love builds prisons

[anatural]

WHO: Hei & Korra
WHAT: After losing the baby, Korra sneaks out of the metal clan city to find Zaheer.

[Korra walks quickly and quietly down the corridors, using every technique she'd learned during the civil war to remain unnoticed by the guards. Snow and metal were two entirely different elements, but when you looked beyond the surface differences, the techniques for one can guide techniques for the other. She's heading for one of the isolated service doors that open up to the world outside the metal clan's city. Naga's already outside — earlier that day Korra had gone for a ride with her, and returned on foot after the guards had changed shifts. Her escape has been carefully, meticulously planned. The only person who could stop her is Hei, and he's not going to notice. He's been off in his own little dark world since she lost the baby. He doesn't see her at all.

Nobody does. Tenzin, Bolin, Mako, even Asami... They're so caught up in their pain for her that they can't see they're drowning her. Every time they say Korra, I’m so sorry, all she can think is Why? She's never wanted to be a mother. The Red Lotus is gunning for her and every other world leader. It's honestly for the best that the baby is gone. She knows there's a part of her that's grieving, but she can't feel it. That numbness and detachment frighten her, but there's no one she can talk to about it because all she'd get is more sympathy and orders to rest. Take it easy. Stay inside. Love will once again build her a prison — but she doesn't plan on giving it the chance. More than anything else, she's the Avatar, and she's not going to just hide inside a metal fortress while the world burns because she's "recovering." Even if she has to do it alone, she's going to find Zaheer and stop him.

She reaches the service door and lets out a relieved breath. Almost there.]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

[ She never wanted to be a mother. He certainly never wanted to be a father. ]

[ Yet, in the days that pass, Hei feels unmoored from time, a shadow-puppet lurking at the fringes of his own life. He's barely aware of Korra's presence, even though Su Yin Beifong has thoughtfully placed them in suites side-by-side. He and Korra might as well be living in different countries. He's not sure how to face her, after the recent disaster. Barely wants to think about the night it happened. ]

[ Except he can recall it with pinpoint clarity. The twist of surging panic in his chest as he'd surfaced from sleep. Shaking off the remnants of a dream in which the skinned limbs of faceless children burst through the black jungle soil in South America, a million legs and fingers and toes swaying like wheat in a wind-whipped field. Sour-mouthed, sickened, he'd reached for the warm landscape of Korra's body curled across his. Then he'd smelled the blood. Staining her thighs, a huge dark butterfly spreading out on the sheets. ]

[ She'd been unconscious. ]

[ Everything that followed was a blur. It's strange -- usually Hei has an excellent memory. He can recall conversations from years ago with pinpoint accuracy. Can summon details of fleeting encounters -- words, scents, sights -- at his memory's fingertips in a heartbeat. But that night ... It's as much a distorted white blur as the moment Heaven's Gate vanished. ]

[ He can't remember. He doesn't want to. ]

[ They've all offered sympathies afterward. Every one of Korra's friends, like a fucking chorus of Pollyannas. Tenzin -- of all people -- has told him to stay close to Korra, because at this time it's important they support each other, take comfort together. Except ... he can barely bring himself to look her in the eye. Of course he's glad she's alive. Of course, even if they lost the baby, she still has his support. Of course he still loves her -- loves her without any still. ]

[ But he can't express the heaviness that settles over him later. He's never mourned someone who he's never met -- who wasn't technically alive to begin with. But it seems to involve staring aimlessly into space, while something inside him slowly contracts, iota by iota, forcing the life out of him, at least when it isn't about sitting dully in a chair, or sprawled in bed, or slumped at the dojo, feeling like his body is melting into the atmosphere. All he can think of is that he's failed even in this. He can't hold on to anyone he loves, because his very touch breeds disaster. He's half-ruined Korra by dragging her into his filth, and he knows it will torment him for years, the knowledge. That he can try to change his nature, be a better person, hope for happiness, but all that will come of it is more murder. ]

[ That night -- the first in days -- he slinks away from his room in the early dawn darkness, passing like a shadow through the streets, nearly lightless, deserted of people. It'd be easy to stagnate in his room. Twitching in fitful sleep, or staring blankly at the patterns on the walls. But no matter how low he is, he can't stand idleness. ]

[ The Red Lotus are still out there. Still after Korra. Now, more than ever, he needs to ensure they don't reach her. ]

[ So it's both ironic -- yet not -- that the first person he glimpses near the city's exit is -- ]

Korra?

[anatural]

[Seriously? This is the night Hei chooses to rejoin the world? Korra could scream with frustration. She's so close to making her escape and he's going to completely ruin it.]

What are you doing out here? [Shouldn’t you be hiding in your room?]

[mortemscintilla]

I should be asking you that. [ Hei's voice is a soft sharp bite, every line in his body pulled into a taut smoothness like a wolf scenting an ambiguous danger, possibly a threat, possibly a kill. It's barely been two weeks since the miscarriage. He hasn't been hovering at Korra's side every second -- what's the point, when her friends can comfort her better than he can? Still, he knows that she's in no shape to be sneaking around outside in the middle of -- ]

[ Fuck. ]

[ Realization scalds him. His glare hardens, even as he flexes some of the anger out of his shoulders to say more quietly, ]

I'm not letting you leave the city.

[anatural]

[And great, he's gone all protective wolf on her. They've past the point where his hard gaze frightens her; she knows it comes from a place of love. Now she's just pissed off that he's acting this way after two weeks of basically ignoring her existence.]

I'm just [looking for the bathroom] taking a walk. That's not a crime, is it?

[mortemscintilla]

[ Fucking hell. She's always been like this. Stubborn, willful. Maddening. But he understands what that sense of rebellion is rooted in -- a display of aggression worn over duty, duty covering for the eternal belief that she'll defeat her enemy, and under the belief her insecurity, kept close to the vest. On any given day, Hei's own response to this can vary widely, from irritation to empathy. ]

[ Right now, it's definitely sliding towards irritation. His gaze takes on a scalpel-like quality, as if he's trying to dig his way through her eyes and into her brain. But when he speaks, his voice is low, an appeal to her good sense. (As if that's ever worked.) ]

Korra. I know what you're trying to do. But you're in no shape to fight anyone right now.

[anatural]

[There's no appealing to Korra's good sense right now — particularly when you're Hei. Like you would know! He hasn't seen her, hasn't been there when the healers did their evaluations. He might as well be a stranger to her, and strangers have no right to boss her around.]

Like I said, I’m taking a walk. Not all of us are compulsive liars.

[mortemscintilla]

[ He wishes he could tell her -- he couldn't be around her. It wasn't because he didn't care. Wasn't because he didn't love her; if anything, in the wake of this jarring loss, he's aware that he loves her more than ever. But he's also convinced it's no good, because of what he is. He knows, if Pai was here, she'd call him an idiot. She'd remind him that the most truthful of all facts in this universe is that horrible things don't happen because of karma or fate or controlled chaos, but because sometimes events unfold in ways for which there is no explanation. Because there is only one essential truth, and it is this: things happen because they happen. Bad things. Sometimes good things. All things. With no rhyme or reason. Trying to search for meanings is just a person's way of hoping to attach significance to their lives. To believe their sufferings and triumphs were more than transient white-noise. ]

[ Except Hei can't bring himself to buy that cold brand of Contractor-rationale. The loss of this unlooked-for baby has overwhelmed him, asking as it did questions he doesn't want to dwell on. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this? For being a normal person, for wanting to bring a life into this world when whatever he loves, being loved by him, is infected, ruined. Maybe it was a good thing the baby died? And maybe ... his recent distance from Korra was his way of trying to be rid of her, too? Leaving her, drifting away hour by hour ... Except she's the one who was supposed to realize it, and up and go. ]

[ He shakes it off. Looking at Korra now, all small querulous mouth and big burning eyes, he realizes that he can't drift away. Even if he wants to. The realness of her, the gravity-well of her presence, carrying its undertones of salt and heat-current... It anchors him in place. He won't be able to escape, without dismembering some part of himself in the bargain. ]

[ Keeping the conflict off his face, he maintains a level voice. ]

Then you won't mind if this compulsive liar walks with you.

[anatural]

[Yes, she does very much mind. But she can't tell him that without admitting that they both know she's lying.]

Fine. [Hardly the most graceful response, but she doesn't need to hide the fact that she's pissed at him. Maybe if she's bitchy enough, he'll get sick of it and leave. If not, she'll just have to use the Avatar state to incapacitate him.

She stomps, opening the door with metalbending, and storms out.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He blinks as she storms out, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. Such a delicate fucking flower. Except he can't blame her for this outpouring of vitriol. He'd let her down by keeping away, by refusing to grieve with her. Even now, he feels insufficient to keep her. And he thinks that if he were in Korra's shoes, he'd be feeling the pressing need to get rid of him, too. (Yet there's that petulance, that sound and fury, that he's missed, something that cracks open a small blossom of tenderness in his chest. Yet it's impossible to ignore the fact that he's hurt her by keeping away.) ]

[ He drifts after her calmly, keeping his body-language neutral, non-threatening. Even so, he maintains a radius of space around him as if readied to draw a weapon, to turn with arms extended and lash, grab, defend -- in case she tries to make a break for it, or in case someone springs an attack on them. ]

[ A couple of beats pass, wreathed in tentative silence. Then: ]

How... how have you been feeling?

[ Physically. Emotionally. Part of him still feels sunk in the denial that the baby's dead and gone; he wonders what it's like for her, especially when she'd had to endure that brutal leavetaking, to suffer its intimate violence afterward. ]

[anatural]

Fine. Just fine. [She hates the way he asks, with the same voice Tenzin uses every time he sees her — like if his words aren't soft enough, she'll shatter into pieces. She doesn't want to be handled like a piece of china. She gets cramps sometimes still, but she stopped bleeding in her underwear days ago, and according to the healers, she doesn't have an infection. Physically, she's just fine. Emotionally... if he'd given a shit about her emotional state, he wouldn't have disappeared for two weeks.]

[mortemscintilla]

I see.

[ It is a flat, commonplace statement that makes Hei's blood thin with a sense of crippling inadequacy. But he can't seem to shape any better words. And even if he could... Well. There's nothing he could say that would make his behavior permissible, plausible, let alone a fact that she'd comprehend. It's not that Korra lacks the capacity to understand -- maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't -- but this kind of let-down isn't something you can brush off with a tepid I'm sorry. ]

[ Part of him is still amazed at how dizzied and sick and despairing the baby's loss has left him, at how desperately he'd wanted something that in fact he'd given no thought to before Korra had taken him aside and mumbled I'm pregnant. He hadn't so much as given an inkling to children or fatherhood in years and years. Once the whole irrefutable fact of who -- what -- he was had really settled into his psyche. ]

[ Once he understood, if only subconsciously, that some vital parts of him were well and truly dead. ]

[ He cuts his gaze away briefly. Inhales, and exhales. (Tells himself the ache in his chest, flowering sharper and darker each day, is exhaustion, not depression.) ]

[ Eventually, ]

I know... I should've been there with you. It was the worst possible time for me to fuck off. I just -- [ Didn't know how to face you. Didn't know how I could possibly be any help. With a dry swallow, he manages, ] I guess I was hoping it didn't really happen.

[anatural]

Well I hate to break it to you, but it did. [And you're not going to win her forgiveness with weak apologies and half-assed excuses. She knows he should've been there, that it was the worst possible time for him to fuck off. She already knows that he knows it. It changes nothing.

Just another few meters to where Naga's waiting. If Naga can take him by surprise, she can knock him unconscious and they can get away before he wakes up.

Her stomach twinges. Don’t let it be cramps. Against her will, her hand goes up to cradle the distressingly saggy flesh of her stomach. Not yet flat — just empty.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei's gaze, in its broad, casual scan of the territory, has already ascertained the likeliest spot Naga would be tethered. He can pick up the stress-lines of burgeoning plans on Korra's face. But when she lifts a hand to her belly, it's suddenly impossible for him to function tactically. He thinks of the first and only glimpse he'd had of her, after the miscarriage. Whey-faced, doped-drowsy, her belly, thick, empty, the wad of blood-moist padding between her legs. He remembers he'd wanted to touch her, except there'd been a cold fierce tickle in his bones -- something like a scream made flesh. ]

[ For a moment, just a moment, he'd felt that lost child in his arms, alive and whole. Looking up at him out of Korra's blue eyes. Dainty and pretty like Pai had been, wrapped in her red blanket. He could smell that milky scent that would come off the top of her head, could feel the small hand clutch at his finger. The little mouth bubbling. All that warmth, cleaving to him, needing him. Needing the non-throat-slitting-blade-whetting-battle-scheming part of him. The part that is full of humanity. ]

[ He glances away, his face set in resistant lines. But he can feel something hot and wet trying to surface behind his eyes, so unfamiliar that he has to blink rapidly. Except his vision keeps blurring. Fuck this. Fuck this. He can't remember the last time he's cried like a milksop over a commonplace tragedy, and he doesn't want to start tonight, in front of Korra. Bitterly, vehemently, he wishes it were darker, so she can't fix on his face. ]

I know.

[ It's all he can manage past the hot fist in his throat. ]

[candothat]

[There isn't time for Chekov to be confused when his molecules reassemble on what appears to be a battlefield. He instinctively drops to the ground--not bravest course of action, but projectiles and debris are flying through the air, it's dark, and the lieutenant knows better than to fling himself blindly into a fray.

Blindly being the operative word. Some kind of orange light flickers nearby, but it's nothing compared to the bright white of the Enterprise's transport room. The eighteen year-old reaches for his phaser as he wills the dim shapes around him to resolve themselves into something recognizable. His training tells him that he shouldn't draw his weapon before taking stock of his situation. The imminent threat of death, however, overrides rules and regulations; the Prime Directive is remarkably unimportant in the midst of explosions, incoherent yelling, and--

Lava?

Chekov scrambles to his feet as the ground begins to shake, roil, and crack. All he can do is hope that he's dashing to safety instead of a different kind of death.

The explosion directly in front of him kills that hope. Earth and rocks pelt him in the wake of the explosive boom and he tucks his head and limbs in close to minimize the chances of injury. There's no time, no time for self-assessment, and Chekov is running again with his phaser drawn. If he's injured, slowing down to think about it isn't going to help him. He has to reach some kind of safety and hail the ship.

His eyes are adjusting to the dimly-lit nightmare in which he has found himself. He veers away from what appears to be the heart of the battle, away from lava and explosions and the cacophony of unintelligible voices--and right into an unyielding dark mass. The lieutenant tries to redirect himself at the last second and succeeds only in crashing to the ground, knees-first. Pain doesn't register. He has to keep going, has to see what he hit, and he rolls onto his back and brings the phaser to bear on the potential threat.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Teeth gritted, Hei has one slick hand flexed around the lavabender's throat, the other frantically reaching to regrasp the plunging knife-hilt. At his back something flashes; in a mad moment, he thinks it's more like a portal opening than another flare of lava. He has no time to think of it further, though. Ghazan tries to shake him off before he can dispense an electric shock. A pellet-full of rocks fly at him, grazing his arm and cheek; he is getting seriously singed. His opponent is losing his footing though. With the earth cracking open under them, spewing hot froth, Ghazan will probably be killed on impact within the chasm. But then so will Hei. ]

[ He can't let that happen. To come this far, only to die crisped and blackened like a five-style chicken-wing? ]

[ How fucking futile. ]

[ That is the idea in his mind until one of Ming Hua's watery tentacles snag his wrist. In a blink, he's wrenched off Ghazan, his blade skidding across the other man's arm in a slick red zigzag. Ghazan hollers in pain; the tentacle swings Hei up and snaps him, like a towel. Before Hei can let off an electric surge, he's flung away at breakneck speed. The blurred landscape of the battle flies past him before he drops, bones crunching on hot concrete. ]

[ Pain radiates through his body's meridians. But he refuses to focus on that. A breath, a few blinks, and he's back on his feet. Before he can rejoin the battle, though, he collides with something. Hei's clothes are dirt-and-blood-streaked, a very thin carpeting over solid adrenalized muscle. So there's no mistaking the thud as the two hard hurtling objects collide. The lighter of the two falls back. ]

[ Head tilted, Hei blinks once, then twice, as if readjusting his vision from dark to bright. At his sides, his fists clench and unclench, two throwing knives still gripped between his fingers. He eyes the newcomer for a long moment, his stare blank but focused, too. Suddenly he's not sure what he's seeing, or even where he is. It's been almost a year since he's seen that particular face, after all. ]

[ A moment passes. Finally, flatly: ]

What the hell are you doing here?

[ Not the warmest welcome. But given the circumstances, Hei's social finesse isn't at its best. ]

[candothat]

[Chekov's attention is drawn initially to the subtle movement of hands and the knives in their grasp, but that voice...

Hei. Although his words are in a language that the lieutenant can't understand (was his universal translator damaged?), he is instantly recognizable. Not a threat, his brain provides, and he lowers the phaser incrementally even though he knows that that isn't true.

Now is not the time to gawk or question reality. Chekov regains his feet and turns his back to Hei--too trusting, perhaps, but that is a personal flaw that he has yet to overcome--in order to assess the situation. It takes a split second for him to focus on a man and a woman, and only a breath longer to identify them as the most immediate threat. The Chekov that Hei last saw wouldn't have so much as considered shooting two unarmed (literally, in the woman's case) opponents. This Chekov, however, sets his phaser to stun and opens fire.

He can question Hei when they're not staring death in the face.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ This makes two people who have altered dramatically since they left the City. ]

[ Hei blinks as Chekov swivels to open fire on Ghazan and Ming Hua. Somewhere along the line, the boy's shed the hinkiness that seemed to claim him everytime he tripped and fell into a disaster-zone, and picked up the confidence he needs, which appears composed at least as much of his training as of his ability to fix on the pulsepoints of a crisis and take it apart with the same incisive quickness he handles machinery. ]

[ The phaser packs a nasty punch. Hei realizes, watching the laser slice through the air, that he's forgotten the neat effectiveness of firearms -- especially after a year in Korra's world. Ming Hua dodges the blast like a skittering spider. Ghazan, bloody and disoriented by Hei's earlier attack, is less lucky. ]

[ Hei watches him go down -- before he makes his move. A year ago, this would've meant leaving Pavel to fend for himself, and rejoining the conflict. Possibly stealing his phaser, to give himself an edge. Instead, he assumes the rearguard position. Lets Pavel cover his exposed flank, while he deals with the scurrying shape of Ming Hua, her water-tentacles like a whip-scorpion's legs, lashing at him with brutal speed. Hei dodges, a quick one-two-three, then lets fly a wire, aiming to snag one of her legs and bring her down with a sizzling blue volt. ]

[ He has questions to ask Pavel. He has concerns about Korra's safety. But it'll have to wait. No sense getting distracted. ]

[candothat]

[One down. The man should be out cold for an hour at the very least, provided he isn't accidentally killed before then.

Chekov falls into step, phaser ready should anyone else move to attack, keeping a wary eye on the woman with the water arms. Hei is as quick and merciless as ever, he notes with grim satisfaction; the woman is almost unnaturally fast, but he doesn't doubt that the assassin will be able to disable her.

He scans the area, dismayed to find that it's impossible to determine who he should consider an enemy when no one is directly attacking him. He also searches for Korra and Naga, fully expecting them to be nearby. It might be ludicrous to assume that they're around when he had thought that he'd never see them again, but Hei is present and the battle's participants are clearly benders. This has to be Korra's world, and so she must be around. The alternative is unthinkable.

It's best not to think.

Another woman catches Chekov's attention. Although she's not particularly close, the marking on her forehead and her combat-ready stance make her stand out. There's an uncanny correlation between the direction of her gaze and the explosions, but she has no weapons and, if she's bending, she's not doing so in a way that's apparent to him. No, she has to be controlling the explosions. She's well out of phaser range...

The lieutenant glances back at Hei and briefly considers abandoning his position to get closer, get a shot in. Briefly--loyalty inevitably wins out over heroism.

The woman with the mark on her forehead looks their way.

An instant later, a blast tears the air and earth in their vicinity apart.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The air flows with violent potential, both natural and extraordinary. But Hei is in his element by now, all thought dissolving into the heat of brutal instinct. Ming Hua whips a tentacle at him and he leaps off the ground. Knees tucked like a schoolkid playing skip-rope, letting it sweep under him. In the same breath he spins clockwise, still airborne, a wire in his right hand, crackling with electricity, spinning like the world's nastiest lasso. ]

[ Ming Hua's reaction is instantaneous and shows a vicious cunning: she brings a watery arm up to the right side of her face, turtles her shoulders, drops through her hips, and, most importantly, jerks back, beyond the arc of the wire. But Hei has anticipated this. Action beats reaction every time. Between the length of his arm, the length of the wire, and the force of his trajectory, he has more room to maneuver. He whirls, a mid-air pirouette, and the wire snakes around and lashes across her neck like a bullwhip. ]

[ Ming Hua spasms with a shriek, then drops; the electricity leaves an acrid reek in the air. ]

[ But there's no time for satisfaction. Hei's gaze cuts sideways, past the pale disc of Pavel's tense face, to P'Li. Who has them in her crosshairs. Two perfect bullseyes. ]

[ Shit. ]

[ Grabbing Pavel by the scruff of his neck, Hei swings a wire with his free hand. It snags a masonry-spire on a nearby building. In the next breath, he and Pavel are weightless, sail-planing, swooping through the bright murk of the air as a huge globe of fire detonates beyond them, juddering with a deafening roar as flaming umbrellas open in the sky, tinting the area every colour of red. ]

[ They tumble clear of the flying debris. Hei's limbs scramble for purchase, realigning his weight before they've even hit the ground. His eyes scan the terrain, a calculated 360 degrees, before concern digs in. ]

Where's Zaheer?

[ It's muttered to himself, not Pavel. Hell, he doubts the younger man can understand a word he's saying. ]

[candothat]

[As dreadfully undignified as being hauled around like an errant kitten is, it beats dying a fiery death. A slightly-singed (but otherwise intact, thanks to Hei) Chekov lands with less grace than the assassin, staggering a few feet after the jarring impact with the ground. He stays in an upright position and the phaser wasn't lost mid-flight, so he's willing to consider this whole mess a success thus far.

So much for an uneventful diplomatic mission.]

What are you looking for?

[Chekov asks the question in Russian. Pleasantries can wait until whatever danger they're in has passed.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The way Hei looks past Chekov is askew, his eyes trailing across the scenery, alert for threats. His nerves spit white-hot fire, and the space of his brain feels exponentially vast and open and boiling with darkness; energy crackles at his edges, but it seems to meld with the eruptions and the stamp and clang of battle. ]

[ It's a strange sensation. Feeling both intensely at home and impossibly on-edge. ]

[ When he glances at Chekov, it's with a perfectly blank face. (Adrenaline often exaggerates other peoples' expressions. Hei's, it irons flat.) The dialectal hybrid of Cantonese and Japanese, so common in Korra's world, is on the tip of his tongue, before he thinks Russian instead. ]

An airbender with a shaved head. He and his group are after Korra.

[candothat]

[There is something off about Hei. Then again, when is there not? Chekov dismisses his suspicions. It has been some time--nineteen months for him--and people inevitably change. There will be time to think about that later. Right now, it sounds as if Korra is in trouble.

Some things don't change.

Chekov acknowledges Hei's answer with a nod, eyes wide and expression serious, already searching for the target. There's no sense in admitting that he doubts he could identify an airbender on sight, as Hei undoubtedly realizes. A shaved head isn't that much to go on, but it will have to do.]

I'll follow your lead.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Something off? If asked, Hei wouldn't offer details. Reticence remains a cardinal aspect of his nature. Fuck, he privately wouldn't know where to start. Readjusting to a completely different world. Being involved in another war. Watching Korra defeat Unalaq and usher in a new spiritual era. Getting her pregnant. Watching her lose the baby. Staying on red-alert every moment for threats from the Red Lotus. His psyche is rusted by anxiety and fresh disappointment, his baggage like a rickety streamliner -- full of holes and crusted with filth. ]

[ He refuses to think about it. ]

[ He should be thinking about Chekov, and why he's here. The How bears less importance. He's well acquainted with the technology of the younger man's world. He understands Starfleet's mission statement. Dimly, he wonders if Enterprise is in the same dimension as Korra's, or if the two forked dimensions have accidentally converged. He worries, a coil of anxiety unleashing itself inside him, if they're all going to end up sucked back into the City. ]

[ He hopes not. Letting his mind loosen its grip on the What-Ifs and sink its claws into the Right-Now, he focuses on Chekov. The boy has a phaser. That, coupled with the element of surprise, may allow them to deflect the Red Lotus' attack. Push them into a retreat. ]

[ He slips a hand into his jacket. Draws out a laughably small platinum stick. Though only eight inches recoiled, when he flicks his wrist, it telescopes to six feet -- an interlocking series of pipes tipped with a sharpened sickle of diamond. He plans to shove the business-end into P'li's third-eye, if he gets close. ]

[ He glances toward the battlefield. The chaos tugs at an invisible string inside him. He can read its ebbs and flows like sheet music -- gaining brutal intensity as it surges to a crescendo. It's a moment before he spots Zaheer. Caught in a showdown between the Beifong sisters. Several yards off, P'Li blasts the metalguards to smithereens, creating an effective barrier of flying bodies and flames. ]

[ Finally, without looking over at Chekov, ]

We need to take out the Amazon. Be ready to jump in and distract her while I go for her Third Eye.

[candothat]

[Chekov, in some part of his brain that isn't caught up in the fight, has been contemplating how and why he is where he currently is. The odds of relocating Hei and Korra by chance are infinitesimally small. Perhaps being pulled to the City had a subtle effect on them on a quantum level, altering the rate at which their subatomic particles vibrate. Transporters are notoriously sensitive to even the slightest shift...

The collapsible weapon that Hei produces is impressive--not entirely unlike Sulu's katana. Hopefully it's just as sturdy.

He follows Hei's gaze. The man with the shaved head looks considerably less threatening than the woman who can make things explode, but there's something about him that sets Chekov on edge. He has a calm, confident air even as he fights--the air of someone who believes that what he is doing is right and has no intention of losing.

But the woman is the most immediate threat while the man is occupied. She's slower than the woman with the water arms had been; not so slow as to make stunning her with the phaser a wise move since missing would mean death, but Chekov would only need to be quick enough to avoid being killed.]

I can do that.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei doesn't trust Zaheer's stillness. Doesn't trust that resounding peace about him, especially after what he's learnt about the Red Lotus' raison d'etre. The idea of chaos as a representation of free will, ultimate empowerment and self-determinism ... It might've appealed to Amber, who thrived in chaos, but who also possessed a method to her madness. She was the one who'd explained to Hei, long ago, that order might underlie chaos, but within chaos, there is order. To tip the scales toward either extreme jeopardizes all balance. ]

[ Life with chaos might be fair, but it would would be fairly bad. And while life with order might be unfair, it is unfairly better. ]

[ All things considered, Hei is convinced that Zaheer is a special brand of insane. ]

[ Insane or not, he'a aiming to get the man's attention. To succeed, he needs to do some damage to his reputed lover. ]

[ At Chekov's words, Hei regards him for a moment -- a gaze of both blank focus and cold-hot precision. Scanning the boy's face, smart enough to search for any hesitation, trusting enough of his abilities to want to believe none is there, insightful enough to see that none is. In a brief flicker of nostalgia, he thinks: Same old go-getter. ]

[ Then he nods, and says, ]

Aim for her left. That's her blind spot. Fire before she has a chance to focus on you.

[ By which time, Hei will already have made his move. ]

[ There is nothing else to discuss. One quick signal, then he's racing into the blazing-red fray. A zigzag maneuvering, followed by a sharp thrust with his weapon like a pole-vaulter, all accomplished in smooth sync, like gears in a precision timepiece. Closing in on P'Li, between the lulls of each explosion, ready for Chekov to make his move. ]