"This wire goes here, right?"
"No, you idiot, that one goes there."
"Hey, you're the one with her nose buried in the instructions!"
"Stop arguing and get the damn thing working."
The sound of their voices pulls her from unconsciousness, Korra's bleary vision tilted as she slowly opens her eyes. Bright, piercing light makes her groan and press them shut again. Her neck aches something fierce thanks to her head lolling to the side like she's a passed out drunk. Korra grunts and drags herself upright.
The first thing of note when she parts her eyelids a fraction is that the bright light is a cone surrounding her completely; the room beyond it is little more than dark, shifting outlines. The second is that she can't move and it hurts to try.
Korra's shoulders are burning with every scrap of consciousness she recovers. Her hands are wrapped around the back of a hard chair, held fast with rope, her ankles tied to its legs in similar fashion. And her captors have wound several lengths around her torso, whether by accident or otherwise uncomfortably squeezing her chest. Her bust juts out from between two thick bands of rope and despite the situation Korra instinctively prioritises embarrassment, cheeks warm as she glances down at herself.
"So you're finally awake, Avatar."
Her head snaps up, eyes trying to pierce the shadows. "Where am I?"
"Doesn't matter," the male voice replies. "You should concern yourself with more important things."
Its owner steps into her circle of light, produced by a lone bulb hanging over her head. Korra glares up at him after struggling in futility against her bonds, or rather at his mask.
"You cowards. You've blocked my chi."
"Cowards," the Equalist says, "but not fools."
She can't bend a single element, not even a wisp of flame at her fingertips to burn slowly through the rope. It's been years, but the experience never truly fades away. Korra wears a harsh scowl, but beneath it she feels a prickling sense of vulnerability. It doesn't help that chi-blocking deadens her limbs too, making her feel like a sluggish sack of meat. She bares her teeth at the man standing before her, a uniform she has not laid eyes on in years draped in shadow.
"What do you want with me?" Korra growls.
The Equalist theatrically spreads his arms. "Why, to make an example of you, of course."
She's about to ask what on earth he means, but then Korra hears the squeak of trolley wheels.
Her eyes turn and grow wide as the machine is pushed into the light. She remembers the crash of glass, clouds of thick smoke clogging her nostrils and throat, fists jabbing out of nowhere and everywhere at once to render her body limp and lifeless. Then darkness. But most of all, Korra remembers Bear Chest Bao.
"No," she begs, as the chair itself is wheeled into view alongside the machine, "no, please. You can't."
"We can," the Equalist says as another hands something to him, "and we will." He holds up a thick black binder. "You can thank your friend for providing the necessary directions."
Even as he speaks, Korra watches with growing horror an Equalist begin fixing a long glass tube onto the machine. "This is wrong!" she says, and then jumps in panic when a large white sheet drops down out of nowhere and is draped over her from behind, wrapping around her throat like a giant napkin. A uniformed arm slinks over her shoulder and her eyes cross in an effort to focus on the metallic object shoved in front of them. It's a pair of manual clippers, and steel teeth bite at the air when the handles are given an experimental squeeze.
Korra's eyes bulge. "Wait, let's talk. We can talk about this!"
The first Equalist folds his hands behind his back, ignoring her plea as beside him a sponge is dipped into the contents of a plastic bowl. Eyes hidden behind wide brass goggles, the man offers Korra a soulless stare.
"Prep her."
"Asami, I have as many available units as I can muster out there looking for her."
"It's been hours, Lin."
"It's only midday."
The staccato of Asami's pacing heels pauses as she rounds on the Chief. "What kind of a pathetic excuse is that? This is the Avatar we're talking about here. Korra!"
"I am very much aware of that," Lin replies from behind her desk.
"Then why don't you have more people out there?" Asami demands. "Surely you have that kind of authority? Everyone should be looking -"
"We don't need that kind of panic. Thank you, but I do believe I know how to run this establishment."
"The papers will disagree."
"The papers," Lin sharply interjects, "will be far more interested in just why you and Varrick built that infernal machine!"
The rapping of knuckles on glass silences Asami's retort. Both women turn to the door, which after a few moments is tentatively pushed open.
"What is it, officer?" Lin barks as he sticks his head into the office.
"Chief, uh, you're needed down in Communications."
"I'll be there shortly," she replies, and waves dismissively at the man.
"Not to be rude, Chief, but I, um, think it would be best if you come right away."
Lin's eyes narrow at the officer. Not a minute later she is striding along the corridors of the Police Headquarters, Asami hot on her heels.
Lin throws open the door of the communications room, earning herself the startled looks of a number of operators busy at their desks. "Who asked for me?" the woman demands, Asami stepping into the room behind her.
"Over here, Chief!" one of the operators calls out, raising an arm to grab her attention. Lin and Asami quickly move over to her.
"What is it?"
"Have you found Korra?"
Lin flares her nostrils as Asami speaks over her, eyes intent on the female operator as she looks between them both, clearly hesitant towards whom she ought to direct her answer. "Spit it out, would you?" the Chief says impatiently.
"They've found her," the woman blurts out, "the Avatar."
Relief washes over Asami's face. "Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness."
Lin's expression remains guarded. "And her condition?"
The operator swallows. "They're on their way to the hospital now, Chief."
Asami's face begins to fall. Lin nods resolutely.
"Then so am I."
"We. I'm coming too."
"Do you believe that's wise?"
Asami grows red with affront. "What a ridiculous question."
"Did they recover anything besides the Avatar?" Lin directs at the operator.
"No, Chief."
"I think you've more pressing matters to consider," Lin says, folding her arms. "I will deal with Korra."
Asami glares at the older woman. "I'm coming."
Lin shrugs. "Have it your way."
"Do you know where you were being held?"
"No. It was dark."
"There was nothing you recognised, general features of the room or -?"
"I said it was dark."
"How many Equalists were there?"
"I don't know exactly."
"I need you to cooperate with me here if I'm going to find these people."
"Three. Four. Six. I don't know."
Lin slowly exhales.
"Did you recognise any of the Equalists? Voices or mannerisms, perhaps?"
"No."
"How did they know how to operate the machine?"
"They had gotten hold of the manual somehow."
"What did the Equalists do after...after they took your bending?"
"I was unconscious. I wouldn't know."
"You were found dumped in an alley. The Equalists left no traces."
Standing outside the door of her room, Asami does not hear Korra reply.
"Did they announce any further intentions for the machine?"
"If they did, I wasn't listening."
"Anything at all, Korra. It could be useful."
"...One said they were making an example, of me."
"We're going to find them," Lin promises. "We're going to find them and put this all right again."
Korra has nothing to say to that.
"There's someone here to see you," Lin says after a brief pause.
Asami takes her cue, drawing in a deep, somewhat shaky breath as she turns the handle and pushes open the door.
Korra is sitting on top of the sheets of the hospital bed, a knee drawn up towards her chest. Her boots are on the floor beside her. An elbow pressed into the meat of her thigh, Korra rests her brow against the heel of her palm as she stares down into her lap. The doctor tells both Asami and Lin that she has suffered a few scrapes and bruises, and one other thing. It's that last detail that causes Asami's hands to fly up and cover her mouth as her jaw drops and her eyes widen in shock.
"Oh, Korra, your hair..."
She slowly looks up at the sound of Asami's voice. Her mouth is a tight line and her normally bright blue eyes dark and narrow.
"Why is she here?"
Lin holds up her hands and takes a step away from Korra's bedside. Asami moves tentatively towards it as the Chief tucks a pen and notepad into the inner folds of her overcoat. "I came to see you, Korra," she says quietly, eyes shining.
"You're the last person I want to see right now."
"I'm sorry," she pleads, hands clutched together, "I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Korra turns her face aside, glaring at the far wall. "Go away. Just...go away."
Heartbroken, Asami can't help but reach out to her -
Lin catches her wrist. "We should leave the Avatar to rest," the woman suggests.
She doesn't want to go, but the Chief gives her no other alternative. Asami finds herself steered towards the door, casting one last desperate look over her shoulder. Korra's eyes are hard, cold stones, and then her eyelids fall to hide them.
They remain closed for a while after the door clicks shut. Korra hides in the darkness behind her eyes and tries to focus on taking deep, steadying breaths. Each one, however, grows more ragged, the rise and fall of her chest accompanied by a soft hitch in her throat. She presses her eyes shut and tries to push away the all too recent past. She fails and her lip trembles. Korra draws both knees up to her chest, covers her face with her hands, curves her fingers and presses uneven nails into her brow, grits her teeth as broad shoulders start to shake - and then the door swings open.
"Go away!" Korra yells, heedless of her visitor's identity.
"I had to negotiate with my armed escort for over fifteen minutes to secure this opportunity," a familiar voice speaks, and Korra's eyes snap open. "Even then, I am to be closely watched while in your presence."
Korra lowers her hands and looks up in disbelief at the woman standing beside her bed. "Kuvira? What are you doing here?"
"Scheduled health check-up," she replies, "standard affair for newly released prisoners, so I am told. May I sit?"
Korra blinks. "I...okay."
Kuvira turns and perches herself on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. "I heard what happened," the woman says simply.
"And you came to pity me," Korra replies, turning her gaze away. "I get it."
"Do you want my pity?"
"I don't," Korra says, more forcefully than intended.
Kuvira merely nods. Korra sees it in the corner of her eyes. She turns back to look at her.
"Why did you come?"
"To offer you an ear, if you have need of one."
Korra regards her for a long moment. "I'm surprised you haven't made a comment about my hair, like everyone else."
"Should I?"
"I've seen my reflection. I look...I look like a crook, like some kind of outcast."
Kuvira lifts her brow. "To whom?"
"To everyone!" Korra cries. "No one is looking at me the same way anymore. I'm different now."
She only has to glance at the police officer standing by the door to know it's true. He has an uneasy air about him, eyes shifting to and from Korra every other moment.
"You look different; that much is certain," Kuvira says. "However, the only perception of you that matters is your own. Define yourself, and the world must accept that truth."
"That sounds like rubbish," Korra says stiffly.
"As a woman who once carried the title 'Great Uniter', I speak from experience."
"The people are the ones who called you that," Korra argues.
"Yes," Kuvira allows, "they did. Now ask yourself why."
Korra closes her eyes. She understands, but she doesn't have the strength to do what Kuvira did, to make people listen, to make them respect her all over again. To do it once took so many years and in mere moments she watches all she has built crumble away. She's lost so much more than just her bending. It's the truth; she sees it in everyone's eyes. Except Kuvira's.
"Tell me," Korra says earnestly, turning at the woman, "what do you see when you look at me?"
Kuvira doesn't answer right away. Instead, she lifts her hand.
Korra stiffens, breath caught in her throat as the woman's fingers slowly brush through the stubby hair left on her head. Her shoulder length locks are gone, falling thickly away as she is given a swift buzz cut. She cries out in desperate protest when the Equalist grabs the first fistful of hair, but a blade held threateningly at her throat by another keeps her head still. She is ashamed, with a clenched jaw only just holding back hot tears. She holds them back now, fearing Kuvira's words will make them spill because, she thinks - she knows; she's different now.
"What do I see?" the woman says, hand falling to rest on her shoulder. "I see Korra."
"You're a smooth talker," she says eventually.
"Years of practice," Kuvira replies, and for once there is a small, almost invisible curve to her mouth. "But this time, I'm telling the truth."
Korra sighs heavily, staring down at her hands folded into her lap. "I appreciate that."
The voice of the police officer interrupts their shared silence. "Time's up, Kuvira."
The woman nods and rises wordlessly to her feet. The contact of her hand at Korra's shoulder lingers for a moment longer before it slips away, and only when Kuvira is halfway out the room does Korra lift her head to watch her leave.