Note: We know that when we last left on a cliffhanger, we said that we would get the second part out quickly. Well, one trip to the hospital later (everything's fine), and we've decided that we want to focus on something different to help us get back in the groove of things. We'll back to Asami's struggles soon enough, but for now, we just want to give thanks for everyone who has kept with us on this long, arduous journey, and give a little something else back in return (i.e. a new chapter). Thank you for your patience. Enjoy.

The exact word Sy had used was "catastrophic". Mako raced to the coffee shop without hesitation, breathing heavily the whole way there. There was a clear indication of panic in her voice when she called him so early in the morning that his senses had yet to fully activate. It was noticeable enough to rattle him awake, hop straight into his uniform and hurriedly drive to the location at which his girlfriend desperately needed him.

Mako couldn't help but imagine the horrific possibilities. His first instinct was that something happened with Jackdaw. He was being targeted by the Hanzi Killer, and it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume that if that monster wanted to continue to hurt him, then she would be his next target. Jackdaw had already threatened her before, or more accurately, she threatened him. If she wanted to meet at the coffee shop, then it meant that she probably did not feel safe in her own home, which only further worried him.

In the midst of his crazed thoughts, he drifted into the opposite lane, and narrowly swerved past an on-coming truck. He was not in a police cruiser, and so the multitude of cars in front of him did not give him passage through the streets. His sweaty palms slipped off of the steering wheel, and when he finally did arrive, he could not even find a decent parking spot. He ended up parking half a block away, and sprinted to the coffee after forgetting to pay the meter.

When Mako burst into the shop, he expected to find everything on fire. He expected corpses to be strewn about on the tables, blood to be smeared in thick coats on the walls, and echoes of screams and chaos everywhere. However, everything was pretty much the way he remembered it. The plump old man who owned the joint was behind the counter, crafting his magnificent brew. The tables and chairs were neat and orderly. And most importantly, Sy was sitting in her usual spot as dim sunlight reflected off of her pale, emotionless face. A large coffee was in her hand, but untouched by her lips.

"Sy!" Mako shouted, somewhat relieved but mostly confused. Sy waved him over, and offered him a drink.

"You might need this," she moaned.

"Sy, what's going on?" Mako asked, nervously taking the seat across from her. "You said there was a catastrophe."

"Oh, there is," she mused quite calmly.

"What's wrong? Is it the Hanzi Killer? Jackdaw? Are you in danger?"

"Wha—no, none of that," Sy dismissed him with a pass of her hand. "Don't be ridiculous. Do you really think I would get myself into a life or death situation? I'm not that dumb."

Mako blinked twice. "If you're not in any danger," he asked, "then why did you call me over like it was an emergency?"

"It's totally an emergency," Sy explained with a small grin. "It's just that neither of us are going to die. Well, you might die…"

"Do you want to give me the details?"

Sy brushed the flowing strands of white hair out of her eyes, and looked away. She spoke sternly. "Mako, you and I are both adults. We are both considered—by the lawful force that you have dedicated your life to, mind you—to be fully-functioning, sophisticated adults that can handle any problem thrown at us with logic and reasoning."

"I'm listening."

"You, however, are a lot more of an adult than I am. I don't just mean that because you're older; I mean that you are taking the whole 'adult' thing way more close to the heart. You, for example, have a job that pays you. In money. On a weekly basis. You follow a strict set of life choices that you are constantly in control of. You choose what to eat and when to eat. You choose where you want to live, and then you… well, live there, I guess. My point is, you have a lot of agency in your decision-making process."

"Go on."

"I am the exact opposite. I don't have a job. I don't want a job. The thought of working on anything at all makes me want to jump off of a bridge. I don't want responsibility in any way, shape or form. That's not my thing. That's why I live with my parents. They cook for me, clean for me, and generally take care of me. I'm perfectly fine with that, because it gives me more time to do things I actually enjoy doing, like talking to you, for instance. And usually, the benefits of that system grossly outweigh the costs. We live opposite lifestyles, but that's not a bad thing. Who said that was a bad thing? I didn't say that was a bad thing. No one did. Anyone who did say it is an idiot. It's what makes us such a budding duo, you know? We go so perfectly together, like Yin and Yang, milk and sugar, hallucinogenic drugs and—"

"Get to the point, Sy."

Sy cleared her throat. "The thing is that living with my parents means that they still have some important fraction of control over my life. And when there is something that I'm doing that they don't appreciate, they shut it down. And as of right now, the thing they want to shut down… is you."

"Your parents want you to break up with me?" Mako asked in disbelief.

"No, no, no," Sy said quickly. "They just want to meet you to see if you're a decent guy. And the time they want to meet you is tomorrow night. And if you don't show up, then I'll have to break up with you. And if you don't impress them, then my father might snap your neck."

Mako did not blink at all. He could only stare in absolute confusion. "So, let me get this straight," he said after several long moments of uncomfortable silence. "You called me all the way over here and scared the crap out of me… just to tell me that I have to spend an evening with your parents. That is what you deem a catastrophe?"

"Well, yeah!" she exclaimed. "This is our relationship that's on the line! I think that's something to get pretty worked up about."

"Sy, there is a psycho killer literally roaming the streets trying to kill people I care about, and my brother and sister-in-law are lying half-dead in a hospital," Mako sighed. "I have way more important things to be worried about than whether your parents like me."

"Sorry, but we don't really have the time to delay this any further. I've been stalling them for months, but I can't keep it up any longer. They want to meet you now, and I can't change that."

"Then try harder. Put your foot down. I saw you stand up to a known cop-killer; I think you can stand up to your own parents."

"Maybe I don't want to stand up to them," Sy objected. "It's one thing talking back to some guy that I didn't even know was dangerous. But they're my parents, Mako. And believe it or not, I would really, really like it if they at least tolerated you. We can't keep dodging this forever."

"I don't have the time for this. I have—"

"You have to investigate, I know," Sy complained. "I get that you're on your whole quest for vengeance right now, but this means something to me. I don't think Bolin would want your life to stop completely because of him. If you want that life to include me, then I really need you to go along with this, just for one day."

Mako rubbed his temples in frustration. How could someone so adorable cause him so much trouble? Maybe she had a point. A small distraction from his investigation couldn't do too much harm. Could it?

"What do you need me to do?" he finally gave in. Sy's face lit up with excitement.

"Oh, you're fantastic!" she squealed. "All you need to do is show up at my house at around seven o'clock. Wear something nice. Like a plaid shirt. Or a tuxedo. Do you own a tuxedo? Maybe buy a tuxedo. You can't be too careful. And also, maybe bring some flowers or something. My mom loves flowers. Red, specifically. And probably some wine for my dad. Well, maybe you could try to give him flowers too, but I don't know how that would work out. No one has ever offered him flowers before, so you probably shouldn't experiment with that. You're getting all of this, right? Am I talking too fast?"

"I think I got it," Mako said hesitantly. "Where do you live?"

"You don't know where I live?"

"Why would I? You never invite me over."

Sy rolled her eyes. "Okay, do you know where the Winged-Lion district is?"

Mako nearly let out an audible gasp. "You live in the Winged-Lion District? The most luxurious area in all of Republic City?"

"Uh… yes?" Sy said with a shrug. "My dad is the biggest real estate mogul in the entire continent."

"I thought—what was his name—Jampa Kyoriku was the biggest real estate guy on the continent?"

"Yeah," Sy stated bluntly. "He's my dad."

Mako audibly gasped. He may have lived a sheltered life, but even he had heard stories of the vicious business dealings of the man they called "Jampa the Savage". His supposed, unproven connections to the Triple Threat Triads and other street gangs and tales of swindles and shady business practices made him infamous amongst the police force. There were so many stories about him that it was almost impossible to determine what was fact and what was fiction. One story Mako heard was about a group of tenants who refused to sell their apartments to Jampa, who wanted to construct a luxury hotel. Over the course of two weeks, every single tenant that refused the deal was either killed in gang hits or fled the city outright. Another story was that Jampa had kidnapped the family of the head of a rival real estate company to force a buyout that would grant the Savage a monopoly over east Earth Kingdom territory. Yet despite these rampant tales, he remained untouchable, whether from his wealth, power, or a plain lack of evidence. Jampa's reach extended over Republic City, Omashu, parts of Ba Sing Se, and practically every single region of the Earth Kingdom. He was a man that one would be wise not to make enemies with, or else face grave consequences.

Mako just so happened to be in a relationship with his daughter. And somehow, this dinner date was supposed to relieve pressure.

"Mako? Mako?" Sy asked worriedly, snapping her fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his shocked trance.

"Why didn't you tell me Jampa the—I mean, he was your father?" Mako whispered in panic.

"I thought you could figure it out, considering we have the same last name!"

"You never told me your last name," Mako argued. "You said that you wanted me to know as little about you as possible."

"I didn't…" Sy reflected for a moment, then scrunched her nose and asked incredulously, "Did I not tell you that?"

Mako shook his head. Sy groaned.

"Well, don't stress too much. The tabloids make him out much worse than he actually is. When you get to know him, he's a pretty nice guy."

"You've repeatedly told me that he's going to kill me if I don't give a good impression. You literally say this every time I see you."

"Okay, maybe 'nice' is a bit of a stretch," Sy reasoned nervously. "But he's… no, not generous… not really compassionate, either… he's decent. Let's say that he can be decent. When he feels like it, which admittedly… isn't that often… but still, that counts for something!"

"Oh boy," Mako said, resting his face in his palms. Sy awkwardly patted him on the head.

"You'll be fine," Sy assured him. "I've put in a good word for you. Plus, my mom will be there to keep him in line. What's the worst that can happen?"

"He rips my head off, and then eats it."

"Hey, my dad's a jerk, but he's no murderer. Just be your typical stoic, respectful, monotone self and we will be in the clear. Good?"

Mako did not know if Sy was aware of her father's legacy. He did not even know how much of that legacy was true to begin with. But if there was ever someone who understood the truth behind Jampa the Savage, it would probably be his daughter. She would have to be his shield for one night instead of the other way around. Mako was okay with that. Sy could be forgetful, brash and bizarre, but she had a passion that was unmatched by anyone Mako had ever known. He knew that she would always have his back, and that was enough to make him forget about his worries for a minute and smile.

"I see why you don't like to talk back to your parents," Mako said with a grin. Sy finished off her coffee in one large gulp.

"Eck, don't smile," she joked. "Seeing you happy makes me uncomfortable. Go back to being mopey."

"Actually, I need to go buy some flowers." Mako stood up, and offered his hand, which Sy took gleefully.

"There's a shop two blocks over," she said. "I have to make sure you don't mess this up. Someone once gave my mom roses instead of lilacs, and my dad ripped their arm off and beat them repeatedly with it."

Mako's smile vanished. Sy burst out laughing, scrunching her nose as she chuckled at her own twisted sense of humor.

"You are way too easy," she cackled as they exited the coffee shop. Then, all at once, her laughter disappeared, and she stared blankly ahead as a horrific memory ran through her mind. "Seriously though, whatever you do, don't pick roses. I cannot stress that enough."

Korra's nightmares did not recede. No matter what she did to take her mind off of the violence, it still prodded her mind resolutely. She sunk into the soft comfort of her mattress with burden. Another wasted day had passed her by. Terror was still abundant on the streets.

The phone rang, and Korra's heart skipped a beat. It had been days since she had last spoken to Asami, and she had not the slightest clue as to why. She stumbled as he grabbed the phone near her bed, and her words came out shakily.

"H-hello?"

"Hey, Korra."

The voice was not Asami's. It was small and enervated, as if its owner had just finished shouting after a long while and wore out their voice.

"Masaki?" Korra asked, confused. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," responded the boy. Korra sat upright, and her knees began to quiver. The last time she saw the young child, he had nearly killed three of his classmates. It was his actions that had been driving her so mad over the past several days. She could barely contain her emotions. She was not sure whether to beg for forgiveness or scream in fury. However, she did not have to make a choice.

"I… I wanted to call you to let you know that I'm sorry," Masaki said hurriedly, catching Korra off-guard.

"You're sorry?" Korra repeated in surprise.

"For the… you know. And for everything I said to you. That wasn't me."

Korra did not know how to respond. "I, um, accept your apology. Although, I don't think I'm the one that you should be apologizing to."

"I don't know if I can," Masaki said weakly. "They suspended me from school. They said that they wanted to take me for a psychological evaluation. They just want to get rid of me."

"They? Who? Who's trying to get rid of you?"

"I didn't mean to hit them so hard," Masaki continued. "All I wanted was for them to stop bullying me. They're the ones who beat me up every day. They're the violent ones. I just wanted a little payback. But now I'm still being punished. It's not fair."

"I know it doesn't seem fair, but they're just trying to do what they think is right," Korra tried to explain, doubting that she was getting through to the boy.

"I let you down," Masaki moaned. Korra heard something from the other end of the line that struck like a knife to her heart: sobbing.

"Masaki?"

"You were one of the only people who wanted to be my friend, and I let you down," Masaki cried openly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I snapped at you and disappointed you. I'm so sorry for everything."

"No, Masaki, you didn't disappoint me," Korra said hastily, but Masaki ignored her, lost in his own tears.

"It's all my fault, and now you'll never be my friend again…"

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. What was she supposed to do? She was unprepared for something like this. All she could manage was to hush a few kind words and assure the child that everything would be okay, and she would still be his friend. He was just a boy, after all.

Slowly, the sobs dissipated, and the crackling voice over the line faded away. Korra talked Masaki down with slow, simple words, like quieting a baby. When Masaki had fallen silent, Korra tried getting back to her point.

"Masaki, you said that they were after you," she said calmly. "Who do you think is after you?"

There was nothing but silence. Korra repeated the question, yet no response came forth. For a full thirty seconds, there was no sound but the dim crackle of the phone.

And then, suddenly, there was a crash and a distant shriek. Korra leapt off of her bed, and hunched over the phone.

"K-Korra!" Masaki screamed, his voice distant. "Help me! Korra!" There was another loud crash that sent shockwaves through Korra's body.

"Masaki! What's going on? Can you hear me?"

"Korra! Korra! Help me! She's taking me! She's trying to—ah, Korra!" Someone attempted to pick up the phone, but there was another crash, and Masaki's voice only faded further. Korra was left in the dark.

"Masaki! Hold on! I'll get the police and—"

The call cut off abruptly. The Avatar's heart raced, and as she hung up the telephone, she felt something give way inside, as if the pillars that had been holding her up inside had just crumbled into dust. It felt like a nightmare, but this was far too real. She did not need to see it to know what had just transpired. Even as the airbending children rushed to her room to check on her, she remained motionless, transfixed on the horrible truth.

Masaki Sugiyama had just been kidnapped by the Hanzi Killer.