#trigger warning: violence...

As she swallowed down another mouthful Oogi, began to scold her soundly.  His deep, grumbling voice filled the space.  “No, Korra!” he yawned angrily, “You cannot go to Republic City!  It’s much too dangerous!”

Korra had to act fast to save her mysteriously delicious meal as Oogi brought a massive foot down on the table to emphasize his frustration.  She lightly lifted the bowl of salty-sweet delectables off the table as every plate of food, cup of tea, and eating utensil jumped and clattered.

She covered her mouth with her wrist as she swallowed down another delicious mouthful, before she leaned forward to retort, “But Master Oogi!” she cried out, “Amon’s sad dance-opera revolution must be stopped!”

Oogi shook his massive head and rumbled, “You haven’t mastered the art of peeling fruit!  How can you hope to save anyone when you can’t sip tea while standing on one foot or look back-sideways?!”

Korra took a moment to shove more pickled zucchini root into her mouth.  She couldn’t get enough of the taste!  But she wasn’t about to let a full mouth get in the way of important conversation.  “I can totally do that!” she declared through her food.  “You just won’t give me a chance!” She pointed her chopsticks at Oogi accusingly.

The great bison shook his head and yawned in disapproval and exasperation.

Suddenly, from the seat beside Korra, which definitely hadn’t been there five seconds ago, Naga spoke.  Her voice was firm, calm, and authoritative.  “Korra, is strong and sure,” she said with great warmth, “she’s more than capable of resolving these troubles.  But if she is never given the chance to try she will never learn to be capable.”

Korra let out a food-muffled, “thank you!”

Naga cocked her large head to one side and blinked pointedly at Oogi, “Besides, what could an old flying bison possibly know about such things?  It’s not like you’ve done anything to resolve these problems, have you?” she licked her nose disdainfully at the old bison. 

Korra swallowed her mouth-full of food and grinned at the massive polar bear dog beside her, “Thanks, Naga!  You always know what to say!”

Naga inclined her large head.  “That’s why we’re best friends,” she said smugly.  “Give me some fish?” the polar bear dog asked a doggish grimace of a smile.

Korra picked up a raw salmon codfish steak and lightly tossed it in the air to Naga.  “Here you go!”

Naga neatly caught the fish steak in her mouth and, in a few quick gulps, swallowed it down.

Korra watched Oogi huff and snuff indignantly.  She smirked as she took another bite of the pickled zucchini root.

She chewed and swallowed, and the room went dark.

Korra looked around in confusion.  The shape of the room had changed.  She wasn’t in the big, broad dining room in the Southern White Lotus compound anymore.  She was in a small, dimly lit, narrow room.  She didn’t recognize the space, but she felt that she’d been in this room before.

She was seated on a hard, worn-out cushion at a small square table in the middle of the room.  There was a small matt on the floor to her left—it was a bed, she realized.  There was a stack of neatly folded blankets and a headrest carefully arranged at the bottom of the mat.  To her right was a wall of cabinets, it was full of things—clothes, trinkets, accessories…

She wasn’t entirely sure how she knew what was in the drawers.  She just knew…

A door at the far end of the narrow room swung open, directly across from her. She winced and lifted her arm to her eyes as sunlight streamed into the small space.  When her eyes adjusted enough, she peered cautiously over her limb.

There was a strange man standing in the doorway.  She couldn’t make out his features, because the bright light of the sun at his back threw his face into darkness.

“Avatar,” he said.  His voice was deep and rich.  “It’s time to train.”

Korra’s eyes widened in surprise.  Then she looked down at the bowl in her hand.  It was empty.  The pickled zucchini root was gone.

She felt the corners of her lips turn up into a smile that wasn’t hers.

She set the bowl and her chopsticks down on the table and rose to her feet with a grace that she’d never possessed.  She stepped lightly around the table and made her way to the door.  Her hand instinctively reached up to pluck a broad-rimmed straw hat off the wall beside the door.

As she passed the threshold, she turned her eyes up to look up at the man.  He smiled down at her.

She realized that he was handsome, but not like Mako or Bolin.  He wasn’t like any man she'd ever seen.  The form of his face was fundamentally different. His features were exceptionally sharp and angular.  He had scars on his forehead and cheeks, but they weren’t scars from battle—these were purposeful scars, carefully carved into his face to form complex patterns; it looked like his skin was studded with tiny white triangles, dots, and diamonds.  The patterns cut across his forehead in a narrow band and two vertical lines dipping down from his high cheekbones.  They were accentuated by black tattoos; small dots and lines that traced strange, angular patterns across his face.

“Do you see something strange upon my face, Avatar?” he asked gently.

Korra shook her head.  Because nothing about this man was strange.  She knew him, even though she couldn’t recall his name.

“That’s a relief,” he said with a smile, “I was afraid that a spirit had changed my face in the night.  But let’s not waste time on idle chatter.  I want to check your technique.  We move out in a few days, after all.  We would not want the Esteemed Avatar to die in battle.”

“Of course,” Korra said.  But she didn’t recognize her voice.  And the words certainly weren’t her own.

The man nodded and turned away.  His clothes, lose, blue-black robes that resembled traditional air bender attire flowed around him as he made his way down a long, narrow, path that wound its way through a beautiful and strangely familiar grassy field of flowers.

She started after him without bothering to look around or question him about her surroundings.  However, she quickly realized that she knew the area--she could name the colorful flowers in the green, grassy field and she recognized the large, ornately carved rocks situated in the fields as representations of powerful local spirits.  She knew that if she turned to look behind her she would see that her narrow, dim room had been carved into the side of a massive, steep cliff-face.

Her room was one of thousands of small cells where people like herself--elite warriors--slept and ate between training sessions.  The entire cliff-face was a web of narrow stairs and landings that the warriors could navigate as they came and went.

They lived like cliff-sparrows, nested in the crevices of cliff-faces in the high mountains.

The thought surprised Korra--she didn't know what a cliff sparrow was or how it nested.  But at the same time... she knew...

Before she had time to ponder how she could possibly know something about an animal that she was certain that she'd never seen or heard of before, she found herself miles down one of the exceptionally narrow winding paths that cut through the field.  This particular path dipped and snaked between the mountains, before veering sharply upwards and branching into several different routes--each leading to a locale where teachers could put their students through their paces.

As she followed several paces behind her teacher she took the opportunity to let her eyes wander.  She knew (without knowing how she knew) that the walk to the training grounds took over an hour and that she would have the opportunity to see several landmarks.

But time slipped away.   And the walk through the peeks that should have taken over an hour took minutes.  One second she followed her teacher down a sharp incline, only to step onto a narrow ledge, a mile or two on, that had been carved into the mountain many, many years ago.  She briefly caught a glimpse of a great city nestled between the peaks, but she blinked and it vanished.  It was replaced by an impossibly steep stairwell, shrouded by low-hanging clouds.  She ascended the slick stone steps with great care.

If she fell, no one would help her up.

She was only moments from cresting the ridge, but the world shifted and she was suddenly in the midst of the high mountain valley.  The tall grass, green and verdant brushed her hips as she waded through it.   Small, brightly colored flowers dotted the lush field.

A cold, high-mountain breeze pulled at her clothes.  She glanced down at her attire and realized that she wasn't wearing her usual blue shirt and pants.  Her clothes resembled an odd mix of Air Nomad and ancient Earth Kingdom-style attire.

A broad strip of cloth bound her breasts flat.  The binding was covered by a soft, loose black tunic and a dark blue gi-jacket--belted by a strip of blue-black fabric wrapped and tied around her natural waist.  The loose fitting black pants were made out of the same soft material as her tunic.  The sleeves of her gi-jacket and the legs of her pants were wrapped with a tattered dull grey cloth to keep the loose soft fabric from impeding her movements.

These clothes were simple, utilitarian, and functional--perfect standard attire for a warrior who was being trained for battle.

And it was standard attire--she realized.  All those people in the cliff-face cells wore exactly the same outfit.  They got new clothes at the end of each year.  No sooner, no later.  Heaven help the idiot who tore or ruined their uniform before the year was out.

She blinked and sucked in a deep breath.  The cool, crisp mountain air filled her lungs and brought a smile to her face.  She looked up at the clear blue sky.

The dark form of a great bird traced a wide circle around the high, golden disk of the sun.  Its dark, blue-black feathers glinted in the afternoon light.

Her teacher now stood beside a large rock near the path, signaling that no one could come or go until they were finished.  He raised his hands, weaving his fingers together so that they were interlaced with his palms facing his chest.  He bowed.

It was a gesture of salutation, which she returned.

It was time to begin practice.

He lifted his right hand to eye-level, palm facing toward her.

That was when Korra noticed his hands.

His hands were covered in bright tattoos.  His fingers alone were so thoroughly inked, that she couldn't see the color of his skin.  And there was a great black tattoo in the center of his palm.  It looked like a letter or a symbol.  Korra didn't recognize it, and whomever she was at the moment didn't waste time thinking about what it meant.

He turned his hand so that his palm faced him.

Korra moved.  She dropped smoothly into a low fighting stance.  Her hands reached out and she drew the air around her into a powerful current.  First, she spiraled the wind around her body.  Then she sent it spiraling around itself so that it formed a protective, serpentine coil around her.

Her teacher nodded his approval.  He lifted his left hand and folded his ring and pinkie finger down.  He extended his arm so that he was pointing at her.

Korra began to move through a complex form.  She moved the coiled wind with her, so that every practiced strike, and every defensive posture was an extension of the coil.  The wind was her weapon and her shield.  She was one with it.

He lifted his other arm so that they were level and closed both hands into fists in front of him.

She stopped halfway through the form and released the coil of wind.

He smiled at her from where he stood.

She preened.  He was pleased with her.  She'd performed the form perfectly and had obeyed his signals promptly.

And then he made another gesture.

Four figures burst out from their hiding places in the high grass.  They rushed towards her.  One, a man, tore out ahead of the group.  He was holding a bladed weapon at the ready, his eyes were wide and wild, and his mouth was set in a furious grimace. 

He was going to try and kill her.

Korra wanted to recoil—to jump back and prepare to take him down so that no one got hurt—but her body did not move.

Instead, she smiled coldly and dropped into a weaselcat stance.  She lifted her right hand slowly--letting her attacker see her intent, even as she began to gather a swift breeze around her left hand.  As she lifted her hand, she curved her fingers into strong claws.

Korra was baffled.

An open handed attack?  What?  Was she going to break her fingers as she dragged them across her attacker's face?  He had a weapon!  She needed to bend!

Her cold smile twisted into a grimace as she raised her hand high over her head and then brought her hand down sharply while the man was still at range.  Her curved fingers dragged against the air in front of her, giving it the form of five sharp blades which hurtled toward her attackers.

Korra saw the man’s eyes widen in terror.  He'd realized what was about to happen to him.

His mouth opened.  She could hear his feet scraping against the ground as he tried to slow down and change direction.

But it was too late.  The blades were about to connect.

“NO!” Korra screamed as she brought her hands down sharply and her body sprang upwards like a coil that had just been released.

Her eyes searched wildly around her for the poor man, but the field, her teacher, and her attackers were all gone.  She was in a dark, cool, stone room, seated on the cot she’d been sleeping on until a few seconds ago.

For a moment she wondered where she was, but it quickly came back to her:

Cell…  Equalists…  Captured… Right.

The Equalists had brought her one of those obscenely early breakfasts she hated.  She'd eaten, then tried a few air bending forms.  She'd nearly knocked the air out of her lungs a couple of times... at this point she was more of a danger to herself than she was to any potential opponent.  After using her air bending to throw herself into the walls, she gave up and went back to sleep.

It'd all just been a dream.  It wasn't real.

She closed her eyes, swallowed sharply, and gasped.  The first part of that dream had been ridiculous, but the second part had been so real that she… she…

They'd called her Avatar...

Korra looked down at her hands.  She half expected to see them covered in blood. But her hands were as clean and neat as they could be for someone who’d spent the past several days locked in a tidy cell with nothing to do.

They were also shaking.  She was sweating.  But she felt cold—like all the heat had been pulled out of her body.

She wrapped her arms around her torso, curled into a ball, and closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the memory of the terrible dream.  But when she closed her eyes she could see the terrified eyes of her adversary looking at her in horror as blades of wind cut through the air to… to…

…to tear him to shreds...

They'd called her Avatar...

She squeezed her eyes shut more tightly and shook her head.  “…nooo…” she moaned.

She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.  “It was just a dream…” she told herself.  “Air benders don’t have techniques like that.  Air benders don’t have armies or hurt people or kill.  They’re peaceful.  Air is the element of freedom.  Avatars aren't like that.  It was just a nightmare.”

It had felt so real though…

She sighed and looked up over the edge of her arms through blurry tear-filled eyes.  Where was Tenzin when she needed him?  He’d tell her that there’d never been any evil air benders and remind her that air bending was peaceful and non-violent.

But Tenzin wasn’t here.  She was alone in a cell, waiting for… for...

For Equalists to come and drag her out for another public humiliation.  For Tarrlok to return either as Amon's ally or his prisoner.  For Amon to appear and mock her--remind her how weak and miserable she was without her bending...

For...!

For!

For something to happen!

She buried her head in her arms again, shook her head, and groaned.

This was awful.

Amon and his Equalists were going to do something to her.  She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it was going to be absolutely terrible.  She couldn’t even imagine how horrible their plan was and it made everything so much worse.  Imaginable evil was something that could be planned for, unimaginable evil… there was no way to plan or prepare for that. 

She lifted her head out of the cradle of her arms and legs, set her chin on her arms, and glared at the door to the cell block.  Why didn’t he just come in here and get his evil plan over with?!

She let out an angry huff.

Out of the corner of her eye, something slithered across the floor.  She turned to see what it was—perhaps a ratroach or a spider snake?

She saw nothing.

Maybe it had just been her imagination?

There was a soft sound—like the woosh of breath in and out…

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.  Someone… something… was watching her.

She turned her gaze slowly and looked out the front of the cell.

There was no one there.

A chill ran down her spine as she realized that whatever was breathing, softly and quietly, was in the cell with her.  She turned her head slowly to look toward the remote, dark corner of her cell.

She saw what appeared to be a fuzzy orb of light.  It faded in and out at the same rate as the soft, almost imperceptible sound of breathing.  But with every soft, breathy inhale it grew brighter.

As it grew brighter, two distinct orbs took form, like a pair of eyes glowing in the dark.  The shadows around the… glowing eyes grew darker and seemed to take form.

It was large, amphibious, and had way too many legs.

Korra wasn’t normally afraid of frogs and strange lights weren’t particularly terrifying to her either, but something about this… thing that had appeared in her cell made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  She knew that it was looking at her.  And even though it had done nothing to harm her, every part of her was screaming to stay as far away from this creature as she could manage.

Korra slowly scooted back on her cot until her back was firmly pressed up against the wall.

She hoped that someone, anyone, came here soon. She didn't want to be alone with this thing.

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2.1.7.2- The Banker 2.1.7.1- Packing Up