[Night, Probending Arena]
The Probending Arena blazed against the night like a lighthouse in a storm—brilliant, towering, alive.
After the threatening announcement earlier that morning, the place had been cleared by the police, every nook and cranny inspected.
Republic City was now watching the championship, and it refused to flinch under the weight of the Equalists.
But that glow wasn't the only light carving through the dark.
Out at sea, ships circled the arena's perimeter, their blinking lights flashing in rhythm with the waves. In the sky above, airships patrolled like silent sentinels, sweeping bright searchlights across the bay and the streets below. Police cruisers lined the front entrance in a near-constant hum, engines idle, officers alert.
Security was air-tight. It had to be.
Inside, even the wealthiest VIPs were being watched. Their private booths, once enjoyed with luxury and indifference, now had metal officers standing outside their doorsteps.
In one of these booths however, there was none. A lone guard stood inside, behind the seated VIPs
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Temporary Detail
"I can't believe this is what they give us after all the work the council and police put in to keep the tournament going" the middle-aged man muttered with a bitter scoff, arms crossed as he watched the match unfold below.
HIROSHI SATO
AGE: 50
STATUS: Sponsor of the Fire Ferrets
Beside him, a young woman leaned forward, chin resting in her palm, eyes narrowed toward the ring.
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Just Wanted to Enjoy the Match
"Who'd be petty enough to bribe the refs just to watch the Fire Ferrets lose?" she asked, dryly, though the irritation in her voice was unmistakable.
Hiroshi grumbled something under his breath before answering more clearly. "It's not the Ferrets they want to see fall. It's Future Industries"
Below, the Wolf Bats continued their shameless domination, each foul overlooked, each dirty move rewarded. Zhen watched in silence, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest. His eyes narrowed like a blade.
Knock. Knock.
The sound pulled him from his simmering thoughts. He blinked, glancing toward the door just as Asami started to rise from her seat.
"I'll take it" he gestured for her to stay put.
She nodded, then settled back down, eyes flicking away from the door as Zhen stepped toward it. The hinges creaked softly as he opened it just enough to peer out.
A stern-faced officer stood on the other side with rigid posture.
"Report" the man barked, his tone clipped and formal.
Zhen opened the door a little wider, giving him a clear view into the booth. "Safe"
The officer gave a sharp nod and turned without a word, disappearing down the hall.
Zhen closed the door quietly behind him, slowly letting the lock click without letting Asami and her father notice.
—————————————————————————————
[Below in the Public Seats]
While elite officers kept watchful eyes on the VIP booths above, the rest were assigned to the packed stands below—led by two high-ranking figures standing side by side.
Both were meant to focus on security.
Only one of them was actually focused on doing it.
KNOCKOUT!
Ding! Ding! Ding!
"Oh, come on! Those were illegal headshots!"
One of them threw his arms in the air, frustration etched across his face.
TENZIN
AGE: 51
STATUS: Council Head
"Open your eyes, Ref!" Tenzin shouted, throwing up his arms in disbelief as the Wolf Bats clinched another win through cheating.
His voice echoed above the mix of the disappointed groans of the crowd and their applause.
Beside him, a stern woman watched.
LIN BEIFONG
AGE: 51
STATUS: Chief of Police
Her eyes were locked on the ring, her stance rigid, though her guard dropped just slightly—just enough to show she, too, was paying attention to the match.
"All clear chief" an officer announced beside her, saluting sharply. "No signs of suspicious entry"
Lin gave him a once-over, raising a brow. "Where's Saikhan? He was supposed to be the one reporting to me"
"Vice Chief Saikhan is investigating a commotion outside, he sent me to notify" The officer's tone was oddly flat, like he was reading off something.
A pause. Lin didn't blink.
"Mhm… carry on then"
Dismissing the officer, they simply saluted again and turned heel.
Tenzin's rant finally died down. The crowd noise faded beneath a subtle shift in the atmosphere—something heating. He blinked, catching the faintest rustle of movement beside Lin. A strange… crackling sound.
He opened his mouth to speak, to warn—
But he was not fast enough.
The officer spun with unnatural agility, something sparking in his hand.
"Lin!" Tenzin shouted—
KZZZZZCH!
Electricity surged. The glove latched onto Lin's armor, lighting it up with violent arcs of blue. Her body seized, her knees buckled, and she collapsed with only a groan.
Tenzin's hands flew forward on instinct—
Whoosh!
A gust of wind slammed the attacker back to the floor—
But that didn't matter.
KZZZZZCH!
Pain cracked through Tenzin's spine. Another glove, another person.
This one came from behind.
A civilian, wearing a clothed mask centered with a red circle. She wore an identical glove, now standing over his body.
—————————————————————————————
[Down the Water Pool of the Arena]
The roar of the crowd became a muffled echo underwater, distant and distorted.
Bubbles surged to the surface as the Fire Ferrets burst through the water, gasping for breath.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: Fire Ferret #3
Our young Avatar yanked off her helmet, panting hard. Her breath steamed in the cold air as she blinked water from her lashes.
The other two surfaced beside her, coughing and shaking water from their eyes.
But as she steadied her vision—she caught it.
A faint glimmer on the rippling surface of the water. Tiny crackles of blue lightning dancing across the mirrored image of the stands above.
Her eyes snapped upward.
"What…?" she whispered, her heart skipping a beat.
The flickers grew in numbers—electric pulses flashing across the arena's edge. Panic seized her.
Thud.
Thud.
But before she could even plan something, two figures dropped heavily onto the platform in front of them, blocking their surface.
"Hello~" a sing-song voice followed.
A young girl waved, sweet and unsettling.
"NEEDLE"
AGE: 16
STATUS: Sera
She wore a patchwork dress stitched with bland details, her fingers toying with thin needles tucked between her knuckles like claws.
Next to her stood a taller man—older, more stern.
"LIEUTENANT"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Lieutenant
He didn't speak a word.
He drew two long rods from his back, twirling them with practiced ease before slamming them together.
Crack!
Blue sparks exploded from them.
Korra raised her hands, leading a stream of water toward them.
But the Lieutenant was quick to act. The rods plunged into the water.
ZZZZZZZT!
A violent jolt tore through her body.
Her muscles seized. Her bending collapsed.
She barely managed a scream—
ARGH!
Her two friends writhed beside her, their cries muffled by the churning water as electricity danced across the pool like a storm.
Then—stillness.
All three floated limp in the water, unconscious.
—————————————————————————————
[VIP Booths]
"What in the…" Hiroshi rose slowly from his seat, eyes narrowing as the crackling bolts of lightning arced through the crowd below.
But it wasn't isolated.
From their vantage point, booths across the arena flashing blue, streaks of electricity racing like veins through the stadium.
"They're everywhere…" Hiroshi muttered grimly his hands were already on Asami's shoulders, steering her away. "We need to get out of here—now"
Asami hesitated, glancing back toward the arena. Her voice was tight, urgent. "What about Mako? And the others—"
"We have no time, Asami" Hiroshi cut her off, more out of fear… but with a strange hint of anger slipping out. "I have to keep you safe—"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A thunderous pounding slammed against the metal booth door, cutting him off.
Both froze.
"Sir… Sato?" a voice at the opposite end echoed. Calm… to calm considering the situation outside. "We're here to escort you out"
Hiroshi let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly in relief. He stepped toward the door—
Only to be stopped cold by Zhen's hand gripping his shoulder.
"Don't" he warned quietly, eyes locked on the door.
The voice continued outside, this time with a more aggressive edge.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Sir Sato? Please open the door. It's safe out here but we have to hurry"
The repeated knocks grew heavier—not in rhythm, but more desperate.
Zhen didn't flinch. "You have a car, right?"
It was a dumb question—asking the man who practically invented the industry if he owned a vehicle—but still, better safe than sorry.
"Front lot. We have a driver on standby" Hiroshi answered with the expected calm of a professional. "Armored"
Of course it was.
"Good"
Zhen bent down and gripped the leg of a metal chair.
Meanwhile, Asami tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt.
"Zhen" her voice was soft but strained. "Can you check on Korra and the others? Please?"
There was desperation in her gaze—more than concern. Fear, maybe?
Still, Zhen was currently on the job.
"Your safety is my priority right now"
Asami's hand dropped. Her eyes followed. "...Right"
Then he sighed, grip tightening on the chair leg.
"I'll check on them after I get you out. Promise"
Though his job was to follow orders.
Zhen didn't wait for sentiment. He glanced at Asami.
"You've been through self-defense training, yeah?"
The door thudded again—louder this time. It was starting to cave inward.
Asami gave a silent nod, already adjusting her stance. Calming herself down, focusing. Her father, less practiced, mirrored her, fists raised with the stubborn pride of an adult.
Bang. Bang.
"Knock… Knock!" a voice sneered from the other side, just before the lock gave away with a metallic screech. "You—"
CRASH!
Zhen's first instinct took over. He hurled the entire metal chair like a rock—it struck the first masked figure square in the chest, knocking them off balance. Sparks danced around their gloves—as he thought.
"Watch the gloves! They're charged!" he shouted.
The second attacker raised his weapon—but was too slow.
Zhen charged, boots pounding the ground.
In one swift move, he leapt, tucking his knees into his chest—and drop kicked the masked man full force in the face.
The impact sent the attacker hurtling backward, slamming into the wall behind him with a heavy thud.
Zhen hit the floor hard—but he rolled with it, twisting up to his feet in one motion.
"Go! Now!" he barked, eyes already scanning around the halls.
Crackle
The sharp hiss of electricity behind him snapped his focus too late.
A third assailant charged behind him—glove fully charged, hand outstretched.
Not time to turn. No time to think.
Again, he let his instinct take over.
Zhen lunged backward, the electric glove grazing just above his shoulder, searing his shift as he slipped beneath the strike.
With a grunt, he snatched the attacker's wrist and used their momentum to flip them clean over his shoulder.
Ack!
They hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind from their lungs.
The glove still crackled, twitching with the energy. Zhen didn't need to think much about it.
He raised his heel—
Crack!
And stomped down on the device, shattering the glass filament with a sharp snap of sparks.
The glove flickered… then went dark.
"Come" Zhen called for them, cutting through the commotion outside. "We need to leave before they seal the exits"
Asami's father took the lead, moving as fast as he could. As fast as he was able to.
Zhen and Asami followed close behind, matching his pace as he navigated the dimly lit halls, not noticing how slow they were actually going.
The arena's lights grew distant as they passed through winding corridors. Then suddenly, they came to an open view of the arena below them. The heavy banners fluttered in the cold breeze. The Equalist insignia proudly displayed on them made Asami's stomach tighten.
The situation was spiraling fast.
"No…" Asami whispered, the words barely escaping her as her eyes locked onto the sight before her.
Hiroshi and Zhen exchanged a glance, both following her gaze.
There, in the center of the ring, was the unmistakable figure of Amon—the man in the white mask. His fluid, decisive movements had him effortlessly dispatching the touranment's champions as though they were little more than insects to him.
Amon was here. And if he was here, things were a lot worse than she could ever imagine.ts.
"We have to leave. Now!" Hiroshi grabbed Asami's arm and pulled her away from the sight.
They pushed onward, and in the next hallway, they found something far worse than Amon.
A scene of carnage. Bodies scattered across the floor. The walls were streaked with crimson, a grotesque tapestry of blood that flickered beneath the dying lights above.
The stench of death clung to the air.
Asami's eyes widened, her heart pounding, her breath catching in her throat. She raised a shaking hand to her mouth, stifling as the gasp of horror threatened to escape.
Hiroshi's face hardened as he stepped forward, his gaze shifting from the bodies to the flickering lights. His fingers tightened around the wrist of his daughter as they moved further into the hall.
And there, standing amidst the carnage, was a figure who took care of their current victim. Ignoring their pleas, their cries for mercy.
"FACELESS"
AGE: ???
STATUS: "FACELESS"
He stood tall, cloaked in a tattered robe dyed in dried blood, its once-black fabric stained a deep crimson. A broken mask clung crookedly to his face, fractured just enough to reveal a pair of unearthly eyes—shining blue like the ocean reflecting the moon.
His short swords gleamed in the flickering light, catching a red glint with every subtle movement, like a hungry predator waiting to strike.
Zhen's muscles coiled, instincts flaring up.
Then—without even saying a word—Faceless lunged.
"GO!" Zhen shouted.
Hiroshi didn't hesitate. He yanked Asami by the arm, pulling her toward a side hall, feet thudding against the stone floor.
"No!" Asami cried, struggling to stay, her head turning back toward Zhen.
But her father's grip was steel. "We have to move!"
Fwish!
The blade whistled through the air—Zhen dropped into a backward lean just in time. The edge clipped through his bangs, strands drifting to the floor as the air itself seemed to split around him.
Faceless slid past, his momentum halted only by the crunch of a blade stabbed into the ground to anchor his stop.
Zhen simply took the small opening.
He surged forward and slammed into the masked attacker, wrapping both arms tightly around his midsection. Fingers locked. Grip tight.
"Damn, you're heavy!" Zhen hissed through clenched teeth, knees bending as he summoned every ounce of strength available.
He hoisted Faceless off the ground—then whipped his weight backward, spine arching, a single grunt caught between clenched teeth—and brought him down into a brutal suplex, slamming the masked figure headfirst into the floor with a bone rattle crack.
Dust spat up. Lights quivered. For a second, just a second, everything was quiet.
Zhen rolled to his feet, lungs clawing for air like he was drowning.
WHAM
He barely managed half a breath before a boot tore through the haze and slammed into his ribs like a heavy ram
Guack!
The sound escaped his throat as he staggered, sliding on blood-slick tiles. A corpse cushioned his stop—its armor clanged behind his foot.
The smoke peeled back like a curtain.
And there, Faceless stood, almost lazy, tilting his head until his neck popped like snapping twigs.
Zhen spat to the side, his hand wrapped around his ribs. "Not even giving me a break, dramatic bastard"
He glanced down—he had no weapon. Nothing to use to defend himself with.
'I should've brought my axe…' he thought as he glanced around.
Then—a gleam of metal. A fallen officer, limbs twisted unnaturally, the glint of something coiled at his back.
"Let me borrow this" his voice rasped, a ghostly murmur that barely broke the air, as if the dead could give permission.
His fingers brushed the wire, still free from blood. The chill of it stung, as if freezing the heat off his skin.
The wire unraveled like a snake, coiling as it slid between his fingers, wrapping around his hands. He twisted it tight, feeling the tautness pull through his palms. The grip dug into his mind, clearing away the fuzz of exhaustion. His sight faded, narrowing down to nothing but the opponent.
Faceless, still motionless, regarded him with an unsettling calm, before shifting his weight. The air thickened. His arms bent, blades twisting, held steady like a mantis.
And then, the stillness shattered.
Faceless moved with a fluid, almost reckless grace, his swords cutting through behind him as he rushed. The screech of metal was harsh, violent, the kinds of noise that made the hair on the back of your neck crawl.
But Zhen didn't flinch.
Instead, his focus solidified. At the last possible instance, the wire snapped up just in time. The impact came like thunder—the twin swords crashing against the thin, near-invisible cord with devastating force. Sparks erupted from the clash, metal grinding against metal in a shriek of pressure.
Zhen's arms trembled from the shock, his muscles screaming as he locked himself in place, every fiber of his being bracing to absorb the impact. His boot dug deeper into the cracked stone beneath him.
But then—Faceless twitched.
With a quick switch of his wrist and a dancer's precision, he brought one blade down harder to hold Zhen's wire in place. And he drew his second sword back—only to swing it low and fast, a horizontal arc meant to slice Zhen open from hip to shoulder along with the air.
Zhen can see it coming.
But he had no way to block.
His hands were tied—literally—with the wire clashing against the first blade. He couldn't just pull away without exposing himself to a lethal blow, and the second sword was already mid swing.
So he didn't block.
He rushed forward.
Almost a blur of movement. Wire screaming against steel. Faceless staggered, caught off guard by the reckless advance—by the sudden disappearance of his target from his blade's path.
Zhen slammed into his midsection shoulder-first. The impact wasn't damaging, but it was enough.
A grunt escaped the mask, more annoyed than pained, and Zhen didn't wait for anything else.
Momentum was his. He rode it like a tide.
The wire danced in his hands like a living thing, slipping from one of his wrists with practiced grace before he snapped it forward, coiling around Faceless' arm in one fluid movement. Tightly securing, before pulling him.
Zhen heaved, lifting the serial killer with a sudden, unnatural strength—then dropped.
He couldn't throw him, taking a mental note at how agile Faceless was.
So he went with a controlled collapse.
Zhen dropped sideways, burdening himself to drop Faceless down with him—his body rushing, torque building, until Faceless' head met the ground like a war drum.
The impact cracked through the floor like lightning.
Zhen exhaled through gritted teeth. The move may have slammed Faceless down, but the shock still rang through his own bones. His knuckles ached. His spine hummed. Pain, real and grounding.
He flipped to his feet immediately.
But the sword already took its course.
It came for his eyes in a red blur, blood-slicked and singing. He twisted just in time, the blade missing by a breath. He spun with the swing, and his leg snapped out—a clean, sharp kick aimed at the masked face. But Faceless already read the rhythm.
The blade stopped, reversed.
An elbow caught Zhen's leg mid-motion, absorbing the strike, redirecting it. But it made him drop his blade. The deflection sent Zhen spinning again, off-balance for a moment—just long enough for another sword to scream upward.
Zhen's body moved before thought—he lashed the wire like a whip, catching the rising blade mid-arc. The wire snapped tight, looped, locked.
And then the deadlock.
Zhen held the wire with both hands, feet digging into cracked stone, arms trembling as he fought against the raw strength pushing back. Faceless struggled as well. The muscles in his arms bulged under the tension, his own blade caught, held by the coiled thread and the will behind it.
Zhen didn't budge.
And neither did Faceless.
The pressure built—tighter, louder. Every breath became a pulse in time with the struggle. He felt the burn in his hands as the wire dug into his flesh, but he fought to keep his ground, teeth gritted against the strain, against the weight of the blade fighting against him.
His crimson eyes locked onto the ocean depths of the ones behind the mask.
—————————————————————————————
[Below the Arena]
While chaos reigned above—cheers twisting into screams, metal tearing through air—below, a different storm brewed.
Korra and the others had managed to barely slip from their binds—not from their own doing, but from the last person they expected.
"So~" came a lazy hum, playful, twisted. "Are we going to fight, or are we just staring?"
Needle stood casually, flipping a knife between her fingers like it was an afterthought. Her eyes never left them—amused, though hidden behind her white-fox mask.
"We got this" The older Ferret stepped forward, shielding Korra. "Go!"
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Fire Ferret #1
"Yeah! Do you Avatar thing" The younger brother added, hesitating just a beat—his eyes darting across the surface, searching for anything he could bend.
Not a lot of earth down here.
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Fire Ferret #2
"Thanks!" Korra called, skimming across the surface, freezing the water beneath her as she glided.
She came to a stop at the pool's center, eyes locking on Amon as he rose toward a waiting blimp above the building.
One last glance at Mako and Bolin—then she dove into the water, twisting into a tight spiral. A vortex erupted beneath her, lifting her skyward in a surge of rushing water.
Below, the Ferret brothers didn't move.
Not yet.
They held their ground, every muscle tense. Across from them, their opponent hadn't so much as blinked.
She just watched.
"I guess you're up to fight now~?" Needle chirped, stretching her arms up with a lazy yawn, the knife still twirling in one hand.
Mako didn't lower his guard.
"What's your angle?" he asked, voice tight. "You tie us up… then let us go the second that guy left"
Needle tilted her head—not mockingly, not cruelly, but with genuine curiosity, like a child pondering a question too big for words. But, her smile never faded.
"Let's say I owe you" she said, casually, as if that explained everything.
Then she stepped back—too far.
Both brothers flinched as she stumbled, a small metal canister slipping from her hand and rolling to a stop.
PHWFFF!
A hiss. Then thick, green smoke exploded outward, swallowing the small space in a pungent cloud.
Gah—!
Koff!
Mako coughed, Bolin waving frantically in front of his face.
"What is this—pepper and sewer water?"
KA-BOOM!
A second blast rocked the chamber, floor trembling beneath their feet. They staggered but held steady, blinking through the haze.
When it cleared, she was already gone.
Now on a different platform, Needle stood wringing water from her skirt, pouting at the mess. A figure with a fractured mask draped a towel over her head, his own frame slouched and bruised. Behind them, a tunnel gaped, half-swallowed by rubble
"Thanks" she said to him, glancing at his rugged appearance. "Yikes. Did he beat you up that bad?"
Faceless gave a silent nod, dropped the towel on her head, and turned without a word—limping toward the tunnel's mouth.
Needle followed, towel now draped around her neck. She paused only to flash the boys a bright, mischievous wave.
"Bye~ Bye~"
And with a hop, she vanished into the shadows.
"We have to go after them" Mako said, already moving toward the edge—
KA—BOOM!
But another explosion thundered through the chamber, and they both stopped cold as the tunnel collapsed in on itself, burying any chance of pursuit beneath twisted debris.
Bolin groaned. "Kinda missed when our problem was rent"
—————————————————————————————
[Rooftops]
Explosions bloomed one after another inside the building, echoing like war drums across the city. Korra clung to the side of an ascending platform, its cabled groaning as it lifted toward the looming blimp above.
She'd already fired a barrage of flames toward Amon—each one missing its mark by inches. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the cable planning to haul herself up, only to pause as she looked down.
A sharp gasp left her lips.
Below, Republic City burned. Ships smoldered in the bay, some capsized, others still sinking. Plumes of smoke curled over wrecked police blimps, their steel skeletons twisted and scattered. The once-proud force of law lay broken across streets and open waters.
And watching it all unfold—was the mastermind of everything—the man behind the mask.
AMON
AGE: ???
STATUS: Equalist Leader
He stood at the open hatch of the blimp, hands clasped behind his back, unmoved by the chaos outside. The wind tugged at the edges of his coat, but his silhouette remained still.
Behind him, the floor shook with each heavy step. The presence of metal and smoke was anything but calm, though the voice that followed tried to be.
Behind him, a figure trembled the floor with each step, though appearing nonchalant, Amon could feel him buzzing.
"Can I finally do it?" The tone was flat, but the hiss of steam and the fog rolling from his mask betrayed the excitement boiling beneath. They were practically buzzing.
"STEAM"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Eager
Amon didn't turn, but his eyes narrowed slightly at the anticipation radiating beside him.
"Fine" he said coolly. "But we still need you for what comes next"
Then, with an uncharacteristic gesture, he pivoted, placing a hand on Steam's shoulder.
"Don't get caught"
Steam hissed a sharp breath, valves groaning with anticipation. He nodded once, exhaling through the slits in his mask like a pressure release.
"Finally"
And then—he launched.
A blur of metal and fury, Steam hurled himself toward the rising platform like a torpedo.
"Give me a fight! Avatar!" he roared, barreling through smoke and cable lines.
Korra barely registered the voice before she was hit. His arm crashed into her midsection like a piston, lifting her off her feet and dragging her with him off the platform.
A burst of steam flared from his elbow as he whipped her through the air—then slammed her downward.
Ack—!
She crashed against the skylight in a shower of fractured light and glass, breath torn from her lungs. Her body skipped across the glass pane before skidding to a stop. Hair clung to her face, tangling. Beneath her, the glass groaned, a spiderweb of cracks blooming around.
She tried to stand.
Before she could breath—before she could even let out her voice—a thunderous crack split the air as Steam landed in front of her. The impact buckled the surface, sending fresh shards skittering in every direction.
"You're mine!" He spat, and charged—again.
Smoke hissed from beneath his robes, shrouding his charge in a cloak of pressure and vapor.
Korra barely managed to raise her guard when he closed in, elbow cocked like a piston.
FWIP
His motion hit a snag.
"Huh? What the—" he snarled, chest snapping back as wire constricted across his torso.
It didn't pull him far—his weight was too much—but it jarred his rhythm. A tether dragged taut from somewhere else, trembling with tension.
At the other end, Lin Beifong anchored herself as best as she could on the fragile rooftop, cable wrapped tight in her bracers, shoulder pulled with the weight of heavy resistance, like she was trying to move solid rock.
Sparks danced at the tension point, matching Steam's violent hiss. The glass below whined with every shift of her stance, threatening to give at any second.
But too much focus breeds blind spots.
A sudden jolt—electricity tore through her armor like a bolt of lightning through a tree. The baton struck clean, and Lin crumpled to one knee with a hiss between her teeth. The cable went loose.
Steam staggered from the sudden loss of resistance, thrown slightly off balance. But only slightly. His own weight held him steady.
The Lieutenant stood over Lin, baton spinning once with the ease of overconfidence.
"You are an obstacle" the Lieutenant announced, calm and theatrical.
Then: fire.
A blast split the air—raw heat tearing across the rooftop like a wall. The Lieutenant flinched, arm up to shield his face as flame washed past.
Korra rode the fire forward—no theatrics, no words, just straight to action. She dropped beside Lin, heels hissing on glass, pivoted, and whipped into a wheel kick. Flame chased her foot in an arc, a blaze meant to push, not burn.
The Lieutenant caught the cue a breath too early and jerked back, fire brushing past his uniform.
He steadied himself, calculated, then made his call. Two-on-one wasn't in his favor. He drifted back, drawing Korra with him, leading her away—anything to split their advantage.
"Steam" he called over, commanding. "Get the Chief"
But Steam wasn't listening.
His breath stuttered, ragged through his mask. Hissing vents flared at the sides of his face, fogging the air. Every part of him seemed to swell on smoke and heat, the anger escaping him faster than his words could.
He didn't speak—he barked. "I was promised the Avatar!"
Then he exploded forward.
Gears groaned in his legs as pressure drove him ahead, trails of steam erupting in his wake. He was a cannonball, already shot.
And just before he reached Korra and the Lieutenant—
CRACK
A cable snapped out like a whip, slicing the air with a note sharp enough to grab his attention.
Steam's movement stalled—not from force, but pulled to the moment by something more… primal.
Recognition.
Lin was already in motion, a blur of intent and iron. One hand coiled the cable, snapping it back to her wrist. Her lips tasted iron, her armor felt hot. Yet there was no doubt in her step. She was still in this.
Steam's mouth curled beneath his mask—a grin that barely managed to contain his growing excitement. "Fine! You're strong indeed!"
His elbow cocked back—then the hiss.
A high-pitched whine of pressurized hydraulics screamed in his arm as it snapped forward. The force alone bent the air around it, enough that Lin felt it before it even shot out.
But Lin wasn't stupid.
It was a blow she couldn't afford to meet head-on.
In the span of a heartbeat, she leaped over his head, the wind rushing beneath her as she spun—fists aimed down. The cables launched from her hands, wrapping around his arm and cinching across his torso like a snake snaring its prey.
Her feet hit the ground in a controlled roll as she yanked, tightening the cables around Steam's torso. One limb bound. But there was too little space between them. Steam's other arm remained free, and even now, he was preparing a blow.
Again, the familiar whirr of gears hummed loudly through the air, followed by the unmistakable hiss of pressure building. Lin felt the heat before she even saw it—the flicker of movement, the rush of metal.
Steam's fist shot out like a hammer, a blur of motion, too fast, too powerful. It was close enough for her to feel the searing heat radiate from it—close enough for her to feel the force from the air.
Lin's instincts screamed at her to move, but the cables wrapped around him tethered her in place, her arms were locked—straining to keep him still. There was no room to dodge, no time to react.
The impact would be brutal, and in that split second, as the fist neared her face, Lin felt her pulse skip.
They say when death looms near, time slows—each second stretching as the mind goes into overdrive, sensing everything it normally overlooks. That heightened awareness, that sharp clarity, is enough to notice things you never expected.
And in Lin's case, just before the blow could land, her eyes caught a movement. A shadow in the corner of her vision. Someone—someone she wasn't expecting to see.
—————————————————————————————
[Somewhere else]
The chaos erupted from every direction—explosions thudding like war drums, sirens wailing, blimps trailing smoke as they sank into the waters like wounded beasts.
And somewhere far from the center of it all.
BAM!
A metal door slammed open.
Koff!
Zhen stumbled out, coughing in the bitter air. His clothes hung in shredded tatters, his arms and chest burnt with the sting of cuts, blood mixing with soot. A length of wire coiled around one hand like a serpent refusing to let go, while the other clutched a chipped blade.
He braced against the railing, struggling to breathe, the wind ripping through him.
"Where am I?" he questioned, eyes scanning the world unraveling below.
Yes, he was lost the entire damn time.
After his clash with Faceless he'd managed to escape. Only to end up wandering the smoke-filled halls and ruined catwalks, unsure which part of the building he was in. It was only now, as the air hit him, that he realized the answer.
He looked up.
One of the pro-bending arena's towers. He was on one of the four outer spires, barely above the shattered glass roofing that used to glow over the arena lights. Not it flickered with fire, fractured and smoking—like the rest of the building.
And then he saw them.
Two silhouettes tumbled through the smoke, falling from the side of an Equalist blimp. Crashing onto the roof with an audible crack.
His heart kicked. His voice tore from him. "Avatar!"
But she was too far to hear.
And he was too far to reach.
One glance told him that much—it might as well have been another building.
He stepped onto the railing without much thought and jumped back toward the tower wall, climbing. Fingers scraped raw against cold stone and metal. The cold bit deep, and blood slicked his grip, but he climbed anyway—because he had to.
When he reached the top, breath ragged and limbs shaking, someone had already aided her.
Chief Beifong.
She was holding her own—barely—tangling one of the Equalists in her cables. But she was weakened, stumbling. Slower than she should be.
They didn't exactly get along. Lin Beifong didn't trust him. Never had. Never would. But that didn't matter. She was Korra's ally, so she was his… for now.
Zhen moved fast, tying the frayed metal wire around his bleeding forearm to a rusted pole jutting out from the tower. His fingers trembled—numb from the cold. His grip on the sword was failing.
So he reversed it—blade over his shoulder, elbow cocked, spine tensing to draw every last bit of force from his body.
"Alright…" he muttered under mist, eyes narrowing. " Just like hunting…"
He closed his left eye. It didn't help. His vision swam, barely more than shapes in flame and shadow. He couldn't see details—just outlines.
Didn't matter.
He didn't need it to hit someone.
He just needed it to land toward them.
Zhen exhaled.
Let instinct take the shot.
And threw.
—————————————————————————————
[Rooftops]
They say when you're about to die, your senses kick into overdrive.
And just as Lin was about to receive the full force of Steam's fist, his senses flared first—
A crushing pressure in the air.
A static voice crackling in his earpiece
A sudden breeze colder than it had any right to be.
Before his brain could catch up, his body was already reacting—jerking sideways, instinct pulling him away from an unseen threat.
Clunk
Steel kissed his ribs—a blur of motion slicing past, severing the cables wrapped around his torso. The weapon slammed into the glass just inches from Lin, embedding itself halfway through the rooftop.
Steam staggered, eyes flashing toward the blade now humming in place.
"What in the—?" he growled, twisting.
But there was no time to finish the thought.
Crrrrk—
Beneath his feet, the glass groaned.
And then it cracked.
TSSSSH!
Steam launched himself back, boots skidding over solid footing. But then, in a moment that made no tactical sense, he twisted mid-air, grabbed Lin by the collar, and yanked her with him—just seconds before the rooftop shattered beneath them.
They landed hard, but safe.
"I got it. I got it" he muttered, pressing a finger to his earpiece. Then turned to Lin, offering a lopsided grin beneath his mask. "Next time… I'll get you"
Foom!
A sudden burst of fog hissed from his robes, engulfing the rooftop in white-out smoke. Lin shielded her eyes, coughing.
When the smoke cleared, he was already ascending—standing atop one of the rising platforms headed back to the blimp, looming over the sky.
She snapped her wrists forward, metal cables launching from her bracers. They latched onto the cables of the rising platform and pulled taut as she reeled herself in. She wasn't about to let a fugitive go on her watch. Not when she finally had someone this high up their rankings.
But it was as if the world never cared for timing.
AHHHH!
Lin's head whipped toward the sound. Korra—just visible through the fractured glass beneath her—was falling.
The Avatar managed to best the Lieutenant and sent him flying into the sea, but her landing betrayed her. The rooftop caved beneath her feet.
For a breath, Lin hesitated—her only lead to the enemy, or the Avatar herself?
Then a voice snapped her thought.
"—tar!"
Distant. Desperate.
"SAVE THE AVATAR, YOU RUST-BOLTED RELIC!" Zhen's scream carried from one of the towers, his body hanging loosely from the top of its pole, barely holding himself up. "SAVE KORRA!"
Lin looked at him—just for a second—and saw the fire in his eyes.
Then she looked down.
She severed the cables to the platform in one swift click, diving headfirst through the broken rooftop. Her bracers flared as she launched fresh lines mid-air, catching onto the steel beams around the glass and flinging herself through the wreckage, racing toward Korra.
Because her job isn't just catching criminals.
It's saving people.
She dove headfirst into the smoke.
The air was thick with ash and echoes of explosions. Below, through the haze, Liz spotted her—Korra, flailing as gravity pulled her through the wreckage.
Lin's gauntlets hissed to life. One cable fired high, slicing through an Equalist banner and catching on a steel beam far across. The other shot down—straight toward Korra.
The young Avatar saw it just in time. Her hands clamped around the wire, knuckles white as they swung in a sharp arc across the arena.
She hit the ground hard, rolling with the impact. Lin landed in a crouch, recalling her cables with a sharp snap.
"You alright?" Lin reached out.
Korra winced, but took the hand, pulling herself up. "I'm fine—thanks to you"
"Don't mention it, kid" Lin glanced up through the shattered roof, watching the Equalist blimp rise higher into the sky. Her jaw tightened. "Looks like we lost this one"
"Korra!"
The breath hadn't even fully left Lin's mouth before voices called out.
Mako sprinted across the debris-strewn floor, eyes wide, chest heaving. Without hesitating, he wrapped Korra in his arms, gripping her like she might vanish. When he pulled back, his hands stayed on her shoulders, grounding himself in her presence.
"I'm so glad you're okay" he said, his voice breaking slightly.
"Me too!" Bolin barreled in, his face splitting into a relieved, almost tearful grin as he wrapped them both into a second hug.
Korra tried to smile, but it was faint. The adrenaline was fading, and the weight of what they'd just survived was settling in her chest like stone.
Nearby, Tenzin approached Lin, his presence giving her a sense of comfort. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. She didn't flinch, she glanced toward him.
"I can't believe Amon did this" she muttered, barely more than a breath. "I played right into his hand"
Tenzin shook his head, his gaze heavy with guilt of his own.
"He played us all" he said. "Republic City… is at war"
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Together, they looked to the center of the arena—still smoldering, the very heart of the city's spectacle turned into a battleground. It was where Amon had stood. Where his words had shaken the bending world. Where he declared his intentions.
And where they'd tasted the bitter truth"
This was much bigger than they thought.
—————————————————————————————
[Hours Later]
The chaos had settled, but the damage lingered like smoke in the lungs. What few officers remained trudged through the ash and twisted metal, combing the wreckage for survivors and sweeping the arena for any signs of lingering enemies.
"Seems like they infiltrated deep within our ranks, Chief" a weary officer reported, limping up to Lin as she oversaw the recovery efforts. "Even headquarters took heavy damage"
Lin didn't respond right away. Her eyes swept the front of the building—injured civilians, crumbling debris, the remnants of the probending arena.
Her fists clenched.
"Put every non-bending detective we have on standby" she ordered. "And I want every officer evaluated—if they've got bending, I want it confirmed. No more half-assery"
She wanted to curse, to scream, to break something. Someone. But all she could do for now was hold the line.
Korra emerged from the Arena ruins atop Naga, her posture slumped with exhaustion, eyes hollow with guilt. Dust clung to her skin, and faint bruises marked her arms.
"I can't believe Amon managed to pull all this off" she muttered, dismounting slowly. Her voice wavered, low and bitter.
But beneath that disbelief was something heavier—guilt. The kind that clung to her bones. She'd insisted on keeping the championship going, convinced she could handle it. Convinced she had to prove something. And now?
Now the arena was in ruins. Innocents were hurt. And she'd ignored the warning signs.
Tenzin joined them, his robes soot-streaked, speaking quietly as he stepped beside Lin.
"We questioned a few of the captives" he said quietly. "From what we gathered… infiltrating the police force wasn't even part of Amon's original plan"
Lin turned to him sharply, her jaw clenched tight enough to ache. "So what—you're telling me half my men are missing, maybe dead, and it wasn't even part of some brilliant master plan?"
Her voice cracked—not with weakness, but with restrained fury. She was offended. She was angry, not just for herself. She was furious for the people who served under her, who disappeared without her ever knowing until now.
Tenzin shook his head solemnly.
"They kept repeating the same thing. A man in a broken mask gave the order—said their job was to keep the police force in the dark of their activities. It seemed as if tonight's attack simply gave them an advantage because of this"
"Any leads on who that man is?" Korra asked, her exhaustion giving way to a sharp, focused edge.
Lin exhaled slowly through her nose. "None. But if I had to guess… he might be the serial killer we've been chasing for the past year"
Tenzin furrowed his brow. "That deranged killer who's been targeting the Triads?"
Before he could say more, a new voice joined in.
"I heard about that guy" Mako approached with Bolin at his side. His expression was tight, cautious. "Word is he's been carving through the Triple Threat Triads—leaving their bodies arranged like… art pieces"
"Yeah, super creepy stuff" Bolin added, eyes wide as he made a ghost impression. "I heard their bodies get all… sliced up"
Lin brought a hand to her chin, recalling something.
"Cuts…"
Without a word, she spun on her heel and walked off.
The others, confused, followed behind. No one said anything, unsure if they were even meant to—or if Lin even wanted them to follow her. But something in her stride told them there was something she wanted them to know.
Eventually, they arrived beside a parked ambulance, its back doors left slightly ajar.
Lin stopped at a stretcher beside it, where a sheet-covered body lay on a wheeled gurney. She looked back at the group with a grave expression.
"It's better if you close your eyes kids" she warned, her hand resting on the edge of the cloth.
No one spoke—just a series of quiet nods.
With a slow, steady motion, she pulled the sheet back.
And Bolin was the first to react.
"Nope! Nope—I can't—!" he stumbled away, gagging, before throwing up behind the ambulance, his whole body recoiling in shock.
Even the others flinched.
The body was arranged like a twisted exhibit—head propped delicately atop the chest, eyes still open in a glassy stare. Thin metal needles protruded from their arms, ribs, and neck like pins in a doll. The expression locked in pain… and behind their lifeless eyes. Fear.
But what truly made their blood run cold was recognition.
"...Tahno" Korra whispered, barely breathing.
The flamboyant waterbender, the arrogant leader of the Wolf Bats, and the four time champion of the Probending tournament. They'd seen him humiliated by Amon—his bending stripped on stage—and then thrown off the arena platform helplessly.
"His other buddies are in similar conditions" Lin said grimly, gesturing toward two more bodies under white sheets nearby.
Her tone was flat, but her eyes burned with quiet rage.
Mako took a step back, still staring at Tahno's mutilated form.
"I don't get it" Mako muttered, struggling to make sense of the scene. "Amon made a point of taking bendings, not lives"
"Which is exactly the problem" Tenzin stepped forward, his jaw tight. "This wasn't Amon"
He looked to Lin, then back at others.
"There's a fracture within the Equalists" he continued. "Someone inside the movement… isn't following orders"
Lin folded the sheet back over Tahno's corpse, her hands moving slower than usual.
"If my guess is right" she said, turning back to them. "This other masked freak is far more dangerous than Amon"
Behind everyone, Bolin finished releasing all his dinner—and possibly last night's as well—still trembling, pale with nausea.
Lin's eyes snapped to the Ferret brothers. Her voice shifted to a more commanding tone.
"You two saw him down there, right? I want everything you've got. Height, build, how he moved—anything that stands out. We need a lead"
Mako gave a short nod, still processing.
"If he's the one who slaughtered and had my officers replaced" Lin's voice dropped to a dark, quiet promise. "Then I'm going to make sure he answers for every life he took"
"We didn't get a good look at him" Mako admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "He just… showed up, grabbed his partner and left"
"Yeah, he was tall" Bolin tried to recall more, though his hand gestures made it seem like he was exaggerating. "Wore a hood. Had a sword. Oh—and he looked messed up, like he just got out of a serious fight"
Mako's eyes widened slightly as it clicked. "Right. He was limping, blood on his shoulder. Looked like he barely got out of something alive"
Lin's jaw clenched.
"So he's injured" her tone shifted—urgent, almost frustrated. "Then someone fought him. Someone who might've seen his face, or how he fights—anything we can use. Who was it?"
Mako and Bolin exchanged blank looks and shrugged helplessly.
Lin was just about to move on when another voice joined the circle
"It was Zhen"
Everyone turned as Asami approached, Hiroshi trailing just behind her.
"Asami!" Mako's eyes lit up with relief.
Without thinking, he rushed forward and pulled her in a tight embrace.
She returned it immediately, her hand gripping the back of his coat like she'd been holding her breath this whole time.
"You're safe" Mako murmured, as if saying it made it real.
"Yeah" Asami replied quietly, her gaze soft but distant. "We ran into that masked guy while escaping. Zhen… he stayed behind to hold him off so we could get out"
Asami's eyes flickered to her father, sharp with unspoken words, a flash of anger barely hidden behind her facade.
Hiroshi noticed the look, and he didn't flinch.
"I prioritized your safety, my daughter" Hiroshi said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Zhen understood that. Being angry at me doesn't change the facts"
Asami opened her mouth, but the weight of his words stopped her. Deep inside she knew there was nothing else they could do to help. Instead, she simply turned back to the group.
"If you want answers about that masked killer, your best bet is Zhen" Hiroshi added, his gaze now shifting between them.
Then, as if realization had just struck all at once, Korra's voice cut through the air, her concern immediate.
"Wait… where is Zhen?"
—————————————————————————————
[Meanwhile]
Perched atop the wind-beaten tower, Zhen sat hunched over, shivering beneath torn fabric and blood-stiff wounds. The cold bit into his skin like knives. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only the sting of his wounds and the numb ache of exhaustion.
He stared up at the darkening sky, watching the Equalist blimp shrink into a distant dot.
"...How do I get back down?" he muttered, brows furrowing.
The tower groaned under the breeze. With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet, fumbling with the wire tied to his wrist. The cold made his finger clumsy, and the wind tugged at him like it wanted to rip him from the ledge.
When the knot finally slipped loose, he stumbled forward—and immediately slipped down the slope of the tower's slanted roof.
Whoa—!
He hit the floor hard, skidding until the rusted railing caught him with a jarring stop to the ribs.
He wheezed.
"Thank you, architecture" he whispered through gritted teeth.
His sense of direction—or lack thereof—was something even he had long accepted as hopeless. But instead of waiting for help, or doing the reasonable thing and staying put to wait for help.
He turned to the broken door and slipped back into the building.
It would be a couple hours before patrolling officers found him.
Wandering half-conscious through the ruined catwalks and empty halls.
A couple more and he would've been mistaken for a spirit.
End