[Republic City Underground]
Beneath Republic City, where the sun could never reach, you'd think it was completely silent.
The underground was never truly quiet—there was always something. The scurrying of rats, rhythmic drip of water from rusted pipes, the groan of old support beams straining under the weight of the city above.
But tonight, those usual whispers of decay were drowned out.
Tonight, the tunnels howled.
AHHH!
A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the underground But screams echoed all the way through the underground, bouncing off the damp walls and curling down every passage like a living creature.
Then another.
And another.
The symphony of suffering grew—bones snapping with sickening cracks, debris crashing to the floor, metal slicing through metal and flesh, shrieking as if tore through flesh and rust. Gasps, chokes, the desperate struggle for air, the unmistakable scent of fresh blood thickening the stagnant air.
A handful of Equalists felt it—they felt it before they could even hear it. The sheer weight of it pressed down on them, a primal warning in their very bones. Their very survival instinct screamed at them to turn back.
And yet, they moved toward it.
Was it bravery? Stupidity?
They couldn't say. All they knew was that their feet kept moving, their hands tightening around weapons, breath coming quicker.
At the front, their leader marched forward—a masked figure, dual batons gripped tightly on each hand, leading the small squad straight into the storm.
"LIEUTENANT"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Lieutenant
The adrenaline in their veins was blinding, deafening.
They only realized, too late—
By the time they reached the door, the noises had already stopped.
A suffocating and unnatural silence hung in the air.
Still, the Lieutenant pressed forward, though his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Was it fear? Instinct? Either way, he steeled himself, planting his foot back—
THUD!
The metal door slammed open, the sound shattering the quiet like a cannon as he burst inside.
The stench hit them first—thick, metallic, suffocating. The Lieutenant curled his nose in disgust, and behind him, his subordinates recoiled, their masked faces unable to hide the way their bodies tensed, some shifting as if to suppress the urge to gag.
'Bastard… he crippled them' the thought burned in the Lieutenant's mind as his boots crunched against the debris-strewn floor.
Bodies littered everywhere—some groaning, others unmoving. Broken arms, shattered legs, twisted fingers still twitching. Blood pooled in dark smears, soaking into rusted metal and cracked concrete. Faces were swollen beyond recognition, wrists and other joints bent at unnatural angles.
And in the middle of it all, perched atop a fallen slab of metal, was him.
"FACELESS"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Tired
The hooded figure sat slouched, breath ragged, a broken mask barely clinging to his face, exposing one eye that caught the dim, flickering light—reflecting the red carnage around him. His grip was firm around the hilt of his sword, its ruined tip still wedged deep into the ground.
He didn't emerge unscathed. His robe was scorched in places, his already fractured mask bore fresh cracks, and his weapon was not chipped and dulled from overuse.
For a moment, the Lieutenant was tempted.
His fingers tightened around his batons, thumbs hovering over the switches that would send electricity crackling through the weapons. It would be so easy.
Faceless was tired. Weak.
All he had to do was strike.
The Lieutenant took a slow step forward.
One strike. One well-timed blow, and it would be done.
But then—
Something pressed down on him.
It wasn't physical, but it might as well have been. A crushing, suffocating weight bore down on his chest, making his breath hitch, his pulse stutter. His fingers twitched around his batons. His lungs seized as if the very air had thickened, turning into something heavy and unbreathable.
And then came the cold.
It slithered along his skin like the edge of a blade dragging against his throat. Slow. Cold. A phantom steel, warning him how close he was.
He swallowed, hard. Every fiber of his being demanded that he move, that he act, that he do something—but his instincts, the very ones that had kept him alive through countless battles against benders, were screaming. Not just warning him. Begging.
'Back off'
The realization sent a fresh spike of adrenaline through his veins.
"Lieutenant?"
The voice cut through the silence cleanly—low, hoarse.
"I never thought you'd show"
The Lieutenant stiffened. He hadn't even noticed that Faceless was already looking at him.
That single, exposed eye bore into him, as if staring into his soul.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pressure vanished.
The weight in the air lifted, the phantom blade at his throat disappeared, and he sucked in a shaky breath—only now realizing how starved for air he had been. His muscles, locked in place, finally obeyed him again.
He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking toward his subordinates.
They weren't doing nearly as well.
A few had collapsed, flat on the blood stained floor. Some were hunched over, tearing off their masks to empty the contents of their stomachs. Others trembled, their knees barely holding them up, as though the unseen force had crushed something vital within them.
"What's the meaning of this?" The Lieutenant spoke, forcing his voice to stay level, to hold on to some sense of authority as he turned back to stare down at Faceless.
Faceless didn't answer right away. Instead, he exhaled slowly, gripping the hilt of his sword before pulling it free from the ground with a low, grating scrape. He rested it across his lap, fingers sliding along the blood-slick blade, wiping it clean with his gloved hand as if the red staining it was nothing more than dust.
"Punishment" he muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion.." No one's dead. Don't worry"
The Lieutenant's gaze swept over the carnage once more. Two dozen Equalists lay scattered across the floor—some unconscious, others curled in pain.
And yet… he couldn't deny it.
No corpses.
A long breath escaped him, more exasperation than relief, as he ran a gloved hand over his face.
Then, with a shake of his head, he straightened and gave a curt wave of his hand. "Get them to a hospital. File the proper reports"
The subordinates behind him, still pale and unsteady from whatever the hell they had just experienced, managed weak salutes before moving to obey. Stumbling, gagging, but determined nonetheless, they dragged the injured to their feet, slung arms over their shoulders, and started gathering scattered weapons.
As his subordinates worked to clean everything up, the Lieutenant finally managed to steady his breath, shoving down the lingering unease clawing at his gut.
He tightened his grip on his batons and pointed one straight at Faceless.
"Explain yourself" he commanded, voice sharp. "How dare you lay a hand on our brothers and sisters"
Faceless let out a slow breath, then shifted his weight, pressing the tip of his sword against the ground to balance as he pushed himself to his feet. His movements were sluggish, exhausted.
"They broke the agreement" he muttered, his tone flat, drained. "They hired benders… to harm their own"
The Lieutenant's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. "And what gives you the right to punish them?"
Faceless exhaled through his nose, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening slightly.
"It was as agreed with your leader" he replied. "In return for our loyalty, or…"
He raised a hand.
On cue, the Lieutenant felt it.
Two sets of eyes locked onto him.
A sharp, chilling pressure at his throat. The faint hiss of steam by his ear.
Slowly, he looked down.
A girl, barely more than a child, stood beside him, her face obscured beneath a white mask. In her grip was a slender dagger, its tip pressing lightly against his neck.
He looked down at his side to see a small girl holding a dagger, and pressed it against his neck.
"NEEDLE"
AGE: 16
STATUS: Bored
On the other side, a looming figure gripped his shoulder. A well-built man clad in a heavy robe. From beneath his mask, steam hissed with every slow, heavy breath.
"STEAM"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Loyal
The Lieutenant's muscles tensed, his fingers twitching around his weapons—but he didn't move.
Faceless tilted his head slightly.
"...Do you want to void that agreement?" he continued, voice eerily calm. "Can you take responsibility for it?"
The Lieutenant held his gaze for a long moment before his shoulders slackened, a quiet sigh past his lips. Without a word, he loosened his grip on his weapons, letting the hostility drain from his stance.
Faceless, sensing the shift, gave a subtle glance to his subordinates. No words were needed.
Needle lowered her dagger, taking a lazy step back. Steam followed, releasing the Lieutenant's shoulder as the hiss of his mask softened.
Freed, the Lieutenant immediately sheathed his weapons, the motion stiff but controlled.
"Next time, report to me before you try to take action" His voice was firm, but the sharp edge of authority had dulled. "The least you could do is let us punish our own"
Faceless raised a hand in mock surrender, giving him silent acknowledgement.
Lieutenant, with nothing else to say, turned on his heel.
"Move your asses or you'll be here all night!" he barked at his men, his frustration spilling over onto them as he stormed off.
Faceless watched the Lieutenant march off, making sure he stayed away.
Tap, tap, tap
A light touch on his shoulder took his attention, followed by a soft, amused hum.
"Hmmm~" Needle's voice was almost sing-song, her head tilting as she peered up at him. Through the slits of her mask her eyes gleamed with playful curiosity. "Are you sure he'll just let this go?We could've taken care of him as well"
"Agreed" Steam folded his arms across his chest, vapor escaped his mask accompanied by a sharp hiss. "Fewer problems down the line"
Faceless didn't respond right away. Instead, he let out a slow exhale and sheathed his sword, securing the broken weapon at his waist. The tension in his muscles finally eased.
"Doesn't matter. It seems our Lieutenant wasn't part of this mess" he raised his arms overhead, stretching until a satisfying crack echoed from his spine. "Besides, we already have someone keeping an eye on them now"
Steam grunted, his gaze settling on one of the Equalists cleaning up in the distance. "I still find it hard to believe"
"I know right~" Needle purred, slipping her dagger back into her hair like a comb. "I took my eyes away from him for a second, and he was almost gone."
As Faceless relaxed, finally letting his arms down, he followed their stares, his eyes landing on the same Equalist.. Unlike the others, this one barely stood out—almost as if they weren't there at all.
"I'm just glad he agreed so easily" Faceless said, leaning one of his arms on the hilt of his sword. "This means we finally have eyes within the main force instead of just blindly taking orders from the outside"
Needle tilted her head, watching the Equalist move effortlessly among the Lieutenant's personal force. "Still, I can't believe he can blend in that well without even wearing a mask"
The Equalist in question must have felt their stares. They turned slightly, catching the trio watching them. Faceless, Needle, and Steam simply waved—then the Equalist gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before hurrying after the others
"Move it!" The Lieutenant's sharp command sent the remaining Equalists scrambling, lifting their wounded and gathering equipment.
One last glance back. The Equalist locked eyes with Faceless and raised a faint salute before disappearing into the crowd.
Needle immediately perked up, spinning on her heels and bouncing.
"Ohhh~ Can I name him? Can I? Can I?" She raised her hand like an excited child.
Before she could hop again, Steam grabbed her by the head, holding her still with one large palm. "Oh no. It's my turn. You already had your chance with 'Faceless'"
Needle crossed her arms and pouted. "Boo~ Didn't you name 'Engineer' anyway?"
"That one doesn't count. She's not officially one of us"
Before their playful bickering could escalate, Faceless stepped in. "Alright that's enough for now. We'll settle this at our next gathering. For now, we spread out and wait for orders… again"
Needle gave a teasing salute. "Yes, sir~"
Steam simply nodded.
As the three prepared to leave, Faceless took one last glance at the Equalists marching away behind the Lieutenant. His eyes locked onto their new ally. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned away.
"He looked kinda handsome" Needle mused, tapping her chin in thought. "I wonder if 'Statue' is a good name for him"
Steam scoffed. "That doesn't make sense even. And naming them cause of how they look is rude"
"Oh, like YOU can think of anything better" Needle shot back with a playful glare, sticking her tongue out.
Their bickering continued on ahead of Faceless, who let out a quiet chuckle.
"Well, it looks like he already chose a name for himself anyway…" he muttered to himself.
Farther down the big space, the lone Equalist stole a glance back at the trio as they disappeared into the opposite tunnel.
A low sigh escaped his lips. "Can't believe he noticed…"
His fingers reached up to his face. Then, he softly gripped a loose seam near his jawline—
And peeled.
The artificial skin lifted away, revealing a younger, sharper face beneath. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the discarded mask aside, letting it sink into the darkness. Then, he quickly slid his Equalist mask over his real face and stepped beneath the dim glow of a tunnel lamp.
A shadow swallowed his form as he continued on behind the rest of the Equalists.
NAME: QORU
AGE: 19
STATUS: "PHANTOM"
—————————————————————————————
[Evening, Republic City's City Hall]
The night sky stretched over Republic City like normal, stars flickering above the bustling metropolis. But tonight, the sky wasn't the only thing glowing. City Hall radiated with brilliance, its grand architecture bathed in golden light, outshining every other part of the city.
Luxury vehicles lined the streets, their polished exteriors reflecting the glow of ornate street lamps. Chauffeurs opened doors with practiced elegance as men and women draped in finery stepped onto the marble steps. Business magnates, high-ranking officials, and social elites—all converging under one roof for a singular purpose.
Tonight, Republic City was honoring the Avatar.
And, of course, no such event would be complete without the Avatar herself.
By the time she arrived, the party was already in full swing—laughter echoing through the grand hall, conversation blending into a symphony of polite chatter, and glasses clinking in celebration. But as a new group entered, all eyes turned toward a single individual among them.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: The Avatar
Gone was Korra's usual attire. Tonight, she stood adorned in a deep blue gown with white designs, proudly displaying her Water Tribe heritage. The fabric draped elegantly, flowing with her every step, yet sewn in a way that still allowed her the freedom of movement she preferred. Her arms remained bare, letting her show off her strength despite the elegance. Her hair, usually tied up for practicality, cascaded freely down her back, framing her confident yet slightly uncertain expression.
As she stepped further into the hall, a round of applause erupted from the assembled guests. Korra took in the sight—dignitaries, politicians, wealthy patrons—all gathered to celebrate her. Even knowing this was just another political spectacle, she couldn't deny the flicker of appreciation that stirred within her.
"I can't believe this is all for me" she muttered under her breath, glancing over her shoulder.
Beside her stood a tall figure, clad in a more refined version of his traditional Air Nomad robes, the deep orange embroidered with subtle gold patterns.
TENZIN
AGE: 51
STATUS: Korra's Airbending instructor
"Just remember to keep your guard up" Tenzin warned, his expression tense. "Who knows what scheme Tarrlok has planned this time"
"I know" Korra sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "But—"
"So glad you could make it, Avatar Korra"
Speak of the spirit.
Their conversation was cut short as a man approached with a practiced, charming smile. Dressed in a sleek, modern take on Water Tribe formalwear—a lighter shade of blue, tailored to perfection—he carried himself with the effortless confidence of a seasoned politician.
TARRLOK
AGE: 37
STATUS: Gala Host
As he stepped beside Korra, he gestured smoothly for her to walk with him. "If you'll excuse us, the city awaits its hero"
Korra hesitated, skepticism flickering in her eyes as she glanced at Tenzin. But her mentor, having already warned her enough time, simply gave a silent nod—a gesture of trust.
Understanding, Korra sighed and followed Tarrlok, who flashed an appreciative smile as he guided her deeper into the grand hall and among the elegantly dressed guests.
As they walked away, Tenzin kept a sharp eye on them—at least until a commotion caught his attention. He turned just in time to witness one of his children climbing onto a buffet table. His eyes widened in horror.
"Meelo! No! That is not a toilet!"
A collective gasp rippled through the nearby guests as Tenzin rushed forward, facepalming in embarrassment. "Oh dear…"
Meanwhile, the first guest Tarrlok led Korra to was a distinguished older man, his well combed dark hair streaked with gray. His suit was crisp, his presence refined.
"Korra" Tarrlok said smoothly. "It is my pleasure to introduce Republic City's most famous industrialist—Hiroshi Sato"
HIROSHI SATO
AGE: 50
STATUS: Founder of Future Industries
"Nice to meet you" Korra greeted politely, offering a smile.
Hiroshi returned the gesture with a respectful bow. As he straightened, his voice was deep but calm. "We all expect great things from you"
Korra's smile faltered for just a second. That word weighed on her more than she liked to admit.
"Right… greatness…" she muttered, glancing away.
Before the moment could grow too heavy, a familiar voice called out to her.
"Hey Korra!"
She turned toward the voice, almost happily so, only for her eyes to narrow slightly in faint annoyance.
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Ferret Brother #1
Walking toward them was Mako, surprisingly well-dressed. Gone was his usual streetwear—his formal attire was fitting, his hair neatly styled, and even his signature red scarf was tied in a way that actually suited the event's dress code.
But it wasn't his refined mood that made Korra's mood shift, if anything she thought he looked good. It was the woman holding onto his arm.
Before Korra could say anything, Hiroshi stepped forward, his voice brimming with pride.
"This is my daughter, Asami"
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Daughter of Hiroshi Sato
Asami smiled warmly, poised and graceful as she stood closely beside Mako. If Korra's irritation wasn't apparent before, it certainly was now. She hated to admit it—even to herself—but she was jealous of how well the two fit together.
"It's lovely to meet you" Asami said, her voice smooth and refined, carrying an effortless elegance that only made Korra feel more out of place. "Mako told me so much about you."
"Really? Because he hasn't mentioned you at all" Korra said, crossing her arms. There was a slight edge to her voice, though she kept it in check. "How did you two meet?"
Before Mako could answer, his brother popped up beside her with his usual enthusiasm.
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Fire Ferret #2
"Asami crashed into him on her moped!"
"What?!" Korra's irritation vanished in an instant, replaced by genuine concern as she turned to Mako. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine—more than fine!" Mako reassured her, oddly cheerful as he gestured to himself. Then, as if the accident itself was an afterthought, he motioned toward Hiroshi. "Mr. Sato agreed to sponsor our team. We're back in the tournament"
Before Korra could process that, Bolin slid up next to Mako, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder with a wide grin.
"Isn't that Great!?" he beamed, practically vibrating with excitement.
Korra wanted to be happy for them—she really did—but something about the situation soured her mood. She forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Yeah, terrific…" she muttered, looking away.
Her arms tightened slightly around herself, irritation bubbling beneath the surface—but there was something else there too, something that made her lips press into a slight pout.
As everyone carried on their conversations around Korra, Tarrlok's sharp eyes caught sight of another familiar official weaving through the crowd.
LIN BEIFONG
AGE: 50
STATUS: Chief of Police
"Ah, Chief Beifong!" he called out, lifting a hand in a beckoning gesture.
Lin sighed through her nose, clearly unamused, but despite her distaste, she made her way over. Technically, Tarrlok was still her superior—something she despised.
Tarrlok's ever-present smirk deepened as he gestured between her and Korra. "I believe you and Avatar Korra have already met"
Lin gave Korra a once-over, her sharp gaze unwavering. Then, without hesitation, she took a step closer, standing toe-to-toe with the young Avatar.
"Just because the city's throwing you this grand to-do" she said, her voice low and unimpressed as she stared the Avatar down.. "Don't think you're something special"
Her arms folded neatly behind her back, her eyes narrowing as she leaned closer to Korra.
"You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this"
Korra tensed, her fists clenching against her arms. Lin's words cut deeper than she expected—because they were true. She hadn't done anything yet. And she's afraid she might not be able to do anything at all.
But before Korra could snap back, a hand landed lightly on Lin's shoulder.
"Now, Now Chief Beifong" Tarrlok interrupted smoothly, his tone as polished as ever. "We're here to honor the Avatar, not provoke them. Let's keep things civil—for my sake"
Lin raised an eyebrow, clearly debating whether or not to tell him off, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort. With a scoff, she relented.
"Fine" she muttered before shifting her gaze past Korra and nodding toward someone lingering nearby. "At least you seem to know where you stand. Unlike him"
Not far from them, a young man stood awkwardly near the wall, his posture rigid despite the elegance of his attire. His well-tailored suit, while undoubtedly refined, looked as though it was suffocating him. His expression was tight, as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
His dark hair was pulled neatly into a bun, yet a few strands had broken free, framing his face like reluctant bangs. Korra's eyes flickered in mild surprise when she noticed the thin-framed glasses perched on his nose. Zhen looked almost like an entirely different person.
Korra felt a small urge to go over to him. She hadn't seen him since the morning, and she wanted to check in—see if he was alright, if he was well enough to be up and about.
But just as she took her first step forward, barely raising her hand for a wave—someone else beat her to it.
"Zhen!"
Asami's voice rang out, warm and familiar, as she made her way toward him.
Zhen, hearing his name, blinked and turned his head just as Asami reached him.
Without thinking twice, she reached up, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek as she tilted his face slightly, studying him with quiet intensity.
"Are you alright to be walking around now?" she asked, her voice soft with concern. Her emerald eyes searched his face, lingering on his as if to assess him for any lingering signs of pain.. "I was meaning to visit, but the police wouldn't tell us which hospital they sent you to"
Korra, who had been about to step forward herself, hesitated. Her hand, once half-raised, lowered slightly as an unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest. Something about the way Asami looked at him—the way he allowed it—made her pause.
"I'm doing better" Zhen responded, offering a small nod. "They didn't really send me to a hospital, they sent me back"
"You know each other?" A voice cut in, interrupting the two. Mako stepped forward, his brows slightly raised in surprise.
Asami turned to him with a soft smile, slipping her arm back around his. "Yeah. Remember that accident I was in? Zhen was the one who saved me"
Mako blinked, glancing at Zhen with a mix of surprise and mild skepticism. "Really? Huh… I guess I owe you a thank you, then"
As he stepped closer, Mako's nose picked up that strange, lingering scent again—one that felt oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. The faintest crease formed between his brows, but before he could dwell on it, Hiroshi spoke up.
"Ah yes. I never got the chance to properly thank you for saving my daughter, young man" the older man clapped a firm hand on Zhen's back, his tone warm with gratitude. "I would've taken the time to visit you sooner if not for my busy schedule"
"That's fine" Zhen replied, shifting slightly under the sudden attention. His fingers twitched, fidgeting in discomfort before he glanced toward the back of the group. "I had someone reliable looking out for me"
His eyes landed briefly on Korra, and with a subtle motion, he gave her a small, fleeting wave.
Korra, having been quiet through the exchange, immediately perked up. A smile crossed her face as she returned the gesture, her earlier hesitation fading for a moment.
Just as the conversation found its rhythm, Tarrlok swooped in to disrupt it.
"Well, as much as I'd hate to just end this conversation" Tarrlok interjected smoothly, stepping forward with a practiced grin. "Young Zhen and I still have much to prepare for"
Not letting anyone protest, he draped an arm over Zhen's shoulder, steering him away with casual authority.
"We wouldn't want to keep the city waiting, would we?"
He offered a polite wave to the group before leading Zhen away somewhere.
Everyone seemed to take the interruption in stride, easily shifting back into conversation—except for Lin, who silently managed to slip away.
"Well, you young ones enjoy yourselves" Hiroshi commented, sensing he was the odd one out. "I'll go meet up with a few of my business partners"
And with the grace of a seasoned businessman, he slipped away, leaving the group by themselves. It wasn't awkward, though—a natural shift rather than an uncomfortable silence.
"So, you guys know Zhen?" Asami asked, her gaze shifting between them.
Surprisingly, the first to answer wasn't Mako or Korra—it was Bolin.
"Yeah! Great guy" Bolin said enthusiastically, grinning. "Though I wish he loosened up more. He's always so serious, all about work whenever he dropped Korra off for training"
Asami let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and effortless—enough to make Mako's face heat up slightly at the sight. "Tell me about it. He was the same when he was working under me for a day—so stiff and awkward"
Korr caught the look Mako gave Asami and, for reasons she can't quite place, felt an irritating twinge flare in her chest. She quickly brushed it aside, choosing instead to latch onto an entirely different part of the conversation.
"What do you mean working under you?" Korra asked, her brows knitting together.
"Zhen had a job with you?" And Mako shared her curiosity.
Asami, seeing no reason to keep it a secret, answered easily.
"Yeah. The other day, while he was handing out invites for the party, he stopped by our office to deliver one to my dad. One thing led to another, and he ended up helping me out" She paused briefly before adding. "Then the accident happened, and after that… I wasn't able to see him again"
Korra's expression hardened, her arms crossing.
"Wait—so that was because of you?" she asked, her tone edged with something between disbelief and irritation.
Asami blinked. "What do you mean?"
Korra took a step closer, her voice firm. "Did you even know the state he was in when I got him home?"
Asami's expression faltered, guilt flickered across her face as she lowered her gaze. "I know… I feel awful about it. I really wanted to make up to him when I got the chance, but we didn't know where he went after that"
Mako and Bolin exchanged uneasy glances, both sensing tension tightening between the two girls.
"You—" Korra started, but before she could continue, Mako quickly stepped between them.
"Alright, that's enough Korra" he said, his voice firm but notably partial. His stance, the slight shift in his tone—it was clear where his sympathies lay. "It's not like what happened to him was Asami's fault"
Korra 's glare snapped to Mako, a sharp edge in her eyes. But as she held his gaze, something about the way he looked at her—almost reprimanding—made her stomach twist. A bitter taste settled in her chest, and any fight left in her quickly soured. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her fists clenched at her sides.
Asami watched her go, concerning flicking across her face.
"Did I… do something wrong?" she asked quietly.
Mako sighed, wrapping an arm around Asami's waist in a small gesture of comfort. "No, you didn't. She's just… worried about her friend"
But he wasn't entirely convinced of his own words.
For the briefest of moments, his gaze flickered back toward Korra's retreating figure. His body tensed, his weight shifting forward as if on instinct. But then he hesitated. His grip on Asami tightened ever so slightly, anchoring himself in place.
And just like that, the moment passed.
—————————————————————————————
[Meanwhile, Up on the Second Floor]
Overlooking the entire exchange from above, the man in question kept his quiet, his expression blank.
Snap!
Tarrlok's fingers flicked impatiently in front of Zhen's face, dragging his attention back.
"Focus, Zhen" he said, his tone clipped with irritation. "Now is not the time to be distracted"
Zhen's gaze lingered on the group below for a second longer before turning away. He gave a small, stiff nod—less out of trust and more out of obligation.
"As long as you keep your word" he blurted, making sure Tarrlok heard him.
The councilman barely acknowledged the remark, adjusting his hair in a mirror's reflection.
"Well, straighten up" he said, smoothing out his coat. "We want us to look our best for the papers."
Zhen didn't respond. He didn't fix his posture, nor did he bother adjusting the suit that already felt too tight around his shoulders. He simply followed behind as Tarrlok led him toward a grand staircase.
Below, the murmur of reporters swelled, flashes from their cameras bursting like fireworks as the two men descended.
"Councilman! I've just got one question!"
"Over here! Please!"
"Is there any news about the formation of the Task Force?"
As Tarrlok and Zhen descended the large steps, the press surged forward, notepads at the ready. Tarrlok, ever the showman, offered his signature charming smile, while Zhen raised a hand to shield his eyes from the relentless flashing.
He wasn't used to this. And he hated it.
"Worry not" Tarrlok entertained the reporters, raising a hand to silence the crowd. "We'll be taking a few questions. That should satisfy you, yes?"
The shouting died down to murmurs as hands shot up. Tarrlok's gaze scanned the crowd before selecting a reporter with a polite nod.
"A question for the boy!" the reporter called out, voice sharp and eager. "I heard you've witnessed first hand Amon take away people's bending firsthand. How serious a threat do you think he poses to the innocent citizens of Republic City?"
Tarrlok stepped aside, making room for Zhen to answer. With a begrudging sigh, Zhen adjusted the stiff tie around his neck and stepped forward.
Koff… Mghm…
He cleared his throat.
"Well… he seems like a real problem… I think" he said half-heartedly, his voice devoid of real concern. It was clear he didn't care much for the political theater.
Before the next wave of questions could erupt, Tarrlok's gaze flicked toward a particular reporter. A silent signal. The journalist gave the subtlest of nods before suddenly raising their voice louder than the rest.
"Then tell us, why you? Why are YOU representing the Task Force?" the sharpness in their voice made heads turn. "Shouldn't a problem this big be the Avatar's responsibility? Did she refuse the offer? If so, why is that?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed Zhen's face. He shot the reporter with a cold glare, enough to make them tense up. Then, with a deep breath, he composed himself.
"I was voted—"
"Is she backing away from the fight?" another reporter cut in, feeding into the tension.
Zhen's brows twitch. "Pardon?"
"She made a promise to serve this city" someone else added.. "Is she going back on that promise now?"
"Does she really even care for the citizens? She seems more focused on her Probending matches"
"How do you think the previous Avatar would have handled this?"
The questions came faster, sharper, jabbing at Korra's credibility like a pack of vultures tearing at fresh prey. The more they spoke, the harder Zhen's grip tightened behind him. His expression remained blank, but anyone close enough could see the veins subtlety surfacing along his temple, his patience fraying.
But he couldn't. He knew exactly what this was—a carefully laid trap by Tarrlok. Not for him, but for the Avatar. A concerning plot. Made to pressure her into compliance. If he lashed out now, he'd be doing exactly what the councilman wanted.
For Korra's sake, he had to hold back.
Then—one final comment pushed him over the edge.
"Is Avatar Korra cowering in fear of—"
SWISH!
The unmistakable sound of something cutting through the air silenced the room.
All eyes turned to the floor. Embedded deep in the pristine marble was a small knife, its broken blade still quivering from the impact. A breath later, the reporter who had spoken felt something warm trickle down their cheek—a thin, precise cut, barely missing their eye.
A sharp inhale. Then silence.
Zhen's arm was extended, his fingers twitching slightly from the throw. He took a slow step forward, his gaze bearing down on the stunned reporter with pressure that made the air feel heavy.
"Finish that question" he challenged, his voice low—dangerous. "I dare you"
The reporter swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trailing down his cheek. The once-frenzy of questions stilled immediately.
With a tired sigh, Zhen loosened his tie, his irritation barely concealed as he noticed the silence stretch a moment too long.
"I don't really care what you all think" he finally said, his tone blunt. "But Avatar Korra's currently in the middle of her Avatar training"
Silence hung in the air, but it didn't last long. A hand shot up before he could continue.
"But shouldn't the safety of the citizens take priority?" A reporter pressed, not even waiting to be called on. "With such a threat looming over Republic city, shouldn't the Avatar be stepping in?"
Zhen fixed them with a look, but this one seemed genuinely curious—no hidden agenda, no political maneuvering. He sighed again, though this time, it was more relaxed.
"That's exactly why I'm taking on this task. Yes, the situation is serious, but the fact I was chosen over the Avatar means it isn't catastrophic. Not yet"
"But unlike the Avatar, your name carries no weight" another voice rang out, this time from a young woman who stood out from the rest. Unlike her formally dressed peers, she looked out of place—casual, almost disinterested. "How do you expect us to trust you?"
Zhen's stare lingered on her for a moment longer before he gave his answer.
"Do you people have dung for brains?" His words cut through the crowd like a blade.
A wave of outrage erupted.
"Excuse me?"
"Is that how you're supposed to represent the Task Force?"
"That kind of language is unacceptable!"
Zhen rolled his shoulders, utterly unfazed. "Sorry, I meant—are you people idiots?"
That only made it worse.
"Course, I'll prove it through actions" he continued, speaking over their protests. "My words mean nothing here without skills to back it up, right?"
Silence, some reporters scribbled furiously in their notepads, but no one had a rebuttal. Because, in the end, he was right. Promises meant nothing to the public—results did.
Letting the silence settle for a minute longer, Zhen finally exhaled. "If we're done here, I'm leaving"
With that, he turned on his heel and made his way back up the steps. Flashes went off, capturing his retreating figure, but Tarrlok—still standing at the base of the stairs—rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.
He forced a smile for the cameras, but Zhen could see it. The slight twitch in his brow, the tension in his jaw. Tarrlok wasn't pleased.
And that, at least, was a small victory.
—————————————————————————————
[Meanwhile, Just outside City Hall]
Away from the celebration in her honor, our young Avatar sat on the steps, watching the cars drift by. The muffled sounds of the party buzzed behind her, but out here, she could breathe—alone, or at least, mostly.
Rrnnngh…
Naga padded closer, her heavy paws barely making a sound, with Pabu perched atop her head.
"Hey Naga…" Korra murmured, her voice tired.
Sensing her gloom, Naga let out a soft whimper before settling beside her, resting her massive head on Korra's lap. Korra absently ran her fingers through her fur, as if trying to anchor herself in the quiet. The steady rhythm dulled the noise in her mind, letting her focus.
But the moment her eyes fluttered shut, a distorted memory clawed its way to the surface.
A white mask. Staring. Reaching for her—slowly, deliberately—until she could do nothing but let it happen.
Her breath caught.
Korra jolted upright, gasping, sweat prickling at her skin.
'Damn it…' her fist clenched instinctively, frustration boiling beneath her trembling skin. Even out here, she couldn't escape it.
She exhaled sharply, her fingers sweeping through Naga's fur again, grounding herself. But as the tension eased from her shoulders, something else crept in—a sharp, acrid scent cutting through the crisp night air.
Nnnngh…
Naga huffed, burying her snout against Korra's torso, clearly bothered by it too.
Korra's nose scrunched.
"What is this…?" she muttered, rising to her feet.
Following the scent with Naga, she moved toward the parking lot. The closer she got, the more familiar it became—an unmistakable mix of burnt tobacco.
Then, she saw him.
Leaning against a metal fence, cigarette between his lips, smoke curling lazily into the air.
She followed the scent to the parking lot, as she came closer the smell got more familiar to her.
Even in the dim light, she recognized him immediately. His clothes hung looser now, his tie undone and draped over his shoulders, while his undershirt was only half-buttoned. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, looking more at ease than he was inside, as if he could finally breathe—ironically.
"Zhen?" she called out, just to be sure.
Of course, he turned instinctively at the sound of her voice, flicking ash from his cigarette.
"What's up, Avatar?" he greeted casually, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke.
Korra stepped closer, though the lingering scent made Naga sit back with a quiet huff.
"I should've known it would be you" she waved a hand in front of her face, fanning the smoke away as she took a spot beside him, leaning against the fence. She wanted to prop up one leg, but struggled from her dress.
"What's the star of the show doing outside?" she asked, tilting her head toward the building.
Zhen let out a quiet chuckle, shifting forward again.
"I could ask you the same thing" he tapped his cigarette, embers glowing in the dark "It's exhausting in there. All those cameras"
Korra huffed. "Tell me about it"
Silence immediately stretched between them, but unlike before, this one felt strangely… awkward. At least, for Korra. Zhen, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled in the air between them, slowly disappearing.
Korra shifted her weight, rolling her shoulders. The quiet gnawed at her, making her antsy. She wracked her brain for something—anything—to break it, when a memory surfaced: Asami checking up on him earlier.
"You—"
"Thanks… for helping me back then"
She blinked. Before she could even ask, Zhen had spoken first.
His voice was as blank and unreadable as always, his expression giving nothing away. But when she glanced at him, something caught her eye—his ears.
They were red.
Korra smirked. Even if his face stayed deadpan, it seemed he wasn't completely immune to embarrassment.
"Don't mention it" she said, giving his shoulder a light punch. "But what in the world were you even dealing with that you ended up like THAT?"
Zhen took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, crushing the embers beneath his heel. "Just a minor car accident. Nothing to worry about, really"
"You call being half-dead minor?" Korra scoffed, shaking her head, smirking. "I should've just put you out of your misery then"
She punched his shoulder again—harder this time. He stumbled slightly but straightened up with a sigh, reaching into his pocket.
"You're just exaggerating" he muttered, pulling out a small carton and tapping it open. "It wasn't that bad"
Korra frowned. He looked like he genuinely believed what he was saying. But she'd seen firsthand the state he was in. If he isn't joking…
"Still, thanks anyway" he added under his breath, turning to lean against the fence as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his teeth.
As he did, something caught Korra's eye. A faint shimmer at his neck—small, blue, and oddly familiar.
"You were Water Tribe?" she asked.
Zhen froze mid movement, cigarette still between his lips. His eyes flickered toward her before he slowly pulled it out, his posture stiffening just enough for her to notice.
"Why?" he asked, his voice quieter this time, a little more… one edge.
Korra tilted her head, pointing at his neck. "That's a Water Tribe Betrothal necklace, isn't it?"
Zhen blinked, his fingers instinctively brushing against the small ornament resting against his collarbone.
"Hm?" He tugged tightly. "Is it?"
His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes flickered—clueless at first, then distant. Reminiscent.
"I guess my mom was… I'm not sure if I am" he muttered, absentmindedly running his thumb over the polished surface of the pendant.
Korra hesitated, then pressed gently. "Did something happen?"
Even if she didn't want to pry, the truth was she didn't actually know much about Zhen at all. That realization sat uncomfortably in her chest. And maybe that was why she wanted to.
Zhen exhaled slowly, lighting his cigarette. A faint glow illuminated his face before he took a slow drag, the ember crackling softly in the quiet night.
"I…" he stopped, glancing away, as if weighing whether to answer. "I just wasn't raised in her home tribe? I guess you can call us outcasts in a way"
The words were simple, but from the way he spoke, the weight behind them was anything but. He spoke like it was a fact, like it didn't bother him—but Korra saw the way his shoulders tensed.
She didn't know what to say. She just watched him, watching his fingers fidget with the cigarette, the way his jaw shifted ever so slightly.
"Sorry…" the apology slipped out before she could stop it, too quiet for Zhen to hear.
"Korra!"
A voice cut through their moment, saving them both from the slow-creeping tension.
Korra turned toward the sound, spotting Mako in the parking lot, scanning the area as he called her name.
She smiled a little at the sight.
"Dreamy, ain't he?" Zhen drawled, his tone laced with dry amusement as he followed her gaze—thought with far less enthusiasm.
"Sh-shut up!" Korra huffed, smacking him on the shoulder.
Zhen grunted as he stumbled, gripping the fence to keep himself from falling.
As he straightened himself, Korra took a step forward before glancing back. "You coming?"
Zhen just stared at her, eyes lingering a little too long, long enough that she waved a hand in front of his face.
"Hello~? You wanna head back or what?"
That snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He shook his head, exhaling through his nose before lifting his cigarette.
"I'll be back in a bit, Avatar. Right after this"
Korra rolled her eyes. "You'll get sick if you keep smoking"
"Korra! Bolin's looking for you! He said he wanted some kind of group shot"
Mako's voice carried across the lot again, a little more impatient this time.
Korra glanced at him, then back at Zhen.
"I'll see you back on the island then!" She lifted a hand in a casual wave before heading toward Mako, Naga and Pabu following behind her.
Zhen gave a lazy wave back, muttering under his breath. "See you when I see you"
He watched her disappear up the steps, watching the way she laughed at something Mako said—close, comfortable. Even from here, as blurry as it was, he could see the faint red on Mako's face when Korra leaned in just a little too close.
"Huh… what do you know" Zhen mused, flicking his unfinished cigarette. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Guess she's normal too"
With that, he pushed himself off the fence and walked off at his own pace, letting the night swallow him whole.
—————————————————————————————
[The Next Night. On the streets of Republic City's Dragon Flats Borough]
After last night's debacle, Tarrlok decided it was time to put his plan into motion.
With careful preparation and a thorough briefing with his Task Force, they set out, following fresh intelligence that led them to an Equalist hideout. Their convoy of steel cars moved through the streets with practiced silence, stopping just short of an abandoned library—one that, as they recently discovered, had been discreetly purchased.
Under the cover of the night, Tarrlok and his squad swiftly surrounded the building, blocking off every possible exit. Windows, doors, alleyways—no escape routes left unchecked.
Stepping toward a small, dust-covered hopper window near the ground, Tarrlok crouched, peering inside.
And there they were.
Amateur Equalists, their movements stiff yet determined as they trained in chi-blocking. Fists truck against padded dummies, the dull thuds of impact breaking the silence inside. The sight made Tarrlok smirk.
"Water"
The command was barely above a whisper, yet his men responded instantly.
One of the operatives quietly cracked open a sealed vault, bending water into the air with meticulous control. The liquid slithered like a serpent, weaving between the task force members, glistening under street lights.
They remained still. Silent.
Tarrlok's gaze swept over the room, assessing every detail—their numbers, their weapons, their skill. His squad did the same, their focus razor-sharp, waiting for his signal.
They all noticed the same figure–the one that stood out among the rest.
A young girl in a small dress, her white mask reflecting the light of the bright room. She skipped through the training Equalists, weaving between them. Unlike the others, her stance was poised, the Equalists following her orders.
Tarrlok's sharp eyes correctly assess her as a higher-ranking operative.
Outside, the air was thick with tension. Inside, the only sounds were the rhythmic grunts of Equalists, oblivious to the storm waiting to descend.
Then it all came at once.
The walls exploded inward as the Earthbenders struck first, tearing apart the foundation and sending jagged slabs of stone crashing into the training hall.
Before the Equalists could react, a wave of water surged through the breach, slamming into the front line. The moment it touched them, it froze solid, lacking half the recruits in place with shocked expressions frozen on their faces.
"Go! Go! Go!" One of the operators shouted, and the Task Force stormed in.
The Equalists scrambled, but the assault was overwhelming. Earthbenders raised pillars from the ground, trapping fighters mid-motion as stone wrapped around their torsos. Waterbenders repurpose their own ice, melting it into liquid only to refreeze their targets against the walls.
The ambush was almost a success.
But not everyone went down without a fight.
A sharp cry rang out as a Task Force member collapsed, convulsing. Then another. Then another.
In the center of the chaotic scene stood the girl in a flowing dress, her stark white mask hiding whatever twisted expression might lie beneath. Her delicate fingers released the throat of an operator, who dropped to the floor, gasping, his veins darkening as a sickly green foam bubbled at his lips.
Tarrlok's eyes narrowed as he took the sight of his men, groaning on the ground, their limbs twitching, and their veins darkened. On their necks, needles protruded.
And then, that voice—soft, almost mocking.
"How rude~" the masked girl chimed, tilting her head as if scolding a misbehaving child.
And Tarrlok fell for the obvious provocation. He wasn't about to let some child with a handful of needles get the better of him.
"Get her!" he barked.
The rest of the task force moved instantly. The floor beneath her shattered as tiles launched toward her like projectiles, but she already started moving. She weaved between them effortlessly, flipping over a chunk of stone, twisting midair to avoid a stream of ice, landing gracefully on her feet.
Then, without breaking stride, she reached behind her back and flicked something small from her fingers.
The Equalists reacted first. On instinct, they turned and sprinted toward the exit behind her.
The Task Force barely had time to register the metallic cylinder before it hit the ground.
Click
A hissing burst of green smoke erupted, swallowing the small space in an instant.
"Bye~ bye~" the girl's singsong voice echoed through the haze as she wiggled her fingers in a taunting wave, vanishing through the exit with the last of her allies.
As the sickening smoke began to dissipate, the Task Force sprang into action. Operators rushed to check their wounded, assessing damage and securing the captives.
Groans of pain filled the air, some men struggling against a toxin coursing through their veins, others barely conscious.
One of the operators turned to Tarrlok, who was dusting off his armor, his jaw tight with restrained frustration.
"Should we pursue them, sir?" the operator asked, already prepared to give the order.
Tarrlok exhaled slowly, reigning his irritation. His men were looking to him for direction, and he had an image to uphold. He shot the operator a sharp glance but quickly masked it with an air of control
"It's fine" he said, keeping his voice smooth. "We have someone else stationed for that"
The operator questioned. "Sir?"
The councilman didn't bother explaining. Instead, his gaze swept over the wounded, eyes narrowing at the sight of men convulsing, their skin damp in sweat. and their captives snickering proudly as if they had won..
"Forget them. Focused on the injured" he ordered, his tone strict and urgent. "Now!"
But deep down, it wasn't about concern—it was about optics. The press would be watching, and he needed to maintain his pristine image.
The operators scrambled to obey, calling for medical support as they moved swiftly to aid their comrades.
Tarrlok exhaled through his nose, his irritation slipping through the cracks of his otherwise controlled demeanor. His gaze flickering toward the exit, narrowing slightly.
'I hope that young man does his job…' he thought to himself.
—————————————————————————————
[Deeper Underground]
As expected of an underground tunnel, it was silent.
Except for the rhythmic tapping of heels.
Needle led the way, her steps light, almost playful, as she and a handful of Equalists slipped through the shadows, their breath still heavy from the full sprint.
"Shouldn't… shouldn't we go back for our brothers and sisters?" one of the Equalists panted, struggling to keep pace.
Needle didn't even look back. She simply shook her head. "Just stick to the plan"
But just as they rounded a corner, the group came to an abrupt halt.
The Equalists ahead of them had stopped in their tracks.
Needle's playful smile faltered, her brow twitching slightly. She skipped forward and lightly patted the backs of the two nearest comrades.
"Hello~?" she cooed, tilting her head. "Did you forget to run all of a sudden?"
"No Ma'am" one of them answered, shifting into a defensive stance. "It's just… isn't this supposed to be a secret passage"
Needle's smile froze, her head tilting slightly as she finally looked past them.
Under the dim, flickering lights, a figure stood waiting.
A young man in Republic City Task Force armor.
And he was staring right at them.
"Finally" he exhaled, raising his hand in a slow, deliberate gesture. "I almost got lost down here again"
At his signal, shadows stirred.
From behind the support beams, a dozen more Task Force soldiers emerged, bending stances sharp and ready.
A chuckle rumbled from behind the young officer. One of his comrades clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture almost proudly.
"I'll admit, Zhen—I doubted you" he smirked, nodding approvingly. "But it seems I should reevaluate my opinion of you"
Zhen barely reacted, stepping back with a blank expression. "Just following the plan entrusted to me"
The commander turned to the squad, his voice booming with authority.
"Now men—this is our opportunity!" he raised his fist, then slashed it forward. "Capture these Equalist scum!"
At his command, the task force struck.
Flames erupted from their fists, illuminating the tunnel with flashes of orange and gold. Earthbenders tore slabs from the walls, sending them crashing forward to trap the Equalists in an unrelenting assault.
The Equalists hesitated, like the amateurs that they currently were, their bodies tensed as they braced for impact.
All except for one.
The small girl at the front.
She simply giggled behind her mask.
—————————————————————————————
[Half an hour later]
After tending to their wounded, Tarrlok took a small squad to pursue the escaping Equalists. He fully expected to arrive at a scene of victory—his forces should have handled a handful of amateurs with ease. He had planned to simply show up, reap the credit, and move on.
But when he arrived, his expectations shattered.
The underground passage was in ruins. Walls had crumbled, craters marred the ground, and scorch marks blackened the surfaces. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt stone and sweat. It was supposed to be a simple skirmish—but this just looked like a whole battlefield.
Tarrlok's jaw tightened.
"What are you waiting for?!" he spun on his men, his voice cutting through their tension. "Tend to the wounded, you imbeciles!"
The soldiers scrambled at his barked order, stumbling in their haste as they rushed to aid the unconscious and battered.
As Tarrlok stepped over the fallen, his sharp gaze scanned each injured Task Force member. Then he noticed something—one was missing: The captain.
His eyes landed on Zhen, slumped against a cracked wall, tightening a bandage around his neck poorly.
Tarrlok loomed over him, his tone cold. "Report"
Zhen bit off the bandage's end and secured the knot before looking up. "They were a bit more skilled than we gave them credit for."
Veins pulsed at Tarrlok's temples, his expression darkening. "They were weak! The force you were with should've been enough!"
Before Zhen could answer, another voice cut in.
"That's on me, sir"
Tarrlok turned sharply, his narrowed eyes locking onto the missing captain emerging from the dark. Wounded and weary, the man staggered forward, his right arm hanging limp, blood soaking through his uniform. Still, he straightened to salute.
"And where have you been?" Tarrlok demanded.
The captain exhaled sharply. "I pursued the escapees but couldn't catch up to them, sir"
Tch…
Tarrlok clicked his tongue in irritation, running a hand through his hair.
"Unbelievable" he exhaled, forcing himself to stay composed. "Straighten yourselves out. At the very least, don't let the press see you looking so incompetent"
Both the captain and Zhen merely nodded.
The councilman turned away, his gaze sweeping over the wounded one more time as he walked. The scene of the chaos still gnawed at him—something was off.
Then, he stopped.
His men were bleeding.
His eyes locked onto an unconscious soldier being tended to. Blood seeped through his torn armor, deep gashes marring his body.
Tarrlok's frown deepened. The Equalists he encountered above had only used smoke bombs and poison needles—more tactical methods meant to incapacitate. Yet here, none of the wounded here showed signs of poison. Not a single needle in sight.
These were clean cuts. Deep, precise.
His jaw tightened. 'A blade user?'
The thought settled over him like a cold shroud. His gaze drifted across the wounded, examining each injury, each identical wound.
Then, the realization struck him like ice water to the veins.
They all had the same fatal mark.
Their throats—cleanly slit.
Not a single man left alive was left able to speak.
End