1.
Hundreds upon hundreds of printed pamphlets, still smelling of fresh ink, depict Amon looking forward into the bright rays of the future. On paper his mask transports itself from stiff plaster into bright bravery, allows Amon to truly become a vengeful spirit, burning with righteous passion.
This pamphlet is the youngest in the series of prints designed to promote knowledge among non-benders of their discrimination, and to activate them when the time to take up arms will be at hand. Disseminating them in the City's public spaces and among shops in the slums has already greatly raised the number of citizens learning the self-defensive moves of chi-blocking. At the table in the centre of the common room, discussing the latest pamphlet design, are the Lieutenant, and a man known widely as the Sponsor, who has brought the Movement the technology and resources to mass-print their pamphlets at great speed: Hiroshi Satō. Father of Asami Satō.
When Mako entered the room earlier, the older man acknowledged him with the grunt typical of his seniority in the Equalist ranks. Now Mako waits, standing steady in a corner, for the Lieutenant to finish up and give him further instructions. Inside Mako there is a hum of worry present, louder than usual, that somehow they will know what he is doing– that he is protecting his brother against better judgment– and that the Movement will then cast him out as a traitor. It is thus with an expressionless face that he waits and watches, while considering and reconsidering Satō's facial expressions. And wondering: what would they do to a traitor? Would he be fired from work, banished from the roadhouse? Would they cut off a finger or two, like the Triads? would they beat him to death and disappear his body? Or would they merely observe him and establish that truly, he formed no threat?
But for now, Mako can discern no flicker of suspicion in Satō's eyes, no turn of doubt to his voice or the Lieutenant's. So Mako will hope for the best. Satō may have hid well his sympathies from his daughter; and if Satō's daughter is innocent, she isn't a liability. Which means Bolin is safe too, for the time being.
"Mako." The Lieutenant and Satō seem to have reached an agreement on the design, and the latter exits with only a laconic wave.
Now the Lieutenant approaches him. "Koyuki and Byeol will collect the last benders according to your information; and that will be the lot of them."
Mako nods to this.
"All of your intel has proved accurate, and we've managed to keep all the captured benders locked down and secure for over twenty-four hours."
Mako nods again, feeling proud.
The Lieutenant eyes him, nonetheless, with a focus that takes Mako by surprise. "When all is past, tomorrow night, Amon will have undone the bending of the forty most hated Triads in the City, Mako. Forty criminal benders less to do damage in this heart of darkness."
"The spirits are with us," Mako voices, and means it, ignoring the nervous twitch in his chest.
The Lieutenant pauses and then claps him on the shoulder, "You can take your factory shift as planned and have the evening to yourself. You have done very well. This would not have been possible without you."
"Thank you, sir."
Tomorrow the non-benders of the city will be given a great gift. The city's cruelest will be punished at last for their crimes; something the bending police have repeatedly failed to achieve, ever since the death of Bei Fong the Elder. The men of the roadhouse carry this Revelation in their hearts already, and it lifts their step even in the dark wooden halls.
The Revelation will be a marker, too, by the road of Mako's life. Three years of being free from the Triad gangsters. Three years of enough food and money to pay for himself and support Bolin. Three years of working towards a golden, harmonious future. Tomorrow night will swivel the very axis of the world.
And someday soon, Bolin, you might understand what it's all been for.
2.
Mako thinks his heart might stop when he sees the Avatar wandering around the factory where he works. Today, on the day before the Revelation, anti-bending sentiments are so high... If anyone recognizes her, if the ivory pelt of her polar bear dog so much as glints in this sun, the girl risks being murdered where she stands.
On the west side of the factory is the lot where the Satomobile parts are stored in hand-numbered wooden crates stacked stories-high. She seems to be wandering aimlessly, weaving in and out of the scaffolding... searching? Stopping to hover right by a crate full of freshly made Equalist masks, and another with electric glove prototypes, both mercifully nailed shut. Mako finds himself staring at her and then realizes more people around him have turned to look up from their work. They are watching the Avatar but they don't know it; and he hurriedly ducks, trying to blend into the group of workers.
Of course that's when she spots him and shouts his name. He cannot hide his wince.
His factory mates laugh, convinced she is no one special. "Hey, you impregnated your girlfriend, Mako, now you gotta marry her!" "She's come all this way to see you and you're hiding?!" "Don't think you're getting out from under this shift!"
He surrenders, letting his equipment slide to the stamped earth ground, and straightens as her footsteps come closer. Then he takes a breath and walks out to meet her.
"Mako! Hey!" Says the Avatar, sporting a wide fake smile and worried eyes. "Sorry to bother you at work.."
He herds her to one side, fearful that the others should recognize her. "What is it?"
She laughs. "Nice to see you too. Um, you happen to know where Bolin is?"
He blinks. "What do you mean? When is the last time you saw him?"
"Yesterday, after we had noodles... He was supposed to come in for training this morning. I mean, I don't want to worry, but we have a big match this week and if we want to make it to the finals I think we need to step it up today... Hasook had said Bolin was taking a temporary job on the side, but Asami didn't know about anything, and I thought maybe you had him here."
"Bo never said anything about a job." Mako wants to believe that it's just some job serving noodles in a restaurant somewhere. He really wants to believe Bolin knows better by now. But– "How do you even know where I work?"
She rolls her eyes. "Bolin told me, of course. I took the steam-locomotive up here, like a real citizen of Republic City."
"Oh yeah? Did you sweet-talk yourself on board, or just climb onto the roof and wait for departure?"
She smirks at him, all sarcasm, obviously remembering their previous conversation. Good, he thinks. He left at least some kind of impression on her –although, whatever point he might try to make, he supposes he will always be overshadowed by worshipful benders. "I had to borrow money off Tenzin for the ticket... which meant I had to lie to him."
"What, you can't earn money honestly?"
"Doing what? I can't cook or clean, and any Ava-"
"Okay, yes, fine, whatever-" He talks over her hurriedly.
She gives him a look. "... But I paid for my ticket, you hear? And for the trip back. Hasook and I need to do some training even if Bolin doesn't show up, so..." And she inclines her head, a brusque dismissal, on anyone else. On her, an unexpected shyness.
He takes a deep breath. "My shift is over in about three-quarters of an hour. I'll find him afterward."
The Avatar asks soberly, "so you think there's something fishy about his job thing too?"
Oh no, you don't. Last thing I need is a super-bender drawing attention to Bo, stomping around the city, wailing his name. Squaring his shoulders at her, Mako says, "I go looking for him tonight. You stay out of the way."
Slowly the Avatar steps away from him. All she heard was the challenge. "The way I see it, I got three-quarters of an hour's head start." She walks away, straight-backed, arms blanched-honey in the harsh sunlight, and he knows he will be worthless for the rest of his shift.
3.
Skootchy's face is so dirty Mako can't help but get out his handkerchief first thing, with a great sigh. "You're supposed to put food into your mouth, not arrange it in a decorative pattern on the general area of your face," he comments. Skoochy mimics a mother hen silently, pulling a horrible, twisted face, but he doesn't move away.
They are at the homeless kids' hideout, on the left shore under the Boscoe Bridge. Mako headed over right after work, without telling Byeol. The rest of the children have been successfully distracted by freshly steamed bread, courtesy of big brother Mako, and remain near the shelter of their raggedy makeshift tent-homes. Talking to just Skootchy should provide Mako with more than enough guesses as to Bolin's whereabouts.
Skootch's grubby little claws climb up and into the grey coat's pockets.
Sighing, Mako instructs, "Try again. I felt it this time."
The street rat narrows his eyes and tries again. Mako raises his eyebrows expectantly, and picks at what appears to be a clump of rice that has melded with the boy's hair. Then suddenly Skootch has a steamed bunin one hand and Mako's billfold in another. Mako suppresses a smile and snatches the billfold back from the boy. Skootchy's growl is admirable, despite the great bite of dough already filling his gullet.
"First you tell me where Bolin got his new job, then you get a reward."
4.
The quietest nightmare goes like this: three chairs and a table lie knocked over in the middle of an opium-heavy room. The teak door creaks on its hinges in the wind. The wood glints where it has been sliced into a 平.
5.
This isn't really happening, is the first thing Mako thinks when he steps into the putrid cellar-turned-prison of the roadhouse and sees Bolin's unconscious form lain shackled on the dirt floor. His first instinct is to reach his brother and get him out, and he is halfway across the room before his brain kicks in. There are two of his brethren right behind him.
Help Bo now and Amon will find out, and call it betrayal. Whether they punish me or not, Bolin will become the sacrificial scapegoat.
He sucks in a breath, reels back and punches Saburō, hard, in the jaw. The prisoner spits out blood and a stream of curses. Shaking his wrist at the shock of pain in his knuckles, Mako walks out, and shares a wry smile with the two others on their round of re-blocking chi. He gets out before he can watch them disrupt the meridians of his little brother's energy.
Panic will get me nowhere. Panic will get me nowhere. Panic will get me nowhere.
It is some while before he can see the empty common room around him, and even longer before he can think this: a small blessing in the face of a great misery. No one to know he has seen Bo in there. Hopefully, only Amon and his Lieutenant know who the young earthbender is. Mako has to take that chance. But even if they are the only people who know; they are also the most dangerous people. They put Mako's brother here for a reason.
Bolin, forgive me. I cannot bring you water, I cannot tend to your wounds, I cannot get you out yet. Not if I want to save your life later –not to mention my own. Mako trods up the stairs and collapses onto his mattress. Feign ignorance. Feign indifference. He feels tired and a little forsaken. Breath comes cold and heavy. The pallet stinks of mold. The details of Bo's swollen eye, a trail of dried blood on his face, surface in his mind's eye. The Avatar's worried blue eyes.
Sometimes he fears it is wrong to ask spirits for individual help, but he repeats his mother's daily prayer to the Lady, the prayer that he repeats often. Help me be strong. Help me be good. Only that.
Amon, the Blessed One, the spirits' gift to the forsaken of the world; shouldn't I follow his truth? Is not this the best way for me to protect the weak around me? Is not this the best way for me to improve the world?
He clamps shut his eyes and keeps from making any sound. Slowly, slowly, he accepts what has happened. My life is built around a spinning paradox. The Equalists mean everything to me because they stand for what I stand for. They can help me be strong and improve the world. Bolin means everything to me because he is my history and my humanity and my life.
How can I choose one over the other?
Air swirls and expands in his two lungs. Bolin has never consciously betrayed me. Bolin needs me, even though he is a bender.
His midriff shifts like a counterweight to expel breath now, and the chill in the room recedes. Sunlight, pressing like two warm hands on his chest, illuminates everything in painful detail.
If I must betray the Movement, let it be but a small betrayal, he prays to the Lady, and veers up.
6.
He finds her at Air Temple Island. Voices lead him around the side of the compound. For a moment he sees only a great contraption of spinning panels, fast and eerily silent as Amon himself. There are two small children dressed in air nomads' clothes, intently watching the thing. And then flits of blue break up the uniform dark of the panels; someone is moving inside that thing; who–
The figure flows closer, twisting and winding untouched like a dancing spirit. Of course, it is the Avatar herself.
"Pretty cool, huh," says a sudden air child at his elbow.
It takes all his training not to leap away. He ignores her. A second air child is scrutinizing him. He gives her an especially glassy stare in return.
"Are you the guy that Korra likes?" asks Child One. "Do you like her back?"
Mako blinks, thinking of his brother's radiant smile. "I'm not the guy she likes," he informs them, letting his eyes move back to the Avatar, where she is ghost-dancing through the promise of a clobbering, as if it just isn't there. He has never seen anything like it.
"Is it motorized?" He suddenly asks Child Two because she seems older. "I don't hear an engine or see any exhausts anywhere."
She smiles and is promptly interrupted by Air Child One. "Of course the gates aren't motorized! They're two thousand years old. Nobody used motors two thousand years ago, don't you even know that? And why would we need motors when-"
Child Two steps toward the panels with a graceful turn of foot. Her hands write cartwheeling designs into the air, until they push – and a blast of wind greets the panels, spinning them faster. He can hear the Avatar laugh as she adjusts her dance to the new speed.
"-when we're airbenders," Child One finishes, making faces at him. Then she proceeds to ask him who he is, how old he is, what does he want, does he know how many trees are on the island, to wit, ten thousand five hundred and fifty-two and yes she has counted them all herself, why? Doesn't he believe her?
To make someone stop talking, just poke the tentotsu point under the larynx, he ponders, watching the Avatar's delicate movements. If they're really persistent, get the kisha points over the collarbones to shut them up.
The child is still making horrible faces at him. To relax facial muscles, he fantasizes as he stares back at the little monster, bop the hyakue point at the crown of the head.
Nearly the same points he used on the mobster. It feels like a memory from a different life. From the corner of his eye, the Avatar descends at last from the spinning gates, the sun setting low and long as flames.
7.
Korra is surprised. For Mako to come find her at Air Temple Island... she would give the thought time to curl pleasantly in her mind, but for the look on his face.
"I couldn't find him," she walks over to Bolin's brother, voice caught between apologetic and defensive. "I ran out of places to look."
"I know where he is," Mako says, yellow eyes glinting in the low light. "I'm going to need your help."
Notes: 天突 tentotsu - central point where the clavicle and the larynx join.
気舎 kisha - a set of points also used by Mako to keep Saburō no Ryū from performing the dragon's breath.
百会 hyakue - central point at the top of the head. Affects every function when struck.