Asami had never been this close to the Foreign Quarter before. Sunlight glinted off the steel wall and off the spikes of barbed wire at the top. She walked briskly towards the guardhouse separating the quarter from the rest of the city. She had dressed as simply as she could in a red shirt and black coat and pants, but she still felt overdressed. She could feel the weight of the electric glove pressing against her side as she approached the lone guard.
He checked her ID, his eyes widening when he saw her name. "Now, why would someone like you want to come to a place like this?"
Asami twirled an errant strand of hair around her finger. Her voice was soft, flirty, and just a bit stupid. A bored socialite. "I hear you can get anything here. Including a good time. It's been a long time since I had a good time."
"Find it somewhere else. It's not worth my hide if the Avatar's pal gets burnt to a crisp because she wants to get laid."
"Maybe I can make it worth it for you" She held out a two thousand yuan note. He stared at it the way a hungry beggar would stare at Kwong's elephant-koi.
"Fine. More to keep them in than you out." He took the note and stamped her ID. When he handed it back to her, he looked around to make sure nobody was listening and he whispered, "Think you can It's not worth my give me some rice wine? The really good stuff? I um kind of pissed off the Miracle Man and now all I can get is cheap swill."
Just how much of the black market does this guy control? "I'll see what I can do."
He opened the gate and Asami stepped into the world beyond.
She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. She had blazed through the poorer sections of Republic City as part of Team Avatar, but it wasn't the same as being down here. The streets were narrow and twisty, with loose cobblestones that would have played havoc with a Satomobile engine, if there had been any on the road. Apartment buildings with narrow windows pressed against each other. What she noticed most though was the smell. Sweat seemed to cling to everything as people pressed on about their business. They scurried and jostled like spider-rats, too many people in too small of a space. They were dressed like Mako and Bolin used to: industrial grays and browns, with only flashes of skintone or a scarf or belt to distinguish them. A few people glanced her way, but most people seemed too busy or anxious about whatever business they had to worry about a slumming socialite.
Not that she had seen much of anything worth slumming over. The handful of businesses she had seen wouldn't have been out of place in Republic City: sewing and mending, dry goods, a butcher shop. You were expecting gaudy posters and scantily-clad girls? said Korra's voice in her head. People are people, no matter where and who they are. Don't get suckered into Kala's crap. Most people aren't crooks. Speaking of which, most of this stuff is technically contraband. I'm betting they don't advertise it.
Right. Even here, the Triple Threats would do is they always had, working out of back rooms and through trusted intermediaries. So would the Miracle Man she needed to find. She just needed to find an intermediary.
"Haven't seen you around before. You looking for a good time, pretty girl? Because I know this fine little establishment just around the corner where we might become… better acquainted."
Asami tensed. Ping's soft, oily voice hadn't changed a bit. And neither had the man himself, the only concession to his reduced circumstances being a slight hollowness of his cheeks. She turned and allowed herself a small smile. "I think we're already acquainted."
His eyes went wide, and sweat formed on his brow. Asami took a step forward. She had never thought herself the kind of person who would enjoy someone else's pain, but she liked seeing him squirm. If it hadn't been for him and his friends, she would still have Future Industries. Varrick would be in prison where he belonged. There would still be a Team Avatar. But she had lost everything because of a miserable, bloodsucking parasite. She could feel the glove next to her. So easy to repay the suffering he had caused so many. She took another step forward.
He ran. Of course he did. Asami gave chase as he ducked into a side street. Shouts as he shoved people out of his way. It'd been a long time since she had to run, but Ping didn't seem to be in great shape either. He huffed and puffed as he dashed through narrow alleys. Asami inhaled and charged on. Flashes of memory filled her mind's eye. Mako pleading with her as she stared at him in dumb shock as the police led him away. One of Ming-Hua's arms transforming into a whipsaw and slashing at her throat. Korra next to her in the infirmary on Air Temple Island, her eyes open but unseeing. Come on, Asami. Do something right.
Ping turned back and let fly a jet of fire. A woman screamed. Asami watched in horror as it soared through the air with blinding speed towards the boy of six or seven who stood a few inches in front of her. Asami seized him by the shoulders and threw them both to the ground. More screams as she felt the heat kiss her coat. The boy whimpered under her, but at least the fire didn't hit him. She pulled them both to their feet. "You okay?"
"I…I think so?" He looked dazed but unharmed.
Asami scanned the crowd to find a number of people with singed clothing but no Two-toed Ping. She bit back a curse and tried to remind herself that saving the kid had been more important. It was more important. She could find another way to the Miracle Man. And if she couldn't, well some Triple Threat or other would turn up and she could haul them off to Saikhan.
Heavy footsteps sounded as a red-faced man approached her. He was about her father's age, but tall with broad shoulders that looked like they could balance a steel beam with ease. "What do you think you were doing, running out like that? You could've been killed!" He nodded towards Asami. "Thank you."
"Yeah, thanks." The boy turned to what must have been his father. "But it's not my fault. You said there wouldn't be any more bending in the streets. You said the Miracle Man would take care of anybody who—"
"Run along now. Keiji will be worried sick."
"But Dad—"
"I said now." The boy ran off. "His dad and I try to do the best we can, but kids will be kids." He looked Asami up and down and his face changed, becoming shrewd and appraising. "Looking to sample the oh-so-illegal wares of the Foreign Quarter? Only reason people ever come here. "My name is Ryoji. I represent certain people who might be interested in helping you."
"You're in the Triple Threats?"
"We don't ask those kinds of questions in public even around here. But no, I don't work for those bottom feeders. Put my kid in danger, will he? But you? You saved him. So I owe you. Tell me what you want and I'll point you in the right direction? Opium? Some place to crash for the night? I can't help if it's sex. Boss' orders."
Asami blushed. "Nothing like that. I need to talk to the Miracle Man."
He laughed at her. "He doesn't exactly take appointments from two to four."
Asami took his arm. "Look, I didn't come here looking for drugs or new furniture or whatever you and your boss deal in." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. "I need some papers. It's a matter of life and death. Just like for your son. Now, can you take me to the Miracle Man or not?"
"I can." He sighed. "Follow me."
He marched onward without looking to see if Asami followed, and she had to lengthen her strides to keep up. Eventually they came to a music store. Asami raised an eyebrow. Ryoji cracked a smile. "Watch and learn."
The storm was deserted except for a young Water Tribe girl behind the counter. She stiffened almost imperceptibly when she saw Ryoji. "What can I do for you today?"
"Tsungi horn for me and my friend."
"I see. That's one of our special items. If you could follow me to the stock room so I can get you exactly what you want?"
Ryoji all but dragged Asami through a small door in the back. It was, as promised, a stock room filled with musical instruments of every variety—and a curiously bare far wall. Half-buried memories of her father's workshop dredged up through Asami's memory. "Hidden passage? Underground base? I'm guessing there's a switch right about… here?" She tapped the wall and a metal cylinder popped out and opened.
Ryoji stared at her, and the Water Tribe girl grinned. "Well, aren't you a clever one? The boss could use someone like you."
"The Miracle Man?"
She made a scoffing noise. "In here and down there, he's just the boss. Much better at it than those Republic City scum, if you ask me."
"So he's not from the city like the triad members?" Any intelligence she could gather would be useful.
"He pronounces some of the words the same way, but he sure doesn't act like them. I get my money every month for one thing."
Ryoji firebent into the cylinder, and the wall swung away to reveal the beginning of a dark tunnel. "Moving on. Unless you two would prefer to gossip all night?"
Asami followed. With every step she took, she almost expected to see a mecha tank or a chi blocker. After about five meters, the tunnel changed. The walls were smoother than they were lanterns mounted at regular intervals casting a soft glow. And there were stands just like the ones in the central market where people hawked everything from fresh fruit to dynamite. A few of them smiled and made small talk with Ryoji as he passed. Red and green lights illuminated brilliant posters advertising speakeasies and underground mover houses. The walls themselves glistened with a metallic shine. "Amazing," Asami whispered.
"Platinum. Just in case the Provisional Authority gets any ideas."
"It's like an entire city down here."
"An entire market, anyways." He turned right, and Asami had just enough time to read the poster—The Fire Ferret, Alcohol and Entertainment—before Ryoji firebent open another door and thrust her inside. The room beyond was…nice. Elegant even. Plush red carpets and silkscreen wall hangings from the Fire Nation that looked genuine. As desperate as things seemed above ground, everyone here was dressed as if they were going to Kwong's. Most of them sat at covered tables and watched the band play while a woman in a blue dress who looked remarkably like Korra crooned something about a kiss being just a kiss. A few couples had elected to take to the dance floor. They held each other close, eyes closed as they swayed to the music.
A knife twisted in Asami's chest. She could almost imagine she was back home at Kwong's. Wasn't that where she and Mako were going to go the night he was arrested? She missed it, she realized. Not just the food, but the agency of controlling her own company. Being in someone's arms and feeling like it was okay to break a little. Feeling safe and cherished, the knowledge that someone would be there for her.
Ryoji led her through the dining area and bar down a plainer hallway until they reached an unmarked door with what looked like an intercom next to it. "Can't be too careful," Ryoji told her and patted her down. He was brisk and businesslike, taking no more notice of her body that he would a brick wall.
And then he found the glove.
He yanked it out of her pocket and held it up as if it were a poisonous animal. "I knew there was something off about you." His voice was like the grate of metal on metal. "Who sent you? Kala? Saikhan? Viper?" His free hand lashed out as he seized Asami by the neck. "You think I wouldn't recognize a Sato glove when I saw one? I lost my first husband to those Equalist bastards."
He squeezed. Spots swam before Asami's eyes. No. No. She wouldn't die here. She spread her legs as wide as she could and stepped left. She brought her right arm up and over, wrapping around his hands. There was fire in her lungs. She elbowed him in the gut with her free arm. It was enough for his grip to falter, and Asami stepped back. "Not…here…you," she said between pants.
The intercom crackled to life. "Is there a problem, Ryoji?" asked a deep, mechanical voice.
"Assassin." He coughed and lunged at her again. "Had an Equalist glove on her."
"Glove?" A pause during which Ryoji nearly sent Asami through the wall. "Show them in."
"Boss?"
"I said show them in. It'll be fine, Ryoji.."
Ryoji stepped back. "You heard him." His red face shone with sweat. "But if you so much as breathe wrong, you're ashes. Got me?"
The office was surprisingly ordinary for a crime lord. The only thing differentiating it from her study was that there were framed and signed mover and theatrical posters where windows should be. A man stood with his back to her. He wore a dark suit, well-tailored. Probably custom made for him. He was about as tall as she was, of average build. His hands were balled into fists at his side, but when she could see of them was rough, completely at odds with the suit. Her eyes narrowed. That was in the only strange thing. His hair spiked slightly, and there was a flash of red at his neck. The same red Tsu-chen's boyfriend had worn.
"I used to dream about seeing you again." His voice was barely above a whisper, and his hands were trembling. "I guess dreams really do come true."
Asami doubled over as if she had been punched in the stomach. She hadn't heard that voice for over two years, but she could never forget it. Her thoughts crashed into each other. Red around the neck like a scarf. Rough hands from a life on the street. He was safe. He was here. He was in Gaoling. "Mako," she breathed.
He turned. He was thinner than she remembered, his features sharper. He stared back at her with an emotion Asami couldn't name. Neither of them spoke for long moments. Asami had fantasized about this moment for two years. Sometimes, she threw him to the floor and had her way with him. Sometimes she dropped to her knees and begged forgiveness. But seeing him here, in this place, with hard features and harder eyes…she had never imagined this.
"You? How?" she managed at last. "How are you the Miracle Man?" Her mind turned like rusty gears. He was her Mako: thoughtless, but a good man. She had always felt safe with him, her champion and defender. Everything Varrick had said was a lie. This wasn't his world.
His eyes narrowed, and his voice was like a knife. "I had to survive."
Asami flinched. Oh. Of course. He had to survive, alone in a strange country. She had made a deal with the Triple Threats to save Future Industries. What would she do to save her life? Principles would slip away bit by bit the hungrier she became. She had no right to judge, not anymore. She looked at the plush red carpet. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her vision was blurry. "I was a coward. I should have believed you. I should have."
He crossed the distance between them and put his arms around her. Every muscle in his body was tense, but he was warm and solid and Asami no longer had the strength to hold back tears. She cried into his shirt. His breath hitched. "Asami," he whispered as one hand found her hair. "I missed you."
She pulled back and wiped her eyes, but made no move to leave the warm circle of his arms. "You did?"
"I used to think that I would hate you but now—" The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I just want to see you again."
The was a knock at the door. "Boss?" Ryoji asked. "Everything okay in there? I heard some funny noises."
Mako sprang away from her and pressed a button on his desk. "Everything is fine. Merely discussing things with the client." He looked at her sheepishly. "You think a guy with a secret identity would get more privacy. We should probably, um, stick to business in here. Why did you want to see me anyway?"
Business, right. Emotional reunions could wait. "I heard that the Miracle Man could get anything. An employee needs to leave the city, but she doesn't qualify for the visa. Her…well, let's just say that she knows some people that Kuvira wouldn't like."
"And you want me to produce a paper saying they she is absolutely, in no way, a subversive element?" He steepled his fingers and withdrew into himself again. The cold and distant Miracle Man, not her boyish Mako. "Standard fee for forged government documents is thirty thousand, half now and half on delivery."
Asami kept her face blank. She had once thrown around that kind of money with barely a thought, but her brush with poverty had made her conscious of how enormous the sum was. "I bet that buys you entry into a lot of pro-bending tournaments." She reached for the money. I guess I've bought my last piece of jewelry for a while.
He looked at her. "Just like that?"
"I'm not poor. Tsu-chen needs it more than I do."
He winced. "Toza always said you were too good to be true. Keep the money."
"On the house for old time's sake?"
He shook his head. "Nothing is free here, Asami. Not even from me." He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. "I have enough money for all this. What I need are favors, especially from foreigners with good reputations." He opened the desk and pulled out a piece of paper. The seal of the Provisional Authority was embossed at the bottom. "This is what you need. Favor for a favor."
Asami hesitated. Mako or not, remember that organized crime is organized crime. "An 'I need a place to stay because the arena blew up' sort of favor or a 'I want you to murder someone in their bed' sort of favor?"
The Miracle Man's mask slipped, and he was Mako again. "I promise I won't hurt you. Probably storing some stuff in a warehouse for getting me an invitation to—" He froze as a wild, desperate hope seemed to strike him. "Can you get me home? Everything I hear is all garbled rumors, but apparently you're some kind of big hero who took down the Red Lotus. If you've got some pull with Raiko and can get me a pardon, I'll give you anything you want."
"If I had that kind of influence, you'd already have it, and I'd have Future Industries back." She reached across the desk and took his hand. "I'm sorry."
"I miss it so much. Being excited to go to work every morning. And Korra and Bolin and—how are they? I heard Korra got hurt but nobody I asked knew anything."
"The Red Lotus poisoned her." The memory of the cave, the eerie green light from the walls, overwhelmed her. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the platinum chains banging against the rock. She told him in short, staccato sentences of what had happened and the glassy look in Korra's eyes. "She went back home to get better. I try to write every few weeks but…"
Mako swore and buried his hands in his hair. "I should have been there. You were in the Earth Kingdom. I could've found you, but I didn't because—do you think I could have changed things?"
Asami ran her fingers over her scarf. Maybe he could have been the hero who saved them all or maybe he would have ended up dead. "I don't know."
"No, I guess you wouldn't." He held out the paper for her. "Do we have a deal?"
"Deal." Asami tucked the certificate into her purse. For the sake of her employees, she would trust Mako. Not trusting him had cost her everything. It was time to see what trusting him would do. She studied him. It wasn't just that he was older or thinner, she decided. Mako looked tired, more wary, as if he expected a tiger-lion to burst through the wall. And he had clung to her like a drowning man. As if he were desperately lonely. Maybe she should stay silent, but he had a right to know about Yin and the others, didn't he? Asami took his hand. "When we were in Ba Sing Se, Bolin wanted to look up your dad's side of the family. And well, he found them."
His head snapped up. "My family?" he repeated. "I have a family?"
Asami smiled. "A grandmother and about a thousand cousins. We took them with us to Republic City after—well, after."
Mako seemed not to hear her. His hands were shaking again. "I have a family," he whispered. "Tell me about them." He shook his head. "No, don't. Not here. Ryoji's already suspicious." He left the desk and stood before her as if he was the humble but noble hero in a mover begging the princess for her favor. "You have what you came for, but…can I see you again? As myself?"
"Of course you can. I've lost too many people to just let you vanish again. Should I come here or…"
"I'll send a message." He kissed her, a light brush of the lips. It should have been no more than an affectionate reminder of two dead love affairs. His lips were soft, and a little chapped, just as Asami remembered. An electric jolt shot through her. There had always been in a vortex of pure sexual attraction swirling around her and Mako even at their worst, and apparently the last two years had done nothing to dampen it. Asami tilted her head and put her hand to the back of his neck to draw him in. Policeman, criminal mastermind, if hardly mattered. He was here. He made a little sound in the back of his throat and was kissing her back, all teeth and tongue and glorious heat that washed over him and melted the ice within. Finally, something was going right.
"Boss?"
Mako broke the kiss. His lips were swollen and his hair was askew. He blinked. "You should probably go." He touched her lip. "See you soon."
"See you soon." She smoothed his hair and straightened her own clothing. Ryoji was glaring at her by the time she emerged from Mako's office, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. She imagined the certificate as a pleasant weight at the bottom of her purse. She was going to save Tsu-chen, finally start helping people instead of being another victim. She would make sure Kala never had her superweapon. And Mako… Mako was alive and back in her life. She didn't know if they would rekindle what they had had before he left or even if they should. But she was no longer friendless in Gaoling. Maybe she had lost everything over the last two years, but she could regain what was important.