[Underground]
The world rumbled beneath her feet—a deep mechanical groan swallowed by static and broken screams. Sparks lit the dark in flashes of ghostly blue, catching on falling ash and trembling shadows.
Officers dropped one after another, their metal armor crackling as metal giants surged past them, electric pulses snaking across their bodies from metal wire, acting like living chains.
Lin, caught off guard, flew across the large room, flung like a doll by a platinum cable. Meanwhile, Tenzin writhed, blood painting the stone beneath him, each cough stung his throat like a sharp needle.
But none of it registered.
The young Avatar stood still.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: ???
Everything around her was still screaming—but for her, everything had gone silent.
All she could see was him.
All she wanted to hear was what he wanted to say.
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: "Traitor?"
There was a small splatter of red on him. Though he ignored it, unbothered.
Slowly, methodically, he wiped the blade in his hand. There was no hesitation, no guilt. Just calm. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
Her breath caught.
"...Zhen?" The name slipped out, trembling on her tongue.
She stepped forward.
Her voice barely reached above the chaos, but it didn't matter. It wasn't for the world to hear—it was for him. For the person that stood in front of her wearing the face of someone she knew.
Someone she thought she knew.
"What's going on?"
Her heart pounded in her throat, not with fear. Disbelief. The kind that creeps in when the world doesn't make sense, when the stars rearrange and nothing looks the same anymore.
He looked back at her.
And for the first time since she met him, there was nothing behind his eyes.
No flicker of pain. No quiet warmth he has shown her. It was just an endless red void.
Still, she searched him anyway. Dug through his eyes like someone drowning in dark water, desperate for the surface.
Was this still the person who laughed with her a day ago?
The one who let her press trembling fingers to his wounds despite his reluctance because he didn't know how to ask for help, but needed it anyway?
The one who kept cheering her up when she felt down and lost?
But now—standing in the aftershock of it all—all of that felt like a dream she didn't want to wake from.
His eyes, once so human, had turned into something cold. Something heartless.
Blood-red met ocean-blue.
And for the first time, hers broke.
Whatever tether had once bound them had been cut. Not snapped in a moment of fury. But severed by a hand that chose to.
And the worst part?
He showed nothing for it.
No grief in his eyes. No tremor in his stance. Not even a twitch of hesitation in his fingers. Just inhumane stillness. It was as if the boy she's known all this time had been carved out of him. Was it the shell? Or was it the real him?
The silence screamed louder than any words ever could.
And something inside her—something fragile and full of hope—shattered. The lie she'd clung to bled out of her in a single breath
A piece of the sea slipped down her cheek, trailing the heat rising in her chest.
"...Why?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Maybe she knew there wouldn't be one. Maybe she couldn't bear to hear it if there was.
Her fist clenched, shaking, bleeding her palms as her nail bit into her skin, and then—
An eruption.
A roar of flame surged from her hand, swallowing the air between them in a furious wave. There was no control, no though. It was just her emotions pouring out—all set ablaze at once.
Zhen stood still in its path.
He didn't brace. Not even flinch.
He simply breathed in the fire, eyes half-lidded, as if welcoming it—letting the heat bite at his skin, letting it burn away whatever was left inside him.
Only at the final moment did he move, dragging the wounded Airbender beside him by the collar, yanking them back just beyond the blaze's reach. The fire passed, thunderous and bright, leaving the floor scorched and gasping.
With indifference, he tossed the body aside, treating it as refuse. A grunt of pain followed, but he just ignored it.
Korra watched him with wire, stinging eyes. Her heart pounded like war drums in her chest. Her breath trembled.
But she didn't stop.
No, she didn't want to stop. She needed to keep going to keep the thoughts out.
She took a heavy step to the side, planting her stance like a mountain rooted in the earth. Her fingers curled, pulling at the floor beneath her as her muscles tensed. It rumbled in response, the ground answering her call.
Two massive slabs of earth tore free from the shattered ground, screaming as they ripped upward.
They hovered behind her shoulder like jagged wings, suspended by sheer will. Her body tensed beneath them, spine arched under the invisible weight of what she's still trying to keep together.
Her trust in Zhen.
But he didn't react.
No emotion touched his face. No fire behind the eyes. Just nothing as he stared blankly at her.
Then he moved—fast, the dark blade glinting in his hand.
Korra emptied her thoughts. The concrete slabs shot forward, ripping through the air toward him. She knew she didn't have a chance once he got close, in those quiet sparring they've done it was the one thing she understood.
Zhen didn't break stride. His gaze tracked the first projectile, timing, calculating. At the last second, his body snapped sideways, letting the stone scream past his ear by inches.
The second came crashing down.
But instead of dodging, he used it.
Boot touched the first one that landed beside him, using it to launch him upward toward the falling mass. As he was airborne he used the second slab like a midair stepping stone, propelling himself forward with unnatural velocity. Toward her.
Toward the one who still looked at him like he was someone worth trusting.
Korra's breath caught.
Before she could think, instinct gripped her spine. Her arms flew up, crossing in front of her chest as her foot slammed into the earth. A thick and solid wall of stone erupted like a geyser.
But it only gave Zhen an edge. His feet met the top of her wall, using it as a ledge, his shadow casting long across her before vanishing from view.
A flicker of instinct made the Avatar spin, torso twisting before her legs could, fist curling tight as flame licked around her knuckles. She threw her arm backward in a sweeping arc—a desperate backhand igniting with fire.
Zhen, behind her, crouched low, pivoting with the same ghostlike precision. His sword carved through the air, its steel whispering lethality, catching the orange flicker of her fire in its reflection.
Two arcs—hers blazing, his gleaming—collided in the space between breaths.
Their eyes met in the instant before impact.
And something stalled.
A hesitation. A flicker. A memory of something softer.
Korra's flame vanished mid-swing. But her fist still struck.
And Zhen's blade didn't slow.
Her knuckles slammed against his jaw, snapping his head to the side—but not before his blade crashed into her ribs, a brutal, breathless blow.
Ghhk—!
Air feld her lungs as pain exploded through her side.
They hit the earth like meteors torn from the skies—bodies flung wide, crashing down on opposite sides. Stone groaned beneath the violence of their landings. Dust exploded outward, swallowing the space in a thick, shifting haze.
Zhen skidded across the fractured ground, knees carving furrows through the rubble. Momentum finally surrendered as he drove his sword downward—the blade easily stabbing through the hard stone, like silk through flesh. He knelt behind it, chest heaving in silence, as if the weapon tethered him to gravity.
Across the clearing, Korra twisted mid-slide, body instinctively coiling, forcing herself upright through the pain. Her footing faltered for just a moment, gripping the pain in her side where the blade struck.
Struck? Not sliced?
Her side felt painful, but it didn't sting.
As she removed her hand, there was no cut from where the blade hit. As if she was hit by the flat part instead.
But her distraction was all it took.
With a metallic hiss, twin wires snapped from opposite ends of the space, coiling around her like vipers. They struck her sides, yanking her arms tight against her torso in a merciless bind. The cables pulled taut, constricting every movement no matter how small.
"Gh—! What the—" her voice caught, eyes darting.
A sharp, mechanical snap cracked the silence behind her.
She began to turn, but something heavy crashed onto her back.
A brutal metal claw slammed her to the ground, its tips stabbing deep into the stone, anchoring her in place like a chained beast. The air burst from her lungs as her chest hit the earth, the weight crushing her, suffocating.
She thrashed, muscles straining, teeth clenched. But every pull met steel. Every breath tasted dust and humiliation.
From behind the veil of smoke came a voice—oiled, smug, rehearsed.
But before she could turn her head, a metal claw hit her back, planting her down the stone flow, its claws piercing the ground like an anchor, tripping her.
"I suppose even you would have a hard time dealing with the Avatar"
The smoke peered.
A middle aged man stepped into the clearing like he owned the moment, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp with cold amusement. That same calculating smile despite his haggard appearance.
HIROSHI SATO
AGE: 50
STATUS: Equalist Loyalist
He stopped beside Zhen, giving his shoulder a light pat—patronizing, like one would to a favored tool.
"Still" he said, voice syrupy with false praise. "You bought us enough time to secure the rest"
The dust hadn't even settled, but Korra's voice tore through it like thunder.
"Why?!"
It wasn't pain that cracked her words. It was betrayal, and it bled through her voice.
"After everything!" She shouted, writhing under the weight of the claw. "After how we treated… you…"
But the sentence unraveled mid-breath. Her voice faltered.
Because the truth was already clawing its way through her memories.
The looks. The suspicion. The silence that followed him everywhere. The way they spoke about him, never to him.
Hiroshi's laughter broke through the clearing.
"Oh? And how was he treated, young Avatar?" he asked, each word smug and slow, like the answer amused him more than any victory.
But Korra didn't even pay attention to him.
Her eyes locked onto Zhen—the one figure untouched by dust, standing still as a statue. The silence between them screamed louder than anything Hiroshi could say.
"It's a lie… right?" Her voice was quiet now, pleading.
The way she looked at him… like someone begging not for forgiveness, but for the truth to be kinder than it was.
Hiroshi's sneer vanished. He did not take it lightly when he's ignored.
"You arrogant little—"
He stepped forward, his fury bristling, foot lifting with every intent to crush her voice with violence.
But Korra never flinched.
And the blow never came.
Zhen's sword rose with flourish, without threat. It's metal pressing against Hiroshi's chest, pushing him back.
The rich man froze. His eyes narrowed with a glare. But the red in Zhen's stare was too sharp. Too dead.
"Tch" Hiroshi's breath hissed past clenched teeth. "Finish it"
He turned with a growl, stalking off like a kicked dog, muttered about to the other Equalists for orders and unfinished business, the sound of his footsteps throwing tantrums into the solid ground.
Only once he disappeared into the fog of war did Zhen move.
He stepped forward, silent as ash.
And knelt.
The two of them were almost face to face now—nothing else between them but breath and memory.
"Please tell me…" she whispered, her voice trembled. She wasn't crying, but she was close—that place behind the dam, where it all piles up. "Please tell me… it's a lie"
And for a moment… he gave her what she wanted to hear.
"It is"
The words landed like a balm. Her breath eased—shallow, shaken, but there. Her gaze tendered, faint as dawn light behind a storm.
Then it vanished.
"I lied to you"
No hesitation in his words. No waver. His voice didn't crack. His stare didn't flinch. The truth fell from him as easily as fruit falls from a tree. There was no malice… just necessity.
And that truth cut deeper than even his own blade.
Korra's breath caught in her throat. And something inside her broke—something she hadn't even known she was protecting—so quietly, so completely, it never made a sound.
The strength bled out of her in a slow, invisible tide. Muscles slackened. Her thoughts faded. Not because she surrendered.
Because she couldn't keep fighting anymore.
Her eyes closed on the last thing she'd see: his face, blank and distant, as if the one she had always seen was nothing but a mask.
Though… if only she'd held on a second longer, a breath more, she might've caught it:
The crack beneath that mask.
The dim red in his eyes showed faint vivid embers.
His hand, calloused and blood-worn, hovered above her. It settled on her head with a touch too soft. Careful. Almost trembling. As if she'd shatter beneath him. A cruel contrast to the sword clenched in his other grip—the same blade that had spilled her breath.
"I'm sorry…" a whisper meant for nothing but shadows, barely formed on his lips.
Maybe to her. Maybe to no one at all.
"I wanted to keep you in the dark at least…"
—————————————————————————————
[Meanwhile]
When everything settled and commands were barked no more, the chaos left behind a silence too loud to ignore.
Lin and the other officers lay bound in the open, stripped of their weapons and dignity. Tenzin, bloodied and barely conscious, was handled with a semblance of care—though he was still left next to Lin.
Truck appeared in twos, parked close in order to load the captives.
But the focus isn't on them for now.
Beyond the crime scene, tucked behind the dormant mecha's towering figure, something stirred beneath the surface. The ground scraped against itself as a piece of the ground opened inward, and from the dark below, a pair of wide, anxious eyes surfaced.
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Sneaking In
His green gaze darted across the scene—wreckage, prisoners, Equalists standing guard. And then it landed on the worst of it. His breath hitched.
"Oh no…"
Another voice, deeper and tight with tension, whispered just beside him. "Korra was right…"
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Doing The Same
"We gotta do something. Quick!" Mako pushed up through the opening, motioning Bolin to follow.
They melted into the background, slipping through the blindspots cast by towering shelves and crates. Every step was quiet, every move was thought of first before taking action. They moved until they spotted the collapsed forms of Lin and Tenzin—Lin wasn't even restrained yet, and Tenzin was put on a makeshift stretcher, bandages surrounding his body.
Bolin's heart leapt to his throat. He dropped beside Tenzin without hesitation, gripping him carefully, gently easing him up across his back. The strain bent his knees, but he managed to stand up.
Mako, already pulling Lin upright, slipped her arm over his shoulder, bearing her weight against him.
Then he froze. His eyes scanned the small space again.
Because someone was missing.
"...Where's Korra?"
"Not so fast, boys" a voice cut through the air like a whip.
Three figures blocked their path ahead, shadows coalescing into people. Hiroshi stood at the center, hands sheathed in gloves humming with electricity. Beside him, a taller Equalist figure stepped forward, twin batons crackling with the same energy at his sides.
"LIEUTENANT"
AGE: ???
STATUS: ???
"Hello Mr. Sato!" Bolin stiffened, then forced a grin as if charm could save them now. He awkwardly lifted Tenzin's limp arms like a marionette. "Wow! Really… swell—scary factory… you, uh… you have here under your giant mansion"
But Mako wasn't playing along. His jaw tightened as his eyes locked onto Hiroshi with seething focus.
"Sponsoring our team… supporting the Avatar. It was all just a big cover" he took a step back, but he kept his eye on his girlfriend's father the whole time. "Was this your final game?"
"Yes" Hiroshi smiled, sparks dancing around his palms.
There wasn't even a hint of shame to be seen on his face.
"But I'm flattered you assume I was clever enough to orchestrate this ambush alone" he said, almost with pride. "This wasn't even my idea"
Mako, despite carrying a heavy Lin behind him, took a defensive stance. He made sure he was ready to fight back in a moment's notice.
"You really expect us to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"
"Oh, I don't expect anything from a street rat like you" Hiroshi replied coolly. "But you should believe your own eyes"
He tilted his head, motioning to the side.
From the shadows, another figure stepped forward—his steps quiet, but with weight. The dim lighting slowly revealed the sharp angles of his face, the stillness in his gaze.
Zhen's eyes found the brothers with an unreadable emptiness. And in his arms—
Mako's breath caught.
It was Korra.
Though unbound, she was unconscious. Her head resting limply against Zhen's chest, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.
"No…" Bolin whispered, barely audible.
Mako's expression twisted into disgust.
"I knew there was something off about you" he hissed.
Zhen didn't flinch. He simply stood there, holding what remained of their hope.
"Enough pleasantries" Hiroshi cut in, though no one had exchanged anything close to pleasantries. His voice sharpened with disdain. "Frankly, I can't wait to finally rid my daughter of you"
The air buzzed as electricity crackled from his gloves, mirrored by the Lieutenant's batons, hissing to life with menace. They advanced without hesitation.
Zhen didn't follow. Merely stepped aside, shifting Korra tighter to him like a protective cocoon.
Mako and Bolin braced themselves, keeping their guarded stances, but the extra weight they were carrying dragged at their limbs like anchors. Fighting right now was risky, but they didn't seem to have much of a choice.
Then a voice cracked the charge of the artificial lightning in their gloves.
"Dad! Stop!"
Hiroshi froze in his tracks. That voice… was familiar.
He turned stiffly, as if he didn't want to confirm what he already knew. Since she was the one person he didn't want to get involved.
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Betrayed
She stood behind him, expression raw, every line in her face carved with disbelief. Her eyes, wide and glassy, locked on her father—searching, perhaps, for some trace of the man she trusted.
But there was nothing left.
Her stared back, his composure beginning to falter.
And in the silence that followed, all she could manage was a single word, the weight of a thousand thoughts compressed into it.
"Why…?"
"Sweetie…" Hiroshi's voice softened, cracked around the edges. He took a cautious step forward, reaching for the father she remembered. "I wanted to keep you in the dark for as long as I could. But now that you know the truth… please, forgive me"
Asami didn't speak. Her eyes never left his—searching for a sign, a flicker of something that makes sense.
"These people… These Benders" he gestured sharply toward Mako and Bolin, toward the crumpled bodies of the officers, his voice curdling into venom. "They took away your mother. The love of my life. They've ruined the world. But with Amon… we can fix it. Build a perfect world together"
With every word, his voice grew louder, his restraint slipping. The shame, the secrecy—it melted brighter, something manic. Hope, twisted at the root.
"We can help people like us everywhere" he declared, pulling off one of his gloves and offering it to her, open-palmed. "Join me, Asami"
She stared at it. Then at him.
She stepped forward. Slowly. Her gaze dipped to the glove.
She understood—too well. Understood the grief, the longing for justice, the belief in something righteous.
Mako and Bolin held their breath.
And with trembling hands, she reached out. Hesitating. Her fingers brushing the worn leather of the glove. She gripped it tight.
Hiroshi's eyes widened, first in surprise—then in pride. His smile bloomed like a flower.
"It'll fit" he whispered, as if fate itself had decided.
Asami slid it on. The pulse of energy hummed against her skin. It did fit—like it was made for her.
But still the young girl came to a conclusion on her own. Nothing in his eyes matched the promise in his words. Nothing but a desperate need to be right.
"I love you, Dad…" she whispered, eyes soft, voice steady.
Then a charge surged.
ARGH—!
A scream tore from Hiroshi's throat as electricity arced through his chest. His body jolted backward, collapsing in a smoking heap.
The Lieutenant immediately retaliated, charging with a raised baton.
But Asami moved faster.
A sharp quick sent one of the batons flying. She stepped inside the reach, seized his other arm and twisted it behind his back—and lit the second baton.
GRRR!
The jolt cracked through him like lightning. He dropped in a convulsing heap beside Hiroshi, the air sharp with scorched ozone and silence.
Asami stood above them, breath trembling, glove still humming.
A shrill alarm cut through the air, and the mechanical groan of awakening mechs echoed through the factory walls. Steel limbs stirred. Eyes lit up green like jades.
The Equalists were starting to group up.
"Come on!" Asami called out, but before she could even take a single step, a shadow loomed.
A towering figure blocked her path, steam hissing from the valves in his mask.
"Sorry lady" the voice that escaped was muffled and metallic, distorted by the mask. "We got orders"
"STEAM"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Following Orders
She didn't wait for the rest. Her palm surged with energy as she pressed it against his armored chest.
The electric shock burst from her glove—loud, violent, sparking across his frame.
But Steam didn't even flinch.
"I'll try to make it not hurt" he said, almost gently.
Then his elbow cocked back with a mechanical hiss, joints flooding with steam. The punch fired with the scream of gears, aimed straight for her.
Before it landed, the ground beneath them lurched.
A slab of rock tore upward in a blur, intercepting the blow. The force still tore through the stone like paper, but it was enough to knock the hit off course.
"C'mon!" Bolin's voice rang out from behind her, urgency layered over fear.
Asami quickly followed. She darted around the broken stone, boots slapping the ground. Steam tried to reach after her, but his own arm remained stuck through the earth.
They reached Mako just as he unleashed a scorching arc of flame across the ground, the blaze fanning out in a fiery barrier that forced a squad of Equalists to retreat.
"Where's Korra?!" He barked, his eyes darting wildly as he took in the chaos around them.
Bolin's face twisted, worry written in the glance he threw behind him. "Zhen! He—he still has her!"
"Zhen?!" Asami's head snapped toward Bolin. "Is he also a part of this?"
"We'll talk about it later" Mako brushed her off, launching another blast of fire to drive back their assailants. "You guys go ahead! I'll find Korra"
Before either of them could even protest, he spun and charged into the fray, Lin still slumped over his shoulders, her presence adding weight to every step. But Mako didn't slow.
"Damn it!" Bolin cursed under his breath. "Let's go! We have a way out. We'll wait for Mako there"
The ground quaked as he stomped, then swept his feet. The earth rippled outward, folding like waves under the mechs barreling toward them. Metal giants staggered, thrown off balance, some toppling with the screech of grinding gears and splintering steel.
Amid the dust and confusion, they sprinted toward the crude opening Bolin had carved into the ground—a narrow escape, but enough.
Or it should have been.
Just as they neared it, a silhouette drifted through the smoke.
"Bolin" came the sound of Zhen's voice, dragging along the sound of metal scraping stone.
Sparks danced from the ground where his blade kissed the concrete, its tip tracing a glowing line behind him like a fuse.
"Heya… Zhen, buddy?" Bolin offered, voice strained with forced cheer. He pointed behind Zhen with an awkward smile. "Mind if we, uh, scoot through there?"
Zhen followed the gesture with a glance over his shoulder, then looked back—shrugging, almost apologetic.
"Sorry. We both know how this goes"
Asami stepped forward, voice sharper than the blade he carried. "Where's Korra?"
A twitch. Barely there. But Zhen flinched at the name, though no answer followed.
He simply lunged. Steel sang through the air as he slipped between them, fast as a ghost, Asami jerked back just in time, the blade missing her face by inches—only catching a few dark strands that floated away like ash.
Bolin moved instinctively, foot slamming down as a blunt spike of stone erupted upward toward Zhen's side. But Zhen anticipated it, cutting his swing short with sudden precision. His leg coiled, then uncoiled like a spring, driving a brutal kick straight into Bolin's gut.
The impact cracked through the air. Bolin's breath fled his lungs as he was thrown backward—colliding with Tenzin, who barely regained consciousness behind him. Both toppled like felled statues, skidding across the floor.
As Zhen turned, his blade catching the flicker of overhead lights, Asami struck.
She lunged in close, grabbing his wrist with one hand. Her glove flared to life with a high-pitched hum—then discharged.
Electricity ripped through Zhen's body. His back arched, smoke curling from his clothes, eyes flaring white with the jolt. But he didn't scream. His jaw clenched like iron, muscles twitching violently as he powered through it.
Asami gasped—his hand clamped down on her wrist like a vice.
She struggled, trying to wrench herself free—but it was like being caught in the jaws of a machine.
And just like that, he flung her away, effortless, like hurling a large doll.
She crashed into Bolin with a dull thud. He'd only just lifted his head when she slammed into his chest, knocking him back down with a pained grunt.
"Ow…" he groaned, blinking up at the ceiling as it spun lazily overhead.
Asami rolled off him with a cough, both of them groggy and breathless as they tried to rise.
Zhen was already making his way toward them. With not even a twitch in his expression. The steady whirl of his blade in his fingers echoed through the room like a warning.
His shadow stretched long against them as he approached.
then—
"Leave them alone!"
A sheet of flame roared between them.
Zhen stopped short, the fire reflecting in his eyes, dancing along the edge of his sword. Heat licked at his clothes as the flames sizzled across the floor.
Mako slid into view, lowering into an offensive stance, eyes locked on Zhen with a fury that burned hotter than his bending.
"Get out of here!" He shouted over his shoulder.
Then he surged forward, leaping into the air. At the apex, his arms snapped back—then shot forward with explosive force. Twin streams of fire burst from his fists, coiling and crashing toward Zhen in a wave of blistering heat.
The corridor lit up in orange and gold as the flames bore down on their target.
Then the flames vanished, snuffed out mid-flight as though swallowed by the air itself.
Mako dropped to the ground with a jarring thud, knees buckling beneath him.
"Argh—Wha… What did you do to me?" His voice trembled with panic. His arms wouldn't move. His legs refused command. Every limb felt as if carved from stone.
Zhen stepped toward him, boots echoing with measured calm. As he neared, the blade in his hand caught the faintest shimmer—something small reflecting in the polished metal.
Mako caught it too.
A flicker. A glint.
A needle. Buried deep in his neck.
A long needle.
From above, a soft giggle broke the tension like cracking glass.
"Guess I'm not too late" came a voice light as air, young and sing-song, but laced with malice. A shape dropped from the ceiling, landing effortlessly between them. "You could dodge, you know?"
SERA
AGE: 16
STATUS: "NEEDLE"
"I saw you up there" Zhen said, glancing toward the ceiling without much interest. "Didn't think I needed to"
Sera's eyes sparkled through her mask, head tilting with innocent confusion as she gestured casually toward Mako's paralyzed form. "Should I take this one to Masky then?"
Zhen shook his head. "He's not on the list"
Their eyes met—hers wide, almost doe-like if it weren't for the slit holes on her mask. Zhen's gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, then reached out and gave her a soft pat on her head. An unspoken reassurance, or maybe just a habit.
"Making an example of him wouldn't mean anything" he added, voice devoid of judgement.
Then he turned toward the paralyzed young man.
Each step toward Mako was heavy, almost as if he wanted him to hear. The space seemed to shrink at the approaching moment. Zhen's grip shifted the blade in reverse—metal whispering through the air.
He stopped just short of Mako, who trembled against the paralysis locking his body. The firebender's eyes burned now with fear, but resistance, even as his muscles refused to move.
"I'll just put him out of his misery" Zhen said calmly, almost gently, like it was a show of kindness.
Then he raised his blade.
"Do your worst, you bastard!" Mako spat, defiance burning in his voice even as Zhen stood over him. "I knew there was nothing good about you!"
But the insult didn't slow or speed the descent. Zhen exhaled once, his breath shaking, and began to lower his blade to a stab.
"Do we have to kill him?"
The words sliced the moment in half.
Soft. Hesitant.
Sera's voice, from behind. She hadn't moved, hadn't dared to come closer—but the tremble in her tone reached him clearer than footsteps ever could.
Zhen's arm stilled mid-swing. His head tilted just slightly, enough to register her silhouette in his periphery,
"You're showing pity…" he said, not accusatory—just… curious. "To a bender?"
"Well—uh, not really" Sera fumbled. "It's just…. like you said… doing anything to them wouldn't really be meaningful to us, right?"
The tension lingered like static, waiting to snap. Zhen didn't speak. The air around him lightening.
But still, Mako's mouth ran, unable to read the room.
"Now you hesitate?" He hissed, voice rough with fury as he continued his taunts. "Nothing will change for you now, Zhen. Nothing. At least Korra'll finally see you for what you really are. A Murderer"
The tremble in Zhen's shoulders disappeared, as if Mako's words flipped a hidden switch. His stance steadied. His silhouette darkened. And when his gaze fell back on Mako, his eyes burned—not with anger, but with something much colder.
Then he pressed the blade down.
Mako's breath hitched. His eyes slammed shut as he braced for the painful end, his frozen limbs clenched in anticipation.
A second passed.
And another.
Nothing.
Gasping, Mako cracked his eyes open. Inches from his face, the blade hovered—still, trembling ever so slightly. Just shy of contact.
Zhen loomed over him, a guttural sound caught in his throat. His body vibrated with restraint, veins drawn beneath his skin like wires about to snap.
Mako blinked, stunned.
Then a hand yanked him up by the arm.
"Let's go! Before they surround us!" Sera's voice cut through his haze, breathless and urgent.
Somewhere in the confusion, the needle in his neck was gone. He hadn't even noticed the paralysis had faded.
Mako stumbled, then ran—legs moving before his mind caught up. He followed Sera from behind, his thoughts spinning.
Behind them, Zhen remained motionless.
But their exit wouldn't come without fire.
Turning once, Mako snapped his arms wide and let out a furious wave of flame, preventing Equalists from following behind them with a curtain of burning light. It roared between them and Zhen—dividing them completely.
As the Equalists poured past Zhen like a tide of insects, giving chase without pause. He didn't move. Didn't even blink.
Steam emerged from among them, his steps as heavy as ever, and took his place beside Zhen. he watched the others vanish into the firelight.
"This should count as her retirement, right?" he muttered, half to himself. "Should we go too?"
Zhen's body was still rigid. "No need"
His voice was low, like something held together by thread.
Steam's eyes narrowed, catching the tautness in Zhen's shoulders, the strain in his breath. He gestured casually toward the back of Zhen's neck, where a large needle poked out. "Need a hand?"
Zhen didn't answer. Only showing the faintest struggle to shake his head.
Then, with a grunt, his arm lifted—jerked stiff—reaching behind him. Veins rose along his skin like cords under tension, his jaw locked tight as a low groan slipped through his teeth.
His fingers found the needle buried in his neck.
And with a slow, grinding pull, he tore it free.
It came loose like a sword from stone—resistance clinging until the last second.
Zhen's breath caught—then rushed out all at once. His body sagged, relief crashing into him as if a great weight had been lifted.
The needle sat cold in his palm. He stared at it for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes, before closing his fingers around it.
"Make sure her kids stay off the radar" he said at last—his voice worn, but tinged with something gentler beneath the grit.
Steam didn't speak. He didn't need to. Just nodded once, the silent loyalty between them was enough.
But the quiet didn't last long.
"What are you people doing?! Chase them!" Hiroshi's voice cracked like a whip from behind. "Don't just stand there—get them! Get my daugh—"
His command ended in a hollow crack as Zhen's sword hilt slammed into his jaw without warning. The impact dropped him like a puppet with cut strings, his limbs sprawling as he hit the floor for the second time that night.
Zhen exhaled sharply through his nose, already turning. "Put him in one of the trucks. We're done here"
He walked off without another glance, boots echoing in the scorched corridor.
Steam watched him disappear into shadow, then hoisted Hiroshi over his shoulder with practiced ease. The weight didn't bother him. None of it did, really.
But as he turned to follow, his gaze lingered in the direction Sera had vanished, eyes softening just slightly.
"Have a good life…" he murmured—barely audible, even to himself.
And then he disappeared, trailing after Zhen.
—————————————————————————————
[Shortly After]
The police blimp lifted steadily into the clouds, its engines humming low and constant, like a heartbeat finally settling. The city shrank below them—just flickers of metal and smoke swallowed by night.
Inside, the tension gave way to a collective sigh. For the first time in what felt like hours, they could breathe.
Tenzin lay pale and still on one of the medical cots, barely conscious, the harsh lines on his face softening only in sleep. Lin sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the cot—guarding him in silence.
Asami stood near the window, her reflection faint in the glass.
The home she'd grown up in—her family, her memories… her illusions—faded into the distance like a sinking ship. Her jaw tightened.
That world is gone now.
Mako stepped beside her, saying nothing, only resting an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him without a word—needing someone to help her lessen the weight, to feel the warmth.
To feel an anchor.
Bolin roamed the blimp, his eyes scanning everything, as if distraction could hold off the crash of reality waiting to hit.
Then the quiet fractured.
"...Korra" Tenzin rasped. His voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath. "Where—where is Korra"
TENZIN
AGE: 51
STATUS: Injured
He tried to sit up, muscles trembling, but he couldn't move beyond a slight shift. Panic flickered in his weakened eyes.
Mako stayed facing the window, unable to meet the question. His voice was quiet, edged with guilt.
"I couldn't find her" he said.
A beat passed.
"I'm sorry…"
The words hung heavy in the air, dragging the silence down with them.
Tenzin stirred. With a grunt, he forced himself upright again, breath shallow and strained as pain carved deeper lines into his face.
Lin moved quickly, steadying him with a hand pressed firmly on his back.
"We have to go back…" he struggled, his voice sharpened by urgency, not strength.
"We can't…" Lin said quietly.
LIN BEIFONG
AGE: 51
STATUS: Tending To Tenzin
The words left her like a weight she didn't want to carry.
"We're outnumbered. We don't even know how much intel Zhen's been feeding them. For all we know…" Lin hesitated, as if it were words she didn't want to let out. "This… is out of our league"
Tenzin clenched his teeth as his hands trembled, blood seeping through the fresh bandages. "If Amon gets his hands on Korra…"
The thought broke off mid-breath as he coughed, swallowed by a fresh wave of pain that tensed his entire body.
"Uh… guys!?"
Bolin's voice sliced through the room, coming from just beyond the door.
"You guys might actually want to see this. Like—now. Preferably"
Mako and Asami exchanged a wary glance. Reluctantly, they peeled away, while Lin stayed with Tenzin, her gaze shadowed with concern.
The next compartment was dimly lit, humming softly with the blimp's systems. Bolin stood next to a half-open closet, his face unreadable—or he's trying to—a rare stillness behind his usual grin.
"What is it bro?" Mako muttered, his patience thinned to a thread. "This isn't the time for jokes"
Bolin just shook his head, one sharp insistent motion. "No, just look"
He gestured toward the closet, exaggerated but tense, like he didn't quite believe it himself.
Mako frowned, glancing at Asami again. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, equally lost.
With a sigh, Mako stepped forward. He narrowed his eyes at Bolin—searching for a punchline, some trace of mischief—but there was none. Just quiet, unwavering certainty.
He opened the closet door all the way.
At first, it was just a pile of bundled cloth. But then, beneath the folds of makeshift bedding and strewn garments.
Tucked away like a secret. Sleeping.
Their breath was slow, almost peaceful.
Draped in a thick cloth, resting on a bed cobbled together from jackets and spare linens, like someone had done their best to give her comfort despite the chaos.
Mako's breath caught his throat.
Asami stepped closer, hand covering her mouth.
Bolin didn't say anything more. He just stood there, quietly watching the others reaction with a grin.
It was Korra.
—————————————————————————————
[A Few Hours After, Air Temple Island]
The airship touched down with the hush of a weary breath, settling on the quiet sanctuary of Air Temple Island—the one place they thought of that was safe. The hours since the events in the Sato estate felt like days had passed, weighed down by exhaustion, injury, and silence.
For some… even more so.
Korra had regained consciousness somewhere in between the clouds and stone paths of the island.
With steadier hands than expected, she helped Lin guide the injured, barely-standing Tenzin to the island's healing chambers. The Air Acolytes were already waiting, their gently, practiced motions briefly softening the sharp edge of panic.
Lin, restless as ever, saw Pema waiting at the front of her house, with a couple Acolytes behind her. Wasting no time, she planned to deliver every detail to Pema, leaving nothing hidden.
But Korra… Korra drifted.
She wandered aimlessly after, pulled by memory more than direction. The island felt suspended in a dream—familiar, but distant.
The whisper of wind through the trees, the soft scrape of leaves skipping across the courtyard stones, even the faint scent of incense from the meditation halls. Everything was as it had been… and yet, she felt something utterly changed.
Her steps carried her to the open courtyard, where the city skyline hovered on the horizon like a mirage. Republic City looked as usual. So far away.
Shff… Shff…
A soft, rhythmic sound tickled her awareness—sweeping, maybe.
She turned, sharply, eyes scanning the courtyard. But there was nothing. Just empty space and the haunting echo of what she thought she'd heard.
'Must be a spirit…' she told herself.
Or it might just be a memory pretending to be one.
She exhaled and moved to the stone bench by the courtyard's edge. It waited for her like it always had, weathered and still, as if it remembered her better than she remembered herself.
She sat—not in the center, but on the left side, instinctively leaving space beside her. A space that used to be filled.
Elbows braced against her knees, she let her head hang. A long heavy breath tumbled from her lips, like she'd been holding it in for hours, days, maybe longer.
The silence folded around her, deafening… aching.
"Why…"
The word barely escaped her in a broken voice—a lack of fire—not really meant for anyone but herself.
But the only one who might've answered her was gone.
And the wind said nothing.
Then, a voice broke through the stillness.
"You alright?"
Korra turned at the sound. Mako stood directly behind her, the worry in his eyes subtle but unmistakable, softening the edges of his usual stoic expression.
"Yeah, yeah… I'm fine" she replied, the empty words barely holding together.
He came closer and settled beside her, shifting in hesitation, unsure of how near he should be—how close she'd allow. The silence between them stretched for a moment.
"Just wanted to say thanks. For letting us stay" his hand drifted to his face, rubbing his jaw as if searching for the right words. "And… I'm sorry I didn't believe you. About Asami's dad being an Equalist. It's not an easy thing to believe… even now"
Korra didn't respond at first. She leaned back on her hands, eyes fixed on the endless dark above. The stars were absent tonight. No light. Just the hum of the city in the distance and the emptiness in her chest.
"I guess that makes both of us…" she murmured, voice quiet. She turned to him, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry too. Zhen being an Equalist didn't even cross my mind"
Mako let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head.
"He had all of us fooled" he said, trying to offer reassurance, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned into the gesture ever so slightly. Her eyes, however, drifted back toward the city—toward the blinking lights under the empty sky.
"Some more than others…" she added under her breath.
At that, Mako's hand slipped away, the subtle warmth of it leaving her.
He followed her gaze out to Republic City, both of them watching its dim, distant glow in silence—two people staring at the same thing but seeing something completely different.
"How's Asami?" Korra finally asked, the name sitting heavy on her tongue knowing she was probably dealing more than she could ever imagine.
He didn't answer right away. His hands fidgeted, thumbs pressing against each other in silent conflict before he let out a long exhale.
"Not great…"
"She's welcome to stay as well, you know?" Korra offered without hesitation, the words steady despite the turmoil beneath them. "The three of you are"
"Thanks" he replied, glancing at her with something closer than gratitude.
"You should check up on her" The young Avatar added gently, turning her body just enough to place a warm hand on his shoulder. "After everything she's been through… she's going to need you, Mako"
His nod was small but certain. He saw something in her eyes then—something heavy. He stood, taking a few steps away before pausing, half-turned.
"And what about you?" The question slipped out, though he did not seem to want to stop it. The stern face he usually wore was cracked, his voice laced with deeper concern than he intended to reveal.
Korra smiled.
Not the kind that reached her eyes—but the kind that convinces others. The kind that hides.
"I'll be fine"
Mako lingered, but the moment passed. Whatever haunted her, she wasn't ready to share. So he gave her space, and disappeared into the temple's courtyard.
The moment he was gone, her smile collapsed.
Her breath caught in her throat as a single piece of the ocean left her eyes and slipped down her cheek. It vanished into the stone ground like it had never existed.
"...I'll be fine" she whispered again—quieter this time.
Not for anyone else. Not even herself.
Just for the silence. The only thing that listened.
"...Right?"
—————————————————————————————
[Some Time Later, Air Temple Island]
Night draped the island in a quiet lush. The kind of silence that felt sacred, especially after the chaos. Within the temple walls, most had surrendered to sleep, their breaths mingling with the calm rhythm of the sea breeze.
But not everyone.
Beneath the cover of shadows, through the narrow forest path where the stone gave way to wild earth, a solitary figure moved. A lantern swayed in her hand, casting long, warm beams through the path.
Leaves whispered against her robes as she walked, the hem brushing against dewy roots and exposed rock.
She didn't need the light to guide her—as she knew this path all too well.
PEMA
AGE: 35
STATUS: Searching For Something
Ever since Lin had come to her with news, the world had shifted sideways. The kind of truth that she wouldn't believe even if she saw it. A truth so sharp it cut through her memories, unraveling a year of quiet mornings and gentle laughter.
When Lin told her… when she said his name…
The disbelief hit like thunder.
And then her hand struck Lin's cheek before she'd even realized it.
She regretted it immediately.
The sting in her palm still hadn't faded. Neither had the guilt.
Now, she walked not out of anger, but out of need. A human need. A mother's one.
The forest cleared, revealing a small, overgrown glade. And there it stood—half-hidden by creeping vines and neglect. Not a home, but a shelter. A skeleton of a building, barely clinging to its purpose.
She moved toward it in silence, each step instinctive. Airbender ways had rubbed off on her over the years—quiet feet, quiet breath, quiet heart.
The dead campfire lay untouched, its stones ringed with ash. Nearby, logs were stacked in tidy rows. Like someone had been keeping the place neat.
The door loomed ahead, leaning awkwardly from its frame, one hinge giving way.
She hesitated.
Her hand reached out… then paused midair, trembling.
What if he wasn't in there?
What if he was?
The ache in her chest deepened, but before she could knock, movement flickered through a broken slat. A shadow stumbled within.
She exhaled through a dry smile.
Of course he was here.
The door creaked as she pushed it open. The sound snapped through the room like a warning shot.
Inside, something moved—fast. A blade flashed, catching the firelight of her lantern in a silver gleam. It hovered inches from her chest, steady despite the tremor in the boy's hand.
She didn't flinch.
Her smile remained, soft around the corners. Her eyes looked at him, almost worriedly.
"Zhen" she called softly—like calling a child home from the storm.
A beat.
The tension in the air held for just a moment longer—until the blade lowered, confusion settling across the Zhen's face.
"Madam Pema?" Came his voice, uncertain. But human.
He rose slowly from where he'd been crouched, a worn bag half-packed at his feet. His eyes, sharp with instinct, dulled into recognition. But the weapon stayed drawn—out of habit, not malice.
"Put it away, dear" her voice came gently, as if her were still the quiet boy who used to sneak tea by her window. "I'm just here to see you"
There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt. Only trust.
And maybe… the faintest trace of hope.
Zhen's shoulder tensed, the blade trembling ever so slightly in his grip. For a moment, it looked as though the weight of it might overwhelm him.
But at the sound of her voice—the familiar kindness—his resolve cracked. Slowly, the weapon dipped, then hung at his side.
He stood there, unmoving, the lines in his face caught between defiance and doubt. Though his eyes held their usual blank glare, beneath the surface there was something else—hesitation, like a wounded animal unsure if the hand reaching for it meant safety or pain.
Pema stepped forward, lantern light brushing against both of their faces. She looked up at him, her voice low and full of meaning.
"Are you alright?"
It was a simple question, the kind anyone might ask. But the way she asked it—carefully, with the quiet weight of a hundred unspoken worries—made it something more meaningful.
She had a dozen others waiting on her tongue, but this one… this felt like the one that mattered.
Zhen gave a small, mechanical nod. His lips didn't move. He didn't trust his voice.
But Pema didn't need him to. She could see it—the storm behind his eyes, the boy still trapped in there, reaching out for something just out of sight. Her hand moved gently like a memory returning, and she cupped his cheek.
He leaned into it.
Barely, subtly—but enough.
"You don't have to lie to me" she spoke as she saw through him, her thumb brushing the side of his face. "You can tell me when you're ready to"
His lips parted.
"I'm sorry…" he breathed, barely more than a whisper, yet somehow it echoed between the decaying walls.
The words weren't grand or dramatic. But they carried weight. A plea. Or a confession.
Pema's smile didn't fade, only softened. She caressed his cheek with the kind of tenderness that refused to be undone by regret.
Zhen gave a breath of something close to a laugh, but it caught his throat before it fully formed.
"It would be… a long story" he said, trying for humor, but it landed crooked, like a fractured step.
But Pema didn't miss a beat. "Then I should probably prepare some tea"
Their quiet chuckles blended, faint and fleeting, but real. For now, the cabin didn't feel so cold.
Zhen looked at her again, this time with a weight behind his words.
"My friend" he began, voice wavering slightly. "Take care of her for me"
At first, Pema assumed he meant Korra—anyone would probably too. But the image that came to her wasn't the Avatar's.
"Oh? That masked lady?" she asked, though her voice already held certainty. "I'll make sure she's well fed"
"Thank you…" Zhen's voice barely carried, but the faint smile that followed said enough.
It was small, brief—just a flicker—but it softened him. Like a knot quietly loosening in his chest.
Yet even with that moment of release, the burden didn't vanish. Just shifted. Just enough to keep walking.
"I'll be leaving now…" he said, his tone quiet, respectful. As if he was asking permission to disappear.
She didn't hold him back. She only nodded, steady as the wind that always changes. "I'll always welcome you"
She could've said more. Wanted to. Her heart ached with the questions left unsaid, with the comfort she longed to offer.
But she knew—this was what he needed. A promise of a door left open. A place he could return to, when he felt he belonged nowhere.
She stepped away, the space between them gently widening. Zhen didn't hesitate. He reached for his bag, the blade already sheathed without thought, like muscle memory.
He paused at the doorway—just long enough to catch her in the low lantern light. His eyes lingered, as if memorizing the way she looked in that moment.
Maybe it was a goodbye. Maybe it was a silent thank you. Or maybe it was both.
Then he walked, slipping through the doorway and out to the open air.
Pema followed, of course—not with words, just with the quiet footsteps, her presence trailing behind him like a prayer. All the way to the cliff's edge.
This time, Zhen didn't turn back.
Because he knew—if he did, he might never find the strength to leave again.
And so, without hesitation, he jumped.
Pema stood at the cliff, the wind catching in her robes, but not in her heart.
There was no fear in her gaze. Only quiet trust.
Below, the growl of an engine rose through the mist. Then she saw it—cutting across the dark water, a boat sped toward the horizon, shrinking by the second.
She lifted her hand in a farewell.
Not in sorrow.
Not in desperation.
But with the grace of a mother waving to a child who never truly belonged to her—yet would always have a place in her heart.
End