Note: Happy October. The current plan is to wrap the story up before the end of the year. What comes after that? Well, we're keeping it a secret. Maybe it's something. Maybe nothing. Don't worry about it. Worry about what you read in this next chapter. Enjoy.

Five Hours Earlier

The first thing Asami noticed was the darkness. As she groggily opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, there was a distinct lack of light. She could feel the room spinning around her, and she blinked repeatedly to refocus her vision. The memory of how or why she got there escaped her. She could not feel anything. Minutes passed as she sat in dazed numbness, searching for answers. The only sound was that of soft music in the background: a woman belting out a high note, yet barely audible against her ear.

Then, it hit her. The bodies. The blood. The boy. She snapped awake. She was sitting in a wooden chair, its legs bolted to the ground, their arms bounded together with rope. Her jacket and boots had been stripped off, leaving her in a dark, sleeveless undershirt and pants. She felt the cold, moist ground beneath her bare toes. Panicking, Asami struggled to free herself, only for the pain to hit her like a bus. It wasn't just the excruciating stabbing sensation in her gut, though it did feel as if an animal had clawed into her flesh; upon attempting to move, she discovered that what she assumed to be rope in the darkness was actually barbed wire. The concussion was only able to partially dull the agony as the sharp points drew playful figures into her skin, and she let out a tortured scream.

"So, your awake."

A dim light flipped on over her head. She heard footsteps behind her, and Masaki soon strolled forward, knife in hand and a dead smile on his face. How long had he been sitting there, watching her in the dark, preying on her like a vulture?

"I was worried that you weren't going to wake up. I thought that maybe I accidentally ruptured something important, or I kicked you in the head too hard. Luckily, I was able to stop the bleeding." He paused, taking in the soothing sounds of opera in the distance. "Don't you like opera? My mother took me to a performance the night before the accident. It was one of the best nights of my life."

Asami groaned, fighting back the pain pulsing in her veins as the faces of her dead friends swarmed her memory. "You… you're the Hanzi Killer. You murdered all of those people."

"Well, someone had to do it."

"But," Asami stammered, "you're just a kid."

Masaki laughed at the statement. "Of course, I am! How else could I have done it? Do you know how easy it is to get close to people when you're a kid? The moment someone sees me, they let their guards down. Nobody suspects me. The rich man, the teacher, the slob, your friends, your own servants? All I had to do was knock on the door, and they would answer."

On cue, Masaki's eyes began to well with tears, and his face contorted instantaneously into one of pure sadness. He tucked his hands behind his back and forced his head down, sniffling and sobbing. "Excuse me, sir? I… I lost my mom and dad. Can you help me?"

And then, all at once, the smile returned, and Masaki whipped out his knife and swung triumphantly at the air. "Then: bam! By the time they figure out what's going on, it's already too late. It doesn't even matter if they believe me or not. After all, who's heartless enough to turn down a crying child?"

"What about the bombings?" Asami asked, struggling to understand. "You killed a man while he was being guarded by police."

"The fat one planted the bombs. He was a cop; he knew how to handle security. Once he started ratting me out, I killed him. It wasn't hard. The cops only kept control of the perimeter. They didn't even bat an eye when they saw me walking through."

He remained calm as he talked of the many ways he gutted his victims. Aside from his brief demonstration, his toothy grin never faltered. He held the knife carelessly, like a toy. For all she knew, it was the same knife that he plunged into her, or perhaps even the same knife he used for all of his victims, passing it from body to body, organ to organ, blood to blood. He seemed fully intent on using it again.

"You hurt Lin," Asami said, horrified. "You attacked Opal. You sent Bolin into a coma!"

"No, I did not," claimed Masaki. "You did that. If you just followed my instructions, and sent me the things you were supposed to, I wouldn't have had to hurt them. You left me no choice."

"Don't try to pass this off on me," Asami growled. "I'm not the one going around writing on the walls with blood."

"What? That? That was nothing. A gimmick. It was just a way to get people's attention."

"People's attention? You've murdered over twenty people! Twenty human beings: snuffed out. Just like that. And for what? So you could play judge, jury and executioner with people you don't think deserve to live?"

Masaki snickered, twirling the blade in his hand. "You really think you're so noble, don't you? No wonder Korra likes you so much."

Asami tensed at the mention of her name. Masaki's smile widened.

"Yeah, Korra is really something else. I can see why she finds you so attractive. You're brave. You're caring. You're selfless. In other words, everything that she isn't. You balance each other out; the perfect girlfriends. That is, if she still was your girlfriend."

Masaki reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blue engagement ring. Asami writhed in her seat, letting the barbs dig deeper into her arms as he examined it in the dim light.

"I know what it feels like: Looking up to a person so much, only for them to let you down in the end. I understand that pain. But I guess that's what life is: pain. And you're going to understand that very soon."

Asami shuddered, but she tried to keep the fear suppressed. The pain was damaging her ability to think straight.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. Her body quivered and her head ached, but the boy's words came through, clear as the day.

"Who knows?" he stated with a shrug. "Maybe I'm sick and tired of seeing people living their happy, ignorant lives and decided to do something about it. Maybe I'm trying to bring back justice in a world that doesn't seem to care about it. Maybe someone else is telling me to do it, and I'm just playing along. Maybe I'm doing it because I'm bored and there's nothing else to do."

He leaned in close, pressing the knife against Asami's silky cheek. He dropped his smile, and stared at her with two, unblinking orbs. "Or maybe, I love the feel of cold steel meeting human flesh. Maybe I love the snap a bone makes when it breaks in half, and the squish of their hearts being crushed in my palm, and the sound of their last breath as they beg for their life. Maybe the only way I can truly find happiness is to see every other human being suffer in the most painful ways imaginable."

He smirked. "You can pick whichever of those explanations sounds the scariest."

He pulled away, and Asami released the breath that she had not realized she was holding. Sweat pooled on her forehead. She was worn down, yet never felt so awake; her mind reverted to its primal instincts, heightening her senses, forcing adrenaline into her ever-thinning bloodstream, trying to think of a plan, any plan at all, to escape from the killer that taunted her. Masaki's words violated her. They crawled under her skin, and made it abundantly clear: she was going to die if she did not act quickly.

Asami struggled. She fought past the pain, dragging her arms toward her, trying to set them free. They were not bound tightly, something that Masaki surely hoped would be compensated for by the pain they caused. Slowly, her arms were being torn free, bloodied but functioning, shocking Masaki into action as his hostage broke free from his bounds.

Her left arm was almost loose when Masaki slammed down the knife on her finger. Her body tensed as the metal hit, cleaving into the bone just past her knuckle. All of the oxygen drained from her lungs, and her face became pale and sickly. She closed her eyes and turned away, screaming in silence as Masaki pulled the knife free from the worthless digit, still desperately clinging to the hand. The boy looked at the little thing, barely attached, and after a moment of hesitation, brought down the knife again, harder than before, cutting straight through the rest of the bone and muscle. Tears streamed down Asami, and she was overtaken by quiet sobs. The warm blood pumped out of her, kissing the ruptured nerve ends as it spilled onto the floor and pooled at her feet. She could not move. She could not think. Her voice and her spirit were gone. All she could do was keep her wet eyes shut, and attempt to breathe.

Masaki picked up the finger, which twitched upon contact as the last of its life drained out. "Brave. Just like I said." He raised the finger in the air, holding his prize apathetically. "See this? This is what happens if you try to escape. I have spent too long setting this up, and you are not going to ruin it by being brave. You are not the hero anymore. You aren't going to overcome the odds. You aren't going to save the day. You, Asami, are the bait. You are going to sit there and suffer until this is finished. And if you try to do anything like that again, I am going to do a lot more than cut off a finger. Am I clear?"

"You're… you're insane," Asami choked, barely able to speak. Her strength was gone. She wanted to pass out, to let the darkness take her. But the world was cruel, and kept her wide awake to feel every fresh scar form.

Masaki scoffed. "I'm not insane. I just have a score to settle." He walked away, and opened a door that was camouflaged into the wall by shadows. "I'm going to get some bandages. We wouldn't want you to bleed out. Not when there's still so much left to be done."

"His name is Masaki Sugiyama. He's twelve years old."

Two hours passed, and Korra had not moved. It did not matter that police swarmed over her room, labeling every scrap of dust as "evidence" and constantly butting in to ask her questions. She did not budge from her spot on the floor, and her face did not show any of her anguish. Lin stood over her, trying to get some information out of the Avatar while simultaneously keeping the flow of police and nervous airbending children in check. It took two hours before Korra was willing to speak; in the meantime, she had sent a squadron to investigate the Sato mansion, and had received word of the countless dead that were compiled into the master bedroom. Her detectives confirmed that Asami was nowhere to be found, and after studying the bodies of the victims, they also were able to confirm that none of the corpses appeared to have mutilating hands, meaning that the finger they possessed as "evidence" indeed belonged to their missing friend. Lin went back and forth on whether to tell the children what had occurred; on one hand, they deserved to know what happened, but they were still so young, and the last thing she wanted was to send them into a frenzy.

Yet, when Korra spoke those nine words, Lin's worries about the children disappeared, and were replaced with only the deep concern for the young woman in front of her.

"Do you really think that the kid did this to her?" Lin asked with neither faith nor doubt.

"It had to be," Korra said blankly. "He sent me that… he told me himself."

"Maybe someone was impersonating him?"

"No, I recognized his voice. Masaki did this. I'm sure of it."

"I'm only saying this because of how ridiculous it sounds," Lin stated. "I mean, he's a twelve-year-old. He couldn't have possibly done all of that alone, right? That's impossible."

"Is it? Jinora mastered airbending when she was twelve. Aang mastered all of the elements and defeated Ozai when he was twelve. Your own mother created metalbending when she was twelve."

"Yes, but none of them ever pulled off a string of bombings and murders while being hunted by the police. There has to be more to this than we're realizing."

"Does it matter?" Korra asked nonchalantly. "Asami's gone. He took her, and it's all my fault."

Lin rolled her eyes. "Don't say that."

"It is," Korra insisted. "You didn't hear how angry he was with me. I shouldn't have been so mean to him. If I was nicer, maybe he wouldn't have taken her."

"Stop beating yourself up over it," Lin said with sincerity. "If Masaki really is the Hanzi Killer, then he was plotting this out long before you ever wronged him. There was nothing you could have done."

Korra shook her head remorsefully. "I could have stayed with her. I could have protected her."

"Korra…"

Lin stopped herself. There were so many things that she wanted to say, but she knew that none of it would make a difference. Kora could not see things rationally. She was lost inside of her own world, swallowed whole by her guilt. Just as her legs refused to move, her mind refused to accept the truth. So, the Police Chief held her tongue, taking in her defeat.

She quickly changed topics. "Can you try locating her again by tracing her energy?"

"You know that doesn't work unless I'm calm."

Lin thought Korra looked rather calm, with an empty face and steady breathing, but she knew better than to bring it up.

"Then I guess the only option left is to find out everything we can about Masaki Sugiyama," Lin said with a nod. However, she couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. Surely, she thought, Masaki would realize that exposing himself to Korra would draw her attention. He had to know the consequences of his actions, so why did he do it? He had to have something still up his sleeve to avoid capture. But what would possibly be able to deflect her away like that?

The phone rang on the opposite end of the room while Lin was lost in thought. Korra suddenly came to life, bursting off of the ground and grabbing the phone before any of the cops could stop her.

"Hello?" she asked desperately.

"Did you get my package?"

At once, Korra became consumed by rage, and pressed the phone firmly against her ear. Her voice was hushed, yet carried the intensity of a cyclone.

"Where. Is. She?"

"So, you did get my package. Good to know."

"I swear," Korra growled, "I swear if you so much as touch her, I'll—"

"You'll do what, exactly? Kill me?" Masaki taunted. "We both know that you don't kill, Korra. You think too highly of yourself for that. No, you won't do anything, Korra. You are going to sit there and listen as I touch her, and prod her, and hit her as many times as I want. Just like this…"

There was a moment of silence, and then, there was a great crack, followed by a distant, guttural scream that send shockwaves up and down Korra's spine.

"Asami!" she cried, clutching the phone as if she could reach through it and comfort her broken lover.

"Do you hear that?" shouted Masaki. "That is the sound of a human arm breaking after its been hit by a crowbar! I'm learning so much today. First, I found out that a finger has way more blood in it than I thought, and now this! Miss Satori is going to be so proud of me."

"Please, stop it," Korra begged. She could scarcely hear Asami's heavy sobs, each one of them a dagger being driven into her heart. "You've made your point, now let her go."

"Do you really want me to let her go?"

"Yes," Korra said shakily. "I'll do anything you want, just please, don't hurt her anymore."

Masaki snickered. "I was hoping you'd say that. You'll do anything to save her? Deal. Then let's play a little game."

"W-what are you talking about?" Korra asked nervously.

"I want to play some games with you, Korra," Masaki explained. "I've always liked games, but I never had any friends to play with. But now, I have you, and you said that you would play with me, didn't you? So let's play some games. Three, in fact. Three games over three days. All you have to do is win each game, and then I'll let Asami go and turn myself in. No catch. No tricks. No nothing. Follow my instructions, and this will all end without anyone else getting hurt. Do we have a deal?"

Korra paused to let the challenge sink in. Lin was calling her, pleading for information. In the corner of her eye, she could see the children spying from the doorway. It shocked her how little she cared for them at that moment.

"If I do this, do you promise that you won't hurt her?"

She could practically hear the boy's smile from the other end of the line. "Korra, Korra, Korra… you know I would never lie to you."

Korra took a deep breath, and let the words fall out of her.

"Fine. I'll play your games. But when this is over, you are going to pay. For everything."

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way," Masaki said happily. "For the first game, you need to go to Warehouse 15 on the East City Pier. Eight o'clock tonight. Don't bring anything. And please, come alone. If any police get within twenty blocks of that building, the girl dies. Talk to you soon."

And then he was gone. Korra gently placed the phone back on the receiver, and left the room without a sound, passing by a very distraught and confused Lin Beifong. The Chief of Police did not get any answers from the Avatar, only a cold glare. The only thing she saw—which she somehow did not notice before, despite staring right at her—were the darkened shadows cast across Korra's face.