A Cog in the Machine – Book Two, Intermission: Parallel
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.
[-]
Who are you?
The girl's face twitched uncomfortably. She didn't know where she was, or who was speaking. The voice seemed to come from all around her, somehow both booming and muffled, like she was hearing it through a poor-quality radio.
It felt like she was floating – weightless. She tried to open her eyes, but found that she couldn't.
She only thing she could do, she found, was answer the mysterious voice's question.
"My name is Asami Sato. I am an Equalist."
There was a pause. Then…
How curious. Within you lie two souls. By your first statement, both are in concert. By the second, one revulses.
The non-bender's lips tightened.
"I'm uninterested in what she thinks. From the sound of things, she's a traitor. We share a name, a face, but nothing else."
Lying to yourself won't work here, child. We know you don't really believe that.
Asami finally managed to wrench both eyes open. It occurred to her in that moment how strange that was; she hadn't possessed two organic eyes in some time.
But before she could ruminate on that mystery further, she took in the person floating before her.
She was ethereal and semi-transparent, like a spirit. Yet there was no person alive who'd be able to mistake that face. That tanned skin, furs and hairstyle indicative of the Southern Water Tribe, and cool blue eyes that shined with so much kindness, it was blinding.
This was Katara in her prime: heroine of the Hundred Year War, wife to Avatar Aang.
Yet even as Asami recognized her, Katara was already melting away. She was replaced by a Fire Nation noblewoman with gray eyes, her face equal parts regal and gentle.
We are all disparate souls. But we are called to this place, because we all have one thing in common.
Another transformation. The next speaker was Fire Nation once again, but much younger, her harsh features covered by red and white paint in a pattern resembling tigerdillo stripes.
No matter how much of a blockheaded oaf she – err, they – might be, we each loved the Avatar. With all our hearts.
Asami let out a low growl of frustration.
"That wasn't love! That was…just…"
One more face. Another woman who might've been Water Tribe in origin, though her skin was several shades lighter than Katara's, and she wore her hair longer.
Then why don't we all hear it? Asami Sato…
The next words seemed to be spoken by all four women at once.
Let us hear your story.
[-]
"Daddy…!" wailed the little girl, struggling against the police officer who held her in a tight grip. "Let me go! I have to get to Daddy…I have to wake him up! You gotta wake up, Daddy! Please!"
"Asami!" screamed Yasuko Sato, who was just pulling up in her personal Satomobile.
She dashed out without even turning the engine off, throwing her arms around her daughter. The officer let go, eager to hand off the bawling child.
"Oh, thank the spirits…" said Yasuko in a whisper, clutching at Asami like she might disappear at any moment. "At least you're safe…"
But Asami struggled out of her mother's embrace, pointing a tiny, desperate hand toward their home. "Daddy's still in there!" she shouted. "We have to save him!"
Yasuko's emerald eyes, the same ones her daughter had inherited, turned toward the mansion that had been her home for over a decade.
The inferno, burning so bright and so hot that you could see it for miles around, was the only thing reflected within them.
She took hold of Asami, even more tightly than before. Burying the girl's small, weeping face into her chest, so she wouldn't be able to see any more.
Not just the sight of the police trying to extinguish the flames that consumed every possession she owned. Not just the medics carrying out a suspiciously familiar-sized lump on a stretcher, a blanket covering it so no one could see the condition the body was in.
But also the look of utter hatred on her mother's picturesque face, as she thought of the men responsible.
"There's nothing more we can do, Asami," she said. "Not yet."
[-]
"Who're these guys, Mommy?" asked Asami Sato, now a few months older. She'd recently lost a front tooth, and so spoke with a slight lisp.
She'd returned after a lesson with one of her tutors to find two men she didn't recognize, sitting across from her mother in her father's old workshop. Yasuko and her daughter had been living here, despite the cramped quarters, while repairs were underway at the manor, and while the complicated matters of Hiroshi's finances were worked out.
Despite the fact that she knew her mother would never bring dangerous people near her, Asami shrunk back behind her legs when one of the men leaned forward. He was wearing a full-face, expressionless mask, and he looked very scary.
"My dear, this is Amon, and this is Sho," answered Yasuko, gesturing first to the masked man and then his compatriot, who had a gaunt face and a very heavy mustache. "We've spoken on the phone before, but this is the first time we've met in-person."
"We've been discussing some…ideas with your mother," said Amon, his voice as low and cold as death. "You know, when Mela first put us in touch, I wasn't entirely sure what she was thinking. But you have a brilliant mind for public relations, Mrs. Sato. I suppose you'd have to, with how popular your group became."
"Yasuko and the Eel-Swans are in the past, Amon," Yasuko declared, kindly but firmly. "Like my late husband, I prefer to look toward the future."
"Before we take things any further…" rumbled Sho, gesturing toward the visibly confused Asami. "Are you sure you want to discuss these things in front of…?"
But Yasuko cut him off by holding up a hand. "Anything you want to say to me, Asami can hear too. She may be young, but she's more brilliant than any two adults in this city put together," she told him. "And besides…"
She tussled Asami's hair, and despite the gravity of the situation, both women found themselves briefly giggling.
"She's the only family I have left. I won't leave her out of this."
[-]
Over the course of the next two years, Yasuko was as good as her word. She kept no secrets from her daughter, as things changed for them quite dramatically.
Ultimately, they decided not to repair a good deal of the fire damage to their home. Instead, they sold the estate as-is to Wonyong Keum, who was keen on redeveloping the prime patch of land into an amusement park.
The business magnate probably never realized that he paid fifty million yuans to a woman who'd once delivered packages for his company.
After setting aside a portion of that fortune to rent a new apartment and establish a trust fund for Asami, Yasuko made the lion-vulture's share available to her new "partners."
The Equalists, it transpired, were fighting to establish equal rights between benders and non-benders alike. Growing up in privilege, it really wasn't something Asami had ever given much thought to, but the way Sho explained it made so much sense.
The mustached man grew to be her sifu, her teacher, and – when Yasuko was busy with other projects – her caretaker. He would patiently lay out the history of conflict in the world, and the myriad ways that misuse of bending had contributed to or exacerbated every single one of them. How the legacies of those systems of oppression continued to this day, widening the political and economic gap between powerful benders and the rest of society with each successive generation.
And he would also train her, safely, in ways that she could defend herself from a hostile bender. She learned martial arts, swordsmanship, archery, and even chi-blocking.
She wondered, sometimes, whether her father might still be alive if she'd known these things sooner.
Sometimes Amon would join in too. At first, she'd still been intimidated by this strange masked man, with a voice like a frigid mountain. But in time, she came to see other sides of him.
Amon was a man seized by the zeal of purpose, and an overriding sense of justice. The kind of man who couldn't stand to sit back and watch someone be treated unfairly, without doing something about it. A world filled with so much of that injustice had clearly hardened him, in more ways than one.
Yet behind closed doors, he could also be so kind. Asami saw it in his eyes, whenever he removed his mask – something he only did for Sho, Yasuko, and her. He gave her treats and presents when she did well in her lessons; showed her cool technology he'd picked up during his extensive world travels.
Once, when she'd slipped up trying a high kick and wound up twisting her ankle really bad, not only had he kept the accident a secret from her mother…but he'd even given her some weird medicine for the pain.
It conked her right out, and when she woke up, the pain was completely gone. Like it'd somehow been healed while she slept.
He had…other talents, too. Asami still remembered the look on her mother's face when he revealed that he'd perfected a technique for removing bending from a person.
And she remembered the look on his, when she'd convinced him not to keep doing it.
To be sure, they hedged their bets. There was always the possibility that their activities might spark a harsher crackdown from the police, and potentially even other nations. They needed to be prepared, just in case.
So in total secrecy, they gathered weapons and other advanced technology. They trained every one of their operatives in chi-blocking. And Amon kept his own, terrifying ability hidden away, as their ultimate trump card.
But in public, it was a different story entirely. In public, it was Yasuko Sato who called the shots.
She started small, with speeches and lectures. She and Amon collaborated on all the scripts, but Yasuko was also quite adept at speaking off the cuff. It gave her a genuineness that soon had their once-secret rallies taking place in broad daylight, with audiences swelling from hundreds to thousands.
She would speak about her own experiences – the personal tragedy that'd taught her the dangers of unregulated bending run rampant. She would, with eloquence and poise, pass along Amon's talking points about the inequalities of society.
The same words, but delivered with a prettier face and a softer voice. The value of that could not be overstated in the impact they were beginning to have on the United Republic, and beyond.
With Yasuko as its face, the Equalist Movement inspired daily demonstrations and protests, with even non-benders of other nations organizing their own marches in solidarity. By the time she starred in history's very first "mover," which amounted to little more than Equalist propaganda but so wowed audiences with its novel techniques that barely anyone cared, "Equalism" was a genuinely worldwide phenomenon.
The response of the United Republic Council was…tepid, at best. With a membership that was primarily elderly and out-of-touch, they failed to see the social movement for what it was until it was practically at their doorstep.
Their method of "attack" was remarkably simple. Without stepping over the line into legally liable incitement, they "encouraged" various non-benders to simply refuse to pay their taxes, until they received representation on the Council.
Because non-benders made up a clear majority of the United Republic's populace, this was an incredibly effective tactic. And not one the Council could retaliate against without looking like tyrants.
Spurred on by Northern Water Tribe Councilman Tarrlok, they did anyway. And it was a public relations disaster.
It wasn't hard for Yasuko and her contacts in the media to spin mass arrests over tax evasion as a massive overstep, especially when many of those arrested were so poor they only owed a few hundred yuans anyway. They plastered the names and faces of the "victims" all over the papers, and Yasuko herself protested daily at the Republic City prison, calling for their release.
In the end, Councilman Tenzin was able to pass a resolution rescinding the arrests and scrubbing their criminal records. But it was too late. The public at large was calling for the full resignation of the entire Council, and a new form of government that would give them all a voice.
And everyone was buzzing about Yasuko Sato – the mastermind who'd orchestrated the downfall of a government, without firing a single shot.
"Says here they're considering democratic elections for a position called 'President.' A unitary executive, but one with checks and balances from the judiciary constraining their actions," said Sho one morning, sipping tea as he read over the morning paper. "Tarrlok's already thrown his scaly hat in the ring, but nobody else so far."
Amon, his mask askew, tapped a finger thoughtfully to his chin. "You know…" he murmured, eyes darting over to Yasuko. "That would be an idea."
Yasuko, who had a giggling Asami in her lap as they exchanged tummy-tickles, took a short breather to mull over the clearly intended suggestion.
"Politics, huh?" she mused. "Sounds like fun."
[-]
"And so, Mrs. Sato, this new platform you're proposing…" prompted the moderator. "This 'Equalism for All.' Could you explain a little bit more about it?"
Watching from the audience, Asami was utterly enraptured. Most eight-year-olds probably wouldn't be, at a political debate, but her mother just looked so cool up there on stage.
The brilliant gowns and costumes of her singing career had been replaced with a smart suit, emblazoned with a patch displaying a crossed hammer and bow. The emblem had been Yasuko's idea: two of the tools traditionally used to level the playing field between benders and non-benders.
Asami was wearing the same patch on her tiny dress. As were about half the spectators.
"Glad to, Kuroi," said Yasuko, before clearing her throat. "Our society stands at the crossroads of its destiny. For ten thousand years, we have allowed those randomly granted the power of bending to be our ruling class. While non-benders, and even benders whose natural gifts aren't up to par with their brethren, are forced into subservience. We tell ourselves that in our new, enlightened age, these problems have been left behind – relics of a less-evolved past."
She stepped out from behind her podium and strode closer to the front of the stage. The former starlet was an expert at holding the attention of an audience, and she was using every trick she knew.
"But this is a lie. We all see it, in whatever hole each nation chooses to name its slums: the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se, the southside islands of the Fire Nation, even our own Dragon Flats borough," she continued on. "The fact of the matter is that the tide of post-war prosperity has not lifted all boats. The divide between wealthy benders at the top, and the predominately non-bender underclass, has only increased across the Era of Aang. And it shows no signs of stopping in the dawning Era of Korra."
"Oh, please. This is just more grievance politics, dressed up in pretty words. And rich, coming from the wealthiest non-bending woman in history," sneered her opponent. Tarrlok raised himself up to full height, still staring daggers at Yasuko. "I don't suppose you have any ideas about how to improve this oh-so-terrible situation?"
"Councilman Tarrlok, you will please refrain from interrupting your…" the moderator started to say, but Yasuko was already speaking again.
"As a matter of fact, I do. Everyone in attendance tonight should have received a leaflet with my ten-point plan for worldwide economic restoration," she explained through thin lips. "But the first of those points is allowing the disadvantaged non-bender population to feel like they are represented in their own government. Out of the Five Nations, only one is presently led by a non-bender – and the Earth Queen doesn't exactly make herself out to be a 'champion of the people' by relying on an unaccountable, secret police force of elite earthbenders."
She raised the microphone closer to her mouth, then said, "Both I and my husband came from that life. Yes, as my opponent so eloquently pointed out, we were able to rise to great heights through careful application of our talents. But for every success story like ours, there are a hundred failures you never hear about. People who fell short through no fault of their own, but simply because they drew the short straw in life. Oh, and since he already broached the subject…"
Yasuko narrowed her gaze toward Tarrlok, the once-vibrant eyes of an idol transformed into deadly weapons.
"I will point out that all his wealth didn't save my husband from a monstrous attack by bending criminals," she hissed. "There's more to life than just money. Safety, security, prosperity – Equalism offers them all, to every member of our nation."
As deeply as the wound still stung them both, Asami had no problem with her mother using their tragedy as a cudgel. Politics was a dirty game, and you either played it ruthlessly or lost.
Either way, that line got a huge burst of applause, from all around her. While Tarrlok definitely had his fans, they were outnumbered in this audience by at least two-to-one, by Asami's estimate.
"Miss Shinobi, may I ask my opponent a question directly?" the waterbender practically growled. He seemed to have realized the same imbalance of support, and it was clearly irking him.
"It's…not standard," said Kuroi Shinobi, adjusting her glasses and glancing back toward her father in the front row. The retired broadcaster just shrugged. "But I suppose it's fine, if you can exercise some measure of restraint."
"Of course, of course," responded Tarrlok, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, Mrs. Sato…you claim this is all some kind of high-minded philosophical movement. But are you aware that in its final act before disbanding, the United Republic Council designated the Equalists as a 'terrorist organization'?"
"Nonsense and propaganda," Yasuko shot back immediately. "The Equalist Movement is entirely peaceful and unarmed – and we have strict rules about non-retaliation. Need I remind you that just last week, my friend Sho Gan-Lan and twenty others were arrested for a simple sit-in at Kwong's Cuisine? They did nothing more violent that night than drink hot tea."
But Tarrlok's simply smirked at this.
"A smokescreen. I know you've been stockpiling weapons. Training the perverse art of 'chi-blocking' in secret," he spoke coldly. He'd clearly spent weeks planning for this moment. "Oh yes, I know your kind. You won't be satisfied by a few mere steps of political progress. You want a revolution. You want blood."
Asami's own blood chilled deeply. How could Tarrlok possibly know all this? They'd been so careful about hiding things…
But her brief moment of alarm turned to satisfaction, as she recognized the scroll her mother pulled from her coat.
"Kuroi, do you mind if I get to ask a question in turn?" she said. "It's only fair."
Tarrlok, whose eyes had gone wide as dinner plates the moment she showed the scroll, demanded hastily, "Where'd you get that?"
"Oh, it's a gift from an…anonymous benefactor," replied Yasuko, winking briefly toward Amon, who was sitting right next to Asami, unmasked. "Now, for the benefits of those listening at home, this is a Northern Water Tribe family registry. It indicates a marriage between Sumika, now passed, and a foreigner named Kukul, now passed. From whom were born two sons: the eldest Noatak, now passed, and the youngest…"
Tarrlok let out a low growl. "Yes, that would be my family of birth," he admitted. "What of it?"
Asami was practically on the edge of her seat with giddiness. She clutched at Amon's hand, and the older man offered one of his very rare smiles.
None of them had known where Amon obtained the information, but then the crafty man had never been short on resources. Regardless, he'd given Yasuko the tile to play whenever she found the right moment – and now, it'd come at last.
"The funny thing is that while this so-called 'Kukul' claimed to be from the Southern Water Tribe, he doesn't show up in any of their birth records whatsoever," said Yasuko, in a mock-puzzled voice. "Now, why would he lie about something like that? Well, something interesting happens if you cross-reference the date this scroll says he arrived in the North, with…"
And with that, she pulled out her masterstroke: a yellowing newspaper, the front page showing a fierce attack on Republic City's maximum-security prison.
"…The date the infamous bloodbending crime lord Yakone was broken out of prison," she finished, chuckling with relish.
There were shocked gasps all throughout the venue. Cameras flashed as all the photographers clamored over one another to capture good shots of the evidence – and more to the point, of Tarrlok's reaction to it.
For his part, Tarrlok was silent, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily. His eyes darted all around the room: first toward Yasuko, then the moderator, and finally the audience.
"You…You have no proof of what you're insinuating," he snarled.
"Maybe not in a court of law. But in the court of public opinion, you'll hang for this, Tarrlok," she stated coolly. "Keep pushing me, and I'll push right back. This'll be all over the papers tomorrow. And I'll do everything I can to make sure it stays there, up until election day."
The next words she spoke were not for the benefit of the debate audience, or the listeners over the radio. She walked toward the former Councilman and leaned right up against his ear.
But Asami had an unobstructed view of her mother's lips, and was fairly certain she knew what she'd just said.
"Don't ever screw with my family."
[-]
The returns were in. Sixteen percent for Tarrlok, and eighty-one percent for Yasuko Sato.
It was official: her mother was the first ever President of the United Republic of Nations.
The afterparty was a blur. Asami just kept hugging and kissing her mother, telling her how proud she was of her.
She hugged and kissed Amon and Sho as well, which they reacted to with a mix of bemusement and ambivalence. But she didn't care – they were the ones responsible for helping her mother turn their grief into something positive. Something special.
Something that would change the world.
As she had throughout the campaign, Asami accompanied her mother practically everywhere she went. While part of it was the natural overprotectiveness of a woman who'd already lost one of her two great loves, there was also a political calculation. Little Asami was adorable, thank you very much, and it helped Yasuko's image with older, more conservative voters to be seen as a dutiful mother.
But there was also the simple fact that Yasuko still had no intention of hiding anything from her daughter. Perhaps most parents would've objected to the types of meetings and planning sessions she let her girl sit in on, but as far as Yasuko was concerned, she and Asami were a team.
And Asami was eager to chip in, where she could. None of Hiroshi's brilliance had really rubbed off on Yasuko – not in the fields of science or engineering, at least – but Asami was a different story entirely.
These days, instead of tinker toys and model kits, she was spending her days messing around with the innards of real radios and Satomobiles. The Equalists' strict, no-weapons stance (at least in public) didn't mean they couldn't stand to be ahead of the technological curve in every other respect.
At just age ten, Asami was partially responsible for providing the Equalists with the world's first airplane. Other engineers had constructed the wings, propeller, and chassis, but it was Asami's breakthrough with a more efficient engine that really allowed the machine to stay in the air for more than a few minutes.
Naturally, in keeping with their philosophy, the Equalist Movement had neither hoarded this incredible new technology for themselves, nor sold it off for a hefty profit. Instead, with Yasuko's blessing, the blueprints were posted publicly in city hall for everyone to see.
If they had the parts and the time, anyone could construct a plane of their very own. Even improve on the design if they wished.
And this was only one of many initiatives that made Yasuko Sato a populist heroine. She widely distributed economic stimulus, placed harder limits on use of force by bending police, and passed the first minimum wage law in any nation's history.
Compared to the infamously stuffy and insular Council she'd replaced, Yasuko also made a point to be far more open and available to her constituents. She held regular town halls to take questions, engaged in numerous interviews with the media, and created a system for regular citizens to submit petitions to city hall directly.
All told, when she ran for reelection three years later – shortly after Asami turned eleven – she won in an even steeper landslide than the first.
Those massive approval ratings rubbed off, too. With Yasuko as its face, the Equalist Movement became quite popular even with a decent segment of benders. "I'll trade my (flames/rocks/hipskin) for another few yuans in my pocket!" grew to be a common rallying cry at her speeches.
As for Amon, he was practically a celebrity in his own right. Consulting openly and publicly with the President on an almost daily basis, many people assumed him to be the true brains behind the current government. They weren't completely right, but neither were they entirely wrong.
Certainly, Yasuko valued his input greatly. But she also…softened a number of his suggestions. Amon was a truly brilliant man, but she far outstripped him in emotional intelligence and understanding of public relations.
Together, they were all but unstoppable.
In any event, Amon and Sho were certainly comfortable in letting Yasuko take the reigns where needed. No one could argue with the results she delivered.
And it let Amon maintain his vaunted anonymity – not that "[X] Unmasked as Amon!" didn't become the number-one story for gossip rags over those several years. So far, various stories had claimed him to be Aang's illegitimate son, an incarnated spirit, Fire Prince Iroh, and even Yasuko herself (by way of a body double).
Still, as the sun rose on the middle year of Yasuko's second term, things were looking up. Asami was together with her mother every single day, watching in awe as her career blossomed to heights she never reached as a singer or spokeswoman. She was surrounded by people who loved her, and work that was genuinely fun.
She should've known it couldn't last.
[-]
The first sign that something was wrong was that Asami woke to complete darkness.
Ever since the election, Yasuko and her daughter had moved into a small residence near city hall, just large enough for the two of them. It was far sparser than the luxurious mansion Asami had been born into, but that was fine by her. So long as she and her mother were together, that was enough.
But the consequence was that her own cramped bedroom was now directly across the hall from her mother's study. At this time of the night, the President was usually still up, working away furiously at some new proposal.
So the fact that no light was leaking from beneath her door was a cause for concern.
The twelve-year-old slipped out of bed and crept over to the hall, her footsteps practically silent. She'd had a lot of practice in the art of stealth by that point.
Carefully, she inched closer to her mother's study, listening for any signs of activity. But there was no scratching of a pen of shuffling of paper. Perhaps her mother had simply turned in uncharacteristically early?
She unlatched the door and pushed it open, just to make sure. And her heart nearly stopped.
Her mother was there, slumped over her desk. But she wasn't sleeping.
Not based on the knife protruding from the back of her neck, and the blood dripping liberally from it.
Asami felt the overwhelming urge to scream, but the sound died in her throat. She was completely frozen in place, helpless to do anything but stare at her mother's freshly slain corpse.
Which was a problem, because she wasn't alone.
There were five of them, in total. Three were dressed in robes of very dark blue, cloth masks pulled up over most of their faces, so that only their eyes were visible.
The other two hadn't bothered trying to conceal themselves. A boy and a girl, with nigh-identical faces and hairstyles, who looked to be around her own age.
"Well, drat. Father said we weren't supposed to be seen," deadpanned the boy, sounding for all the world like this was the most boring place he could imagine being.
"A shameful error indeed. But easily correctable, at least," said the girl, her voice equally monotone.
Then she pulled a cork from her hipskin, and solidified the water within into a blades of ice. On second glance, Asami realized the murder weapon was made of the same.
One of the masked men grabbed her from behind, pinning her limbs with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The strange girl raised her element into the air, the glint of the ice reflecting in Asami's terrified eyes.
Only to be tackled from behind by Sho Gan-Lan.
"Amon, get over here now!" he bellowed into the radio hanging over his ear, before readying himself to stand his ground against the assailants.
The lanky man was wearing pajamas and wielding a pair of kitchen implements like they were kali sticks. Asami recalled belatedly that the mustached man was having his house fumigated that week, and Yasuko had offered to put him up on their couch. A bit of happenstance that'd just saved her life.
But not her mother's.
"You're good, to have sneaked past me," said Sho, his already gravelly voice practically a growl. "But if you think you're getting away from this alive, you've got another thing coming."
Then, he attacked.
Despite his less-than-optimal armaments, Sho had trained most of his life to take down benders much more powerful than himself, and it showed. Asami had never seen her sifu fight like this. His technique was absolutely ruthless, going straight for debilitating wounds and crushed bones.
Ending this quickly was his only hope, given how outnumbered he was.
He took down two of the masked men within seconds, but the third – who was much larger in build – and the boy and girl proved much more of a challenge. Both of the latter proved to be prodigiously talented waterbenders, and their furious style benefited from these close quarters.
It occurred to Asami, a few moments later, that she wasn't actually paralyzed. Despite how terrified she was, she found that she could move again – and more importantly, think again. Panic and adrenaline had cleared every thought from her head, except one.
That she wouldn't let her sifu suffer the same fate as her mother and father.
With the remaining assailants focused entirely on Sho, Asami crept silently around the edge of the room, trying to reach a cabinet in the corner. The assassins probably didn't realize that in the last few years, this room had served equally as her mother's home office…
And her workshop.
She shimmied the cabinet open, still trying to make as little noise as possible, and extracted her prize. One prototype was slipped over each hand, and activated with a simple dial mechanism.
Unfortunately, that was also the moment when Sho's luck with dodging ran out. The large masked man managed to land a devastating blow on his head, sending him sprawling – and the girl followed up swiftly by spearing him in the chest with a thick spike of ice.
Asami saw red. Roaring gutturally, she threw all caution to the wind and dived toward the masked man. Before he could react, she closed her personally designed shock gloves around his ankles, and sent an enormous surge of electricity throughout his body.
The man bellowed in pain before falling forward, instantly unconscious. Asami turned to the remaining pair, pure fire in her eyes.
"Who's next?" she hissed.
Of course, that line sounded better in her head than out loud. The truth of the matter was that they were both incredibly powerful waterbenders with a clear lack of compunction against killing, and she'd just surrendered the element of surprise.
But before they could do anything but ready their element, the door flew open, and a blur of motion sped from the shadows.
If Sho's fighting style had been awe-inducing, then Amon's absolutely defied description. The masked man effortlessly weaved and bobbed around their attempts to strike him with water or ice, his movements so quick that Asami's eyes could scarcely keep up.
He wielded no weapons himself, but he didn't need to. With a series of quick jabs, he disabled the girl's chi in a matter of seconds, and then the boy's.
"What have you done to us?" he demanded, raising both arms in a water-whip stance and finding that the liquid simply refused to obey.
"Oh, I'm about to do much worse," said Amon icily. Then he slammed both of their heads against the wall, and pressed a finger to each of their foreheads.
What happened next wasn't visually obvious. From an outsider's point of view, all that happened was that the pair went still for a few moments, and then slumped to the ground.
But even Asami, who as a non-bender had never trained her chi, could feel the atmosphere change in the room. The sheer wrongness of the act pulsated from Amon in waves.
The masked man didn't seem to care, in any event. As soon as his enemies crumpled, he dashed over to Asami, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he whispered, a hint of genuine worry leaking into his voice that she'd never heard from him before. "Did they hurt you?"
Asami, however, shrugged off his concern, her eyes remaining locked on the waterbenders.
"You did your thing to them, didn't you?" she asked, through gritted teeth. She was advancing on them, one tiny step at a time. "You took their bending away?"
"I know I promised your mother I would stop," responded Amon. "But…they needed to pay. These monsters…"
"Oh, I'm not arguing with you about that," she said, cutting him off. Her eyes briefly rested on her mother's body, still dripping blood. "I just don't think that's enough. Not nearly enough."
She paused briefly to adjust the dials on each of her gloves. Turning the voltage all the way to maximum.
Then she grabbed both of the waterbenders by the throat, and squeezed.
[-]
They would later learn, after "interrogating" one of the remaining assassins, that they'd been sent by Water Chieftain Unalaq. The ringleaders of the group had been his children, Prince Desna and Princess Eska.
What they would never find out was why. They could make some educated guesses – certainly, the unparalleled popularity of a politician campaigning against tyrannical benders wouldn't be looked on too fondly by those very same tyrants – but ultimately, his motives would forever remain a mystery.
Of course, that confession was hardly enough to make an accusation stick against a fellow head of state. Hidden away in his icy palace in the North, the man was practically untouchable.
So it was a good thing the Equalists no longer had any intention of working within the bounds of the law.
The story was as predictable as it was infuriating. Being an entirely new system of government, no chain of succession had ever been established for the presidency, and so the assassination caught the United Republic entirely flat-flooted.
To general outcry, the courts eventually ruled that until the next election could take place, the candidate who came in second during the last would be installed as "emergency president."
And naturally, that was Tarrlok.
Overnight, practically everything changed. The new administration wasted no time re-designating the Equalist Movement as a terrorist group, and enacting a series of executive orders designed to crack down on their activities.
Thousands protested these actions. Tarrlok simply arrested them all, and imprisoned those he considered to be "instigators" indefinitely without trial.
Now that he no longer had to answer to four coequal executives, these strong-arm tactics no longer carried him any real consequence. He was all but certain to lose the next election, but that was over a year away.
And in the meantime, he was clearly bent on stamping out an organization that he'd always seen as a threat to the world.
Under the leadership of someone like Yasuko Sato, the Equalists might've risen above these challenges. Patiently weathered the storm of Tarrlok's interim term, and put all their efforts into winning back power legitimately during the next election cycle.
But Asami wasn't her mother. And she was done with patience.
Grief over losing both her parents to vicious benders had given away, remarkably quickly, to white-cold fury. And that fury granted her the purpose and drive to do what needed to be done.
At only twelve, most would've probably considered her too young to take a leadership role in the dawning revolution. But Amon and Sho had never treated her like a child, for which she was intensely grateful.
Indeed, it'd been the masked man who'd first asked her. She had always seen him as something like a caged dragon – chafing at the restrictions Yasuko placed on him, even as he acknowledged their political necessity. It simply wasn't what he'd trained himself to do.
But now, those restrictions were lifted. The cage door was open. Amon was ready to unleash the warrior he'd always been at heart…and for that fight, he needed a Lieutenant.
Sho would've been the natural choice, but the events of that night had left him scarred in more ways than one. While he managed to survive his injuries, it was a very close call, and he wound up suffering permanent nerve damage in his chest and both arms. He would never be able to fight again.
Which was why it fell to his best student to take up the mantle, instead.
When she slipped into the uniform, it just felt so right.
[-]
Five years later, the battle lines were firmly entrenched.
Tarrlok, against all logic, had managed to cling onto power that whole time. "Emergency measure" after "emergency measure" had pushed off the next election little by little, until by the time it was held, many of the United Republic's non-benders had given up faith entirely in the democratic process.
It didn't help that he stationed armed goons near a number of polling places in poorer parts of the city, to intimidate potential voters with silent displays of flame or ice.
As a result, though it was narrow, Tarrlok managed to eke out a win, extending his term for another three years. These days, he was gearing up to try for another.
Asami Sato knew, intellectually, that she and Amon were as responsible as anyone for the weasel-snake's continued hold over Republic City. He'd built his political career atop turning them into a scapegoat-gorilla for all the city's troubles, and everything they'd done since Yasuko's death had played straight into his hands.
She just couldn't bring herself to care all that much. They were done trying to win hearts and minds.
Tarrlok wanted the Equalists to be violent revolutionaries out for blood, and so that's exactly what they became.
For five long years, they'd skulked around the city's underground, training and equipping the anonymous masses who'd loved and idolized her mother. Their secret stash of armor and weapons was broken open and distributed, with Asami providing a constant influx of new inventions and upgrades from the depths of her own mind.
And they used those weapons to strike back at their oppressors, every chance they could get.
Unalaq had been first on the list, of course. With him, it was personal. Such a renowned waterbender and spiritualist had surely never expected to be felled by a simple dart-gun.
But he'd only been the start. Under the direction of Amon and Asami, the Equalists engaged in assassinations, industrial sabotage, and destruction of property all across the world. Wherever it would hurt the bending establishment the most, their faceless masks were sure to be seen, emerging from the shadows.
And those benders who, for whatever reason, didn't warrant killing – because their crimes were relatively minor, or because the Equalists wanted to avoid making them a martyr – were summarily dispatched using Amon's secret technique.
Which just so happened to be their objective for tonight. The target was a good man, by the standards of his kind, but removing his bending would mark an enormous triumph for their cause.
The mission was important enough that Asami had decided to join her leader out in the field personally. They and five chi-blockers were aboard a miniature airship of her own design, one painted to be nearly undetectable against the cloudy night sky.
"Approaching the target in thirty," said the pilot. "Prepare to drop."
"Acknowledged," replied Asami. Zipping up her bodysuit and carefully tucking her long hair into her mask, the now seventeen-year-old girl turned to Amon and flashed an owl-cattish smile.
Even with his face covered, she could see him tense up briefly. "Dare I ask what you're grinning about?" he muttered.
"Just wondering when you're finally going to teach me that technique of yours," she needled at him, repeating an argument they'd had about a hundred times before now. "You know, if you'd just pass it along, you wouldn't have to go on every single one of these frontline missions."
"How many times do I have to tell you that it's not that kind of technique?" he demanded testily. "I'd train you if I could, Asami, but it's a lot more complicated than…"
But he was cut off by the bomb bay doors opening beneath them, and dropping all seven Equalists into open air, hundreds of feet above the ground.
Asami stifled a chuckle, pulled her goggles over her eyes, and oriented her body into a smooth, freeform dive. For as long as possible, she would let her black bodysuit blend into the moonless sky, letting her approach their quarry unnoticed.
Around her, Amon and the chi-blockers swiftly followed suit. All of them had trained for this night for months.
Finally, when they were just seconds from hitting the water, each of them deployed their parachutes at once, transitioning into a smooth glide that took them around the edge of the island.
"Remember, it's the third window from the temple's leftmost side. Approach as silently as possible," crackled Sho's voice over their radios. Even though he couldn't go out in the field any longer, he still remained active in missions by coordinating from afar.
"How long do we have, again?" said Asami.
"Not long. Five minutes, if that, based on my spy's description of the guard duty rosters," he answered. "You want to get in, get out. Before anyone even realizes you were there."
Thankfully, this temple had been built more for aesthetics than security, and there was a nice convenient veranda right outside their target's windowsill.
Pulling a miniature toolkit from her pocket, Asami withdrew a couple of pins and got to work on the window's lock. It was almost insultingly easy to pick.
"Alright, we're in. Everyone keep to the plan," she whispered to her team. "Follow my lead."
But the plan began to fall apart as soon as they entered. What they'd taken at a distance to be their target sound asleep was clearly, upon closer inspection, just a lump of pillows and blankets in the rough shape of an adult man.
Which meant…
Asami ducked instinctively, which was the only thing that saved her from an air-blast to the face.
"I knew Ping was suspicious," declared Tenzin, son of Avatar Aang, as he circled around the room, waving his arms to build up power for another strike. "You should teach your spies that asking about the optimal sleeping habits of a master airbender is a big red flag."
"Well, if we're done trying to be subtle…" said Amon, striding forward and cracking his knuckles. Then, he lunged for the former councilman.
Unfortunately, it became evident rather quickly that this wasn't going to be easy. Asami has watched in awe as Amon ran circles around waterbenders, earthbenders, and firebenders alike, but it seemed airbending was the perfect counter to his personal style. Its focus on evasion and negative jing meant it was difficult for Amon to even touch him, let alone block his chi.
The one advantage they had against the airbender, numbers, was rendered moot shortly after as half a dozen White Lotus bodyguards heard the commotion and joined the fray. The quintet of chi-blockers they'd brought with them were forced to split off and fight the guards, leaving Amon and Asami alone with Tenzin.
She did her best to aid her leader, but all of her own weapons still required either physical contact or the element of surprise – and neither looked to be within reach right now. The best they could hope for was to outlast the bending master, and strike once he was exhausted.
That was all a lot easier said than done.
"I once had a great deal of sympathy for your movement, you know," spoke Tenzin as they fought. His bedroom had become a complete warzone, with bedding and clothes and furniture being tossed every which way by the gale-force winds he summoned. "I voted for Yasuko Sato twice, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. There was still hope when you were trying to achieve your goals through peaceful means."
"Peace went out the window the moment those animals murdered my mother!" Asami exclaimed, clapping both of her shock gloves together. This activated an upgrade she'd recently installed, shooting a directed bolt of electricity at her foe.
Tenzin dodged again, but it was a much nearer miss than usual. Amon quickly capitalized on the opening, body-checking the airbender to the ground. Even as they were toppling, the masked man stuck out his fingers, ready to end this in one shot.
But before he could make contact, Tenzin formed a rotating wheel of air around himself and used it to toss Amon into the opposite wall. He raced along the ground, literally running circles around them.
"Miss Sato…I still don't know that much about you. I wish I did. I wish I'd had a chance to stop you from going down this path," he said, speaking over the din of the rushing winds. "You deserved to feel grief. To feel anger. But that doesn't justify using those feelings as an excuse to hurt other people!"
"Easy for you to say!" she snarled, abandoning strategy and simply rushing the airbender, trying to punch his face in. "Born as the son of the Avatar – you've never wanted for anything, never known what it's like to really suffer!"
"But you will," rumbled Amon, surprising both of them. In all the chaos, it seemed he'd managed to slip out of the room, and was now back in the doorway.
With a knife held to a terrified woman's throat.
"Pema!" Tenzin bellowed, instantly dissipating the bent air.
"Tenzin, the children are safe," the woman fought to say, through choked sobs. "I'm so sorry I got caught…"
"Stand down, airbender, and this doesn't need to go any further. I'll remove your bending regardless…either the easy way, or the hard way," Amon told him, his grip on the knife unwavering as he pressed it closer to her flesh. "The choice is yours."
All the fight disappeared at once from his cool blue eyes, as Tenzin took a few steps back, face buried in his hands.
"…Fine. Do it," he whispered. "Just don't hurt her."
"Asami, take hold of the woman. Make sure she doesn't interfere while I get to work," said Amon, handing the hostage and the knife over to her.
Her eyes briefly darted to the noticeable bulge in the woman's belly, and she felt her hands hesitate, just for a moment. But ultimately, she did as instructed. She was nothing if not a dutiful Lieutenant.
"For what it's worth…" Amon declared, as his fingers reached out. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this."
"No, you're not," Tenzin replied sharply. Then he closed his eyes.
[-]
"Well, that didn't take long," stated Sho a few days later, as soon as they returned to the underground bunker they were using as a hideout. Numerous radios and newspaper clippings surrounded his desk, a veritable ocean of information. "Tarrlok's officially called for intervention by the Fire Nation. And Fire Lord Nazrin's stupid enough that she just might deliver."
"Ironic," Asami almost had to chuckle. "Not even eight decades on from the Hundred Year War, and they're actually begging for the Fire Nation to invade."
They'd known this was a possibility, as their moves grew bolder and bolder. Everyone knew there was no love lost between the former councilmen, but removing the abilities of the only airbending master on the planet was bound to ruffle some monkey-feathers.
And Tarrlok never missed an opportunity he could take advantage of.
"We'll have the Fire Navy up on our ports by the end of the week. And Hou-Ting's troops are already hounding the borders. World leaders are terrified by the revolutions we've sparked within their own nations," Sho continued to explain. "You know what this means, don't you?"
"Civil war," said Amon, taking off his mask and shaking his head. "We knew it would come to this in time. The important thing is that we win it."
Sho took a deep breath, then pulled out another set of hastily scrawled notes.
"And that's not all," he murmured. "Did you hear the news on the radio this morning?"
"What news?" asked Asami, frowning. What could possibly be worse than intervention from the most powerful navy on the planet?
"If you have to ask, then you clearly didn't hear it," Sho responded coolly. "They say the Avatar has just finished her training at the South Pole. And that she's pretty pissed off about us taking out her airbending master before he could train her."
He pushed forward a newspaper clipping, featuring a photograph of a young woman in Water Tribe furs, her face set with stoic determination.
"She's coming here. To Republic City."
[-]
"Should I take the shot?" Asami whispered into her radio.
An enormous crowd had gathered by the docks to watch the reclusive Avatar Korra make her debut on the world stage, despite the Tarrlok administration's restrictions on large public gatherings.
Asami, for her part, was standing atop a nearby building, her crossbow at the ready. It was loaded with special bolts of her own design, which would release a powerful electric shock on contact – enough to stop a person's heart.
And she was aiming it squarely at the girl currently disembarking a Water Tribe-style schooner.
"Not yet," said Amon's voice in her ear. "Just keep an eye on her for now."
She'd done her research on the young Avatar in advance of this meeting. Born and raised in the Southern Water Tribe, she'd been frog-squirreled away in a secure compound by the Order of the White Lotus for the past eleven years, learning the elements one by one.
At sixteen – one year younger than Asami herself – she'd only just reached the age at which Avatars traditionally began their training, and yet she was already a master of three. She would be a dangerous opponent, that was for certain.
Although that was a bit hard to keep in mind, as she watched the girl be thrown off the back of her pet polar bear-dog when it lunged for a street vendor stall, causing her to fly into a puddle of mud.
Still…Asami's eyes couldn't help but light up as she watched the Avatar stand back up, and effortlessly bend herself clean. She wasn't entirely sure why.
But whatever was drawing her gaze, it surely had nothing to do with the other girl's bare, taut, muscular arms.
"This is…difficult. I wouldn't object to killing the Avatar if it served our goals. If nothing else, it would buy us another sixteen years or so while they train up the next one," Amon's tinny voice continued to sound from her receiver. "But the Avatar has been deified for practically all of recorded history. Even many non-benders swear by her name. If we strike at her too soon, it could lose us what little popular support we still have."
"You could try and take away her bending. Then she wouldn't be a threat," Asami suggested.
"If it comes to that, I'm prepared for it," said Amon. "But I've got another idea."
Asami's lips pursed in a noncommittal hum, as she watched the girl remount her pet and wave awkwardly to the crowd, which was carrying banners of her face and chanting her name. Only another teenager would've been able to spot just how uncomfortable she was.
"We don't know much about this Avatar's personality. The White Lotus have kept her away from the world since she was five," he went on. "Perhaps…she can be reasoned with. You're about her age. You could make the attempt."
"Winning people over was more my mom's forte than mine," replied Asami. "Honestly, I don't know if I even remember how to make friends."
"Well, you've got me beat on that front, at least," Amon pointed out. It was a rare bit of levity from the usually stoic man, and it instantly put her in a better mood.
Still, there was one other problem.
"Besides, I'm sort of a wanted criminal," she added with a sigh. "Not sure I want to risk her deciding to turn me over to the Tarrlok regime."
And, speak of the Dark Spirit…the oily politician in question was striding forward from the crowd, to provide his "official" welcoming of the world's most celebrated heroine to his humble city. After exchanging bows, he grasped the Avatar by the hand, took her aside, and whispered something in her ear.
At which point she promptly bent a funnel of water and tossed him into the sea.
"Okay…" said Asami, impressed in spite of herself. "Maybe I won't have to worry about that."
[-]
Deciding how to approach the Avatar was tricky.
As she alluded to with Amon, she'd never bothered to keep her association with the Equalists a secret – it would've been pointless, with how public they'd become in her mother's heyday. So she didn't have some "secret identity" she could use to meet her without arousing suspicion.
Besides, if the White Lotus were even remotely competent, she and Amon would've been top on the list of threats to warn her about. The Avatar's guard would surely be up the moment she approached.
That was why she'd chosen to strike on neutral ground. Fire Lord Nazrin, a notorious party girl who'd ascended to the throne after Amon stole the bending of her mother Izumi, was holding a spectacular birthday celebration for herself on the flagship of the fleet she'd sent to aid Tarrlok.
It was an unbelievably stupid idea, but perfectly in-character for the infamously mercurial girl. And because the boat was technically not United Republic property, Tarrlok held no legal jurisdiction over it.
In practice, of course, any Fire Navy officers who caught her would most likely hand her over to the Republic City police without a second thought. But that bureaucratic delay might be enough for her to make an escape.
She'd just have to take that calculated risk.
Still, so as not to make it too obvious that she was crashing, Asami decided to dress herself to the nines for that night. A backless and sleeveless dress in bright red – it was a Fire Nation party, after all – with a low cut in the front, and accompanied by a full set of golden jewelry.
A camellia in her hair completed the look. It was the least suspicious way she could think to honor her parents – the flower being the traditional symbol of the Saowon Clan, from whom Hiroshi had been distantly descended.
Asami had hardly recognized herself when she first looked in the mirror. She hadn't dressed this fancily since her mother's passing, which just so happened to have occurred in the middle of puberty.
These days, she spent so much time in sexless jumpsuits and covered in grease that she'd all but forgotten she could even look…like this.
She wasn't sure how she felt about it, honestly. But she did know she could use it.
Asami managed to slip in with a group of university girls who, judging from the size of the jewels on their rings and necklaces, had managed to score invites primarily from the wealth of their families. It'd been a long time since Asami herself had belonged to "high society," but she managed to imitate their poise and demeanor well enough to enter the party without suspicion.
The flagship, once a proud symbol of Fire Nation naval superiority, had been transformed until it was almost recognizable. Balloons and streamers in varying shades of red and orange hung over everything, so that it seemed like the entire boat was on fire, and all of the cannons had been swapped out for spotlights, which were constantly roving around the deck for cute couples to highlight.
Dozens upon dozens of fancy tables, each sporting a different tacky statue of a heraldic beast native to the Fire Nation, were strewn about in a haphazard formation. Dapperly dressed servants were winding between them like clockwork, plying the hundreds of guests with a steady stream of alcohol.
And as the center of it all stood the Avatar, alongside the guest of honor – Fire Lord Nazrin herself. The twenty-two-year-old firebender was hanging off the other girl's shoulder, and was obviously sloshed out of her mind.
"C'mon, Korrrrrrrrrra!" she slurred, pausing to snicker at how fun it was to roll the sounds of her name. "Tell me which o' these hunks gets yerrrrrrr motor runnin'!"
She was saying all of this very loudly, so that everyone within a radius of about twenty feet could hear. The Avatar, for her part, had her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed beyond belief.
"Me? I got m'eye on thaaaaat sexy falcon-fox," she said, deciding to answer her own question in absence of a response from her companion. She thumbed over at a pair of guards watching from the sidelines. "Though the shorter one's preeeeeetty fine, too. Think they're broooooothers? Ooooh…wonder if they'd mind takin' tuuuuurns…"
The boys in question, a tall boy with golden eyes and a stocky one with green eyes, had clearly overheard every word of this, and now looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
Avatar Korra flashed them both an apologetic smile, and then resumed trying to prop up the Fire Lord, who was drooping.
"Why don't we get you some water, Fire Lord?" she asked the other girl quietly. "Or I can show you this neat party trick I learned in the South. You just need to get a…"
But she was cut off by the firebender leaning up, and pressing their mouths tightly together.
"Mmmmmm…yeah, actually, I like this waaaaaaay better…" Nazrin purred, her eyes half-lidded. "I've gotten laid after a loooooootta parties, but the Avatar would take the cake! Whatcha think, girrrrrrrlfriend? Wanna gimme the beeeeeest birthday prezzie ever…?"
Now the Avatar's cheeks were burning so red, she practically blended into the décor. With some difficulty she managed to extricate herself from the Fire Lord's grip, and set her down gently in the nearest chair.
"I've, umm…gotta go use the little bender's room," she said, clearly fumbling.
But it seemed Nazrin was far too drunk to recognize the lameness of the excuse, as she simply waved the Avatar farewell and then turned to ask the Komodo rhino statue atop her table who he'd come to the party with.
Seizing the opportunity, the other girl quickly turned tail and tried to get as far from the Fire Lord as possible.
Too quickly, as it turned out, because her feet caught on the hem of a dress she clearly had no experience wearing, and she wound up collapsing spectacularly.
Directly onto Asami.
"Crap, crap, crap. I'm so sorry…" the Avatar gasped out, holding her head and wincing as they fought to extricate their obscenely fancy dresses apart from each other. Her gown had a whole bunch of functionally pointless hooks lining the furs, and pretty much all of them had gotten caught on Asami's red fabric.
"It's okay, don't worry about it. Here, let me get that," Asami told the other girl, because her hasty fumbling was only making things worse. "Is your head okay? It looked like you hit the deck pretty hard…"
The sincerity of the question surprised her. All political calculation had been driven out by genuine concern.
"Eh, I've been told I have a pretty hard head. I think I'll be fine," said Avatar Korra with an awkward chuckle, just as Asami finally managed to undo the last hook.
And with that, they belatedly realized that they were still in a position where one of them was essentially straddling the other, and that their faces were just a few inches apart. Simultaneously, their cheeks went pink, and they averted their heads in opposite directions.
"We, uhh…should probably get back up," the Avatar mumbled. "Before people start thinking this is that kind of party. Err…not that Nazrin isn't trying her hardest to make it one…"
Asami, who recovered her wits more quickly, jumped to her feet and then offered a hand to the other girl. She took it gratefully, though her blush didn't go away.
"You want to sit down somewhere?" Asami offered, gesturing toward the tables at the opposite end of the deck. "Someplace quieter, maybe?"
The Avatar let out a sigh of relief.
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, allowing herself to be led away by the hand.
[-]
Asami spent the entire next hour certain that Avatar Korra was going to figure out who she was any second now.
When the waterbender first asked for her name, she'd thought at first that the girl was pulling her leg. Even dressed up like this, she was still clearly Asami Sato, the United Republic's second-most-wanted terrorist.
But she decided to cautiously test the waters, to see how far she could take this. Her name was "Kurumu." She was an Earth Kingdom immigrant who'd come to the city to attend Republic University. And she'd been brought to this party as the plus-one of a wealthy friend who (Asami's eyes quickly searched the deck) was right over there, and who would totally introduce himself if he weren't out cold from too much emberwine. Asami even got "him" an autograph on a table napkin, just to enhance the deception.
The Avatar was either very sly or very dumb, because she appeared to fall for all of this hippo-bull hook, line, and sinker. Which, to a masterful schemer or manipulator of people, would seem to provide the perfect opening.
Unfortunately, Asami was none of those things. And that was how they instead wound up tossing back drinks and gabbing like old girlfriends.
"Okay, I know she's the ruler of her nation and all that good stuff. But that girl is so creepy!" Korra ranted; thankfully, the music being played by seven simultaneous live bands was so loud that no one else could hear her complaints. "You how she tried to flirt with me before the party? She talked about how we should 'live up to the legacy' because Aang and Zuko used to get it on! Which…for one, pretty sure not true. And for another – ewwww! That's her grandfather and my previous incarnation she's talking about!"
Asami couldn't help herself. She laughed – first lightly, then uproariously. It was the hardest she could remember laughing in a very long time.
"Why don't you just tell it to her face?" she asked. "The way I saw it go down with Tarrlok, it didn't look like you've got much of a problem telling 'world leaders' where to shove it."
"Tarrlok's different. He's just a weasel-snake through and through," said Korra. "Nazrin, though…I mean, she was just a kid when she got tossed onto the throne. If it wasn't for the nobles bringing out that stupid ancient law against Izumi, saying that a non-bender can't be Fire Lord…"
Considering that Asami had been there during the mission to steal Izumi's bending, she figured it best to keep her mouth shut on that one.
"Still, it's been two years. And she's older than we are," Asami decided to point out instead. "At some point, she needs to grow up. Or abdicate to her brother."
"Yeah, Iroh would definitely make more sense as Fire Lord. But we live in 'interesting times,' as Konsai always says. Maybe that means we need interesting leaders," the Avatar replied with a shrug. "I mean, I'm one to talk. Not exactly the great savior everyone here was expecting out of their Avatar."
The jovial mood between them evaporated in an instant. They were clearly tugging at the threads of something that'd been bothering Korra for some time.
Against her better judgment, Asami found herself murmuring, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"This whole Equalist…thing. The situation the city's in now. It's all one big stewpot, ready to boil over any second," Korra attempted to explain. "It needs an Avatar who knows…y'know. Diplomacy. Bringing people together. Someone like Aang, or Yangchen."
She leaned back in her seat, letting out a long, rattling breath.
"I'm just…I'm not that person. Never have been," she continued after a little while. "I can punch a problem! I'm real good at that. But everything else…yeah, I dunno. Not even sure where to start."
Without thinking, Asami placed a hand on the other girl's shoulder.
"Every other Avatar probably had to go through the same thing. Feeling like they weren't good enough, compared to their predecessors," she said. "You'll figure this out."
Korra placed her own hand atop Asami's, and for just a moment, the non-bender felt an unfamiliar swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"You know, I usually hate these kinds of things. But I had a lot of fun tonight," she told Asami softly. "I'm glad I got to meet you, Kurumu. Maybe I'll…see you around, sometime?"
Probably sooner than you think, if you're here to fight Equalists, was what Asami thought of saying. But all she managed to utter aloud was an amazingly articulate, "Umm…yeah, sure…"
"Sweet!" Korra exclaimed, making a triumphant fist. "Say, now that I'm thinking about it…Nazrin's been pushing all the presents she doesn't want onto me all night. One of them was a pair of tickets to a pro-bending match next weekend – Tigerdillos versus Rabaroos. We could…go together, maybe? If you like that sorta thing?"
Once again, Asami found her mouth was working faster than her brain, because before giving it any thought she'd already answered, "Y…Yeah! Sounds like a plan!"
Why was she suddenly so eager to say yes to everything Korra was suggesting? And – she did a mental double take – when had she switched from calling her "the Avatar" to "Korra" in her head, anyway?
She tried to rationalize that this was all about getting closer to the master bender so she could defeat or subvert her, but somehow that didn't seem to be it.
It wasn't like she was…
"Alright! Then just meet me at the arena around sundown. I'll be training all week after this, so I could use the cool-off," said Korra, interrupting that rather dangerous train of thought. "You won't regret this, Kurumu! Now, I'd better get back to Nazrin and let her down gently, before she burns down the whole ship trying to find me…"
And with that, Avatar Korra departed from their table. Asami stared, barely blinking, at the young Avatar – and more specifically, at the way her hips swayed as she walked away.
The swooping feeling returned again, far stronger this time. Except that now, Asami was starting to have a decent idea what it was.
Oh.
Oh no.
No no no no no no no no…
"Spirits…" moaned Asami Sato, slumping back into her chair. "Amon is gonna kill me…"