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Entry tags:
love builds prisons
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.]
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.]
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The woman's shriek cuts through the smoke and dust; Hei must have reached her. Chekov changes course and runs blindly towards her, eyes watering and back protesting. Even if Hei has successfully incapacitated the woman, the airbender is bound to notice him.
The dense haze parts abruptly, sliced apart by Zaheer's powerful attack. As soon as he realizes that his cover has been compromised, Chekov falls into a low crouch, narrowly avoiding the tail end of the blast. He's running again before he can order his feet to move. The airbender is in plain sight! If he can get a clear shot--
A vortex of swirling wind whips up around Zaheer and pulls in his companions. Chekov only manages to fire his phaser twice before a wall of air knocks him back to the ground. The unnaturally bright discharge of nadion particles disappears into the cloud of dust and smoke that envelopes the scene and masks the enemy.
Near-silence, broken only by quiet murmurs and the crackle of dying flames, settles as the air clears. The airbender and his allies are gone. For a delirious moment, Chekov wonders how they managed to harness the power of a transporter, but no--that technology is far beyond even the brightest minds here. The Russian stands up again and looks for Hei, forcibly ignoring the crumpled bodies in his vicinity. Dressed and armed as he is, he can't afford to be seen, even if that means disregarding the injured and dying.
Hei is slumped against what was until recently a wall. The boy, still running on adrenaline and numb to any pain, darts over to the assassin. Subtle eye movements assure him that Hei isn't dead.
He drops to his knees next to him, keen on identifying any critical injuries.]
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[ His pulse is slow with the throb of rage and pain, but it's a running river that cannot be stopped. Blinking slowly, he watches the first rays of sunlight creep across the landscape. Lush and vibrant, the valley's green canopy is etched in ebbing shadow, the sky now a dull pink, a lingering band of brightness tracing the Earth's curve. ]
[ For one brief moment, he's reminded of Heaven's War. That moments after the battles were done. Before the crying and screaming of the wounded began. He'd always come to look forward to that bubble of sweet silence, in which he'd find that without too much effort he could concentrate on the present and forget the grisly past or the uncertain future. In which he'd learnt that you can get used to anything, in time. ]
[ He stirs when Pavel rushes in. Everything smells like soot and copper and charred flesh. Around him, the metalguards are in rough shape. A freckle-faced kid squirts blood from his femoral artery. Another man with his armor scorched off nurses a sucking chest wound, eyes bugged out and glassy; he screams for someone named Aiguo. A kid lies on a bed of crushed leaves sans right leg, chest pin-cushioned with so many chunks of broken rubble he resembles a porcupine. Others are in shock, their faces ashen, beyond the realm of pain. ]
[ Hei's better off than most. His clothes are singed, but for the most part, intact. His burns are mild, the edges of his hair crisped and palms and cheekbones reddened from the explosions. A handful of minutes pass before he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, streaking dark-brown across his lips and down his jaw. He stands unsteadily, sways -- but it doesn't take him long to align his balance. (Break enough bones and lose enough blood and, over the years, you learn to suck it up and keep moving.) ]
[ He glances at Chekov, a faint flicker of tension in his shoulders that's there and gone again when he realizes the boy is mostly intact. Rolling his shoulders with a dull pop, until something slides in place, he says, ]
We need to find Korra.
[ Something twists in his gut as he says her name; he ignores it. No point wasting time and energy in worrying. He has to take this one step at a time. ]
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There's not much more that he can do here without violating the Prime Directive. Even if he discarded his uniform tunic and handheld devices, he'd still stand out enough to draw unwanted attention.
None of Hei's injuries appear to be immediately life threatening and he's able to remain on his feet, which is good enough for the moment. Chekov does a brief self-inventory and determines that he's close enough to fine, as well. The artificial fibers of his undershirt are burned to his back in places, his right ear is still ringing, and he has more scrapes and blossoming bruises than he cares to think about. Nothing's broken, nothing is sufficiently torn or stretched or sprained to be of concern right now.
Find Korra. Yes.]
Where was she when you--
[The words last saw her are largely swallowed by a nearby moan. It's the kid with freckles, his leg punctured and bleeding far too much. He hasn't lost enough blood to slip into unconsciousness and his face is twisted in agony.]
A moment, please. You don't need to wait for me.
[It shouldn't surprise Hei when Chekov's bleeding heart overwhelms common sense. The teenager shoots him an apologetic glance, shrugs the remains of his scorched golden tunic off (the clothing took the brunt of the fire damage), and slips over to the kid. His black undershirt is far more inconspicuous, and he thinks that he has accumulated enough grime to avoid being detected for the moment. A femoral artery can exsanguinate a man in under three minutes, but tourniquets aren't difficult to apply. The injured boy might lose a leg. It's a high price, but it beats hemorrhaging.
Chekov begins to tie the tunic around the kid's leg, muttering nonsense syllables to quiet him. It won't take long. He's confident that he'll be able to catch up with Hei.]
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[ (It makes the younger man predictable. Makes him easier to exploit. Once, Hei would've been glad he was incapable of either tactical failing. Now he resolves only to wear aces up his sleeves, never his heart. It's safer that way -- for him, and for those he cares about.) ]
[ The meat of the metalguard's thigh is ragged, most of the flesh blown clear off the bone. The femur shines wetly in the crisp sunlight, red muscle encased in a thin layer of adipose tissue. He can see a white blood vessel sticking out of the mess, blood spritzing from the vein like water from a spigot. Hei has seen wounds like this past counting, in all their gruesome variety. The making of them is his profession. ]
[ He knows the kid will die, no matter how high or tight the tourniquet is. In Chekov's place, he'd be more inclined to zap the kid -- flipping his lights off like a switch. Mercy is better than a slow death. ]
[ Instead, he says flatly, ]
Don't fall behind.
[ Without a glance, he takes off -- heading for the city's exit. Dealing with the casualties isn't his concern. Korra is. He needs to find her -- and make sure Zaheer hasn't gotten his hands on her. ]
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Chekov ties the tourniquet high on the leg, nimble fingers slipping as blood pours out of the gaping wound. By the time it's secure and the flow of blood has been reduced to a trickle, the kid is unconscious. He's too pale, too far gone. The odds of him waking aren't good. It would be a kindness to stun him, maybe, but Chekov can't bring himself to entertain the thought. There's nothing else to do.
The Russian sets off after Hei, the dying kid's blood drying into a tacky mess on his hands and forearms. There are other casualties who might be saved, but not without falling too far behind.
Korra, focus on Korra.
He catches up to Hei and falls into step behind him without a word.]
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[ Hei's learnt not to burn precious energy forcing someone -- whose matrix is shaped in exact opposition to his -- to function differently. ]
[ Quietly, he drifts through a dense green grove of papaya trees. His boots barely crush the rotting fruit underfoot; the air is already filled with their sickly sweetness. By his estimation, the tunnel passing under the metal city ends a few feet beyond the grove. He hopes Korra and Asami are there. Hopes they weren't waylaid before they'd even reached the cellar. ]
[ He doesn't bother to turn around to speak, gaze fixed straight ahead. But there is something idle, almost conversational in his cadence, when he says: ]
You're the last person I expected to see. But I can't complain.
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The cloying smell of overly-ripe fruit is stifling. There's too much nature here and it makes Chekov almost as uncomfortable as the battlefield that they left behind. There are too many places to hide in this grove and too few avenues of escape.
Hei's voice is a welcome break in the oppressive silence.]
I'm glad that my appearance wasn't an inconvenience.
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On the one hand, she can't just hide here and do nothing while her friend's in trouble. On the other hand, Asami outright told her to go hide, and the other girl was more than capable of taking care of herself. Probably moreso than Korra right now if she's honest with herself.
The sound of footsteps approaching makes her internal debate null; she gets ready to attack just in case.
.............why are they speaking gibberish? And why does that one voice sound so familiar?]
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[ Hei tells Chekov, though what he really means is If she's alive. ]
[ The grove unfolds in a dozen shades of green around them. Carefully, Hei scans the terrain. All five senses tuning in, as if collecting the molecules shaken loose by other shapes, alive and moving. He feels the wind engaging millions of pine needles on their branches, like clattering whispers. A rabbit careening through the grove, dashing through dry leaves. Fifty feet. Birds, too many to count, dotted among the trees, flapping, swooping across the foliage. Thirty feet. A heavy shifting, possibly a threat, possibly an ally. Fifteen feet. ]
[ Hei goes perfectly still. His gaze fixes on the spot where a shadow flickers between the lush foliage, something settling across the planes of his face and in the set of his shoulders. Distrust is the best skill anyone can learn -- especially during a time like this. If it's an enemy out there, there are two expected responses. One is an old-fashioned Who's there? The other is silence. Either would betray wariness, and therefore embolden the enemy to attack. The correct move is a non sequitur, something incongruous that will momentarily occupy the enemy's cognition while his brain tries to process the unanticipated response. ]
[ And, if it's an ally, something this wildly off-track will coax them to show themselves. ]
[ so, instead of attacking, Hei inflicts the airwaves with a familiar song -- as croaky and tuneless as ever. ]
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[The subtle signs of wildlife, wind, and company are lost on Chekov. He is accustomed to monitoring his surroundings through sophisticated equipment or, when necessary, relying on his senses indoors. While he can readily pick out the sound of a malfunctioning warp coil or the hum of a dilithium crystal converter assembly that isn't working within established parameters on a ship, nature baffles him with its organic, chaotic noises.
To say that the Russian is startled when Hei begins singing would be a gross understatement.]
I will assume that you're doing that for a reason.
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And then she sees a strange, almost alien looking person. His skin, beneath the grime of battle, is ruddier than any she's seen in this world, his eyes too pale. She doesn't recognize him until she notices the strange, curly hair.]
Chekov?
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[ The rocky barrier effectively cuts the stream of discordant sounds off. Trapped in his little prison, scowling, on edge, recovering from a series of scrapes and burns courtesy of a group who has nothing to do with him, for a girl who never offers a word of thanks -- Really, he asks himself, when you stop to think about it, what sort of person does this sort of thing? Only movie heroes and madmen. So what is his own excuse -- over-compensation? When did the Black Reaper become Prince Fucking Valiant? ]
[ Timeless and poignant questions -- which only take flight within the hemispheres of your mind when you're trapped under a layer of rock. ]
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...and then the sound of his name stops him cold.]
Korra! [It's a fairly subdued reaction for him, but, to be fair, he has been having a hell of a day. He even refrains from hugging her.] Are you uninjured?
[He automatically switches to Standard--the language he usually used in the City--before remembering that there aren't any translators at work here. Maybe the sentiment will get across anyway?]
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Then he speaks, unintelligible but still with that delightfully weird accent of his, and Korra decides she's not going to look a gift ostrich horse in the mouth. She's got her best friend back, the one she never thought she'd see again.
She tackles him in a tight embrace, and if it's a little too tight, well, it's been a rough few weeks.]
I can't believe you're here!
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After all, it's not every day that you get to see your best friend from another universe.]
I thought that I would never see you again. [Still Standard, still not a language that they both speak. Friendship doesn't need a common language!] And you're still in one piece! I wondered if you would be, without me to keep you out of trouble. I doubt that Hei--
[Wait.]
Perhaps Hei should be freed?
[He nods in the direction of the impromptu prison without detaching himself from Korra.]
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Right. She quickly bends the prison back into the earth, releasing her captive. But her attention is still on Chekov.]
How did you get here?
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[ He's forgotten the effect Pavel has on others. That breezy warmth Hei can never generate himself, unless it's a lie spun to achieve a specific goal. Anyone else would be envious. But Hei just thinks, without viciousness or contempt: I don't know why he's here. But maybe it'll perk her up again. ]
[ His own feelings are less clear. So he chooses to ignore them. Instead, after a quick scan to determine they're the only people in the grove, he says, first in Korra's language, then in Russian, ]
You can chit-chat later. Right now, we need to head back.
[ Dimly, he wonders where Asami has vanished. But if she were in danger, Korra would've said something. ]
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It's terribly flattering that his presence is so appreciated that Korra can ignore Hei, but he's right--talk can wait. He slips back into Russian.]
Where are we heading back to?
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Where's Zaheer and the rest of his group?
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[ To Chekov, in Russian, he says, ] The metal city. This place is supposedly impregnable. Zaheer and his group didn't get inside without help. [ Then, to Korra, ] Chekov and I fought them off. We did some damage, but they got away. [ Terse, operational, until an irrepressible need to reassure her leaks in. ] We'll get them next time. They're tough. But not invincible.
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How long has it been since he left the ship? An hour? And to think that he has already managed to get into trouble and see someone die.]
Korra should go there, yes, but perhaps I should stay away from this city. [As much as he doesn't want to hang out here with the bad guys, if everyone around here looks like the people he has seen so far, Chekov can only imagine that he will stand out terribly in all of his curly-haired, blue-eyed Europeanness.]
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[ On the other hand ... Maybe it's best for Chekov to keep a low profile. Partly for his own safety -- (if anything goes awry, it's common to use the new weirdo as a scapegoat) -- partly in case Zaheer attacks again. Having an ally behind the scenes -- an ace in the hole -- could put the odds in Korra's favor. ]
[ Hei considers everything for a moment. But in the end, sentiment -- stirred by Korra's effusive joy earlier -- trumps tactics. God, you've gotten soft. ]
[ Flatly, he tells Chekov, ]
You'll be fine in the city. We won't let anything happen to you.
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What worries Chekov more than his appearance is everything else: his unfamiliarity with the culture, the language, and the level of technology, the possibility of having any of the items on his person discovered. While he has no doubt that he can learn the local tongue given time--he is, after all, rather adept at learning languages, if not at speaking them with an accent that's readily understood--the period of adjustment will be awkward. He isn't afraid, though, so much as nervous. He has spent the vast majority of his life being the local oddity. As long as his phaser, communicator, and translator are secure, he can probably get out of any additional trouble by playing the part of the wide-eyed ingenue.
To Hei, because Korra's tone didn't leave much room for argument:] If you believe that it be strategically advantageous to have me stay hidden outside of the City, please tell me.
[His mind went to the same place as Hei's, but he doesn't know the situation well enough to determine the cleverest course of action. Chekov might trust Korra with his life, but he trusts Hei to assess the realities of a situation impartially.]
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