I'd actually forgotten that I had updated this baby at the end of last year. I have been going around with a very bad feeling because I recalled my previous update being in December 2013. Thank God, I did update in 2014. Otherwise I would've been crushed with guilt (although I still am). I truly do hope to update more often – and hopefully I'll finish this story by summertime (I know it's an enthusiastic goal, as I'm planning about 30 chapters in total). But I promise to be better. Good scenes and juicy stuff is yet to come. Important and enjoyable stuff. Wouldn't miss it for the world.

- MAL

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Chapter 23: Meditation

Clonk!

Startled, Korra sat up on the stone floor and muttered curses at whomever had decided to try and break her leg with the door. Grumbling, she moved away from the door and allowed the person inside.

Realizing that it was just some random Equalist bringing her food, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Oddly enough, she should have been delighted to see someone after one and a half day in solitary, not to mention the plate he had brought along, but somehow she did not feel that there was much to be happy about. This was just like her time in the cell; tasteless meals consisting of dried bread and thinned out soup, constant darkness and silence around her, and not a friendly face for miles and miles. That, and the room stank of piss – not without reason, however, as the bucket in the corner served a certain purpose. The tiny room with no windows just made the smell worse, and if the bucket was not emptied soon, Korra felt she was going to be sick.

Without a word, the man put the plate on the floor and pushed it forward with his boot until it was within her reach, watching her coldly in the process. Korra felt surprisingly offended by this, but said nothing as she pulled the plate close and eyed the stranger darkly. For a moment she wondered if she would have to get used to this, or if Amon was just allowing her to be treated like filth to get a point through. I did not seem likely that he considered having her living in a broom closet for long, given that she could technically kick the door in anytime due to its fragile nature, and the only thing keeping her from doing so was the activity on the floor below and the fear of the possible consequences. She still had not forgotten Amon's ability to shut down bending permanently.

As Korra took the first bite of the hard bread, the Equalist turned on his heel and left.

"Hey!" she shouted, bread crumbs sent flying. "Are you not going to empty my bucket!?"

The lock clicked delicately behind him, and the Avatar concluded that, no, he was in fact not going to empty her bucket anytime soon. This made her sneer bitterly at him through the door before returning to the task of chewing the stone hard bread crust.

It did not take long for her to get through the small amount of food; she had been too focused on Amon to notice the hunger growing from within, but now that she was undisturbed in any way, her mind seemed to linger to the fact that her stomach felt like a black hole from the inside. The bread seemed to fill out some of the space, but it was far from enough, and she hoped that she was lucky enough to get dinner as well. From experience she knew how fatigued her body would grow from the lack of proper food for several days.

Not that it matters, really, she thought with a sigh. There is not much to do in her anyway. I will not need the energy until the final moment.

She sat for a moment, brooding, when she realized that there was still one thing she could do. As Tenzin had once told her, the only way for her to reach her spirit guides – the former Avatars – was to meditate. And all while there had been hundreds of things to disturb her back at the temple, this place offered her nothing but silence and darkness. The perfect place to try and dig into her own spirit, and reach the ones beyond.

Closing her eyes – although unnecessary; she could not see shit anyway – she crossed her legs, exhaled slowly, and tried to empty her mind. At the beginning, it was difficult to push away the many sudden thoughts that popped up and remind her of how miserable her life was at the moment, but after some time she seemed to gain control. She imagined the sound of the wind chimes from the temple, the trees around the island dancing in the wind, and the sea foaming behind them. The dirt under her legs, the wind in her hair, the sunlight barely visible from behind her eyelids.

Avatar Aang? Are you there?

Nothing as usual...

Schh! I must not think irrelevant thoughts.

…

Previous lives, I seek your help. Do you hear me?

…

For a moment, she imagined how Aang's voice would sound in her head as he answered to her prayers, but in the end the voice inside her head was none other than her own. It was impossible to recall a voice she had never heard, after all.

When thoughts of her never-ending failure started pressing their way into her consciousness, she frowned and tried pushing them out of her mind, but her focus seemed to be broken once again.

Damn it! If this keeps up, I will conclude that the previous Avatars have been erased from my spirit. I refuse to believe they-...

Suddenly, the lock clicked, and the door swung open again. Korra nearly jumped in surprise.

"What now?" she hissed irritably and realized that three full-grown men were trying to cram themselves into the broom closet with her.

"Alright, just make yourselves at home. Plenty of space for all of us," she muttered with a dry smile, but once she saw the hostility in their eyes, she wondered for the fraction of a second if now was the time to put the hammer to good use and then try to make a run for it. She grabbed out for the wooden handle just beneath the rack, but was quickly seized by both arms and pulled away before she even got close.

Turned around by the two men, she was immediately smashed frontally against the iron rack where she was kept in check as the third guy began the painful routine of stabbing her back at certain points to block the flow of her chi and sealing away her ability to bend.

With her cheek against the cold iron, Korra hissed in weak retaliation, but she did not struggle. Shutting her eyes, she counted to ten in her head, ignoring her body's response to the unwanted pain.

As soon as they were done, the three Equalists turned around and left without a word.

Sore, Korra slumped to the floor and leaned against the rack, tears stinging her eyes.

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The lack of the Avatar's presence made it surprisingly easier for Amon to focus on work.

Knowing that she was being fed dry bread and chi-blocked this very instant, however, awoke a need in him – a sadistic need of watching her locked up in that ridiculously small room and held down as one of his co-workers performed the allegedly painful routine of sealing her bending away.

But – he straightened himself in his seat – that kind of pleasantly entertaining procrastination was for another time. He had work to do.

The next and final ceremony taking place on the upcoming Saturday required a lot of planning. At first, it had taken him some time finding a place big enough for the event, which would be much greater than all previous gatherings, but eventually he had come to an agreement with the owner of an abandoned military storage building. The owner was paid a handsome amount of money in exchange for the promise that he would wait one more week before demolishing the building. The advantage of this deal was also the fact that Amon did not have to worry about his men cleaning out and checking for traces once they were done. Mere hours after they were out, the owner would start tearing the whole place down. It could not have been easier.

But having a place was one thing. Organizing his men was just as important, and nearly just as much a pain in the ass. He was proud to realize that his number of soldiers had exceeded two hundred by now, and many more were in training. But figuring out who to put where during the ceremony took a lot of time, and perhaps he would even need to pay a visit to all the Equalist locations to get the small details into place.

He still needed confirmation that his newest order from Future Industries was finished, too. Four mecha tanks resulted in a lot of work according to Hiroshi Sato, but once Amon had informed him of his daughter's new connection with the Equalists, Mr Sato had gained renewed energy and had even offered one of the tanks for free to support.

Note to self:, Amon thought suddenly. Remember to check up on the Sato girl. Confirm that she is still on our side... And remind the Lieutenant that he needs to sign that document from last week.

Just as he had finished his mental to-do-list, a knock came from the door.

"Enter," he called, and was surprised to recognize the young man. "Torr. Come in."

Torr shut the door behind himself and greeted Amon once again with a quick bow.

"Sir," he began, smiling. "I just wanted you to confirm that you received the letter from the other day."

"What letter?" Amon asked flatly. Torr suddenly turned red in the face.

"You received a letter with a donation this Saturday. You asked me to put it in your pocket, which I did."

Amon stood up, folding his arms behind his back as he did so often when thinking.

"In my pocket, you say?" he repeated, turning to the occupied coat stand by the door, but without approaching it. "I am certain that I did not find any letter. It seems to have been lost along with one of my gloves."

If possible, Torr turned even redder. Amon frowned unnoticed. For a young man, Torr was a skilled fighter, but the capacity of his mind was not necessarily something to brag about.

"About that," stammered said young man nervously. "I might actually have put the letter inside one of your gloves. You know, to make sure nobody saw it and decided to read along."

At times like this, Amon praised himself smart for wearing a mask. Torr would be running if he saw the anger tugging at Amon's facial muscles. But, as he had practiced for years, Amon kept his voice impressively free of emotion as he spoke.

"Then it might seem that the letter has indeed been lost along with said glove. I received no report of forgotten or dropped belongings after yesterday's clean-out."

Torr turned white.

"I am terribly sorry, sir," he stuttered, bowing repeatedly. Amon took a deep breath and gestured for the door.

"You can leave," he spoke, his voice smooth and icy. Torr dared not oppose this and left the room soundlessly with a face similar to the one of a scolded puppy.

When the door clicked shut, Amon counted to ten in his head before smashing his fist into the wall. The leather pad connected to his arm guards took most of the hit, but even so his knuckles cracked under the impact. He left no hole in the wall, however, and as soon as he had flexed his fingers to make sure no real damage was done, he returned to his chair calmly.

There was no reason to be upset. The situation was not necessarily as bad as he feared. It was possible that the glove had been tossed out – if so, he expected the sender to write him another letter when they realized he had not received the first. But there was also the possibility of the letter being picked up by someone, and in that case he expected the person to deliver the letter to him unread. But it was two days ago now, and nobody seemed to know of the letter, which meant that it might have been found by someone outside the organization. And knowing that the young Fire-bender had been present during the ceremony, Amon could not help but think that he might be the culprit.

But, even if that were the case, Amon had no idea of how much sensitive information the letter contained. Usually, donation letters were similar to fan letters, containing compliments and praise, plus the notice that the donor sought information about the bank account onto which they could transfer the money – or simply a check. And there was never an address, seeing as nobody outside the Equalists knew of their usual locations, and the letters were nearly always delivered face to face at the ceremony – just like this one. So, all in all, it seemed highly unlikely that the letter contained information that could be used against him or the Equalists. But he could never be one hundred percent sure of this until he had read the thing himself.

Taking another deep breath to release the irritation from his mind, Amon decided that it would do him no good dwelling on could-be's and maybe's. No matter what, there was nothing he could do about it right now, and thus it was a waste of time thinking about it. There was still a lot of work to dedicate his time to. Besides, he would have to pay a visit to the Sato girl, see the Lieutenant, and eventually he would also have to deal with the Avatar.

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Asami had expected training to feel a bit weird because of her stunt during the weekend, but the feeling inside of her came closer to discomfort and awkwardness than anything else. Of course, nobody knew what she had done to Talan – or, rather, with him – which definitely helped the situation. Everybody acted like they usually did, and nothing seemed to have changed, except from the pair of syrup brown eyes constantly lingering to her moving frame. She did not even have to look over her shoulder to know he was still watching her with that mixture of surprise and desire which she had ignited a few days ago.

A brief moment of absentmindedness earned her a kick to the stomach, and she was sent directly to the thin rubber mat on the floor.

"You seem distracted," her sparring partner noted and offered Asami a hand, but she rolled to her side and got up quickly, stealing a brief glance at Talan, who was indeed watching her intensely. If she kept losing like this, it would be a clear invitation for Talan to approach her and instruct her on how to keep her defensive stand strong enough to take the blows which it was supposed to.

"Yeah," Asami mumbled in return. "Never mind that. I just have to wake up completely."

Bending her knees and spreading her feet slightly to allow flexibility and stability at the same time, she directed her focus on the slightly older woman in front of her. Carmille had been in training a few months longer than Asami, and she suspected the woman to be promoted to Hall B soon enough. Even when Asami was fully focused, Carmille could still send her straight to the floor in one well-placed kick. Asami hoped she managed to learn to muster such strength before the weekend – after all, at her current level she would not be able to take down more than one or two beginners unless she got hold of a pair of electrified gloves or kali sticks.

A mecha tank would not be bad either, she thought and allowed a curl of her lips.

After the news regarding the next ceremony had started to spread through the building, people had talked very little about anything else; the sacrifice of the Avatar, and how excited they were to see the four mecha tanks Amon had gotten hold of, seemed to be the main topics everywhere these days. Of course, most of them had probably never seen a tank from Future Industries, which gave Asami a huge advantage should she actually get a hold of one. Heck, they others might beat her in hand-to-hand combat, but half of them would not even know how to enter the cockpit of one of her father's tanks.

If she even got that far at all, she remembered. Talan still had not returned to her with an answer.

Another kick interrupted Asami in her thoughts, but this time she managed to cross her arms in time to block. Challenge lit Carmille's eyes, and Asami readied herself for another attack, but the sound of a whistle made them both stop immediately just like rest of the trainees in the hall.

"Switch places!" Boban yelled for all to hear. Although the rubber mat was similar in both ends, it was a tradition that the defenders had their backs to the centre of the hall so that Talan and Boban could easily distinguish the attackers from the defenders when assessing the many pairs sparring.

Asami and Carmille swapped places. Now Asami's only objective was to try and sweep Carmille off her feet. Easier said than done. They had fought before, and Asami knew Carmille stood like a rock.

But that was not the problem nagging at the back of her mind at all. The fact that she was now turned face to face with Talan made it even harder to keep her eyes focused on her opponent. She could see him clearly over Carmille's shoulder, which usually would not have been a problem, but the man surely took pleasure in watching her and that was hard to ignore.

Barely had Asami taken a fighting stance when she realized that there were worse things in storage for her. When the double doors to the hall opened and a familiar porcelain mask came into view, Asami froze. She knew it seemed suspicious that she showed so much fear for the one person who ought to be her idol and pledged leader, but paranoia had been growing in her mind ever since she had set foot in the building and started pretending to be one of them.

Calm down. He is just checking up on all of us, Asami reassured herself and redirected her gaze back to the figure right in front of her.

"I am waiting," Carmille said slightly annoyed, moving impatiently from side to side to keep her joints active.

"Sorry," Asami answered quickly. "It is just...-"

"He has been staring at you the whole time, just so you know."

"Huh?"

Carmille rolled her eyes.

"Talan, you imbecile. Who else?"

But before Asami managed to utter another word, Amon's approach revealed that she was not talking about their class instructor. Carmille suddenly seemed stiff, as she erected her posture and bowed. Asami hesitantly did the same.

"Miss Sato, may I have a word?" His cold, dark voice made her blood run cold instantly. Reluctantly she nodded and stepped down from the mat to follow him.

Was this like the last time when he had merely sought to ask about her well-being? Back then she had suspected that he wanted to make her spill her plans to him, but such confrontation had never come. It just seemed unlikely that he took so much interest in her. After all, Larila had told her that Amon rarely had trainees – let alone those as new as Asami – visit his office. Thus, Asami could only come up with two possibilities: It was either about her relation to Korra or her father, both of which could be used against her in one way or another.

Curious looks followed Asami as she speechlessly trailed behind the masked man. She sternly avoided Talan's intense gaze as they passed. When they had reached the double doors, people seemed to return focus on their training once again.

The way up to Amon's office seemed unpleasantly long all of a sudden, despite it being no farther away than two hallways and a staircase. The muscles in Asami's thighs prickled sorely as they ascended the stairs.

Once upstairs, Asami threw a quick gaze to her right, down the hallway. The door to the broom closet was still closed. She wondered for a brief moment if Korra was still kept locked up in there. When she turned away, she found herself face to face with Amon.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was not supposed to know that she knew. She would be in tremendous trouble if he found out she had been sneaking around during nighttime.

Amon's golden eyes lingered on her for a long silent moment, a thoughtful, almost predator-like gaze that made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Then he turned his attention back to the door and unlocked it.

He stood aside and gestured Asami inside like some gentleman. Convinced that there was not much genuine gentleman in him, she kept her gaze straight as she passed him close by and entered the office, taking place before the desk at the far end. She heard the door click shut behind them, but did not let her stature falter despite the sweat starting to gather at her temples.

What if he knew? The thought swirled around in her mind, and she felt her lips tremble in a moment of weakness.

Amon proceeded to the other side of the desk and pulled out his chair, but did not sit. Instead he nodded toward the chair next to Asami.

"Please sit," he offered, and Asami was instantly reminded of how terrifying his voice was. Dark, cold, and inhumanly steely. She could not resist complying, and slumped uncomfortably roughly against the wooden seat like a doll that had been dropped. First then did he himself take place.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, the otherwise courageous daughter of Mr. Sato forced herself to meet the golden eyes of the leader. The slit in the porcelain surface did not move a millimetre as he spoke:

"I presume you have heard about our plans for the weekend?"

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I know I promised less Asami screen time, but I still need some important stuff revolving her crammed into the next few chapters. Then I promise it's just about over.

Hope you liked it.

Love, MAL.