The hustle and bustle of Republic City wound down to a tense stillness as evening drew near. By sundown, eateries were filled with laborers and clerks staring attentively at the radio. The people of the back alleys huddled around communal boxes that were salvaged or ‘fortuitously acquired’, or choked the spaces around Future Industries’ two soup kitchens, which had their own, crisper broadcasting system.
The middle and upper class families rich enough to own their own household radios were gathered around it with just as much interest. Servants eavesdropped from corridors or huddled around the sets provided to them by more generous employers.
Tense murmurs rippled in closed shoplots or basements as the patrons of gambling dens finalized their bets, while up in the darkening skies, many metalbending police in their airships were struggling to split their attention between the streets below and the reverberating radios nestled in consoles.
Ideally that last part would be a wild exaggeration, of course.
Regardless, for this evening in particular, it felt as if almost the entire city had frozen with anticipation.
Almost.
Where quiet anticipation was slowly building up in the rest of Republic City, the arena was filled with cacophonous excitement. Spectators traded grilled skewers and steamed meat buns bought from the stalls outside, or argued over seats, or heckled the arena groundspeople to clean up the playing field faster. The occupants of the private boxes were barely more reserved, debating over the teams’ performance over a buffet spread, or laying out detailed analysis as they explained their predictions of how everything will play out, or joining the crowd below in symbolically yelling at the groundspeople from behind their glass walls.
The grand finals of the pro-bending championship commanded the city’s attention, as all were keen to see if the Avatar would lead Future Industries’ Fire Ferrets to victory, or whether her prodigious but untempered talent would be bested by the more seasoned teamwork of the Bau Ling Buzzard Wasps. Though many wore the Fire Ferrets’ armbands, or waved their flags, or ate distractedly on plates with the players’ faces printed on them, expectations, especially from the pro-bending enthusiasts, were not fully in the Fire Ferrets’ favor. After all, putting aside all the fanfare, it was still just two street kids and the Equalist-fighting Avatar against a proper, established professional team who had been in the game for years now.
And that was all from information Lin picked up from her subordinates; Imagine the sort of discussions the actual enthusiasts might hold over the topic. It also didn’t help that Future Media’s radio station was putting out pretentious commentary about the subject every night, hosted by retired pro-benders, which now made every listener and their mothers suddenly learned experts about the intricacies of pro-bending.
Lin could only hope that the whole pro-bending boom was making the criminals just as invested and distracted as it was making her people.
It might make guarding the arena a boring chore, but the savings on paperwork was highly appreciated.
While Future Media had already petitioned the city’s police for aid in overseeing order and security during the big tournament, the recent attacks on their office had forced Lin to commit more of her forces. Either in case the Equalists made another, bolder attempt to gain attention, or Xing was correct about there being imposters and the people pretending to be Equalists made another, bolder attempt to frame the underground group.
Sure, it might be a bluff, but it was one that neither Lin nor anyone in the council dared ignore. Even Tarrlok agreed to the deployment with a grave nod instead of his usual smirk. Shutting down the games would be a show of fear and weakness that Amon and other opportunists would no doubt seize, and with the excitement the finals was accruing, the last minute announcement might result in a riot. So the arena’s security had to be bolstered, and patrols were routed over major landmarks, just in case.
Xing’s frank report about his meeting with Amon didn’t help either. Unlike Tarrlok, she had little doubt that the young director truly did converse with the criminal leader. Not because of what she knew of Xing’s character (though she did see him as an upstanding young man) but because she was familiar with Amon’s.
The masked leader was the sort to favor theatrics, like holding underground meetings, or ambushing Korra as a reply to her ill-advised challenge. The showiness was how he grew his following, it was what drew the dumb and the disillusioned to the stupid cause. Amon personally reaching out to Xing made quite a bit of sense; hypocritical or not, turning a former White Lotus member - who, on record, left the Avatar’s side - to the Equalist cause would be a huge boon for the terrorists. Nevermind the optics of it, but it’d be a massive threat if Amon gained the knowledge of Korra’s life, and the White Lotus inner workings. And Xing being a subsidiary director would provide access to Hiroshi Sato and the entirety of the Future Industries Group.
That’d be a nightmare Lin didn’t want to see manifest in real life. It was one thing to expect the corporate heads to harbor sympathies for the Equalists - especially thanks to Tarrlok’s politicking - but if the corporations publicly threw their support behind the terrorists and funded their madness, Republic City could very well be doomed. Thankfully, Tenzin wasn’t completely spineless, and played his part in keeping the council anchored to some common sense, and Lin would like to think that her police force’s effectiveness and lack of bias also played a part in dispelling Amon’s nonsense about bender supremacy.
Her train of thought was derailed by a sudden crash of drums and cymbals and pyrotechnics. Peering down from the arena’s reverberating steel rafters, the police chief effortlessly pushed the raucous clash of music and cheering to the back of her mind as she brought her binoculars back up and scanned the crowds. There was a lot of excitement, but beyond the jumping and arms waving about, she couldn’t find any suspicious movements.
She saw Tenzin in one private box, along with his family and their White Lotus retinue. So he caved in to his girls, no surprise there.
Hiroshi and Asami Sato were in another box, with the other heads of Future Industries. The father was showing signs of clear disapproval at something his daughter was gently but firmly saying. It reminded Lin of Aang and Tenzin, way back when, when the latter expressed some face-smackingly teenage opinion, like his initial ideas about dealing with the nascent triads.
Hopefully Asami was as bright as she seemed, and wasn’t saying anything that shared the same quality of arresting suspected triad heads without just cause.
Moving past the boxes, Lin’s attention rested briefly on the orchestra and choir at the center of the playing field. There was the ear-itching whine of static as the arena’s microphone hissed to life, and Future Media’s announcer who was at the center of that formation addressed the crowd as he did throughout the whole tournament.
“Welcome, one and all, to the grand fi-nals!” How has the announcer not lost his voice after consecutive days of shouting?
She shifted her gaze to the playing fields’ exits, and noted her officers standing at some attention. So no trouble there, at least.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She pulled away from the binoculars and glanced to the other officers spread out across the rafters. A swift hand signal, and then it only took a few seconds to receive the all clear from them. Another cutting gesture with her hand, and everyone looked back down through their binoculars to sweep the arena for brewing trouble.
If Amon’s going to make his appearance, now would be one of the times to do so. Either that, or during the closing ceremony, was Lin’s guess.
As the minutes passed by, it looked more and more like she’d have to wait for the closing ceremony for Amon to hopefully appear.
The sudden shudder from the metal beams had Lin snapping up from her binoculars to see Lieutenant Koshi landing from the glass rooftop. With a flash of metal wires, he quickly swung over to her, showing signs of alarm that made Lin tense up.
“What is it, lieutenant?”
“There’s been an attack, ma’am. An airship has responded to it, but they’re already calling in several groundcars from the nearest morgue.”
“Any more details? Where is it?”
“The patrolling airship detected suspicious activity in the Itiro estate; the service gate was broken. The squad went down to check, and reported a slaughter.”
Was this a distraction, or just pure coincidence?
Why the Itiro estate?
Were the Equalists changing tactics again, or was this the impostors’ doing?
Lin’s first instinct was to head straight for the scene of the crime, but if doing so meant she was absent during an attack on the arena…
She scowled and looked back down at the throng of spectators.
Out there, bodies lay dead, their assailants yet to be discovered. Down here, the oblivious masses might or might not be under threat from a terrorist attack.
Would going to the Itiro estate provide any meaningful contribution?
What about keeping watch here?
“Keep me updated,” she finally grunted out. “And tell them to be thorough.”
*****
Despite his own excitement for the last day of the championship, Goro would not be joining his colleagues at the arena. It was his turn to get the night off, and he was going to enjoy listening to the games from the comfort of his bed, thank you very much. Goro already did his share of hauling things for the day, and only went back to the office to clock out.
With the setting sun still barely visible through Republic City’s jagged horizon, the tech menial hurried out of the Future Media building and broke away from the specialists and laborers who were embarking onto trucks and cars destined for the arena. Already acclimatized to the strenuous work of moving large and cumbersome machinery around, he easily ignored the dull aches in his limbs and back as he jogged down the streets to the nearest eatery.
If he was lucky, he’d be able to order his takeaway before the dinner crowd poured in, and get back to his home just in time to hear the pre-game. If not…well, Goro had taken a peek at the schedule, and Hitori Kuro would still be around during the intermission and the closing ceremony.
“Excuse me.”
Goro paused as he passed a corner and turned his head to find that the calm and cultured voice was indeed addressing him. The speaker was a man dressed in blue and white silk. Not exactly the trappings of someone filthy rich, but rather the servant of one. Butler, maybe?
“Uh, me?”
The stranger offered a faint smile. “Yes, I’m sorry to interrupt out of nowhere, but I noticed you leaving the Future Media compound, so I was wondering if you worked there?”
“Uh, yes, sir…?”
“Do you happen to be capable of bending?”
Goro frowned at the question, but reminded himself that he was an employee of Future Media, and restrained himself from answering the fucker’s rude question with a smack to the face.
“I’m not.”
The butler smiled with satisfaction for some reason, and nodded again. “I see. Do you know if Director Xing would be leaving his office anytime soon?”
Oh, one of those people looking to petition Xing, huh? But why wait out here and ask a nobody like Goro?
Wait…blue attire… Right, right. The director had a bad run in with some Northern Water Tribe shits. This guy’s related to them? So he’s trying to make an apology or something? The director must’ve spooked the shits real bad that their messenger was scouting the place first before going in.
Goro couldn’t blame the guy. After his own meeting with the boss over the Equalist incident, he too didn’t want to face an angered Xing, even if that anger was not directed at him.
A shame they weren’t spooked enough to knock the elitist delusions out of their head, though. Stupid bending supremacist shitstains…
Beyond his thoughts, Goro kept his response as polite as possible. “Um, you should check at the reception. I’m sure they’ll help you set up a meeting and all…”
The man shook his head. “Unfortunately, my employer is seeking an…unofficial audience.”
Well, this sounded very much like something Goro didn’t want to get involved in. He slowly shifted to break away from the conversation. His window for dinner during the pre-game was closing. “Sorry, but I can’t really help you, I’m just a laborer.” Then an idea struck, and he tried to push the problem to someone else. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the director’s still overseeing things at the arena. Maybe you could go there and find someone to set things up?”
That didn’t phase the manservant at all, unfortunately. “I see… In that case, could you help me with a simple task?”
Ah shit. He was going to ask Goro to be a messenger boy, wasn’t he?
“I have something my employer wants delivered to the director-”
Called it.
“-but considering the time, I hope I could pass it to you to bring it to the director’s attention instead?”
Fucking Water Tribe nobles don’t know how the corporate hierarchy works, do they?
Goro brought up both hands in a placating gesture as he began shuffling away. “I’m seriously not the right guy for this. You want to-”
Then his shoulder bumped into someone, and as he turned his head Goro realized he was surrounded by a small mob of burly men, completely cutting him off from the rest of the bustling world.
Shit.
“I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken,” the butler replied a bit too casually, as rough hands jammed a clump of sharp smelling cloth against Goro’s face, and immediately began dulling his senses.
“You are just the man for the job.”
Goro awoke to biting pain all over his body, and panicked immediately as he found himself encased in ice, and his mouth gagged.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
His eyes quickly turned to a shadow-cloaked figure. Then he snapped his head around and noted that he was in an unusually clean alley. A richer neighborhood. Harmony Park or Roku’s Plaza.
It didn’t exactly matter right now, he was still trapped in ice with a crazy kidnapper.
“Don’t worry you’ll be freed soon.” The man in the shadows paused for a moment, and Goro did not like the words that oozed out of him next. “Well, freed, but not exactly free…”
He saw the wave of a hand, and the biting cold instantly turned into relieving numbness as the ice melted into a puddle. Goro fought off the cramps in his muscles to lift himself up and flee as soon as he fell to the ground, but found himself stopping midway.
Panic overtook him, but Goro couldn’t do anything about it save for listening to his heart thundering in his head. He picked up movement at the edges of his vision, and then his whole body lurched painfully up to attention, completely against his will.
“Wh-Wha…”
He wanted to flee, wanted to scream, but his body did not obey him. Could not. It hurt even trying to open his mouth. Like something was clamping his jaws shut, or a vice was pinning his limbs down.
This time though, Goro could clearly see the hand gestures from the figure before his body snapped to bend over and pick up a cleaver and a piece of cloth laying too conveniently on the ground beside him.
“Buh…blood…”
The words were cut off as his jaws were shut with such force that he could feel his teeth crack.
Goro initially fought for control of his body as his arms moved jerkily to wrap the cloth around his face, barely tying a knot, the cleaver knocking against him awkwardly at various points. He resisted with all his might as he was made to run out the alley. He still struggled and strained as he charged like a dangling puppet into a lavish mansion.
But shock overtook him when he saw the bodies strewn in the rooms and halls, all dead without a stain on their clothes.
And shock gave way to horror as he unwillingly changed that, and his arm began swinging down onto the corpses. Goro did all he could to resist, but even when he felt and heard the bones in his arm snap, the cleaver kept rising and falling, and his legs kept moving from one lifeless body to another. Tears stained his cheeks, the only thing he could physically do at his own volition.
Goro’s mind snapped soon after, and he numbly experienced the desecration of dozens of corpses under his own hand.
By the time it was all done, Goro was drenched in blood, and standing by the door he’d entered from. The pain of his broken arm barely registered anymore, nor could he just collapse from exhaustion despite the aching numbness.
The figure puppeting his body stood outside the doorway, and by now there was enough lighting to identify him, but Goro’s mind was too shattered to consider that right now.
Goro didn’t cry out in pain or relief as the rigidity finally fled his body and he crumpled to the floor. He barely registered it.
Neither did he register the jagged spike of ice that shot into his back, or that his broken mind was slowly fading into darkness…
