Chapter Text

Republic City Police overturned every shipping crate, opened every garage, searched every factory in the city limits. Nothing was found out of the ordinary. The caravan packed up at the second factory, and Asami realized she had no clue where to even begin looking for a connection between her father and Amon. Even if she were hoping to find one.

Night was falling; the police would lose any sense of traction fast as it got darker. Four warehouses had proven to be completely legitimate operations. Hours and hours had been spent on their feet.

Mako and Korra were bickering in the distance. They had been at each other’s throats all day. Undermining each other’s suggestions, throwing glances and glares with each failed search. Asami couldn’t hear most of the argument, but the word ‘jealous’ caught her ear. She tried to ignore it.

Words got sharper, more heated, and Asami stepped up to intercede. “Are we good?”

They stepped back from each other in a tense silence. Korra wouldn’t meet her eyes, but Mako threw his arm over Asami’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he grumbled, leading them back towards the car.

At the roadster, Asami watched the police pack up their trucks. Mako blew a sharp exhale from his nose. “I’m sorry about all this,” he muttered. “We’re wasting everyone’s time. Korra made a mistake and just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I’m not mad at her,” Asami sighed. In the distance, Korra was re-seating Naga’s saddle, grimacing. “The whole city is staring. They expect Korra to fix this all by herself.”

Sato Industries employees and Republic City detectives darted back and forth across the factory courtyard. Asami scanned their faces. Too many to keep track.

“You want to head back to the house?” Mako asked.

Chewing her bottom lip, Asami watched the frown deepen on Korra’s face. The Avatar had found the truth, had made the connection she needed to stop Amon’s crusade. But she stood alone. No one believed that Hiroshi Sato, man of industry and upstanding citizen, was in league with the Equalists and trying to overthrow the city. They’d sold their lies well.

Mako nudged her with a foot. “You okay?”

“Maybe...you should get out of the house a little tonight,” Asami said. “Take your brother out to eat. I can make a reservation for you, get you in just about anywhere.”

“What about you?”

“I can keep myself busy,” she said. Movement flashed at the corner of her eye; a warehouse worker had stumbled into Korra. “You’ve spent more time with me than Bolin since you moved in. I don’t want to get in the way of family.”

“You’re never in the way,” Mako smiled.

“Still…” Asami rubbed at her arms. Ahead, Korra was apologizing for the collision like it had been her fault.

Mako squeezed Asami’s hand a little. “Your dad’s that angry, huh?”

“Just give him some space,” she said, kissing his cheek. “That’s my plan.” Her smile was gentle, but her eyes stayed sharp on the Avatar. The worker wandered - or rather, fled - towards the police barricade, leaving Korra staring at a crumpled piece of paper.

After silently reading the note, Korra searched for the messenger. He had disappeared into a loading truck. Tenzin and Beifong were right behind her, talking low amongst themselves, but Korra said nothing.

Hiroshi’s orders had been to ‘ Get her alone .’

The note must have instructed Korra to keep it to herself. The Equalists were dangling a carrot she couldn’t resist.

Tell them , Asami prayed. Be smart Korra, tell them .

The Avatar shoved the paper into her pocket and resumed working on Naga’s harness.

The mouthpiece in the mask smelled of old blood. Asami bit back the impulse to gag, focusing instead on the back of Korra’s head. The late night was a bright sickly shade of green.

The warehouse stretched out like a labyrinth. Corridors wound around corridors. Asami kept her distance, silently watching from the balcony as Korra paced the factory floor.

Be present. Be patient. Take refuge in the crowd. Find your path in darkness.

Fifteen years of training had prepared her. Principles drilled into her, so that now she could trail an Avatar across a city without being seen. Watching from the shadows, though, being patient : those were not coming easily. Slow, deliberate breaths through her mask were not bringing her heart down from her throat.

Asami ducked into an administrator’s office at the slight twitch in Korra’s shoulder. She couldn’t risk being found. If the trap had been set, springing it early could cause chaos. Driving the Avatar out into the streets would risk civilian casualties. Asami would not have that on her conscience, too.

Slipping into a doorway connecting the next office, Asami found two emerald lenses staring back at her, unblinking, from beside a desk. The world went deathly quiet, and they both froze. Asami lifted her hands, palms out. Easy, now . Silently, the Equalist scout - he wore no combat glove - looked her up and down.

The unmarked jumpsuit would protect Sato Industries, the loose gray fabric would give her movement and hide her curves, but it wasn’t perfect. In the dark, or with the monochrome green of the Equalist’s vision, it might pass. The mask was the vital piece.

A long breath, then the scout shrugged at her, cocking his head a bit. What are you doing in here? he seemed to ask. Asami shrugged back, pulse booming in her ears.

The soldiers would wait for a signal. Would Korra actually meet a dummy informant, or would they strike at her quick, with no fanfare? How did they plan to subdue her? What were the contingencies that Hiroshi had spoken of? There was no way to be sure how many Equalists were here in the factory already. How many were laying in wait outside.

The scout turned back to the door, watching Korra below. Strapped to Asami’s back, her homemade Equalist baton dug between her shoulder blades with more weight than she would have liked. She didn’t turn on the stunner function as she slipped it out of its sheath. Even fully charged, it only had enough juice built up in its battery cells for one good hit. Needed to make it count. She lifted it above her head to strike a blow to the back of his neck. If she kept it quick, she could recover from the noise and find another...

Her motion cast a shadow on the wall. The scout dove from her in the second of air time and Asami struck against the desk. A painful vibration hit her hands. Her gloves softened it to a sting, and she was back up swinging. Too late for quiet. End it quick. She lunged at his head.

The scout leapt and rolled, diving from her stunner swings. Too damn fast. Asami threw a kick at him and missed. He twisted on the ground, throwing out a leg to catch her. Asami slammed back against the wall, dodging the boot aimed at her solar plexus. The scout scrambled to his feet in time to see Asami charge, her baton raised. He slid back from the blow.

She pivoted on her boot and in less than a second had dove into his body, shoulder first. Fifteen years of training had emboldened her. Her opponent had no time to center himself, no time to react with so little space between them. In a sparring match, she would have aimed for the ground, bringing him down to grapple with. But with one hand gripping her stunner and the other clenching a fistful of his uniform, Asami pressed forward and rammed them both through the large window.

Glass shattered, and together they plummeted out into the alley below.

The fall was fast and loud. Asami hit the concrete and the scout cushioned her impact with a howl and the cracking of bones. Her mask had twisted, plunging her into dark. She took a heavy breath. Nothing happened. Asami’s chest seized and she jerked away, finding her head pinned down.

The Equalist's fingers tensed around the pipes on Asami’s mask, holding them in a vice-like grip. He groaned beneath her.

Asami frantically pulled at the mask. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out. Had to find air. Digging her boots into the man’s legs, Asami twisted her body and yanked her face out. She rolled away from him, landing on her back a few feet from the shattered man. The stars were bright and spinning above, her lungs viced tight. Fifteen years of training had tempered her. Let go of the tension , she whispered to her starving chest, this will pass.

The air returned to her, cold against her bare face, and it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted.

Turning her head, she found the Equalist glaring at her, reaching out with a trembling hand. “You,” he rasped out. His broken body crumpled into a coughing fit, and he moaned. Asami caught the shine of a blade in his bloody fist before he swung out at her.

Asami scrambled to her feet, kicking him in the head. The blow threw him back against the concrete, and the knife went flying. The scout scrambled backwards and glanced around, sucking in air. “IT’S THE SA-”

Asami’s boot pressed into his throat, cutting off his air. “...gi...gir...rl…” he wheezed. She glared into the green glass in front of his eyes, stepping down harder. Cutting off his airway. His hands trembled against her ankle, losing grip. He couldn’t speak if he wasn’t conscious. Asami held her boot firmly against his windpipe, feeling him going limp. There would only be a moment more of struggle.

‘It's the Sato girl,’ he was going to say.

She took a slow deep breath as the man’s entire body sagged. He was out.

If the Equalist woke up, he would call her out by name.

Asami would have taken another moment, would have hesitated for an instant more, if shouts and clanging had not begun to echo through the factory halls. She rocked her full weight forward onto his neck. Twisting her boot heel, digging in. Asami felt a crunch.

Debris fell from above, and the sound echoed in the alleyway. Her gaze shot to the shattered window, expecting a dozen green lenses bearing down on her. Amon and his soldiers did not suffer betrayal.

Shadows obscured the view, but after a moment, Asami found only the whites of Korra’s eyes.