.

And it was dangerous. Very, very dangerous, for which her numerous burn marks were a testament. She couldn't exactly control it, or at least not very well. And it didn't always work.

Still, seeing no choice, she began to focus inward, hoping that this time, it might go a little better. She reached down, deep, for what little energy she had left in her fragile body – it wasn't like she'd eaten or slept much recently, after all – and willed it to release itself.

The result was immediate, and explosive. Literally.

Du Jun swore loudly as he backed away, the blast having missed him by a factor of inches. Still, it'd singed the hairs on his broad forearms by sheer proximity.

She, meanwhile, fell to the ground, screeching in agony as she struggled to beat out a flame near her right shoulder. The embers died down quickly, but she could see the mark they'd left out of the corner of her eye. Having dealt with this for years, she recognized the signs of a new scar immediately. It wasn't too large or deep, comparatively speaking, but she'd have it for the rest of her life.

Which, admittedly, might not be that long, given the look in Du Jun's eyes.

"Combustion…" he whispered, leaving the girl utterly perplexed. She wasn't familiar with the word. She wasn't familiar with most words. "Hey, how long have we had this girl?"

"Some of her owners didn't keep very good records, sir," said the auctioneer timidly. "Perhaps four, five years? That's my best estimate. If she didn't sell today, I was just going to have her drowned."

"Under my nose, all that time…" Du Jun continued to murmur, now rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Alright, I've seen enough. I'll take her."

The other man flinched slightly. "Her? Are you sure, sir?" he asked. "Because I've got a lovely refugee girl I've been saving for you. Bit of Water Tribe blood, I think, very exotic…"

Du Jun held up a calloused hand.

"I'm not paying you to question me," he responded, his voice hard. "I'm paying you to obey. Are we understood?"

The auctioneer blanched and nodded, slowly. Then he extracted a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackles around her ankles with one, fluid motion.

The girl, for her part, still couldn't quite believe what'd just happened. She'd heard of Du Jun, of course; all her owners up to this point, after all, had been soldiers under his command. But to be claimed by the man himself…

Not that she had much an opportunity to think about it, of course. The warlord wasted no time in grabbing her by the upper arm and forcibly dragging her behind him.

"Those idiots…" he said under his breath as they walked, just loud enough that she could hear. "They had no idea what they had. You're gonna make me a very happy man, girl."

She chanced a single glance backward, before he pulled her into a banged-up Satomobile and locked the door.

Behind her, the auction continued on without delay.

[-]

Du Jun's estate was the largest building for miles around, and not by an inconsiderable margin.

Massive and sprawling, it took up an entire hilltop overlooking the village he controlled, visible from just about anywhere in his territory and towering over each and every one of "his" citizens. It'd been a daily sight for the girl, for as long as she could remember, but she'd never imagined actually entering it…

Yet as impressive as it was from a distance, as she approached closer the mansion seemed to take on a rather…different character. The warlord clearly put little effort into maintenance or upkeep, as overgrown weeds surrounded his property and cracks lined his walls, showing their age.

He hadn't built this place, after all. Like everything else he owned…he'd simply swooped in and conquered.

The dual-nature of the manor only became more pronounced as they entered it.

Du Jun was an avid hunter, and his walls were lined with trophies. Sabre-toothed moose-lion antlers, komodo rhino tusks, and tiger-shark teeth were just a few of his more…impressive acquisitions, as well as a veritable menagerie of stuffed beasts, both large and small. She thought she even recognized the horns and skinned furs of a sky bison, meaning he had little issue trafficking in illegal goods.

But then, she supposed, she was rather obvious proof of that.

A few of the trophies might've made for an appealing atmosphere, but there were so many that the effect turned right around and became disturbing. Admittedly, the girl didn't have a lot of experience with aesthetic design, but her first impression was that the environment seriously creeped her out.

Mind, it didn't creep her out nearly half as much as what those walls contained.

It was immediately obvious, as Du Jun dragged her through his estate, that she was far from the only slave kept here. She counted at least a dozen as they passed by, cooking or cleaning or simply standing around, awaiting orders.

Each of the slaves she saw bore a few similarities. All were female, and none appeared over the age of twenty or so. Their clothing differed in color and pattern, but none of them were wearing very much of it. Most all of them had at least a few bruises, covered up partially but not entirely by makeup.

And not one of them looked like they'd experienced anything approaching a genuine smile in years.

"These'll be your quarters, girl," grunted the warlord, yanking open a small room the size of a broom closet and tossing her inside. "I've gotta go get some things prepared. Head up to the second floor and ask for Noudai. She'll get you cleaned up and in some decent clothes."

He waited a single second, during which she did nothing but stare up at him with small, amber eyes, before slapping her hard across the face.

It was the sort of strike that promised to be the first of many.

"Hurry up!" he shouted, grabbing her by the throat. "You may be more valuable than most, but I've no patience for a slave who won't do what she's told. If there's one thing I'll make sure to teach you, it's to know your place."

Du Jun dropped her to the ground and left it at that, storming away to his private study.

[-]

Moving through the mansion on her own was, if anything, even more surreal than being yanked through it by Du Jun. Going at her own pace, everything seemed to loom quite a bit bigger than it had a few moments ago, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

None of her fellow slaves stopped to offer more than a single, lingering glance as she passed, despite the fact that she was a naked little girl covered up and down with burn scars. She supposed they'd all long since learned not to ask questions.

She found the stairs to be particularly daunting, towering over her and leading toward places unknown. In the semi-darkness Du Jun kept his entire estate in, it looked almost like an enormous maw, ready to swallow her whole.

Taking them one at a time with tiny, hesitant footsteps, she eventually managed to make her way up to the next floor. In a trembling voice, she asked the first slave she saw – a teenager with long bangs in a skimpy red robe – where she might be able to find Noudai.

The slave gestured lazily to a room at the far end of the hall, and then headed off on her way without a single word. She had the same sort of throat-scar as her predecessor at the auction, so the younger girl wondered briefly whether she even could've responded to her.

Noudai, as it turned out, was a woman of perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age; older than most here, but still incredibly young and attractive. She was more conservatively dressed than the last slave, though that wasn't exactly saying much, in a light violet shawl and skirt.

When the young girl entered her chambers, Noudai's expression betrayed not even the slightest hint of surprise. The look in her eyes was obvious: this was a scene she'd seen far more than she could count.

"Oh, spirits, you're so young…" she murmured, her voice remarkably hoarse and raspy for her age. "I always hate it when he takes the young ones. Do you have a name, dear?"

The younger slave slowly shook her head.

"We'll come up with one, child. Something nice and sweet," said Noudai. Despite the roughness of her tones, it was perhaps the most tender way anyone had spoken to the girl in her entire life. "But first, let's get you cleaned up. Come now."

The next half-hour was spent in a bathroom larger than some of the houses she'd been kept in, as Noudai systematically worked to scrub away eight years of dirt and grime from the firebender's tiny body. She could tell Noudai was trying to be gentle around her scars, but there were so many of them that it was more or less impossible.

She just winced and bore it. She'd endured far worse over the years.

"You have such pretty hair," Noudai told her after a while, as she ran through it with a heavy brush. Having never been cut even once, it was a wild and tangled mane, strewn with detritus from the forest.

Her last owner had kept her chained-up outside, like an animal.

"You…too…" mumbled the girl, trembling. She was staring forward with dull, unfocused eyes, but she could still see Noudai in a nearby mirror. Even with her bruises and saddened expression, she was undeniably breathtaking.

The older slave looked simultaneously touched and off-put by the compliment. "So you have a voice after all. It's a lovely one," she said quietly. "The Lord has a thing about voices. I wish I could say that will save you some pain, but…"

She shook her head, as if reconsidering how much else she should share.

"Well, I suppose that, all things considered, it's…better than being put to the fields right away," Noudai continued after a moment, sighing heavily. "That's where he puts the girls he tires of. The ones he thinks are too old, too ugly, too…broken…"

The older slave suddenly reached forward and held her close in a warm, gentle embrace. This was also something the girl very much wasn't used to.

"I won't let that happen to you, though," Noudai attempted to assure her. "It's too late for me, and…well, I'd rather you'd never come to this horrible place at all. But since we're stuck here, we'll make the most of it. I promise you."

The girl wasn't sure if she believed her. She'd heard promises before, mostly from her masters. They never lasted.

"Now, about what I said before…" said Noudai as she extracted the firebender from the tub and slowly, carefully, began to dry her off. "For a name…how does P'Li sound to you, dear?"

Tiny amber eyes rose to meet dazzling green ones, blinking uncomprehendingly.

"It was the name of a child I…attempted…to bear a year ago," she explained through hot, stinging tears. Her voice, already weak, was suddenly close to breaking. "The Lord does not care for babies."

She swallowed, hard. "But if you don't like it, you can always…" she started to add, but she was interrupted by the child rushing forward and seizing her about the midsection.

"I'll do it…" she choked out, crying openly as well. That was a rare thing – ordinarily, numbness was her body's first response, not tears. "I'll be P'Li. That's my name."

The realization hit the firebender like a speeding Satomobile.

"I…have a name…" she said, her eyes wide. "I have a name…"

Noudai continued to hold her for some time.

[-]

After about a week at Du Jun's estate, P'Li had begun to come to terms with exactly how things worked around here.

Most of the household duties were cycled between the slaves on a set rotation, purportedly to keep things "interesting." One week, a given slave might help prepare his meals, or clean his trophies until they sparkled. The next, they'd be confined to his quarters for days on end, dedicated solely for his own…use.

P'Li, however, was only rarely ordered to perform such "normal" chores. Instead, she trained.

Her teacher, Hide, was a mercenary with a long history of bad luck. After dropping out of Fire Nation Preparatory Academy (he never shared the specifics, save for occasional grousing about "that girlfriend-stealing brat with a headband"), he'd joined the army at the age of sixteen…

Just in time to be deployed onto an airship during Sozin's Comet. On his very first mission.

Needless to say, his military career hadn't lasted long. His parents had been hardcore opponents of the new regime, with his father an active member of the New Ozai Society in its early days. Fire Lord Zuko had made it a policy not to punish children for their parents' associations – a significant reversal from tradition – but Hide had seen little future in continuing to serve an "usurper," and he'd mustered out less than a year later.

He'd been far from the only one; desertions from the Fire Nation military had skyrocketed after Zuko took the throne. Hundreds of young men and women, self-branded as ardent loyalists, departed for what they hoped to be warmer pastures in the colonies or outlying islands, renting out their skills at bending or blade to the highest bidder.

Those mercenaries today made up a good portion of Du Jun's private army, despite that he was both an Earth Kingdom national and a decade younger than most of them. Hide himself was now a wizened sixty-five, his boyish good looks long since faded to wrinkles and liver spots.

It was all the stranger, then, that he still seemed to act like a petulant teenager.

"Listen up, girlie. I heard you're from the colonies, so I'll say this slowly," said the old master, glaring at her with contempt he didn't even bother to disguise. "You…are…a piece of trash. I'm your only ticket to ever being more than that. Don't forget it."

P'Li might've pointed out the United Republic hadn't been referred to as "the colonies" in over fifty years. But her barb probably would've rang somewhat hollow, given that he was currently grinding her skull into the dirt with his boot.

"Now, get up. And get it right this time!" he shouted, hauling her up by the hair and forcing her back into a stance.

The young slave girl, it would come to transpire, was in fact a firebender – and not an untalented one, at that. This was in spite of her teacher rather than because of him, as it soon became clear that he was truly awful at this, acting more the part of schoolyard bully than genuine instructor.

Rather than actually demonstrating the moves or at least explaining the theory, Hide preferred to insult and cajole her, mixing nearly constant verbal abuse with a hefty dose of physical. Over the next few weeks, P'Li got bruised up worse than she'd ever been in her life.

And that included her third master, an earthbender who'd regularly tied her up and tossed rocks at her for kicks.

Still, her improvement was rapid and remarkable, so she supposed he must've been doing something right. As weeks stretched into months, P'Li went from having no control over her bending whatsoever to tossing flames around in grand, sweeping arcs, her abilities far exceeding the mediocre skills of her mentor.

Soon enough, the older slaves who worked Du Jun's fields learned to duck and take shelter whenever Hide dragged her outside to practice.

Her regimen only became more and more grueling as she improved, however. Even if he'd long since run out of new things to teach her, Hide was clearly under his lord's orders to push her further to the limit each time, until the line between abusive teaching methods and outright torture became utterly blurred.

With Du Jun's permission, Hide locked her in a contraption that'd freeze her to death if she didn't constantly maintain her body temperature. He tossed her into a lake weighed down by heavy iron chains, so that the only way to avoid drowning was by superheating and shattering the metal. He surrounded her in a slowly shrinking ring of fire, forcing her to put all her energy into pushing back the encroaching wall of death.

And that was just the first day.

Still, no matter what fresh torment her teacher managed to come up with, P'Li took it all in silent dignity. She could see no other choice.

The one thing she always found herself wondering – in those rare moments of respite, between countless training sessions that left her so exhausted she could hardly form words – was why the warlord had her training so hard. He'd never bothered to explain, and she doubted Hide even knew. The greedy firebender just did what his lord paid him to.

She suspected, perhaps, that it might have something to do with her explosions. They'd stayed away from the topic during their training, but it was clear her teacher wasn't capable of it. None of Du Jun's firebenders seemed to be.

P'Li wound up getting her answer sooner than she'd expected…

And she'd spend a good portion of her life wishing she hadn't.

[-]

Despite seeing him nearly daily, P'Li had barely heard a word out of her master since the day she'd come into his possession.

Each and every training session, he would be there without fail, glaring at her coldly and silently judging. Beyond that, however, he left oversight entirely up to Hide's…less-than-tender mercies.

But as her progress with Hide began to slow, the warlord began to take more and more of an active interest. She was rapidly approaching the ceiling of what the old man could teach her, and all three of them knew it – even if they weren't about to say it out loud.

"My scouts say there's a family from Omashu vacationing out near the river. 'Getting back to nature,' or some garbage like that," Du Jun said one day to his mercenary, as the setting sun marked the end to yet another day of training. "Kill the father, bring the mother and daughters to me."

"Err…My Lord, don't you still need me to…?" Hide asked carefully, gesturing awkwardly to P'Li in lieu of finishing his sentence.

The slave girl barely heard him, in any event; she was sprawled out on the ground and seconds away from passing out, after keeping the same enormous flame alight for more than twelve hours.

Du Jun held up a meaty hand. "I will be taking care of the girl's training from now on," he replied, his eyes narrowed in an imperious glare. "Personally."

Hide seemed momentarily conflicted, but the look in his lord's eyes brooked no room for argument.

"Make no mistake, Hide. This isn't a punishment. You've done quite well, as a matter of fact," added the warlord. "This next stage is simply too important to leave to anyone else."

Her teacher swallowed and nodded hastily; while Du Jun's tone was outwardly cool and collected, there was an edge to it that nobody in their right mind would dare to test.

Hide left it at that, bowing low and setting off in the direction of the river. The warlord waited until he vanished from sight before grasping P'Li by the arm and tossing her into the air like a ragdoll.

"Easy part's over, girl," he said coldly. "What you gotta learn next, no one can teach you. But that's no excuse. You're gonna learn it, and you're gonna use it the way I tell you to. Don't think you wanna find out what happens to slaves who…disappoint me."

Then, without any further warning, he extracted an arrow from the heavy-looking quiver across his back and stabbed her through the shoulder.

That was the final limit her silence could withstand. P'Li screamed, wildly and helplessly, as she thrashed about in the dirt and mud. But Du Jun straddled her, keeping her pinned to the ground, blood trickling from her wound.

He cupped her cheeks with his hand and forced her to meet his gaze, their faces just a foot apart.

"Consider that a taste," he murmured, his hot, vile breath washing over her face and stinging her eyes. He'd clearly been drinking recently. "Of what'll happen if you fail to please me. Anyway, just remember this."

The warlord leaned down a little and licked a bit of the blood streaming out of her shoulder, the arrow still wedged in the midst of it. She suppressed a mixture of a shudder and a wince as the pain briefly spiked.

"You belong to me, girl," continued Du Jun, his voice now an ugly rasp. "You don't obey me to get rewarded, or to avoid punishment. You obey, because that's just what you are. And what you always will be. A slave. My slave."

Suddenly, as quickly as he'd seized upon her, he was back to his feet. P'Li didn't move from her position.

"Go get that taken care of. One of the girls who works the fields used to be a healer for that swamp tribe," he said, his face twisting into a cruel sort of leer as he did. "We start tomorrow at dawn."

[-]

"I don't…I don't understand, Master…" P'Li admitted in a tiny voice, knowing what was coming next.

Sure enough, Du Jun struck her hard across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the ground. The slap was almost perfunctory, with little emotion behind it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

The two of them were the only ones out here right now, in a secluded part of the forest some distance from the village, beyond a handful of goons for "security." They were certainly the only ones allowed to speak, however – and as he'd just made crystal clear, even including her in that was pushing it.

"What, you want this non-bender to sit down and explain it to you?" asked the warlord, punctuating his point with a deep, snorting laugh. "Combustionbenders come around maybe once or twice in a generation, and they're born, not made. My father was killed by an assassin with the power; that's how I know how deadly it can be. But I don't understand it, any more than you understand being anything but a useless, wretched waste of space."

"I'm trying, okay?" she said in her tiny voice, shrinking back instinctually out of fear of another blow. "It just doesn't…it doesn't make sense, the way other firebending does…"

"You used to do it all the time. Your scars prove that much," responded Du Jun, gesturing crudely at her bare, and heavily burned, midriff. The clothes he'd given her covered far less than most outfits an eight-year-old might wear, and she was acutely aware of it. "By the spirits, you did it the day I bought your ungrateful ass."

"Yes Master, but I can't…I can't control it!" she exclaimed, trying to will the stutter out of her voice and failing miserably. She'd be beaten soon, far worse this time, if she couldn't come up with a better excuse. "Every time I try to make it come out, I…I think about what happened last time, and…"

"So that's it. You're scared," the warlord cut her off, leaning into her personal space again. He did that often. "The memory of blowing yourself up appears in your mind, and you unconsciously hold back. Well, I've got a solution."

Then, he grabbed her by the throat with one hand, and slowly began to squeeze.

"Think about what you're really afraid of," he said, his grip tightening a little bit more with each word. "A few more little burns…or me?"

His eyes flicked toward her bandaged shoulder, and hers followed. Despite the waterbending healing, that wound was in the process of leaving a scar worse than any of her burn marks.

Unable to speak, she nodded frantically, hoping he would accept that as a response. Du Jun, for his part, merely glared at her with piercing, dirt-brown eyes. Then, without a word, he released her.

P'Li sputtered and coughed, struggling to catch her breath, but there was no hint of sympathy whatsoever across her owner's face.

"The one thing I do know is this," he added after a little while, once she'd managed to pull herself back to her feet. "It seems like it's a lot easier with a focal point. The assassin I was talking about, he…"

Suddenly, the warlord stopped speaking, as if realizing something. Then, he beckoned to a couple of his guards.

"Go grab Ci Ceng," he ordered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his home. "I have an idea."

[-]

Most of Du Jun's slaves were, intentionally, women with very little connection to the world, outside their own towns or villages. Nobodies, who wouldn't be missed if kidnapped.

There were a handful of exceptions, however, and Ci Ceng was one of them. A famed artist from Ba Sing Se, she'd made the same mistake as that poor family Hide had been sent after – most of whom now belonged to the elderly firebender, as a reward for his moderate success as a teacher – and ventured too close to Du Jun's territory on a trip to "find herself."

Like P'Li, her skills enabled her to escape the majority of the physical chores, but the tradeoff was that those skills were turned to the warlord's benefit alone.

Constantly, without more than the barest modicum of rest, she was forced to churn out paintings and sculptures to adorn the estate, nestled haphazardly between or around his numerous trophies. Not being an especially erudite patron of the arts, Du Jun most commonly demanded depictions of himself – usually in varying states of undress.

It made walking through the halls even less comfortable than it already was.

Today, however, her talents were being turned toward an entirely different direction.

"Apologies, Master, but this is…really not my area of expertise…" said the young artist. P'Li knew what was coming, and winced preemptively.

And indeed, it became clear rather quickly that Ci Ceng's artistic abilities would no more spare her from the warlord's wrath than P'Li's bending. If anything, he was actually rougher with the elder slave, smacking her to the ground and following up with a few kicks to the gut for good measure.

"You paint on walls and paper, right?" he demanded of her, raising his foot again threateningly. "You can paint on skin, too."

"There's a lot more to tattooing than just…" Ci Ceng started to reply, but she stopped when she got a better look at her owner's eyes. She swallowed, hard. "I mean…of course, I'll do it for you, Master. I thank you for the generous opportunity."

"That's better," said the warlord, smirking in self-satisfaction as he removed his foot and allowed her to dust herself off. "Now, what do you need?"

"Dye from the henna plant would probably be the most effective. And some sterile needles, of course," the artist mused in a quiet voice, her demeanor briefly shifting back to the professional she'd once been. "The tricky thing will be getting the tattoo to function properly as a channel for chi. I'll need a firebender to consult with, for sure. Preferably one experienced in spiritual matters."

"Got a couple shamans in my army. Rejects who couldn't hack it as Fire Sages," Du Jun told her, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I'll send for them now."

P'Li, however, hadn't heard anything past the word "needles." She'd seen tattoos, of course – they weren't exactly uncommon amongst the warlord's men – but she'd never given much thought to how they were actually made.

It seemed silly, given everything else she'd been through so far, but she couldn't help but cringe in fear as she imagined the process. Any kind of piercing sensation instantly provoked flashbacks to the wound in her shoulder.

The arrow certainly hadn't resulted in the worst of her scars, but she thought it might well be the most painful. If only for what it represented.

"Oh, and we'll need something like shirshu venom, of course," added Ci Ceng after a moment. "A numbing agent, so she won't feel it when we do the operation."

Du Jun, however, shook his head slowly, his eyes boring unblinkingly into P'Li's.

"That won't be necessary," he said, his lips twisted into a tight leer. "Pain is useful. Pain teaches lessons."

And with that, he grasped P'Li by the forehead, and slammed her headfirst into the ground.

"Now, slave…" he whispered, his head turned to Ci Ceng's horrified face even as he rubbed P'Li's across the rough tiles. She could taste her own blood.

"Mark her as mine."

[-]

The operation was agony.

With nothing to numb her skin or relax her muscles, P'Li felt every single jab of the needle with full and utter acuity, and she clenched her teeth against each other in a desperate struggle not to scream.

Du Jun was watching from just a few feet away, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

It didn't help that Ci Ceng was an amateur at this, using techniques and materials she'd never even touched before. She murmured apologies to P'Li throughout, clearly mortified that she was being forced to do this to a child…

But that hardly made it hurt any less.

All told, P'Li hadn't the slightest idea how long the session wound up lasting. Her best guess was a few hours, but as far as her mind was concerned it might as well have been an eternity. The fragile organ had responded to the unceasing, abominable pain by more or less shutting down, and in the aftermath she was left lethargic and unresponsive.

They were talking now, the artist and the shamans. Dimly, she thought it might be something about the pattern. About how "the eye" was the ideal conduit for the Light Chakra, the mind's center of insight.

Or something like that. She didn't really know. Right now, she didn't particularly care.

But she did understand the words "maybe four or five more sessions."

She nearly vomited right then and there.

That was how the next month or so had unfolded. Upon the advice of the healer who'd treated her shoulder, Ci Ceng waited a week between each treatment, giving her skin time to heal before it was tormented anew. She'd actually recommended two or three, but Du Jun was impatient.

He wanted his…well, whatever this was turning her into.

As the weeks progressed, P'Li watched on in the mirror as the tattoo slowly began to take shape. An eye it was indeed, though none like she'd ever seen before. It was tall and slanted, its iris an even deeper shade of red than her own, natural ones. A small, inlet pair of circles rested at its bottom tip, and to each side were six hazy, wavelike lines.

The lines, reminiscent of spreading flames, underscored the connection to her element, but it was the number she knew had been chosen most carefully. Six was Du Jun's favorite number, and everything from his army to his choice of bed partners was organized with that in mind.

This mark…it was a part of her now. Just as permanent as her scars. Perhaps even more so, because no amount of clothing would ever be able to hide it from view. She'd be displaying it to the world, her first and last feature of note, until the day she died.

Binding her to her master. Forever.

By the point of the final operation, P'Li wished she could say she'd become used to the pain. Well…she was used to all pain, in a general sense; she'd never known anything else to compare it to.

But that didn't make any individual experience any easier to withstand. Pain was pain.

Still, she resisted, as she always did, the temptation to cry out. It only encouraged Du Jun when she appeared weak in front of him, and beatings were always sure to follow.

Of course…they were even more likely when she appeared strong in front of him. This was a game she'd never been able to win.

And one she very much doubted she ever would.

Still, all her weeks of holding steadfast against this torture – and, truth be told, a lifetime of doing the same – were beginning to take their toll. As Ci Ceng placed the finished touches on her third eye's pitch-black pupil, P'Li found herself clenching her fists so hard that her misshapen fingernails drew blood.

It was all too much. Too much pain, too much despair, too much…too much energy, bubbling up from just below the surface, threatening to burst…

She lost control.

The energy released all at once, the moment the tattoo was complete. The sensation was new, utterly unlike the explosions she'd generated before. Where previously they'd radiated outward, completely unpredictable in size or intensity, this blast fired along a straight line and detonated some distance away, sparing her from its effects.

But only her.

P'Li looked on, made speechless by sheer horror, at what remained of Ci Ceng. The artist had been directly in the path of the shot, and experienced the full brunt of the explosion. When the smoke cleared, little was left but a great deal of red.

On either side, the shamans struggled to their feet, gasping and screeching in pain. One was covered in severe burns, as bad as the worst of P'Li's. The other was missing an arm.

Truthfully, P'Li wouldn't have been able to summon much guilt over the men's fate if she'd tried, but Ci Ceng was another story. As much pain as she'd caused her over the last several weeks, P'Li recognized in the back of her mind that it wasn't her fault. They were both in the same, sinking boat.

Or had been, at least, until this moment.

However, even as P'Li struggled to put two coherent thoughts together, overwhelmed by the nauseating scene before her, Du Jun – who'd been watching from behind the firebender and, therefore, escaped her unintentional slaughter – clapped his hands together and loosed a sharp bark of a laugh.

He wasn't put off at all by the blood and offal that clung to his floor and walls. On the contrary, he looked ecstatic.

"That's it, that's it!" he exclaimed jovially, grabbing P'Li by the shoulder and pulling her close. It was one of the only times she'd ever been touched by him without a beating swiftly following.

She couldn't help but notice, however, that he was forcing her head to face away from him throughout.

"Pack your things, girlie," he said, laughing at his own, cruel joke. It wasn't like she had any things to pack. "We're going on a little trip."

[-]

P'Li wasn't sure where they were going, and she'd long since learned better than to ask.

They'd left the village three days ago, just the two of them – herself and Lord Du Jun. That, in itself, was unusual. Nearly everywhere he went, it was with at least two others for protection, and if anything he tended to increase that number when accompanying P'Li.

Now they were venturing alone, through woods with which the young girl was completely unfamiliar, for reasons she couldn't even begin to guess.

Still, she was finding it difficult to muster very much curiosity. Her mind, as they traveled over rough terrain by Satomobile and even rougher terrain by foot, was decidedly elsewhere.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Ci Ceng – the horrific expression she'd worn in her final seconds of life, and the gutwrenching sight left in the aftermath. For as long as she could remember, P'Li had never experienced anything that might be called a pleasant dream, but she knew immediately that this would haunt her nightmares until her dying day.

It didn't help that Du Jun kept forcing them to stop periodically, in order to test out her abilities a little more. Every explosion was a reminder of what the last had done…and what it'd cost.

But the warlord clearly didn't care. All he wanted to see was her skills improving – so that's what she gave him.

Each shot she fired off made the next just a little easier. She wasn't sure she wanted it to be easier, but it wasn't like she had much of a say in the matter.

When they finally reached their destination, nearly a week had passed in the course of their journey. P'Li was tired, and cold, and hungry, surviving only on the scraps her master deigned to throw to her, and so it took her a moment to realize said master was speaking to her.

"…has the stones to move into my territory? A lesson needs to be taught," was what she heard when she started tuning in, as Du Jun gestured toward a man practicing combat earthbending in a nearby field. Hidden between the nearby trees, they were practically invisible to him.

P'Li realized, with a jolt, that he was staring at her impatiently, as if expecting something.

"Well? I won't ask twice," he growled. "Get it over with, already."

"You…You want me to…" she said, her lip trembling. She hadn't caught everything, but she had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what he was asking.

"Spirits, you're stupid. Why did you think I spent all that time and money getting you trained?" demanded the warlord. "You are my weapon, girlie. You always have been. Now…time to fire."

P'Li looked over at the earthbender again. She hadn't the slightest idea who he was, or what kind of position he held. She didn't even know what he'd done to arouse Du Jun's ire in the first place, beyond some vague words she'd half-listened to about "territory."

She didn't know any of these things.

And still, they amounted to nothing more than a single second of hesitation before she fired.

Her ability, her "gift," meant that the battle was over before it'd truly begun. The unknown earthbender was blown apart in an instant, and where so recently there had been a man, now there was merely a charred mass of body parts strewn across a field.

It was her first intentional kill. Her first murder.

And unlike with Ci Ceng…she felt nothing.

The thought disturbed her slightly, but it was true. It was also almost certainly intentional. Du Jun had given her so few details, hidden the purpose of their venture until this very moment, to all but ensure she'd feel no guilt when the time came.

Absent any other information, her mind had defaulted to the one, single truth more deeply ingrained in it than any other: that she was a slave, and he was her master.

"I think that sent the message," said Du Jun, grinning as a great cry of alarm began to spread throughout the nearby village. Someone in the distance must've noticed the explosion. "Come along."

Once again, P'Li didn't hesitate. However she felt about it, she knew her place.

He gave the orders.

And she obeyed.

[-]

It wasn't long before these "outings" became a regular occurrence.

Du Jun was the sort of man who'd made a lot of enemies throughout his lifetime; he kept a list of them. And now that he had a reliable way to cull that list down to a more manageable number…he was taking full advantage of the opportunity.

Most were fellow warlords or mercenaries who'd crossed him in some way, or wealthy individuals whose treasure and women he wished to plunder. He treated the two virtually interchangeably.

P'Li's role was pretty much the same, in any event. He'd bring her close enough to the target to fire, and she'd fulfill her role.

The element of surprise was often useful, but rarely necessary. Armor, shields, and fortifications all folded like paper against her combustionbending – as she now knew it to be called. And all other forms of bending she encountered could do little more than purchase a few extra seconds, before hers tore them to shreds.

Her skills improved rapidly, as the number of bodies she'd left behind steadily piled up. Targets who hid behind one of the few materials that did block her attacks – typically some kind of thick, heavy metal – only managed to teach her to how to curve her shots. Targets who tried to strike back during the brief span between each blast only made her to realize she had no trouble using regular firebending at the same time.

In time, the assignments became more elaborate. The shamans who'd advised in the creation of her tattoo developed a salve that hid it from view, until the very moment she decided to use it.

Du Jun's personal little killing machine was a nine-year-old girl, and the warlord took full advantage of that fact. More than once, a law enforcement officer or bounty hunter who'd sniffed a little too close for comfort had been approached by an unassuming child, turned their back to her…and died in an instant.

Once, he'd even assigned her to infiltrate a school in Garsai, where the officer who'd discharged him from the Earth Kingdom military now worked as a teacher. Just to be on the safe side, she'd been ordered to go ahead and blow up the entire building.

The one constant factor was that Lord Du Jun himself was always present at her side – and typically, no others. P'Li somehow doubted that was a coincidence. She may have learnt firebending under Hide, and received her tattoo from Ci Ceng, but the warlord had been there throughout, watching silently.

Clearly, he didn't trust anyone else to be her "handler." One way or another, he wanted her to associate his face with all the suffering she'd incurred since becoming his slave, and thus be cowed into blind obedience simply from his presence.

Unfortunately, knowing what he was doing didn't make it any less effective.

He had other ways to reinforce the conditioning, as well. Whenever they traveled, just the two of them, it was expected that she'd take care of…well, virtually everything, apart from driving. The household chores she'd largely been given a reprieve on, in favor of training, became her entire world for days at a time, as she prepared his meals and ensured his armor, bow, and Satomobile gleamed like new.

And as for his…other needs…

Well, it hadn't taken long for him to decide that, in the absence of the female attentions he'd become accustomed to at home, that she would "do" in a pinch.

She'd been…touched before, by several of her previous masters, but her petite frame and scarred body had usually kept them from going farther. Du Jun, however, was unfazed.

His calloused hands mashed at her barely formed breasts with all the roughness that he attacked Noudai's enormous ones, and when he finally "took" her, he showed no more gentleness or care than he would toward someone twice her size.

There was no describing the pain of it all – even for her, a person who'd known virtually nothing but pain. She felt like she was being ripped in two, every single moment, except it didn't stop. It just got worse, and worse, and worse. She would've blacked out, if she could, just to bring an end to the suffering, but the feeling of violation was so horrendous she doubted she'd ever felt more awake.

No pleasure whatsoever was derived from the act; certainly not for her and, she suspected, very little for him either. He had no shortage of older slaves for that sort of thing.

No…this was about control, not sex. About reminding her, in the most deeply scarring way possible, of their respective places in the world.

She wished she could say it wasn't working.

P'Li would look back on those moments, many years later, and wonder why her younger self had never thought of running. Her hesitance made sense back at Du Jun's estate; even if she'd managed to escape him, she would've been deep in the midst of his territory, surrounded by dozens of his loyal men. She'd never get out alive.

But during their "hunting trips," it was just the two of them. She was vastly more powerful than her master, and the nature of her ability made sneak-attacks simple and quick. By necessity, many of their missions put her close to towns and villages she could easily blend into, if she so chose.

The truth of the matter was that she probably could've escaped any time she wanted to. It would've been easy.

Yet the thought never even occurred to her. In nine years of life, she had no memories of freedom; no frame of reference to even comprehend such a thing existed. It would've been like expecting someone who'd never seen the ocean before to immediately begin swimming in it.

He didn't need to shackle her body if he could shackle her mind. And hers had already come that way.

She served her master faithfully, obediently, and without question.

Because that was all she knew how to do.

[-]

It'd started off as a mission like any other.

P'Li was older, now, though still a child – having recently attained the age of twelve. Well…she thought it was recent, at least. It wasn't like she actually knew her birthday.

In any event, she'd spent the intervening years honing her skills as Du Jun's greatest weapon. She took no pride in the position, but no shame either.

When she worked, it was important to feel nothing.

By now, the killings were essentially effortless. All she needed was a nudge in the right direction, a name or a face, and she'd take care of the rest. She doubted her master even needed to be there half the time, though of course he always was. He never dropped his guard for a second around her.

Resignation was, in some ways, a far more powerful motivator than acceptance. P'Li knew who she was, what she was – and she'd been conditioned quite thoroughly to understand she'd never have anything better.

If this was to be her lot in life, she supposed she might as well at least be good at it.

Dozens, hundreds of corpses lay behind her now; more than she could count. Which wasn't saying much, since she could no more count than she could read or write. Regardless, the core of the matter was there were few who could stand against her for longer than a second or two.

And throughout it all, she continued to serve her lord in any and every way he desired. He'd begun taking her to his bedroom even at home, using his other slaves to "train" her more thoroughly.

Clearly, he had high hopes for her…potential…a few more years down the road.

Living weapon, chef, housekeeper, sex slave – she was the full package, and they both knew it. And she improved more and more at every one of those roles, with each passing day. She looked into Du Jun's eyes, and she could see he was looking forward to the woman she'd soon become.

She had a heavy suspicion that once that occurred, she'd rapidly become one of his "favorites," in more ways than one.

In any event, that was what'd been occupying her mind as they journeyed to a bar in the Senlin Forest. According to one of the warlord's scouts, the once-legendary bounty hunter June, now in her eighties, had recently been brought out of quiet retirement by Ci Ceng's brother.

While the Ba Sing Se police and the Dai Li had been content to drop the case after a few weeks, content with assuming she'd simply run off somewhere, her brother hadn't been satisfied by that explanation. And clearly, neither had June.

She was using this bar, a favorite haunt before she'd given up drinking, as a hideout while she followed the trail of Ci Ceng's disappearance. And with her newest shirshu companion – granddaughter of the original – there was a very real chance she might stumble across the truth.

While Du Jun didn't especially fear an elderly, non-bender woman, June had friends in high places; the former Fire Lord, for example, had retained her more than once in his youth. She was, undoubtedly, a dangerous woman to have as an enemy.

That was where P'Li came in.

She was wearing the concealer now, so that she could more convincingly pull off "innocent little girl lost in the woods." With any luck, that'd be enough to get her into the bar and within striking distance of June…

At which point, it'd already be over.

Du Jun, meanwhile, was hidden amongst the branches, bow drawn to its fullest extent. He didn't ordinarily do more than supervise these little "excursions," but he clearly wasn't leaving this one up to chance.

The moment she entered the bar, P'Li could sense that something was wrong. At this time of the night, she'd have expected to see a fair number of patrons, but the place was virtually deserted. There was only a single cloaked figure sipping from a tall glass of water at the bar, and a large stack of hay to their side.

P'Li had just enough time to marvel at the strangeness of the whole scene before a barbed tongue shot out from the hay, striking her across her midriff. The toxin began its work immediately, as the young firebender felt her entire body go completely numb, before pitching forward and collapsing onto the wooden floor.

Her neck now twisted at an awkward angle, P'Li watched with difficulty as the figure tossed away their cloak. The woman underneath, with her wrinkled face and heavy makeup, could only be June.

"Heard the rumors that Du Jun's personal killing machine was a little girl," she said as she advanced. "Wasn't sure I believed 'em until now…but I couldn't afford not to plan for it, either."

"H…How…?" was all P'Li managed to utter, through paralyzed lips.

She tried to fire a blast while June was still far enough away, but her muscles refused to cooperate. Evidently, something in the venom impeded the normal flow of her chi.

"Scara here got your scent after your last kill," replied the bounty hunter, reaching into the pile of hay and slowly extracted her enormous pet shirshu, petting her softly across the snout. "I knew you were coming after me before you did. Now…you're gonna tell me where Ci Ceng is. I know he has her."

Despite being unable to move anything but her eyes, P'Li still managed to look askance.

"…I see," said June after a moment, her tone muted. "Well, that probably wipes out my payment for this job."

She managed a brief, humorless chuckle at her own skewed priorities.

"I'm curious, sweetheart…" she eventually added, now bending down to look P'Li in the eyes. "Did you do it?"

Her voice was pleasant, conversational, but there was an edge to it the firebender picked up on immediately. She couldn't nod or shake her head, and she couldn't think of anything she could say, so all that came out was a vaguely affirmative grunt.

The irony. She was being brought to task for the one death she hadn't meant to cause.

"You know, you're so young," whispered June, her voice sympathetic. That edge, however, remained. "But then, I've met a lot of dangerous young people in my time."

A heavy knife slipped out of the bounty hunter's sleeve, with all the reflexes of a woman a quarter her age.

"I don't want to hurt you. You look like you've been hurt enough as it is," she continued, bending down over P'Li and examining the bruises on her face. Reminders of the last time she'd asked for more information about a target, and her master had interpreted it as backtalk. "But I know what you've done. Or at least, I've got some pretty good suspicions. The trail was there…I just had to follow it."

June paused, carefully examining the scars visible through the girl's scant attire. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, less harsh.

"I've solved too many problems through violence and killing. I've got a bad feeling we have that in common," she said. "Please, give me a reason I shouldn't do the same right now. Why I shouldn't end all this madness while I have the chance."

Again, P'Li didn't have anything to say. What could she say?

"When I started off on this job, I had no idea how bad things had gotten around here," the bounty hunter went on, her tones sad and reflective. "Everyone's so obsessed with making things shiny and new that they miss all the people that get left behind. There's no progress out here, no 'glorious future.' Just thugs like your boss, making everyone else suffer."

"Not 'boss.' Master," said a very low, very familiar voice.

The arrow sailed through the window from point-blank range, shattering the glass and impacting with the speed of a messenger hawk. It struck neither June nor her shirshu, however.

Instead, it sank directly into P'Li's left leg.

The pain was excruciating, but that was clearly a matter of intent rather than accident. It jolted her paralyzed nerves back to activity in an instant, and her chi responded entirely out of instinct: flowing onward and outward through its suddenly cleared pathways, seeking the nearest point of release.

Half a second later, June and Scara were blown to smithereens.

P'Li looked up at her owner as he climbed through the broken window, heavy bow hanging limply from his hand. For a moment, despite everything, her eyes shined with something like gratitude.

That ended quickly, as he struck her so hard she sailed halfway across the bar.

"You pathetic, useless, worthless piece of gutter trash!" he roared, absolute fury rippling across his weathered face. "You screw up, and expect me – your lord and master – to come and bail you out? What use are you, if you can't even do the one thing I keep you around for?!"

"S…Sorry…" P'Li choked out, still coming back into her de-paralyzed throat.

She knew it wasn't exactly a helpful thing to say right now, but she was also far too frightened to think of anything better.

"Too late for apologies, girlie," said Du Jun, a wrathful hiss to his voice as he bent down and began to beat her further. "I'll be doubling your training from now on. And cutting your food rations in half. You get nothing, until you learn how to stop being such a miserable failure."

"I…I won't do it again…" she murmured, sobbing. She just wanted this all to stop.

"No. You won't," he sneered, his hot, liquor-soaked breath washing over her face as he pinned her to the ground with one hand. With the other, he tore clean through the front of her shirt.

P'Li had long since learned he enjoyed the sound of her screaming.

Not that she would've been able to stop herself if he didn't.

[-]

P'Li didn't speak a word as they made the long drive back to the warlord's estate.

She wasn't particularly talkative in general – a learned behavior so thoroughly ingrained that it was basically instinctual. Du Jun didn't like his slaves to speak unless spoken to, and it rarely took more than a week or two for the "new meat" to see the value in agreeing with him.

Still, today was…different. None of what'd happened over the past couple hours was unusual, though perhaps in a sense that was part of the problem: killing a woman in cold blood, getting beaten within half an inch of her life, being forced to the ground and…used…

Yet June's words were sticking with her. The nature of her bending was such that her targets rarely stuck around long enough to exchange any words with her, but there was more to it than that.

She'd never really given thought to the wider effects of the orders Du Jun commanded her to carry out. She simply obeyed them, because the consequences of doing otherwise were so horrific.

It was easier to think of her targets as nameless, faceless entities. As something akin to wooden cut-outs in a shooting gallery…which, in the face of a power like hers, they more or less were.

Her own suffering was so acute, so overwhelming, that it left no time for the consideration of the pain she was causing. And why should she? Weapons didn't care about who they killed. They just did.

Over and over and over, she'd done precisely that – fired on command, without a single second of thought or hesitation. Leaving in her wake a hideous mountain of corpses and blood, widows and orphans, extinguished hopes and shattered dreams…

She didn't have a choice except not to think about it. She wouldn't be able to go on living otherwise.

To the extent she was even "living" now.

The first sign of trouble came long before they reached the estate. Even in her present stupor, it was impossible to miss the plumes of smoke rising above the trees, giving away the position of the warlord's hidden village.

Du Jun said nothing, but floored the car to maximum speed.

The closer they drew to the village, the more obvious it became that something was very, very wrong. Though a fire had clearly blazed through here – natural or bender-made, it wasn't clear – it'd since died down to smolders, glinting like tiny sparks amongst the billowing smoke.

Yet despite this, the area was almost eerily silent. Not even the warbling calls of sparrowkeets, ubiquitous in this part of the Earth Kingdom, could be heard. It was as if every beast or insect in the forest had suddenly decided to declare this place off-limits.

Their Satomobile came to a grinding halt the moment they passed the first, burned-out building. The vehicle offered no warning for this, no sputtering or smoking from the engine; it simply stopped, and answered Du Jun's furious attempts to restart it with all the responsiveness of a brick wall.

Swearing loudly, the warlord leapt out of the vehicle, dragging P'Li behind him by the shoulder.

"We'll have to make the rest of the way on foot," he said with a growl. "Come on."

As they continued on toward the estate, Du Jun chanced a few glances into the smoked-out ruins that'd once been his territory. To his dismay, not a single one of his followers, nor their slaves, could be found amongst the devastated buildings and homes. The village appeared completely deserted.

The warlord quickened his pace.

Things did not improve as they grew closer and closer to the manor P'Li had called "home" for the past four years. The only change was that the silence was slowly replaced by a low-pitched hum, so quiet that it was easy to miss if one didn't concentrate on it.

The closer they ventured, however, the more intense the sound became – never louder, exactly, but with greater frequency, like a buzzard-wasp beating its wings at double, then triple the speed. Despite still being about as quiet as a dim whisper, the sound became almost deafening in the sheer level of power it radiated.

Du Jun's mansion came into view long before they reached it, thanks to its size and position. Strangely, it seemed to have escaped the fate of the rest of the village completely, standing just as tall and majestic as ever. Even more so, perhaps, if only out of sheer contrast.

"Whoever…or whatever did this…" murmured the non-bender, his lips tight. "They must be holed up in there. Using my home for their…their…"

Sheer fury cut short his ability to speak. His grip became far tighter as he continued to pull P'Li along, however.

The smart move would probably have been to scout around the estate and figure out a quieter way in…but Du Jun was far too angry for such patient thinking, and P'Li wasn't exactly eager to contradict him.

As such, the warlord wasted no time in throwing open the front doors with a resounding slam, roaring as he did, "What spiritsucking elephant-rat thinks he can screw with Lord Du Jun?!"

"That would be me," said a soft voice, its owner landing deftly from the rafters as he did.

He was a young man, in his late teens or early twenties at the most. Still, his features was nearly as weathered as the former general he now faced. A fresh wound, scabbed and still healing over, could be seen over his left eye, and he had a nasty case of cauliflower ear on either side of his long, flowing hair.

Yet despite these flaws, if P'Li were to describe him in a single word, she couldn't help but pick…

Handsome.

"And who the heck are you?" demanded Du Jun with a sneer, his eyes wandering up and down the intruder's form in an attempt to size him up. Clearly, he wasn't impressed.

"I've been called a number of names over the years. I wouldn't say you're worthy of hearing half of them," the young man replied evenly. Then, unexpectedly, his olive-green eyes looked past the warlord, directly at P'Li. "But in deference to our young guest…you may call me Zaheer."

"Never heard of you," said Du Jun, drawing his bow as he did. Even with his movements so obviously telegraphed, at this distance, he was unlikely to miss. "So I doubt anyone's gonna care when I mount your head on my wall."

Then, with speed and dexterity that belied his enormous stature, the warlord fired off a shot.

Zaheer, however, turned out to be more than capable in both those areas. He flipped backward with all the agility of a circus acrobat, tossing a smoke bomb to cover his escape. When it cleared, he'd disappeared again into the nooks and crannies that littered the ceiling.

"Why did you do this?!" shouted the warlord, squinting in the half-darkness of his own home to try and get a bead on his new enemy. "How did you do this?!"

"The Red Lotus fights in the name of freedom, for all peoples. You, who keep your fellow man in bondage? There is nothing in this world that's lower," answered Zaheer, his voice echoing in such a way that it was difficult to tell which direction it was coming from.

Du Jun fired off another arrow nonetheless, but only succeeded in skewering one of his trophies.

"As for the 'how'?" the younger man continued, speaking as if they were having a pleasant conversation over the dinner table. "We arranged for the hiring of the bounty huntress June, and fed her a steady supply of information. We knew that if she grew close enough, you'd have no choice but to abandon your territory to pursue her. With you out of the way, your men fell with barely any effort at all."

"My army is made up of the best swordsmen and benders in the world," Du Jun said coldly, another arrow readied. "What do you have that could stand against us?"

"I'll show you. Just as soon as my brothers in arms have ferried your captives to safety," responded Zaheer, appearing just long enough to affix the warlord with a small, taunting smile. By the time the arrow fired, of course, he was gone again.

"…What?" hissed Du Jun, uncertain if he'd heard the other man correctly.

"We took not a single slave's life today. They certainly couldn't be blamed for all this," Zaheer told him. "We've already liberated every woman and girl whom your men kept enchained. And in a few minutes, the evacuation of the thirty-four poor souls you personally held captive will be completed as well."

"You dare?!" screamed the warlord, now firing off the rest of his quiver as fast as his fingers could move. They were no more effective than his last few shots, however. "You dare steal my property?!"

"Human beings are not property. In this or any other world," said the younger man. Though still cool and collected on the surface, there was an edge to his voice now, somewhat reminiscent of June's. "A lesson you're overdue to learn, Du Jun…and one I'm quite eager to teach you."

Throughout all of this, P'Li had stood back silently, a few steps behind her master. She'd never seen him so unnerved before; angry, sure, but always in control, always certain he was three steps ahead of everyone else. She'd never witnessed someone get so deeply under his skin, and Zaheer was making it look effortless.

Nevertheless, she stood by, uncertain what to do. In his rage, her owner seemed to have momentarily forgotten she existed – so intent was he upon slaying his foe. Over and over he loosed the heavy shafts, but the unseen intruder avoided them all like it was child's play.

After several moments of this, however, her nose perked up, catching a whiff of something approaching. Years of being little more than a hunting eel-hound had greatly refined that particular sense.

"Master…" she whispered, but he cut her off.

"Quiet, you idiot!" he snapped, glancing irritably back at his quiver. He was down to a single arrow.

"But…But Master, I think there's…" P'Li kept trying to say. She received a sharp backhand for her trouble.

It wasn't an action committed with any kind of malice of forethought; she doubted he'd given it any thought at all. It was simply his reflexive reaction to her speaking, when he wasn't in the mood to listen.

Ultimately, though, even if he had allowed her to finish her warning, it probably wouldn't have bought him more than a few seconds. That's how long it took before the smoke was close enough that even his aged nose could pick it up, and within a few seconds more, the smell became a moot point.

Both of them could see the flames.

Except it wasn't ordinary fire – any more than a dragon was an ordinary lizard-snake. It moved through Du Jun's immaculate manor as if alive, simultaneously grander and subtler than any bent fire P'Li had ever seen.

The warlord and his slave both watched on as the flames twisted and contorted through the halls of the mansion, devouring Du Jun's treasure troves of trophies and artwork like a greedy child snapping up candy. Instinctually, the non-bender fired his final arrow into the inferno, but he might as well have tossed a handkerchief into it for all the good it did.

As soon as the fire reached the atrium they were currently occupying, however, a sharp voice rang through the room.

"Halt."

Miraculously, the encroaching blaze did just that, stopping in its tracks like a pet brought to heel. At the same time, Zaheer slipped back down from above, moving with the grace and light steps of a dancer.

The young man held out an arm, and the fires convulsed, growing and shrinking rapidly until finally splitting apart. Great, canine forms slowly took shape, barking and growling, and a few moments later they became distinct: enormous, foxlike creatures, their entire bodies composed of scorching flame.

"Spirits of fire itself," he explained softly, waving his hand as if absently petting one of them. Despite being at least twenty feet away, the nearest spirit keened contently. "A friend of mine has quite the…gift, with spirits. He persuaded them to join me in purging your evil from this world."

Du Jun's eyes twitched dangerously as they darted around the atrium – the only part of his magnificent paradise the spirits hadn't yet consumed. Decades' worth of conquest and domination had, in the past few minutes, quite literally gone up in smoke.

"I don't know who you think you are…or what these 'Red Lotus' morons you mentioned want with me," he said through gritted teeth. "But you've messed with the wrong man."

Then, in one fluid motion, the warlord threw down his now-useless bow and drew a large hunting knife, rushing toward his enemy with the eyes of a man possessed.

Zaheer, however, merely placed his fingers to his mouth and whistled, and the fire spirits reacted accordingly. One transformed into an immense tendril of flame and struck Du Jun in the chest, causing the warlord to scream in pain as he was thrown backward into the opposite wall.

The other two spirits, meanwhile, leapt toward the nearest walls and ceiling, resuming the utter destruction of Du Jun's twisted legacy. In a matter of minutes, there'd be nothing left.

The warlord had escaped injuries too severe thanks to his heavy armor, but his bones still cracked noticeably as he struggled to regain his footing. Still, the sight of the last of his precious treasures burning to ash spurred him back into action, and with a furious roar he barreled forward, grasping for a life-sized portrait of himself Ci Ceng had painted years ago.

But the third spirit didn't let up in its assault, slamming into its target from behind and knocking him off-balance. P'Li saw what was about to happen a split-second before it did, but not quickly enough to shout a warning – the fires had significantly weakened the structure of the walls and rafters, and three hundred pounds of muscle and heavy armor collapsing into it was enough to bring it all crashing down.

P'Li looked away as her master released a bloodcurdling scream.

When she finally got up the courage to open her eyes again, the young firebender saw the man who owned her pinned under an immense amount of burning rubble, his body twisted and mangled and scorched almost beyond recognition.

But most of his head was free…and it was very much alive.

"Idiot brat! What do you think you're doing, just standing around?" he demanded, straining his neck to acknowledge her for the first time since Zaheer's arrival. Though he clearly meant to sound intimidating, the effect was ruined somewhat when he paused to cough up ash. "D…Defend me! Defend your master!"

P'Li froze in place, barely even able to comprehend what was going on. Everything she'd ever known, her entire life for the past four years, was collapsing around her in a fiery blaze. A decision needed to be made, and quickly…

And she was a person who'd never made a single choice since the day she was born.

A million different thoughts shot through her mind at once, vying for attention, and P'Li clutched at her head, willing them to stop. In the face of all this chaos, she could see only one option – one solitary way to force this all to make sense.

She'd do the thing her brain was hardwired for, so thoroughly that it was nearly automatic.

She would obey her master.

P'Li took a stance between the fire spirits and the fallen warlord, summoning up what miniscule reserves of energy remained within her. Then, with a deep breath, she fired.

The spirits might've been composed of the same element as her bending, but the sheer amount of force inherent in the explosion still succeeded at blowing them apart. It was too early to breathe a sigh of relief, however, as just a few seconds later the embers began to draw back toward each other, reconstituting the creatures as if nothing had happened.

Being a spirit rather than a physical being, it seemed, had its advantages.

P'Li fired off a few more blasts, and each time, the spirits took just a little bit more time to reform themselves. Still, she doubted she'd be able to beat them in a war of attrition. She was exhausted, starving, and seriously wounded…and even as a firebender, trying to fight inside a burning building was starting to get to her.

"Stupid girl! C…Can't you do anything right?!" said Du Jun, in the midst of another coughing fit. "They're like hunting hounds! Kill the master, and they'll be useless!"

Her eyes flicked over to Zaheer, who was standing behind the spirits, his expression unreadable. She hesitated, suddenly stricken, for reasons she wouldn't have been able to articulate.

But her owner didn't let up. "Kill him!" he bellowed, his voice guttural and raw. "Kill him now!"

P'Li shrunk back, knowing that tone of voice. And the consequences it promised.

She had no choice.

Another explosion dispersed the spirits again, buying her several precious seconds. That would be enough. Her third eye rounded on the young man.

Zaheer immediately resumed his impressive acrobatics, but they were far less effective against her bending than they'd been against the arrows. Her combustions came out faster and had a much wider range, being able to appear nearly instantly at any point within her line of sight.

Additionally, the advantages he'd had earlier – ample darkness and various nooks and crannies to hide within – had been largely negated by the fire. Though he continued to dodge with a speed bordering on inhuman, it was only a matter of time before one of her shots struck true.

She'd counted on all of that.

What she hadn't counted on were his words.

"Why are you still doing this?" he asked, his tone still remarkably pleasant despite the fact that he was seconds away from death. "There's no longer any point."

"Sh…Shut up!" she exclaimed, firing another explosion that missed him by inches. The force still managed to knock him off-balance, however, and it was only the timely reformation of the spirits that prevented her from ending things right there.

"That man is powerless, now. He can do nothing to you," said Zaheer, as she blasted apart the flame-creatures for the dozenth time in the past few minutes. "You are the only person who gets to decide your fate."

"You don't get it!" P'Li found herself screaming, punctuating each sentence with another blast. Despite her body's dehydration, she could feel small tears welling up in her eyes. "You haven't lived the way I have! What do you know about me?!"

Then, to her immense surprise, Zaheer vaulted over and landed in the one safe place in the entire room: just a few inches in front of her.

"Not enough, I'm afraid," he answered in a soft voice. "But I'd like the opportunity to find out more."

P'Li shivered and recoiled on reflex. No man had ever gotten this close to her before, unless they…

And indeed, Zaheer reached forward, taking her by the shoulders.

But it wasn't to bring her within striking distance. And it wasn't to force her to the ground and "take" her, right then and there.

It was to pull her in close for an embrace.

P'Li hadn't been hugged very much before, and the sensations this one produced were distinctly unfamiliar. Noudai had done it every once in a while, when she thought she could get away with it…but that'd happened less and less the more Du Jun monopolized her time for missions.

Isolating her from the other slaves had been a key part of turning her into the weapon she was today.

Zaheer was still speaking, his voice quiet and gentle.

"I don't know everything this monster has done to you," he said through pursed lips. "But I do know he won't be doing them anymore. Look at him, now. He is broken, mangled, weak. You are the one who's strong. He has no power over you. He never will again."

Unbidden by conscious thought, P'Li's eyes followed his instructions, setting themselves upon the trapped and ashen-faced Du Jun. Snarling, he struggled to extricate himself from the smoldering rubble, but to no avail.

"D…Don't you dare look at me that way!" he commanded her, locking eyes with his sole remaining slave and refusing to blink, despite all the soot in the air. "You belong to me! When I give you an order, you follow it! No questions! No exceptions! Now…do the one thing you were put on this planet to do! Obey!"

Once again, P'Li found herself attempting to navigate a swirling storm in her mind, struggling and clawing for an answer that simply wouldn't come. Her shining, amber eyes darted around the room – from her Master, to Zaheer, to the reconstituted spirits, to the inferno that surrounded them all – as her thoughts grappled with each other, fighting for supremacy.

Then, abruptly…it all stopped. As if a curtain had been lifted, she could see the way forward.

P'Li took one last, long look at the face of the man who owned her. And then, for the first time in twelve years of life…

She came to a decision of her own.

"…Okay," she whispered, extricating herself from Zaheer's muscular arms.

Then, she turned directly toward Du Jun.

The warlord's eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're…?" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"I'm obeying your order, Master," she replied, saying the last word in a way she never would've dared use before today. "What was it again? Ah, that's right. Kill the master."

She didn't bother granting him the dignity of last words. Ci Ceng hadn't gotten any, nor had June.

Nor had any of the men, women, or children he'd commanded her to slaughter.

A few hours later, once the fire had finally burned itself out, the only trace left of the mighty warlord Du Jun was a scattered, bloody smear.

[-]

"Are the others gonna be alright?"

Those were the first words out of P'Li's mouth, once she'd managed to regain enough of her bearings to speak.

Zaheer, who was sitting beside her, knew immediately what she was talking about.

"The Lotus will find them homes, places to stay. Somewhere far away from this place," he said in a low voice. "It's the least we can do."

The two of them sat alone, atop the hill that'd once housed Du Jun's estate – in the shadow of his once-grand manor, now a pile of smoldering ruins. Looking down over the burned-out remains of the village where she'd spent the majority of her life, P'Li couldn't help but notice it all seemed so…small, from here.

Was this how the warlord had felt every day, looking out over his domain like a proud armadillo-lion?

Because all she felt, gazing upon the sight, was…

Empty.

"You saved us," she murmured, not looking up at Zaheer. Both of them were staring forward with dim, unreadable eyes. "But you sound like you feel guilty."

"We knew about this place – places like it – for years," he explained dispassionately. "Even this attack took nearly seven months of planning. We could've stopped it sooner. Stopped him sooner."

"If you'd just rushed in here, you would've been killed," said P'Li. "Even with those…those things with you."

The spirits had dissolved into embers the moment the fighting was done, for which she was immensely grateful. Despite the role they'd played in liberating all of her fellows, she wagered they probably wouldn't be too fond of the girl who'd blown them up a dozen-odd times.

"We certainly couldn't have done it without them," remarked Zaheer, before making a face. "Which means I owe Unalaq more than a few favors. That should be fun."

He'd dropped a lot of unfamiliar names and places over the past several minutes, though P'Li hadn't bothered to ask any follow-up questions. Her world had already changed enough for one day.

There was one thing she did need to know, however.

"This 'Red Lotus' thing you were talking about…" she muttered, her lips barely moving. "What is it?"

A spark seemed to alight within the non-bender's pale green eyes, though they still lacked any kind of luster. It gave his face a very haunted look, as he continued to stare out over the twilit horizon.

"For ten-thousand years, this world has existed in a perpetual state of imbalance," he said. "Order and Chaos are opposing forces, meant to be equivalent in strength, so that neither might gain ascendancy over humanity's souls. Yet, thanks to the influence of the Avatar, one has been permitted to dominate the other across the long arc of recorded history. And we have been made to believe this is good…the greatest lie ever told."

Zaheer steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, narrowing his eyes at unseen enemies.

"For the sake of that lie, humanity has erected any number of unnatural constructions," he continued on. "Nations, governments…the very notion of 'civilization.' We have pretended, as if playing upon an enormous stage, that these things make sense; that their innumerable, inarguable flaws are correctible. Another lie, told to comfort those in power."

P'Li straightened her back, bringing herself up to fullest attention. There was something about the way Zaheer spoke that – even if she didn't fully understand every detail of the content – was absolutely enrapturing.

"Every king or queen, every governor or magistrate, every elected representative…" added the young man, no longer staring off into the distance but now fully focused on her, and her alone. "No matter what costume they wear, in the end, they are all the same. Each, inevitably, turns toward tyranny when other methods fail. Even here, a place where no nation or government has managed to reach – here, a single man seized power he'd neither earned nor deserved. And hundreds were made to suffer for it."

P'Li blinked away stinging tears. He'd given her a skin of water after escaping the burning mansion, so they were coming far more easily now.

"The Red Lotus are a society founded upon the idea that these lies need not control our destinies," said Zaheer. "Humanity has existed before the age of tyrants and despots, and it can again. But for that to happen, men like Du Jun must fall."

The non-bender picked up a nearby stick, and began to inscribe a handful of markings upon the dirt in front of them. After a moment, P'Li recognized them: the symbols of the four elements.

"Change…Substance…Power…Freedom…" he whispered, upon the completion of each symbol in turn. "These are the only things in this world that are natural. All else must be purged. Only then will people like you or I be more than cogs in a faceless machine. Only then will we be able to live."

That seemed as much as Zaheer was willing to say for now. Indeed, as he took another, lingering glance across her tiny features, she suspected he might be regretting how much he'd just told a twelve-year-old.

But P'Li was no ordinary twelve-year-old…not by a long shot. Her eyes – all three of them, somehow – were gleaming brightly.

"In any event…I've kept you too long," he said, trying to get back on topic. "I'll make sure you get taken somewhere safe, but I really need to get going to…"

The young man moved to stand up, his long hair flowing in the wind.

And P'Li, still new to such a thing, nevertheless found herself making a split-second decision. Gently but firmly, she seized Zaheer's calloused fingers in her own.

"Let me go with you," she asked of him, her voice stronger, more filled with conviction, than it'd ever been in the past twelve years. "Please."

Zaheer blinked, a couple of times. When he spoke again, his own tones were soft and hesitant. "You don't know what you're asking," he told her.

"Maybe I don't. But it is what I want," she replied insistently. She gestured at the burned-out village below them. "This…all of this…I've never known anything else. I don't have any place to go, nobody to turn to. Except you."

Zaheer's frown deepened. "I have no regrets about the path I've taken," he said. "But it is a lonely one. I wouldn't dream of burdening another with it. Particularly one so…young."

"You shouldn't treat me like a child," P'Li answered back, mirroring his frown perfectly. "I'm not sure I've ever really been one. I was raised as a weapon. I could be your weapon, if you asked me to. It…might be the only thing I know how to be."

The young man was silent for a while, reading the expression on her face carefully. There was no trace of doubt in her deeply bruised features.

Finally, he sighed, as if resigning himself to something he suspected he'd wind up regretting.

"I can tell you've been used by far too many people," he whispered, a genuineness to every word she'd so rarely heard in her life. "I won't even think about being another. But…you could help me. Just as long as I can help you in turn."

"That seems fair," said P'Li, very quickly. "But…what do you mean, exactly?"

"Well, I could teach you things. To start with," Zaheer responded. "I'm sure there're many things that…monster never bothered to show you. Great literature and art. Spirituality. Natural wonders all across this world. It's been some time since I had a traveling companion…but I suppose it's also been some time since I tried. As Guru Laghima once said, a journey not taken is like a thousand deaths, experienced all at once."

He paused for a moment, looking down upon the precocious ex-slave, before adding quietly, "There's just one thing I want to know, first. One thing I need to hear from you, with no ambiguity."

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly.

"If you had other options in front of you…a warm bed, good clothes, a loving family willing to take you in…" he attempted to say, choosing every word with the utmost care. "Would you still make this choice? Are you latching onto me just because I'm here? Because you don't see anything else?"

P'Li, too, tried to choose her next words carefully. She knew far fewer of them, so for her it was quite a bit more difficult.

"Maybe…that's part of it," she admitted, looking askance. "But not the main part. Look, what you were describing…I dunno how to put it. I've spent so long with my world closed off – with the world closed off for me – that I was blind to how many victims of people like Mas…like Du Jun…must still be out there. Other people in bondage. People wishing every spiritforsaken day, that someone could just come along and save them. Like you saved me."

She swallowed, hard, before continuing.

"This world is broken. I may not know much, but I do know that," she went on, her hands clutched into tiny fists. "So if you're working on trying to fix it…I'll do everything I can to help."

P'Li strode forward, toward her savior, all three eyes directed resolutely toward him.

"Governments, nations, warlords…it doesn't matter who's holding the chain," said the firebender. "Anyone who enslaves another…"

The blast curved perfectly around Zaheer, despite the distance between them being a matter of mere feet. A huge swathe of the ruined village was obliterated in an instant.

It made her point fairly well.

"…Will have to answer to me."