"I'm sorry, sir, but if this is about the mecha tanks you are simply going to have to wait." Asami had found it was best to be up-front and assertive about the loss, but that hadn't kept her clients from an endless barrage of angry phone calls. No one likes to hear about a shortage of state-of-the-art military equipment with a war on.
"No, wait, Miss Sato—" the voice on the phone said. He sounded urgent. They all did.
Asami cut in. "No refunds are available at this time, as we still have hopes of recovering the lost inventory. If you would like to switch your order to another product line, such as Satomobiles, Future Industries is willing to credit your account 100% of the original order value."
"But—" the man on the phone interjected.
"Now, I'm going to transfer you to my assistant and she'll take your name, number, and order number and we'll get back to you as soon as we have a new shipping date," she continued. The less you let them say, the better. Asami glanced at the clock. 5:45. She could probably cut out after this call. Not that she had anywhere to go. Another long evening loomed before her, alone in her giant house. She told herself that she wasn't going to call Mako, and knew that she would anyway.
"Please, if you'll just listen—"
"Thank you for understa—" She was already moving the receiver away from her mouth, her finger hovering over the transfer switch.
"IDON'TNEEDAMECHATANK!" The voice on the phone was nearly shouting now. That caught her attention. At least it was a change of pace. She put the receiver back to her ear.
"Okay," she said in a crisp, businesslike tone. "What were you looking for?"
"I never thought I'd say this, Miss Sato," said the voice, "but I'd like to get back on one of your airplanes."
Asami pulled up to the old Future Industries hangar later that evening. She hadn't been back since the battle with her father the year before, and the little airstrip had a distinctly abandoned look. Weeds grew up between the cracks and gouges that Bolin's earthbending had left in the runway, and boulders lay strewn about everywhere on the broken concrete. The hangar itself was covered in black, charred spots. In the gathering dark, Asami thought it looked like the building had molded.
She rummaged in her bag, pulled out the old Equalist glove she'd recovered and strapped it on. A girl couldn't be too careful, especially when meeting someone, a man, alone, in the dark, at an abandoned location that had been built specifically to be secret. As she thought about it, the whole idea started to seem unwise. And his request had been so odd.
Before she had a chance to change her mind, a fire flared near the hangar. It illuminated a young man, dressed in dark clothes, who appeared to be holding the flame cupped in his right hand. He waved, motioning her over. As she moved closer she confirmed the man as General Iroh of the United Forces. Though she hadn't seen him since they'd fought her father and the Equalists together, she'd known him well enough to recognize him easily. Taller than average, he had thick black hair that he wore slicked back and the typical pale skin and golden eyes of the Fire Nation. Handsome in an angular sort of way, he had the kind of tense, uncomfortable look that she associated only with military men, nuns, and Lin Beifong. Upon closer inspection, she saw that he wasn't wearing his uniform, instead sporting a dark cloth tactical jacket over a black t-shirt and fatigues. A duffel bag lay at his feet.
"Thank you for meeting on such short notice, Miss Sato," he said. He gave her a stiff, formal nod. "And I apologize for not saying more on the phone. My request is of a somewhat sensitive nature."
"Good evening, General Iroh," Asami said. She looked around, a sad smile on her face. "Given how Future Industries destroyed most of your fleet last year, it was the least I could do."
"Not at all, Miss Sato," Iroh said. "I don't hold you or your company accountable for what Amon did. Or your father." Then he frowned. "I also apologize for asking you to meet here. It must be painful for you. I didn't think." He glanced down, looking awkward, and toed at a charred spot in the earth with one black boot. "Besides, I seem to recall that I single-handedly destroyed most of Future Industries' planes myself." He glanced up and gave her a small smile.
"Then we're even," Asami said quickly. She didn't want to relive the battle that had landed her father, deservedly, in prison. She started into the hangar and changed the subject. "How's your arm, by the way?" she asked, recalling the large bandage he'd had on his bicep the last time they'd met.
"Fine," Iroh said. "Burns aren't exactly a new experience. After all, I have three siblings."
They walked into the hangar together, Iroh holding up the flame in his hand until Asami could throw the light switch. The hangar was a wreck. Mecha parts and boulders lay strewn across the floor. Scorch marks from fire and electricity were everywhere, and a particularly intense blast had slagged a hole as big as a badgermole in the back wall. Caught up in the adrenaline of the battle and her father's subsequent arrest, she hadn't realized how completely they had destroyed the facility. She just hoped she was right about what might still be serviceable.