For the sixth week in a row, the Lieutenant could not sleep. The bed he lay in stank of badgermole shit.
He was tired.
He was tired and hungry.
He was tired and hungry and very, very desperate.
Republic City had become more dangerous than ever for non-benders. The Equalist movement had all but collapsed. The non-benders no longer rallied together for their equality. There was no time – now, they had to fight just to survive. It was the same story, told century after century: the benders screwing over the non-benders, leaving them to rot at the bottom of the food chain. There were only a few Equalist followers now, and their number was diminishing quickly. The Council had been interrogating accused Equalists for the past few months, imprisoning them unless they publicly renounced their association with the Equalists. Some, the brave ones who refused to bow to such tyranny were put to death, by a bender of the Council's choosing. He had heard that Hiroshi Sato's interrogation would be this week. The man who once was so admired by the public was now spat at on the streets.
Violence and oppression. How typical of the benders.
The Lieutendant was in hiding. It was pitiful. He was well aware of his cowardice. As far as he knew, there were no Equalists left for him to reach out to. After the Council had found Amon's body, he had given up hope. Amon. The very thought of him made the Lieutenant sneer. Filthy bending hypocrite.
And yet, despite the burning fury and hatred that he carried towards the man, there was still a part of the Lieutenant that admired him. He had been, without a doubt, the most incredible man that the Lieutenant had ever known. Charismatic, dedicated, passionate. The man just exuded power. He was feared. He was respected. He was idolized.
He was gone.
With a heavy groan, the Lieutenant brought himself to his feet. His bones ached. Blinking, he stared at his surroundings. It was one of the last remaining Equalist stations. Most, if not all, had been shut down by now. This had been one of the few that was still undetected. For now.
All that remained of the revolution was in this very room - his old kali sticks, a few tattered posters and a defunct Equalist glove.
In the shadow of the room was his desk. The Lieutenant did not dare touch it, or even go near it. He was not exactly sure why exactly he did this – though he did have a good guess. He told himself that it was his disgust for Amon - or rather, for the man who had been Amon. But deep down he knew what it really was. He found himself unworthy of touching something so...so..sacred.
He turned away from it, immediately. It was better not to think of him. There was no time for that. Not now. Instead, the Lieutenant limped to the small window that overlooked Republic City. It was deadly quiet outside - the Council had re-enforced Councilman Tarrlok's curfew in an attempt to prevent any more Equalist gatherings. Metalbenders paroled the streets constantly, purposely targeting non-benders that were out late. The Lieutenant almost laughed at the irony of it all - the benders were using the exact same tactics that the Equalists had used - fear.
In spite of the relentless acts of oppression, he knew that the followers were still out there, waiting patiently as they always had. A frightening thought struck him. It had been troubling him for days on end. They were expecting him to take command.
The Lieutenant was never a leader. It was simply not in his nature. No, he was a follower - much better at executing plans rather than designing them. Plotting, conducting rallies, giving speeches - he knew none of those things. That had been Amon's job.
The responsibility fell heavily on him.
He did not even know if it was even possible to try to begin again. He stared out at Republic City, his heart clenching in his chest. He thought of his former leader. It could have been their city.
"My, my, my. Didn't think that you were the brooding type."
Instinctively, the Lieutenant grabbed his kali sticks and directed them towards the taunting voice. The sight that greeted him almost, almost caused him to collapse.
His former leader sat at the desk, hands clasped calmly. The mask that he knew so well stared back unflinchingly at the pale-faced Lieutenant.
It was not real. It was a ghost, it had to be. He had gone on too long in isolation - the hunger was making him hallucinate. The Lieutenant gripped his kali sticks and glared at the phantom of his former leader.
The mask spoke again, the Lieutenant could hear the smirk in the phantom's voice, "No, sir. I certainly didn't think that I would find you here - playing the tormented, fallen hero. Gazing out at the city and wallowing in your own filth. It's really quite pathetic to watch. Believe me, I would know."
His voice - it was different. It was not the deep, gravely tenor that inspired millions at rallies. Further proof that it was a mere hallucination.
"You aren't real." the Lieutenant gritted his teeth.
The figure shrugged, and rudely placed in feet on top of the desk in a very un-Amonlike manner.
"Wrong. I assure you, I am quite real." When the Lieutenant did not respond, the figure sighed in exasperation, "Do we really have to go through all this? What do you want me to do? Pinch you?"
The Lieutenant shook his head stubbornly, dropping the kali sticks. Great. He was speaking to dead people now – all was truly lost.
"You died. The Council found your body. I was at the Arena when they burned it. I saw it." The words fell out of his mouth stupidly. Why was he still talking to a ghost?
"Wrong once again. Two strikes, Mustache. Must have been a rough couple of weeks. You aren't too sharp."
The grey eyes behind the mask glinted gleefully in the moonlight,
" 'Amon' didn't die. Nah. You are partially right, though. The man behind the mask was burned into a crispy fireflake. But 'Amon' lives on. He just needed another body."
With one pale hand he took off the mask, revealing the smirking face of the former waterbender.
"And I assure you, I am very, very much alive."
The Lieutenant stared at the face of the boy, thoughts turning to rage. It was worse than a hallucination - it was an impostor. Anger flooded through his body. He gripped his kali sticks tightly, ready to attack.
"How dare you," he snarled, the blue electricity beginning to spark from the ends of his weapon, "You aren't fit to lick his shoes, bending scum." With animal-like ferocity the former Equalist launched himself at the boy - aiming for the heart.
He didn't even get close. The boy kicked the desk, causing it to collide into the Lieutenant's body. A few weeks ago, when he was not so weak, the man would have immediately gotten up without a thought and continued to fight. But his wounds were not yet entirely healed, and hunger had made him feeble. And he was tired. So, so very tired. Of Republic City, of the movement, of everything. He tried, half-heartedly, to push the desk off of him, but it was too heavy. The former waterbender lazily walked towards him. What was his name again? Taho? The boy calmly placed one foot on the Lieutenant's neck and pushed down heavily.
So. Was this how he was to die? At the hands of a former bender? He did not fight - he could have. Oh, yes. He could have pushed himself up and fought. But he didn't.
He did not want to.
Tahno (yes, he remembered now. That was his name.) leaned down to whisper in the Lieutenant's ear. "I expected more of a fight from the man who helped lead the revolution. How disappointing."
Everything was turning black - soon it would be all over. The Lieutenant gasped for breath. Everything he had ever done - all for this? Dying beneath the feet of a mere boy?
Then suddenly, air. Sweet, sweet air. He breathed in deeply, desperately. The boy sneered down at him, eyes glittering with contempt. He spoke one word:
"Pathetic."
The Lieutenant had to agree. He was pathetic. This was why he was the follower - never the leader. He did not meet the boy's eyes. He couldn't bear to think what the real Amon would say if he had seen his cowardice.
The boy began to speak, "You see, if our positions had been switched - if it was your foot on my neck - I would have kept fighting. I would have fought until everyone of my bones were broken. And even then I would still fight you with all that I've got. But you - you just gave in. Pathetic." He spat the word.
Shame shook the Lieutenant to his very core. The boy - Tahno - though he was at loathe to admit it, was correct.
Tahno's hand, suddenly reached out to him. The Lieutenant stared at it - first with surprise, then suspicion.
Gently, Tahno spoke to him, "You know you need me."
There was a pause.
The Lieutenant took his hand.
The boy smiled.
They spoke until the break of morning.
The Lieutenant was impressed. The boy was clever, very clever. Arrogant and obnoxious as well, but frighteningly clever.
But this boy - he didn't want equality.
Oh, no. He aimed for something so much more.
He wanted blood.
He wanted her blood.