Chapter Text
Asami coughed. She held her throat as the serum scratched its way down her esophagus and settled in her stomach against her will. As she grabbed at her pale neck, she realized how bare she felt without the familiar weight of her silver necklace, despite the thick clothes on her.
There was also something else that Asami couldn’t comprehend. She couldn’t understand what the hell just happened to her. The shifter just sat down in front of her and she completely blanked out. The next thing Asami knew was that her hand had gotten a mind of its own and her mouth consented to letting the serum past her lips.
And cyan. An electric blue that glowed on the backdrop of her dark skin. Asami couldn’t get it out of her head.
Asami was sweating. It was only a matter of time until the serum started to work. She was minutes away from handing the shifters all sorts of information. She didn’t know what they wanted specifically; maybe the numbers of their hunters. Or any future plans for the industry. They would find out about the new darts.
If she ever managed to make it out of here alive, she would be labelled a traitor.
So the minutes passed. Tonraq stood to Asami’s right, silent and stone faced. Kora slouched in a chair and rubbed her temples in circles. Asami built up defenses on the foundation weakened by poison. It was all she could do to keep up the pretense that she wasn’t going to break to the shifters.
Asami stared at the ground in front of her. It wasn’t special; it just held boot shaped imprints from the chief’s pacing. But as Asami looked closer, she realized there was something strange about it.
It moved. Unrealistically and sluggishly it warped into a deformity of its original shape.
Asami blinked and shook her head. The minute movement caused her to shoot a hand out to balance herself.
The chief spared her a side glance. “Feeling okay?”
Asami gritted her teeth. “I’m not.” She snapped.
The hunter froze.What she was thinking of saying was completely different from what she just said. She meant to snap that she was fine, not that she wasn’t. The revelation of how much control the serum had over her was terrifying, to say the least.
Wordlessly, the chief turned to face her. He towered over her from where she was on the ground, an imposing figure. “Good. Now we can start.”
Asami’s breathing rate picked up as he sat on the ground in front of her, like the previous shifter. She shut her eyes tightly and refused to look at him. His resonating voice commanded. “Look at me.”
The hunter flinched as she opened her eyes and met steel grey too fast for her liking. “Now tell me,” The chief placed a hand on each knee. “how has the hunting industry been doing lately?”
Asami gritted her teeth. There was no way she would do this. She couldn’t let a serum that renders higher cognitive functions useless hand the shifter answers on a silver platter. She just couldn’t.
Her argument sounded petty and laughable even to herself.
“Fine.” Asami bit her tongue with as much force as she could manage which, for some reason, wasn’t hard enough.
“Give me some details.” The chief propped his head in a hand. “How many new recruits for the year? Increase or decline?”
Asami scoffed. “Recruits? That’s what you call them? It’s just a hunting party. Y’know, ‘hey, wanna go to the south with me?’ ‘Heck yeah let’s head on down!’ Recruits?” Asami snorted. “C’mon, we aren’t the military.”
Tonraq just pursed his lips. “So how is Future Industries?”
“Never been better.” Asami muttered dryly. “Our sales have been completely unaffected by Activists, somehow. You’d think that all of Tenzin’s campaigning would yield some results.” Asami glanced up at Tonraq’s steely eyes. “I still can’t believe there are people willing to defend you in Republic City, despite knowing so little of what you are.”
“And what exactly are we, hunter?”
“Animals.”
Tonraq’s features turned cold, and despite the courage her defiance gave her, a chill crept down her spine.
“Give her five days, dad.” Korra spoke from behind her. The chief just collected himself with a sigh, and continued with his questions.
“Have you been working on any new weapons?”
Asami swallowed. “Yes.” She shook her head, and her sense of balance failed her once again.
“What is it?” He inquired. His hand retreated back to his side as she righted herself. “A new type of gun?”
“I was working on a silencer for the rifles yesterday. And dad had a prototype of a sleep dart that still needs a lot of work.” Asami felt like bashing her head into the ground.
“A sleep dart?”
“Something for our more fancy buyers. The Eastern Queen likes her meat fresh you see.”
Asami smiled at the chief’s unease, glad to have shaken him like that. If she was going to serve them answers she would make sure to add extra bite at least.
Asami closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry. That, and everything she looked at was warped. Twisted, elongated, shrunk, nothing stayed the same. Not the contraptions, not the burly shifter, not her trembling hands.
Asami shut her eyes again. She tried taking even breaths. And when she opened her eyes again, she saw nothing. Just a vast, black emptiness consisting of herself, her chain and her cuff.
But no, she wasn’t alone. As she looked straight ahead, she saw someone. A woman, just like her, but older. This woman was battered and bruised, with her coat and skin torn and hanging open. Her eyes were gaunt, and almost looked like frozen, green colored ice. Her hair was matted with blood. Her mouth was parted ever so slightly, and her red coated chest heaved silent, ragged breaths.
Asami wasn’t just shaking; she quaked like fits had seized her body. This wasn’t right. Her mother’s body was in a grave, resting, not standing in front of her. This was very wrong.
“Asami?” Yasuko spoke, with scarlet liquid dripping out of her mouth like it did off the canines of the shifter that sunk its teeth into her. It was a voice Asami had missed for too many years. She’d almost forgotten its sweet, warm lilt, the motherly affection in her tone she kept close to her heart like a secret. On more than one occasion, she could only remember the shrills of agony mixed with her own cries of desperation. Asami felt like crying at the one utterance.
“You haven’t avenged me yet?”
Asami fell. She fell as if the hand keeping her aloft had just carelessly let go of her and left gravity to pull her to the never ending abyss of black as her mother watched on with empty eyes.
Asami fell, but she didn’t hit anything. She was standing in the middle of a room filled with trim fur coats on old men with scarred skin, and they loomed over her like she was eight years old again. Their narrowed eyes and upturned noses were things of her distant memories; looks of low expectations. The whispers rang out loud and clear, each under their own breath.
“What a disappointment.”
“She’s wasted effort.”
“Hiroshi raised a fool.”
The whispers didn’t stop. They intensified in their creativity and volume, until the mixed into an ugly cacophony of truths and predictions of her failures and shortcomings. Of their triumphs under the most dire of circumstances. Of her weakness and incompetence for not living up to their standards.
Asami hated it. She’d poured her blood, sweat and tears into disproving them. Years of hard work and surpassing benchmarks with the hideous background noise of negative hypotheses haunting her all the way, and it amounted to nothing more than a shameful loss that was her fault.
The burning smell of cigar smoke grabbed Asami’s throat and throttled her. She hated that as well. She’d smell it as they entered the room. It accompanied their tuts and tisks at whatever she was doing, followed by those godawful puffs of smoke. The smoke meant judgement. She hated the smoke.
So it choked her. The grey clouds blurred her vision and burned her eyes as the orange glows tinted their glares and she coughed and hacked so wildly. She fell to the ground, covered her mouth and still breathed in nothing but smoke. But just before her eyes rolled into the back of her head from lack of oxygen, a figure approached and crouched in front of her. Familiar, salt and pepper hair and gold framed glasses.
The look in her father’s eyes was unreadable; his emotions unclear if not for his words.
“You are a failure.”
Asami gasped. She inhaled crisp, cold air as if the smoke never existed. The snowflakes fell all along the white ground, dusted her cheeks and melted on the tip of her nose. She was in the playground. The one outside the estate, with more hiding places, like boulders and trees.
A gleeful little laugh filled the air. High pitched and so happy. The sound of compacted snow hitting bark instead of a body followed it. Another laugh; this one belonging to an older person. “You’ll have to try harder than that Asami!” A woman challenged.
“Stay still, mommy!” The little girl stooped to the ground to prepare another snowball. She worked diligently as her mother hid behind a rock. She rose to her feet and cast her eyes about eagerly for her larger target. The mother sprung out from her hiding place in her daughter’s momentary confusion. She threw her own snowball haphazardly, if as softly as she could.
The little girl caught the projectile with her stomach, and fell to the ground with an “oof!”. The playful atmosphere was ruined by the fall, and her mother rushed over. She reached out with tentative hands ready with consoling touches for the girl curled up on the ground. The mother gets a face-full of snow instead of a pained groan. She blinked, surprised, as her daughter burst into a fit of laughter. The mother shook her head disapprovingly with an amused chuckle.
If Asami could ever pinpoint a moment in her life where she felt happiest, this would’ve been it.
And like all good things, it came to an end.
There was a series of noises, not too far away. Deep, echoing growls, loud footfalls, scratching, the thump of something heavy as it collided with another object. Then, a wolf. A very large one, with foam at its mouth and a chest that heaved ragged breaths, eyes that held only hunger and instinct, matted fur that stood on end. It directed a growl towards them.
Asami couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to. She was reliving the worst day of her life in third person, just kneeling in the snow and watching a horror show she knew the ending to. She wanted to scream, move, do something, anything , but it felt like her whole being was actively fighting against her. Asami was reduced to a raging mind caged by a frozen body.
It growled at them, hackles raised so it seemed taller. The air was thick with newfound fear, as the mother stood uncertainly. Her daughter stood behind her, coat held tightly by trembling fists. The combined thudding in their hearts was loud enough to hear, the racing thoughts in the mother’s head seen in the way her eyes flickered about their surroundings. No help.
So the mother reached behind and grabbed her daughter’s shoulder, urged her to slowly back away. Step by step, breath by bated breath, back to the mansion. And the wolf walked with them. It’s steps matched their own, paw by paw, huff by eager huff. The instinctual panic clung to them with an iron grip, only intensified by the starving look in its glazed eyes.
The wolf didn’t even give a warning. Its paws left the ground in favor of its prey. The mother barely had time to push her daughter out of harm’s way, and just a millisecond to hold up her arm so its jaws latched onto that instead of her face. Into the snow they went, a writhing mass of fur and limbs. A deafening scream that followed a sickening crunch. The sound of tearing fabric, breaking bones and pure agony filled the air where laughter once roamed so freely.
The little girl was just left there to witness. To see her beloved mother torn apart by yellow fangs, to look at that blood as it coated its muzzle. Unadulterated horror rooted her to the ground. Held her still as red flowed freely onto the snow. Kept her from doing anything, as impossible as it seemed, to get the beast off her mother.
Then, gunfire. Louder than the screams and echoing. The wolf stopped, as if merely startled from its activity. Then more. Multiple shots all aimed towards the beast. Lighting up the area with bright bursts. The shots buried themselves all along the wolf, until it finally collapsed into the snow next to her mother.
Several men set their rifles at their sides. One dropped his and dashed to the blood soaked body. Her name fell ragged, fearful and broken off his tongue. Disbelieving- no, unwilling to believe what he was seeing.
The little girl finally regained control of her own limbs. She stood with shaky knees and ran towards her mother and father as the former’s ripped chest heaved groans.
She didn’t even reach her mother’s side. Her father gestured to another man, who just went up to her and scooped her up. She screamed, kicked him and pounded his shoulder. She didn’t understand why she was being taken away. But the man just shook his head sadly. “No child should see their parent like that.”
Asami collapsed face first into the snow. Her own verbal protests were held back from being let out. The sobs wracked her body, the cold and pain buried itself in her core. Despite having this nightmare so many times in her past, she was so unprepared for reliving it. It was just as vivid and heart wrenching as the first time.
She’d just wanted to play outside.
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The hunter laid facedown on the ground. Tears fell to the dirt as her shoulders shook and the broken sound of crying permeated the room. Next to Korra, Tonraq scoffed. “‘We weren’t even ten minutes into the interrogation.’”
Korra could feel a small amount of pity for the hunter. She had zoned off with this fearful look and refused to get out of her head no matter how much Tonraq snapped his fingers and shook her shoulders. Now she was crying.
“‘Well it wasn’t pointless.’” Korra pointed out. “‘We know they have new weapons now.’”
Her father began pacing. “‘But what exactly are we supposed to do about that? Dart guns and silencers sound like trouble, and ideas of how to stop them aren’t really coming to mind.’”
Korra placed a hand on his shoulder. “‘We can tell the rest of the council and sort it out there.’” She walked toward the hunter, whose sobbing had lessened slightly. “‘For now, I have a prisoner to carry back and a nap to take.’”
Tonraq hummed in agreement. “‘After last night, you earned it.’” He exited the hut, and left the two.
Korra knelt down to remove the chain from the cuff and pull the hunter to her feet. Upon standing on her own shakily, she yanked her hands away with a slurred. “Hands off, Mako.”
“I’m not your friend.” Korra held the hunter’s arm to guide her out of the hut. She barely took a few steps before almost falling to the ground again. If not for Korra’s tight grip, she would’ve fallen.
“‘Dad didn’t lie when he said loss of coordination, did he?’” The shifter mumbled.
So they tried again. In just two steps, she wasn’t standing anymore.
Korra huffed irritably. They could spend all day doing this. And she wasn’t about to waste her time helping someone with the coordination of a newborn hobble back to the prisons. So what was the next best thing?
To not make the hunter walk at all.
Korra put an arm to the back of the Sato’s legs, one hand at her shoulder and brought her to a horizontal position. The hunter made a noise at being so suddenly moved. She batted and pushed feebly at Korra’s chest. “Put me down.” She groaned weakly.
“No.” Korra deadpanned. She stepped outside.
Korra received an array of looks on her way to the prisons. They ranged from incredulous to disdainful, from confused to disapproving. She paid them no attention. She just wanted to get the hunter back to her cell. Sato’s protests died down eventually, though a frustrated look still adorned her features. She would have a couple more hours before the effects wore off.
The two finally reached the prison. Korra kicked the door a few times to grab the attention of the guard inside. She heard a little shuffling, then the door opened. She stepped inside.
Noon hadn’t arrived just yet, so the prisoners were still in their cells when Korra arrived. The broody one rushed up to Korra as she passed it. He grabbed the bars and stuck his head through. “What did you do to her!?” He growled.
“Who did you allow to bandage your chest?” She noted, and stepped into the empty cell next to his.
His angry expletives filled the air, but she ignored them. She walked over to the bed and set the hunter down, eager to be off to her own. But something stopped her. A hand, with the material of her shirt in its grip, held her down. Korra reached up to pry the fingers loose, a task that looked easier than it was. She stood straight.
The hunter’s face was much different from just a few minutes ago. Her face wasn’t screwed up as if she was having a nightmare anymore. Her features were less tense, almost slack. Breaths flowed gently from her parted lips. An all-round peaceful aura coated her. It was the first time Korra was seeing her without some form of expression on her face. And, to be quite frank, she looked very beautiful this way.
After Korra realized her prolonged staring was starting to border on creepy, she stepped away and out of the cell. The brooding one was glaring her from one cell over still. She arched an eyebrow as she locked the cell.
“What did you do to her?” His voice wasn’t fiery like the last time he asked her. It was cold, instead.
“Nothing you wouldn’t do to us.” With that, Korra makes her way out of the prisons.
On the way back to her hut, Korra can’t help but ponder on Sato. On what her brief impression of the tribe must have been. On what is going to happen to her in the following months. Sure, she will try to befriend all of them like she did Iroh, but she still has doubts. Of how long the whole ‘mutual trust’ thing will take, mostly. Korra had faith in herself on that. She was good with getting people to open up to her. The only thing she needed was time. They would come around eventually.