Republic City: the zenith of modernity, a place where people of all backgrounds and ethnicities can come together to clash and meld and harmonise in curious ways, creating a peculiar, ever evolving culture. Its history is equally tumultuous and chaotic. When the Fire Nation and its empire was defeated decades ago it left a fragile, explosive world in its wake. The lands once conquered by the Fire Nation were host to a unique culture of colonisers who weren't prepared to abandon their lives to return to the land of their forefathers; indeed, many had never seen the ashy sands of the Fire Nation proper. And yet at the same time, the indigenous people of the Earth Kingdom were not prepared to give up the land they'd lived in for centuries past. So, the two solutions were presented thusly: the creation of a new type of country which was beyond the notions of culture that had defined the world in the past, or ethnic genocide. Avatar Aang, apparently not a fan of the latter idea, opted to co-found the United Republic of Nations.
Now, in hindsight, that might have been a mistake. Or at least it could've better executed.
The thing is, this Republic's capital: the creatively named Republic City, is a kingdom in itself of both opulence and dirt in equal parts. Never before has organised crime reached such great heights, never before has the sky been choked by so much smog, never before have people dressed in silk and gold walked so close to those who have nothing but rags and rotting teeth. The city is densely packed too, as though the people are swarms of bees stuffed into hives. New skyscrapers reach to the sky like the bones of old gods, and the government of the Republic still kneels to foreign powers. Although in honestly the council only controls barely a half of the city through their metalbending police force, while the other half is in the clutches of bending triads and emerging corporations. Yet upheaval and revolutionary thought too finds itself feasting upon the living carcass of the city and its stench of inequality.
You find yourself here in response to those revolutionary thoughts, called by the song of the weak and oppressed and drawn to this den of suffering along with your old comrade, Amon. To most he's the enigmatic and masked vigilante leading a dangerous and daring new movement against the benders of the United Republic of Nations, but to you he's your oldest friend.
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The equatorial sun bares its full shine today, bathing the city in its light and bliss. It's equal parts enjoyable and terrible, causing your skin to ooze sweat since you refuse to take off your long, forest green, padded coat (Old, fraying and dirty but trusty none-the-less.). Under that you wear a dark threadbare shirt and similar trousers. You wipe your brow and walk down the crowded streets. Civilians wander and talk between themselves, or trade goods for yuan coins. The whole city breathes in people, ideas and dreams, then breathes out millionaires, vagabonds and the fruits of industry. It's nothing like the old world, back when Avatar Aang was alive. It brings with it new problems and strife, and no one seems willing to tackle them except for Amon. Regardless, that's not what you're thinking about right now since it's one of the few days you don't have a job to do, instead you're just enjoying the rumble of life and urban living. Or at least trying to. Though Fate seems to have other plans, and she weaves her stories in strange ways.
As you're strolling lazily down the pavement you notice a strange mass approaching down the road. It's white and large, only getting more so as it approaches. People scramble out of the way as the white mass barrels through crowds and stalls selling trinkets. You've barely taken a few steps before the figure is skidding to a halt in front of you, threatening to trample you under its thick paws. Luckily, just before it crushes you under its muscular weight, it stops, barely a few centimetres in front of you. You see it much more clearly now: canine head, sinewy limbs and a bulky body. It's a polar bear-dog, and a mighty one at that. It looks at you apologetically, a look you can't help but think is cute, before another, much more human head pops up above it.
"Uh... hello there?" She says sheepishly. You raise a sceptical eyebrow as you examine the girl.
"Is this a normal morning for you or?" You tease, making her smile, glad to not be in too much trouble. She slides off the saddle and you get a much better look at her. She's muscular, almost mockingly so, and about one hundred and seventy centimetres tall, with the dark skin and crystal blue eyes expected of people from the Water Tribes. Her sleeveless shirt is cyan and tight, (Breathable and good for combat, you assume.) while her trousers are baggy with a fur hanging from the belt.
"Not yet, but hopefully," she chimes, propping her hands on her hips. She exudes a certain confidence that borders on arrogance. It's naïve and innocent.
"I see. Something tells me you're not from around here."
"Is it that obvious?" She scratches the back of her head through her dark, thick hair. It's tied up into a ponytail and two thick strands which frame her face.
"Not many people around here wear winter gear and ride polar bear-dogs. It's a little bit obvious, maybe," you joke.
"Well, you're right, I just got here... like, literally ten minutes ago."
You whistle, "Fresh off the boat, huh? Must be weird."
She sighs, but there's a giddiness to her, "It is. I've never seen so many people in one place. Or buildings. Or Sato-mobiles. It's like a whole new world."
"Isn't it just? I moved here a few years ago and I still feel like it's my first day every morning."
As you're talking the fluffy creature whines at the woman, nudging her with its oversized snout.
"Ah! Hey, Naga!" She laughs, almost being tripped over by it. "Sorry about her, she's hungry."
"Mhm, so am I, wanna get something to eat? I know a great food stall a couple blocks down," you offer. She briefly contemplates your offer, then accepts it with a smile. There's no hesitancy in her, just pure courage and fearlessness.
"Sure. I've got time to kill."
"Great," you start walking, with her and her dog walking just beside you, "Do most Water Tribe women have pets like that? Seems hardcore." Tall brick building flank the wide streets you walk, and metal wires hang overhead, decorating the rooftops and the spaces between them.
"Naga's not a pet, she's a friend. My best friend actually," she gently nuzzles Naga's face. "And no, just me."
"Just you? That's impressive." You notice some people shoot you strange looks as you walk with... you realise you don't even know her name. "And how should I call you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Most people call me Korra."
"(Y/N)," you reply.
"(Y/N)... (Y/N)..." she rolls the word about her mouth a bit. "So, (Y/N), you live here?"
"Somewhere in this mess of a city, aye."
"What's it like?" She asks eagerly, almost like how a child would ask.
You shrug, then stretch out your arm and gesture to the world, from the filth on the streets to the buildings that threaten to tear the sky, "There's too much to put it into simple words. It's every extreme and then everything in between. You'll come to know in time... if you stay here, I mean."
"I definitely will," she says breathlessly. She's still got that sense of awe newcomers have; you expect it'll fade soon enough. You turn a few corners and guide her to a street packed with a few shops, some which sell clothes, or supplies, or new inventions like radios and phonographs. Also on this street is a wooden pop-up stall on wheels, for the owner's convenience.
You both saunter up, the old woman giving you stern and grumpy looks.
"Good morning," you say as pleasantly as you can. You've been trying to get on her good side for months now, though it doesn't seem to be worth it.
"Is it?" She folds away her newspaper and stands expectantly.
"I'll have the vegetable soup."
"As ever," she grunts. "And what about you, Girlie?"
"Uh... those, those andddd that," she points at a whole menagerie of recently cooked fish on display, making you grimace. Does she have no concept of budgeting? Maybe money doesn't exist in the Water Tribes. Isn't that the ideal life?
"That's thirty yuan for you, ten for him," her eyes move over to you.
"Oh, I don't have any money," she says awkwardly, chuckling as if that'll make it any better.
"Then get out," the woman snarls spitefully. Korra raises her arm as if to object, then lets it slump down with a sigh. She backs away from the stall while Naga whines and gives you the most heart-wrenching puppy dog eyes imaginable.
"Don't do that," you mumble. Korra joins into Naga's wordless begging. "I'm not so weak-willed" you insist, but it's useless. "Fine," you turn to the woman, "I'll pay for her as well," you mumble, fishing the coins from your pockets. It's most of what you have, but what you lose financially you gain morally, or some other stupid platitude.
The woman grunts, "Whipped," she says to you, making you roll your eyes. You sit down at the kiosk as she prepares what was ordered. You watch Korra tear into the fish's meat with all the subtlety of a lion, occasionally throwing some to Naga, who does the same. You try to not seem too offput by it, but it does offend your civilised sensibilities. Korra notices your look and gulps down her food, quickly wiping her mouth with her arm.
"Want some?" She offers, holding a skewered fish between you both.
"No thank you, I uh... I try not to eat meat these days," you mutter. In your past you went through some experiences you'd rather not tell this stranger, and now meat is something you try not to have too much of.
She shrugs, "Suit yourself," but before she can bite into it, Naga bounds forward and swipes it from her hands and into her massive jaws.
"Ah! Hey!" She exclaims trying to grab it back. However, Naga is quicker, having wolfed the whole thing down too quick. You find yourself laughing at her misfortunate.
"Oh, ha-ha. Laugh all you want; that's your money," she jokes back.
"Guess so." The woman slides a wooden bowl of soup in front of you with a spoon within it. It's stuff you've had plenty of times before and not especially tasty, but cheap and good enough. You dig into the steaming bowl, drinking the nutritious meal as Naga and Korra chew on charred flesh. "If you have time we could go for a walk in the park?" You offer, finding Korra's company a pleasant way to occupy your day off.
She thinks for a second, a stick of fish still in her mouth, then shrugs, "Sure."
In truth Korra's never really done any of this before. She's always been a prisoner in her own home for her own protection. There's been very few moments in her life she's just been allowed to live as a child should, so this is basically her first time casually hanging out with someone. She doesn't resent that fact, or she tells herself so, if only because that makes her feel better.
You finish up the last of your soup, stretching out as she does the same. She follows you as you step out from under the kiosk's fabric covering and onto the street. A few Sato-mobiles rush past, spooking Korra. She's still not used to being so close to them, just barely half a metre from the speeding metal death machines.
"You okay?" You ask, walking down the road and pushing your hands into your pockets.
"Uh, yeah. Still adjusting I guess."
"If it's any consolation I got hit by one of them when I first came here."
"Really?" She asks, surprised that someone who looks so at home amongst the urban world could have done so. There may be hope for her yet.
"Yeah; I was raised in the rural Earth Kingdom, where people still ride living, breathing animals. And also the food was cheaper," you shrug, glaring at the food seller over your shoulder, who returns your glare. "I swear this city is filled with misers and leaches," you add under your breath.
"Well, seriously, thank you for that. I don't know what I would've done."
"You would've had to steal some food I guess," you say, guiding her through the cast iron gate that separates this small patch of preserved greenery from the stone and metal of the city.
"I wouldn't do anything illegal," she puts her hands on her hips indignantly. Her eyes notice a few fish flowing with the movement of the park's streams. "I would just eat those," she points to them innocently.
You spin around and cross your arms, "Just so you know that's also illegal."
"No way!" She exclaims. "Then what are you supposed to do if you don't have any money?"
You smirk and continue walking, "That's a good question for the Council of the United Republic, not me."
You walk through the park, where the grass is perfectly cut and the streams are crystal clear. It's like a private garden and exists in stark contrast to the rest of the city. Naga sniffs around the ground, probably finding the scents and traces of squirrels and birds, or so you assume. It's probably alien to Korra as well, since you doubt anything green can grow in the Poles. You walk alongside one of the streams, watching the koi fish glide through effortlessly. You and her sit beside the water's edge to watch them. As you're enjoying the low breeze and the tranquillity you and Korra notice a man in dirty rags run over a brick bridge, being chased by a cop in full metalbender armour. The guy trying to escape is scruffy and unshaven, with missing teeth and a wonky jaw. The cop uses his power and technique to launch an iron wire at the man, using his will to tangle the man's legs. Sadly, he trips over and lands on the bricks, slamming his skull into it, which makes you cringe.
"What's up with that?" Korra asks, peering over your head curiously.
"He's homeless, probably slept in a bush or something."
"So why is he being chased by police?"
"... Because sleeping in the park is, once again, illegal."
Korra scoffs, "What are you allowed to do in this city?"
You laugh and lay down on the grass, "Depends on who you are. Homeless people, especially non-benders, get harassed by cops every day, but the Triple Threat Triad is allowed to extort and bleed people without end."
"Why?"
"Because if you're a cop who can control metal and earth who would you rather go after? Someone who can control fire, water or rock, someone who's dangerous, who can kill you... or someone who can't fight back at all?"
"But the police are supposed to protect people and fight bad guys," Korra mutters, pulling her legs close to her chest. You recognise what she's going through: disillusionment. The world isn't as black and white as people want.
"Police are also human, and humans are lazy, fearful and enjoy exerting power over those who are weaker," you say, closing your eyes and relaxing. "Such is life."
"Well, it shouldn't be," she says resolutely.
"No, I guess not," you mutter. "Not much we can do about it though," you say with a lethargic yawn. Something about the cool air and the soft grass makes you tired.
"Of course we can! We can fight for what's right!" She punches the air dramatically, her arm as strong and as fierce as any machine piston. She can throw a good punch, that's for sure, but punching and fighting aren't a solution in themselves.
You laugh at her display, making her brow furrow and her cheeks redden in shame, "What?" She asks.
"Nothing," you shrug. "It's just- and don't get mad at me for saying this -you're naïve. Violence isn't going to solve every problem Republic City has. Not even close. You need words and pragmatic solutions and stuff."
"Oh," she murmurs. "I thought everyone in this city was living it up," she sighs. You open your eyes to look at her melancholic face. It's pitiable, and you regret that it was you who had to reveal that Republic City isn't everything people seem to think it is. Regardless, it was necessary that someone had to tell her, better that than she discover it herself under worse circumstances.
"Not yet. Maybe someday. That's a very strong maybe though," you say with a weak smile. You stretch out across the grass and yawn once more. "Help me up before I fall asleep?" You ask. She gets to her own feet and offers her hand. You take it, finding her grip to be almost painfully strong. In one quick movement she pulls you up to your feet. You whistle in amazement, "Nice."
"Thanks," she says back with a smug smirk. It's cute. Arrogant, but cute. You walk back onto the brick path with her and Naga behind you. Most of your days off are boring, since you're a little bit low on the friend side of things, but this is fun. Korra's a lot more enjoyable and definitely less serious than most people you know, like Amon, who has never once laughed in your presence. It's possible he's never laughed at all, in fact.
The park is somewhat busy since it's a common place for people to relax, and therefore a common place for political groups to search for new followers, like moths to a flame or flies to a corpse. As you and Korra walk past one particular political preacher her attention is caught by a man with impressive sideburns proselytising about a new movement: the Equalists. A movement you're well aware of, since you were essential in its growth. He's stood upon a small table in front of a poster of a masked figure suspended by two metal poles. The character for 'equality' rises above the masked man like the sun of a new and glorious dawn.
"Are you tired of living under the tyranny of benders? Then join the Equalists!" He preaches through his megaphone, adding an assortment of overdramatic hand gestures. Korra comes to a stop, intrigued, while you sigh. This isn't going to go well; you already know.
"For too long the bending elite of this city have forced non-benders to live as lower-class citizens!" He continues, Korra looking on incredulously. "Join Amon, and together we will tear down the bending establishment!"
"What are you talking about?" Korra asks rhetorically, catching his attention, as well as everyone else's. "Bending is the coolest thing in the world." Not a very strong argument, you note.
"Oh, here we go," you say to yourself. Korra sadly proves to be brash and quick-to-act.
"Oh, yeah? Let me guess: you're a bender?" He says mockingly.
"You don't have to answer that," you take a step closer, trying to urge her to stop this childish debate before it can intensify.
"I got this," she mumbles back, before turning to him. "Yeah, I am," she says unashamedly.
"And I bet you'd just love to knock me off this platform with some waterbending, huh?"
"Okay, definitely don't answer that one," you say firmly.
"I'm seriously thinking about it," she responds, crossing her arms and ignoring you.
"You've got to be kidding me," you facepalm. She's only proving his point, playing right into his trap.
"This is what's wrong with the city! Benders like this girl only use their power to oppress us." Honestly, you'd struggle to argue with that, especially when you're an Equalist yourself, and as much as you think Korra's a nice person, power can corrupt anyone. The crowd gathered agrees with him too, and soon everybody's booing and cheering against her.
"Korra, we should go," you say, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the path. Admittedly she's actually only letting you pull her along because she could easily stop you, which is appreciated.
"I'm not oppressing anyone. Y-You're oppressing yourselves!" She yells after them as you drag her away. She just can't stop making things worse.
"That didn't even make any sense!" Are the final words of the Equalist preacher.
"Korra, you shouldn't have done that," you gently scold her, letting go of her arm once you're well out of the radius of those Equalists. You're feeling second-hand embarrassment from that display.
"Why not? That guy's a tool. And I didn't use violence, just like you said," she defends herself, crossing her arms and pouting.
"Well... I guess... but still; arguing with people isn't going to help. Honestly, I think you made things worse with that guy."
"So? He was being stupid, what was I supposed to do?"
"Ignore him. As soon as you talked to him you did exactly what he wanted, you justified his ideas and let him use you as an example. All those people think you're a bully now, at best."
Her upset face softens and she sighs before looking down, "Do you think I'm a bully?" She asks lowly.
"Nah, just hot-headed."
"This city is more complicated than I thought it would be," she murmurs.
You glance at her with a smile, "It only gets worse."
She groans, "Great."
Together you exit the park and back onto the street. You glance overhead, lazily watching the sun slide through the blue plane of the sky. If you want to grab groceries, and you really should before the day's end, you'll have to walk across the city to get them cheap. It's best for you to start walking over there right now, though you doubt that Korra wants to spend a couple hours following you through identically dirty streets.
"Hey, I've got to grab some stuff and it'll probably be pretty boring. Do you wanna come or should we call it a day here?"
"I'll pass, I should head to Air Temple Island anyway."
Air Temple Island? Don't only Air Acolytes live there? (The Air Acolytes are people, who while they are not members of the long extinct Air Nomads, have forsaken the nation they were born from to voluntarily preserve and continue the culture, philosophy and practice of the Air Nomads.) Safe to say, Korra does not seem to be one of them, unless she's planning to join them... though she doesn't seem to have the calm or patience of the Acolytes.
"Speaking of which... I'm very slightly lost. How would I get to the Island from here?" She inquires.
"Uh... straight down that road and keep going that direction till you reach the harbour. The boat that goes to and from the Temple docks is adjacent to the Pro-Bending Arena."
"Got it, thanks," she chimes, hopping up onto Naga's back. "You should come by the Island and say hi."
"Uh, okay," you say unsurely. You've never been there before, only watched it from a distance since it's a secluded paradise and forbidden to the normal citizens of the city. "Good luck, and you owe me!" You wave her off as Naga bounds down the road wantonly. "What a strange woman," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head and walking away.
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Dusk is beginning to settle its cold, quiet, calm embrace over the world, and the last of the city's bustle and hustle is starting to fade away. It's oddly beautiful: the fading of the yellowish, artificial lights, giving way to the stars and the moon. You, somebody worthy of no special attention, point out a few basic fruits and vegetables from a small market stall. The owner packs them up as best he can with his old bones, and you watch with a sympathetic smile.
"You know, I hear the Avatar's in town," the grocer says, accepting what few coins you can offer. Your eyebrow raises and you take the bag of greenery from him.
"Oh?" This is interesting, interesting indeed. The Avatar hasn't been heard of nearly two decades now, not since the early and deeply tragic death of Aang.
"Yeah, see, I knew you young folk'd be interested. Me? I'm too old this," he mumbles, sitting back onto his stool to nurse his old, bloated stomach. His face has long since leathered under the tropical sun, and his brow is bronze and creased. You don't doubt that this man has lived a long life of labour, and you can tell from the chipped paint across the nearby buildings and cracks in the road that this is the kind of neighbourhood that the Triple Triad would prowl around. This grocer's probably being extorted every week for 'protection.' You make a note of that. Injustice breeds a desire for righteousness in your heart, like a hunger.
"Heard anything else?" You mumble, making him grin in an almost lupine way.
"Maybe, you gonna pay for it?" He says lowly.
"With what? The two yuan I have?" You shrug, mustering a weak grin. He chuckles and slaps your shoulder with his calloused hand.
"I'm just messing with you, kid. Once you get to my age you start doing anything for a laugh... spirits know I don't find myself smiling around my wife," he says with another chuckle. You do the same, albeit awkwardly, and roll your eyes. "Apparently she showed up today, showed some triads what bending really is, then got arrested. According to a guy I know across the city anyway."
"Oooooh, the Avatar's in trouble with the cops? We might be kindred spirits," you joke, "Ironically enough," you add in a whisper. "Look, I gotta go, but I'll probably see you later."
"Yeah, whatever you say, kid," he waves you away, already eager to put the hard sell on a woman who's approaching the market. You wish him good luck before walking away and down the street. As ever, there's some uncomfortable whisperings amongst the people. Murmurings of unrest in the city, between the different groups that make it up. In decades past it was tension between people of the Fire Nation and people of the Earth Kingdom. Today it's between benders and non-benders, and you're eager to hear it. This city is like a power keg, primed for a firework to erupt, ushering in what will hopefully be a better age for the Republic. The Avatar's arrival will hopefully play straight into that and become the matchstick needed to ignite a colourful blaze of revolution.
The streets, stained with dirt and rainwater that's flowed from overfilled drainpipes, are unbusy like they would be in the day, and you're thankful for that. However, you notice a youngish woman walking towards you. She's wearing dark, thick clothes, a hat and a long coat. There's a certain instability to her gait; the way she walks is like she has the suppressed soul of a tiger in the body of a human. Each footstep is deadly and echoes danger. You clutch your groceries tighter to your chest and give her a wide radius as you start to pass, almost walking into the road. However, your suspicions are proven all too true when her hands move faster than you can see, like an inky blur, and clutch the cloth of your shirt. Quickly after that she slams you into the brick wall of the building adjacent to the pavement. The food you were cradling spills to the floor, tomatoes and cabbages rolling in the filth, to your dismay.
"Don't try anything," she mutters, her voice harsh and raspy. Now closer to her face more details become apparent. Her skin is pallid, reminding you of the moon with how it's stained with dirt. She's older than she looks thanks to poverty, while her hair is dark, dry and stringy. Her threat is made much imposing when she removes a hand from your neck and ignites a blaze of fire within her calloused palm.
"I won't," you mutter, putting you arms up in surrender.
"Now empty everything you have onto the floor, or I'll turn you to ash," she growls, her fire adopting an angrier shade of orange. You slowly do as she commands, though only a few yuan coins fall onto the stone like falling stars of metal and copper.
"That's all I have," you mumble, "Just take it."
Her eyes become more feral as her breathing becomes a notch faster and more ragged.
"Don't lie to me," she growls again.
"I'm not."
She snarls and threateningly brings the fire closer to your face, making her intent clear. If you don't cough up something of more value, then your skin will scorch and blaze and pop and fizz under her searing heat.
"Whatever," you mumble, swiftly kicking her ankle in with your boot. She yelps in pain as her leg suddenly bends, and you take the opportunity to free yourself from her grip. Two plumes of fire quickly fly over your head as you roll across the pavement. The blaze barely misses some threads of your hair. You draw a sharp knife from your belt, made of sharpened obsidian and exceptionally deadly. The cool glass fits perfectly into your hand as you weave under and around her flaming fists. Cinders and whisps of flame dance across the night as you dodge to and fro.
She's untrained, probably doing this out of desperation than anything. Everyone likes to think they're moral bastions of kindness till they're starving and destitute. That desperation only gets worse when you have all the powers of the elements of your fingertips, and suddenly you're extorting people for scraps, and before you know it there's blood on your hand. It's not their fault that they should fight to survive and to eat, but it is unfair that they should have so much power over the non-benders.
Deftly you pull your glass knife across her face, cutting into her skin and sending some droplets of blood onto the stone. She gasps, and you see fear bloom in her eyes. Not so fun when your victim can fight back, is it? Her movements become rapid and frantic, her flames spreading without coordination or control. If you don't end this quickly then she'll burn down this whole street. Without hesitation you grab her by the throat, left exposed by her flailing, and use her own momentum against her, slamming her against the wall. Her breath quivers and splutters as her eyes drift close. You feel yourself relax and a tense breath leave your body as she slumps down the wall. Some blood dribbles from a wound in her head, though when you look closer it only looks skin deep... or so you hope. She stirs, and you notice she's still conscious. Regardless, you can't stay here long. You slip the knife back into your belt and pick up the coins she made you drop. Though after a moment of thought you decide to leave them in her hands. Once all the benders are equalised by Amon, they'll need what they can get.
With a final sigh and a pitying look you pick up your groceries, dropping them back into the brown paper bag. You hurry back toward the bookshop that the Equalists have been using as one of their many small bases around the city. It's not so hard to find people who will eagerly offer up what they have to the cause.
It's quaint, at the very end of a street, where the road curves. The characters painted on the window translate roughly to 'Sedition in Words,' and it advertises itself as a den of forward thinking and new fields of daring social THEORY. Hardly a subtle place for revolutionaries to hang out, but soon the Equalists will grow too large for small hideouts like these anyway. You knock, even though the door is closed. Soon after you hear the sound of shuffling and shoes chafing across a wooden floor. The door opens a crack with a cheery jingle, and a square jawed man from the Water Tribes is suddenly peering down at you.
"Password?" He says gruffly.
"Amaloq, you know who I am," you say matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes to emphasise your point. Unlike a lot of other Equalists you don't feel the need to wear a mask unless you're fighting, and you're fairly well-known in the ragtag organisation as having a unique relationship with Amon, so you don't know why he bothers with this. His thick eyebrow raises, and you sigh in exasperation.
"The Revelation comes like lightning," you mumble, slightly annoyed. The man makes a gruff sound before closing the door to undo the latch and then opens it wide for you. As you stroll inside you force the grocery bag into his oversized arms.
"Keep these safe while I talk with him," you command, being petty. The man makes another annoyed sound, not understanding why Amon trusts what a child so much. The inside is dark and labyrinthine, a poorly organised book shop flush with teen romance novels and political theory. You move behind the counter of the shop and into the cold, stony backroom, where there's little but a table and a radio. To the unsuspecting or unperceptive eye this would be nothing but a stone cube for breaks, but you know of the trapdoor beneath the threadbare rug and pull it away to reveal the wooden hatch. You pull it open and descend into the darkness via the ladder, emerging into a tunnel with perfectly cut edges. Lanterns hang from the ceiling and illuminate it in a dull amber shade. You walk to the end, where Amon awaits, standing over a table, shrouded in shadows. Upon the table is map of Republic City, with all the Equalist dens, training centres and hideouts scrawled across it.
"Amon."
From behind his porcelain mask, he stares at you, waiting expectantly. Darkness clots and cloys around, betraying a similar darkness that lurks inside this man. You've known him since before this Equalist crusade begin, since you were young, and you've always known that he's not quite healthy or sane. Neither are you, I suppose. Perhaps healthy, well-adjusted people make poor revolutionaries.
"Speak," he says in his deep and imposing voice. Despite the fact you're familiar with it, the sound still strikes a mote of fear into your heart.
"The Avatar's arrived in Republic City."
He stops to think, though you can only imagine what thoughts he bears. "This comes from a reliable source, I trust?"
"Eh," you shrug "Reliable enough."
"If what you say is true then the Avatar has arrived sooner than is ideal. We may have to fend them off for a time, lest they ruin my plan" You're tempted to correct him that it's actually 'our' plan, but logic tells you that's a poor idea. Amon can be a domineering, controlling individual, who doesn't take well to people questioning or correcting him.
"I agree. No doubt they'll cause friction for the Equalist movement. So, who should make the first move? Us, or them?"
"The movement is still growing, gestating. We shall strike when we are ready."
"I'll watch them, if I can. Monitor them. Learn how best to fight them."
"Do so," he commands, leaving you with a simple command. You nod dutifully and return from whence you entered. As you leave you swipe the paper bag from Amaloq's hands, emerging onto the streets once more. Once outside you take a deep breath of the night air. It's hardly the clean, invigorating breeze of the countryside, but after being underground you always feel the need to remind yourself how inspiriting even the wind can be. You begin the walk back to your apartment, which is only a brief walk from the bookstore.
It's trash, make no mistake: too small, damp, cold, next to a street, but you can't complain. Housing is housing and you're lucky to have even that when so many in the city don't. Once you return home you throw you groceries into the already cramped cupboards and collapse onto the bed in the same room. That's all it is: just a concrete box with a window, a bed and some basic things you'd find in a kitchen. Before you let yourself sleep, however, you slip into some more comfortable pyjamas.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunlight streams in next morning, puncturing through small holes in the curtains and projecting strange shapes onto the walls. In a semi-awake, semi-dreaming state you watch the patterns that form and fade across the wall, finding stranger thoughts within them. And then comes the sound of the city soon after: the cars, the factories and the endless drumming of thousands of footsteps across pavement. The sound of a city alive, like one giant human body being born and dying with each dawn and dusk.
You pull yourself up and rub your eyes, stretching yourself out. Every day you find your sleep cut short by just a few dozen minutes. It is irritating, and that you won't deny. Like every morning you start brewing the flimsy cast iron kettle upon the oven. Once the water bubbles and boils you pour it into a thick ceramic mug, adding a bag of tea as well. It's refreshing to have such a routine and serves to relax you somewhat when the stresses of the city are such a thorn in your flesh. You sigh contently, ignoring the horns of the Sato-mobiles outside (You personally think it's vaguely arrogant that Hiroshi Sato, the inventor of the things, named them after himself, but whatever.) and the screeching of their tires. It's a struggle to ignore the sounds outside of your homely little box, but worth it. Though today you feel as though the rabble is a touch louder. Curiously you peek out of the window, and notice a few men hurry down the sidewalk. They wear grey suits and bowler hats, with notepads and newly invented cameras in their hands. You realise quickly that they must be journalists, and their haste can only mean one thing. Hurriedly you pull your coat from its hook and throw it around yourself. You burst onto the streets and pursue the journalists, making sure to stay just as far behind them as you need to, like a snake crawling after unsuspecting prey.
Soon you see more, all amassing at the council's palace building at the heart of the city. A crowd has already formed, much to your chagrin, and you find yourself forcing your way through energetic journalists and other civilians, through a swarm of nattering people enraptured by something unknown to you. Cameras flash and tick as you push yourself to the front, where you catch who everybody's fawning over.
"Hello, I'm Korra," she says nervously. There's uncertainty in her voice, doubt and hesitancy too. You stand with your mouth slack, watching the enigmatic stranger you met just yesterday suddenly standing where this nation's leaders do, where Avatar Aang once did. A whole array of microphones are attached to the podium in front of her, holding at the edge of her words. She takes a deep breath, and you already feel yourself dreading whatever words are coming next.
"Your new Avatar," she says firmly, though stiffly. Immediately the crowd bursts into applause and cheering, preluding a sudden barrage of questions about her: whether she's staying in Republic City, whether or not she's going to fight the Triad or the Equalists and her relationship with the police. Your jaw tightens and tenses as she gives her answers.
"Yes, I am definitely here to stay, but honestly, I-I don't exactly have a plan yet," she says, coming off as still just a child. Based off your experience with her she's still naïve and innocent and unsuspecting. She does look the part of the Avatar, can probably fight like one too, but in her words she carries none of the charisma or spiritual wisdom you'd expect of her, nor the diplomatic skill. You're not sure if that's good for Amon or not. "See, I'm still in training but... look, all I know is that Avatar Aang meant for this city to be the centre of peace and balance in the world. And I believe we can make his dream a reality."
A simple and poetic platitude, sure to muster the crowd into blindly cheering. But her words are empty and hollow, born of a childish optimism and the belief that the world is black and white.
"I look forward to serving you! I'm so happy to be here," she continues, raising her arm to the crowd and inciting more hurrah from the people gathered. They're easy to manipulate, desperate for fairy-tale ideas about the Avatar to cling onto to. Soon enough they'll cheer for Amon. As she waves to the crowd her eyes scan over her assembled following, finally settling on you. For a brief, almost imperceptible moment she's surprised, before showing the most genuine smile she's shown all day.
"Thank you, Republic City," she finishes her address, waving to the crowd, though in truth she's trying to wave at you in particular. You force a smile through your anxious jaw and wave back nervously, trying to hide the dread and surprise that blooms in your heart. This bodes well and poorly for you. Firstly, it'll be easy to observe the Avatar when you already know her, but it only makes you feel more guilty that it had to be her. Korra is, from what you know, a good person. It's a shame that she had to be born as the Avatar, cursed to be everything you and your movement stands against. The old airbending master next to her takes control of the podium and anxiously dismisses the crowd, telling them there'll be no more questions. A legion of metalbending cops assembles to escort her back to Air Temple Island, fending off the journalists and rabid new fans like knights in dull iron.
Once again you weave between people's limbs and bodies, manoeuvring and pushing your way through them (Causing some people to curse you blindly.) till you've reached the edge of the metalbenders' perimeter.
"Hey, I know her," you tell the cop guarding her. He raises a sceptical eyebrow and looks between her and you, before laughing heartily.
"Sure you do, kid. And I'm the Earth Queen's cousin," he mocks, crossing his arms.
"Seriously?" You mutter, narrowing your eyes. "Whatever, Korra!" You yell over the crowd, though she doesn't hear you. You groan. "Korra! It's me! You owe me!"
She turns around promptly, looking around rapidly before finding you. She suddenly smiles and waves, beckoning you over. However, someone else notices you: Lin Beifong, the terrifying chief of police and little tyrant of Republic City. Her eyes home in on you like a tiger's and sharpen in deadly fashion. Unexpectedly she moves in the sturdy yet swift way most metalbenders do, launching iron wires from her vambraces. They rip through the air and hook onto the rim of your shirt.
"Oh... oh fu-" you're cut off when the wires drag you across the pavement brutally. Your body and face grazes across the floor before you come to a stop in front of her. The crowd gasps at the display.
"(Y/N)! Beifong, I know him!" She exclaims, jogging over. "Are you okay?" She asks, crouching down to check on you.
"I feel like I just had a heart attack," you mumble, raising your head up enough to speak before your neck gives way and your head collapses to the stone again.
"Why would you do that?!" Korra asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Chief Beifong.
"To protect you from punks who think you 'owe' them. Why else?" She responds gruffly.
"He bought me food yesterday, I do owe him," she says while grabbing the back of your shirt with one arm and pulling you up in one movement. Your feet are forced to quickly find their place as she drops you onto them.
"How are you so strong?" You mutter in amazement, rubbing your bruising forehead.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she whispers back.
"Korra, this is someone you know?" The old airbender asks, looking you up and down a few times, appraising you. He is disappointed, you can tell. He wears impressively colourful robes, in ochre and crimson, with a cloak of the same bright red colour. His head is shaven clean, though not his face, so you know his hair's a shade of brown.
"Tenzin, this is (Y/N)," she presents you to him. "He helped me understand the problems with the city yesterday."
"Yes, well. I suppose the Avatar should know the thoughts of the people... even street urchins."
You frown and furrow your brow, "I'm not homeless; I rent an apartment."
"Ah, my apologies," he strokes his pointy beard. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, but Korra really must return to Air Temple Island to learn, so goodbye."
You notice Chief Beifong take a step towards you as if you to remove you by force. Reflexively you take a step back behind Korra.
"Wait, can't he come with?"
"What, why?" Tenzin asks, befuddled.
"Because I should be allowed to have friends, even Aang needed his friends to save the world."
Tenzin frowns, "You're not here to socialise nor save the world, Korra, you're here to learn... in a quiet, calm environment."
"Tenzin, please! (Y/N) really knows the city, and he's the only person who helped me when I first got here."
Tenzin's brow furrows and his lips purse as he looks between you and Korra sceptically. He knows that Korra has lived a very sheltered, very lonely life up until now. It's not ideal but it was needed to protect her. Regardless, if she's to become a fully realised Avatar then she'll need to understand people and how to be gregarious. He doesn't like this, since he has no idea if he can trust you to be a good influence, but it's a risk he's willing to take for Korra's training and he happiness.
He sighs, "Fine. But you are a guest on Air Temple Island, any delinquency will not be tolerated."
You smile nervously, "Of course. I'll be on my best behaviour," you say, somewhat ominously. Korra smiles and slaps your back playfully, almost pushing you over.
"This is going to be great!" She cheers. You laugh anxiously and make sure to stay close to her. You're glad she's happy but you can feel the eyes of everyone cut into you, especially Chief Beifong's and Tenzin's. Korra seems oblivious to the deadly looks they're giving you, too blinded by joy. To be fair if you were the Avatar and just received an overwhelming cacophony of applause, you'd also be riding the happy train straight to the Eastern Air Temple. But you? You're a secret Equalist hiding right next to the strongest benders in the city, and you do not feel safe, but this is also where you need to be, infiltrating the Avatar's life like a parasite.
"You didn't mention you were the Avatar," you mumble, making her turn to face you, though she keeps walking without looking where she's going.
"Nope."
"How come? You forget?" You try to laugh but your nervousness makes it come out like a whimper.
"You never asked," she says with a shrug and a lopsided smile.
"Korra, you're like one in a billion and the most important living person on the globe. No matter what you do, you'll go down in history. I can't believe you didn't tell me."
She rests her arms on her hips and raises an eyebrow, "Are you trying to make me blush?" She jokes, though it's lost on you.
"No, I'm being completely factual," you respond with a deadpan look. "I can't believe I spoke to the Avatar, I can't believe I touched the Avatar, I can't believe I'm friends with- wait, are we friends?"
"That's what I said to Tenzin," she says casually.
"Oh... oh..." you find yourself unable to find the words. This is unreal, crazy, unpredictable. Your life's never been 'normal,' but this is a whole step up. Your actions could now potentially shape the course of history even more than they already were. You feel breath pump in and out of your lungs without rhyme or rhythm. "Oh dear, am I having a panic attack?" You mutter to yourself. You feel as though your mind's disconnected from your body, and now your soul is drifting away from your nerves and into the aether. Your body feels numb and far away, and your vision swirls and spins, as though caught in a fierce gale.
"Really?!" Korra exclaims, putting a strong hand on your shoulder. It's strong, and with it you feel grounded again; your soul returns to your flesh. You manage to force a shaky smile back at Korra, who's eyes are filled with blue worry. You put your hand back on hers and squeeze it thankfully.
"I'm good, just overreacting I guess," you whimper weakly. She nods and smiles, giving you a firm pat on the shoulder. "Thanks."
Together you walk toward the harbour, where an impressive steam-powered barge spews out smoke. In the far distance you can see both Air Temple Island and Aang Memorial Island, where a gargantuan and immaculately made statue of Avatar Aang watches over the city, his foot triumphantly put upon a stone lotus. As you walk down the harbour you gaze up at the statue. For some reason you feel his dead eyes look down at you, judging you, damning you for your sins, both the ones you've already made and the ones you will make in the future. You steel yourself and turn away, dismissing the sensation. Ahead, a ramp connects the grey harbour to the boat. The metalbenders stand ready by it, guarding it. When the Avatar's group comes to it Lin also stays by the ramp instead of boarding. Tenzin walks up it first, saying a quick 'thank you' to Lin, though she rebukes it harshly. Then comes Korra, marching up it without a care in the world. When it's your turn you hesitate, only managing to put a single foot on the metal. The cops and their chief glare at you suspiciously. Korra turns her head and notices you frozen.
"You okay?" She offers her hand, which hovers in front of your eyes. Despite the feeling of fear, of your mind telling you you're in enemy territory, you take it anyway, finding a summery comfort in her presence and her touch.
You nod and smile genuinely, "Yeah."
Everything is changing now. The revolution is about to bloom, and the world will never be the same once Korra is equalised, and she can never bend again.
The boat suddenly lurches forward through the water, and you're so unused to the sensation since you've only ever used traditional rowing boats before that you almost trip, though luckily Korra grabs your arm to steady you.
"Yesterday you were the one helping me, and now I'm helping you," she jokes.
"Yeah," you smile. "Strange how that works out." Guilt hides behind your eyes and your smile, and you can hardly bare to look at her.