tampered | you're glue and i'm a bad idea

[ It's been a long time since Hei's felt this slow climb of rage -- like a storm brewing, ozone and voltage burgeoning into a propulsive disaster. Ordinarily the intensity would unnerve him -- he functions on self-control, not self-indulgent rashness. But he's too far gone to care. He's in that zone of Fuck-It. The zone where you stop giving a crap. And with Yin gone, it's practically the Mother-Of-All-Fuckits. ]

[ His silence stretches out when Pavel speaks. The only response is a sharp zzz at Korra's end. Hei's grip loosens; she slumps motionless to the ground. Out-cold, not dead. He'll deal with her later. In the meanwhile, he takes Pavel in, eyes skimming up and down. Calculating. ]

And here I thought chivalry was dead. [ It's all the warning Pavel gets before Hei hauls him out of the room, his grip strong and sure around the boy's neck. Part of him notices how Pavel's hand seems stuck -- glued -- to his own. Which'd be problematic, if Hei weren't wearing gloves. As it is, it's simply convenient. ] I should flaunt you to the whole City. An example for young men.

[ Saying so, he kicks open the doorway leading to the roof access. ]

[Chekov hasn't been afraid of Hei for some time, secure in the belief that, because they're friends (or as close to friends as is possible for someone like Hei), the other won't hurt him. The emotion comes bubbling to the surface in the silence following his admission of guilt.

He steals a glance at Korra when she collapses after the telltale hiss of an electric spark. Not dead, visibly breathing--all in all, Pavel wouldn't mind being unconscious like her. The way Hei's looking at him makes his heartbeat accelerate and his stomach sink. Chekov's dread only mounts as they leave the room and his attempts at regaining his feet are awkward and fumbling. Something is wrong.

(It still hasn't occurred to him that he may have been behaving rashly himself.)]

What are you doing?

[ Hei doesn't bother letting Pavel find his footing. He keeps moving, half-dragging, half-carrying the boy along. Without answering, he starts up the stairs. With each ascending step his conscience -- what's left of it -- feels somehow lighter and lighter, like his head and his whole body, as if his bones are hollow, as if he's a bird. But at the core himself there's that cold, concentrated weight of wrath. He carries that knot and almost floats up the steps with it, like he might float with it out through the roof and up into the sky. ]

[ Fly away, Hei. ]

[ At the roof, the air is brisk. The stars twinkle wanly. Hefting Pavel up in one arm, like a man-shaped bag, Hei strides along the tarred surface and leaps up onto the parapet, the gritty cement crunching under his boots. At the edge, he balances without a wobble, ignoring the street so far below. Takes casual steps, like a cat along a fence, the wind ruffling his hair and stirring the ends of his coat. ]

[ Near a bare flagpole welded into the abutment, slanted over the street below, he stops. ]

This will do.

[The full stupidity of the prank he pulled with Korra hits Chekov as they ascend. What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking at all? Friend or not, Hei is dangerous. Provoking him is as good as asking for a good jolt of electricity.

This revelation doesn't make Pavel feel any better as he's partially dragged and partially carried to the roof. The stairs scrape and scratch; the air outside is jarringly chilly compared to the building's interior. Chekov doesn't dare say anything when Hei begins to ascend, or when he pulls him along the edge of the roof. (He doesn't look down, either. If Hei plans on throwing him over, he'd rather not have time to calculate the degree to which he will likely be injured based on the roof's height.)]

In fact, the teenager manages to stay silent until Hei draws to a halt near the flagpole and speaks. It doesn't take a genius to guess at what This will do means.]

Hei? I'm sorry, I will find a way to undo everything if you let Korra and I go.

[Chekov suspects they're beyond a point of reasoning, but a genuine fear of dying makes the attempt worthwhile.]

[ Unlike Pavel, Hei experiences no overwhelming return of rationality outside of Korra's ambit. Perhaps the curse works differently from person to person. Or perhaps, with that bloodthirsty aspect of his nature unleashed at full-throttle, it's impossible to shake its fangs loose now. Most people in his line of work would be satisfied with a few incoherent screams and a splash of blood. But Hei needs considerably more to be appeased. ]

[ And apologies have never cut it. ]

[ Holding Pavel aloft, Hei regards him with a borderline expressionless look. He doesn't speak. He simply switches his grip on Pavel's shirtfront from one hand to the other. Slipping off the glove that's glued to Pavel's fingers, he strips the material itself off with a rough yank, like tearing a bandaid. Takes both Pavel's empty hands by the wrists, and clasps them together, palm on palm -- a gesture of prayer, or pleading. ]

[ From this vantagepoint, the world is a sea of rooftops offering one guarantee -- toss the boy over, let him endure a bad few seconds of falling, and then it's done. Except Hei isn't at the point of wanting death above all else. It's simply something that hovers on the horizon, dictated by his mood. He might let Pavel swerve around it, or he might toss the boy headlong to meet it. ]

[ Ultimately he settles on the former. ]

[ Grasping Pavel's head in both hands, palms fitted around the shape of his skull through the curly hair, Hei regards him calmly. ] I will. After a fashion. [ A painful one. It's all he offers before he knocks the boy unconscious on a dizzying electric jolt. ]

[The sustained silence is almost as frightening as the possibility of a lengthy fall. Pavel knows from experience that, more often than not, someone who isn't talking is thinking, and giving Hei time to think is not going to benefit him. Breaking the silence himself would be risky; struggling might, in his current position, prove fatal.

Chekov sees no other option than to hold still and keep his tongue in check. He doesn't yell when the glove is torn from his hand (it hurts, but hitting the ground from even a single-story building--and his viewpoint strongly suggests that he's up higher than that--would hurt more). He doesn't fight Hei as he sticks his hands together in an all-too-appropriate pleading gesture. If he's quiet enough, compliant enough...

Hei appears to contemplate his course of action before taking Chekov's head in his hands. His words don't leave much room for hope, although he can hope that Korra, as an accessory to the prank rather than its instigator--will fare better.

Before he can try anything--reasoning, begging, appealing to Hei's morals (such as they are)--Hei renders him unconscious.]

[ Pavel's panic practically broadcasts itself in little popping bursts all through the air. There's still faint traceries lingering, like an emotional afterimage, before the boy jerks under the voltage, then slumps unconscious. Once that's done, Hei wastes no time. Leaning forward, supporting Pavel's insensate body in one arm, he climbs past the parapet to the ledge directly below, adjacent to the flagpole. ]

[ Here, without much fuss, he loops Pavels linked arms around the pole. Leaves him to dangle there, senseless, head lolling, his shoes right above the empty street several feet below. Nothing around his body but moving air and the beautiful reassurances of gravity, once the curse ends. ]

[ Let's see how Pavel enjoys hanging around like so many of Hei's possessions. ]

[ Satisfied, Hei regards him for a moment, then makes his way off the rooftop. There's still Pest #2 to deal with. And he has no intention of going any easier on her. ]

[Pest #2 is already a wake. She'd stirred into consciousness not long after Hei had dragged Chekov up the stairs.

Her head pounds, and she's that unfortunate mix of terrified and furious that makes for bad decisions. (How did it turn out like this? How could Hei overreact so badly? He was supposed to yell at them, maybe punch her a bit, and then make them take down his furniture. He wasn't supposed to torture the entire bar just to get to them.)

Forcing herself to her feet, she breathes deeply to steady herself and then makes her way out to the other room.

It's in utter chaos. Chairs and tables have been overturned and smashed to bits; shards of broken glasses & bottles lie bloodied on the ground as patrons and employees alike beat the crap out of each other. Korra grabs the nearest person and throws them to the ground.]

Where did they go?!

[She will beat up whoever she has to to find out where Hei took Chekov.]

[ Korra is gone when Hei returns. ]

[ But the pandemonium in the bar has reached defcon-levels. Some rational aspect of Hei can't help but wonder at the belligerence fizzling in the air. (Why is everyone so angry? And god, he hates when they use chairs and tables -- it's so Hollywood.) As he strafes carefully through the debris, shoes crunching on broken glass, he catches sight of Korra, whaling on some mulleted man -- who should get beat up for that hairdo alone. All her attention is on her victim. Which is fine. Right now, something has everyone's attention. ]

[ A wide-eyed boy, slipping on the wet floor as he tries to scramble away from Korra, bumps into Hei. He takes one look at the expression on Hei's face -- then bolts in the other direction. Straight out the bar's swinging doors. Hei, meanwhile, focuses on Korra. In his mind, a raft of vicious scenarios sails by -- different forms of payback, punishment, penance. In other circumstances he'd be disquieted by their cold specificity, and by the rage seething under his skin. ]

[ Instead, slipping his hands into his coat, he stands off to side. And watches the chaos all around him. ]

Edited (HUFF HUFF EDIT) 2013-05-07 13:04 (UTC)

[Nobody knows where Chekov is. Nobody has seen the young Russian or Hei. And at some point, Korra's no longer punching people for answers, but just to protect herself. More than one person in the bar has a grudge against her, and with the curse in play, they no longer have anything holding them back.

She slams a woman to the ground, and when she looks up, there Hei is. Standing in the corner, an iceberg in a storm, and Chekov is nowhere in sight. A mob teems between them, large and angry and impossible to cross with fists alone.

It's at these moments of impossibility that Korra finds the greatest clarity. She's been training hard at her airbending for months, but little of that training has been related to combat, which is why she's been brawling like your average thug, all fists and feet. Remember Amon. She'd been operating on pure instinct when she airpunched the Equalist leader out that window, but now she has training to back up her desperation.

A gale bursts through the entrance, breaking the doors off their hinges and knocking everyone except Korra to the ground as it heads straight for Hei.]

[ Through the knot of thrashing hooligans, Hei's eyes meet Korra's. Immediately he perceives a shift in the air around her, the way her gaze narrows and locks on him. It's like watching a fog clear at sea -- just in time to reveal a tidal wave crashing right at you. When she summons the wind-blast, it knocks everyone down like bowling pins in its path, whooshing straight for Hei. ]

[ Who has already made his move. ]

[ He feels the back-draft from her attack, perilously close to unbalancing him, as he darts to the side. A wire snaps out of his sleeve; snagging one of the overhanging roof beams, he swoops at her. A blade, unsnapped from his coat, whizzes at her in the same motion, thwocking the wall beside her head. Close enough that she'll feel the whistle in her ear, the bite of sharp metal slicing across her cheek. It's more a warning than a real attack, otherwise he wouldn't have missed. ]

[ No. The real threat drops in on Korra in a mid-air crashtackle, aiming a left palm-heel straight for her nose. ]

[There's a thin layer of blood on his knife, but Hei will drop down onto nothing but the floor. He's not fighting against a girl anymore.

He's up against a hurricane.

The gale circles around Korra, building up strength and momentum and picking up broken pieces of glass and furniture. Some of these pieces fly towards Hei at the speed of a bullet.]

Where's Chekov?!

[ Hei hits the ground rolling -- and keeps going with momentum, trying to dodge the shards of glass and jagged stumps of wood that are streaking for him. He feels one or two bite into his bicep and ankle, but the pain registers only in passing; he's too souped up on adrenaline to absorb it. His dense coat deflects the greater brunt of impact. Rolling for cover behind an upended table, he shoots out a wire to lasso the C O C K T A I L S sign directly above Korra. ]

[ A crackle of electricity, and it shatters off its moorings. Tumbling right for her. ]

[ Where's Chekov? ]

[ Oh, he's in a better place than she will be. ]

[The falling C O C K T A I L S sign gets caught up in the winds surrounding Korra; it circles around her and then flies off, shattering the front window.

The owner of the bar jumps up from behind a table, screeching MY WINDOWS!!!!! (he had just gotten them fixed earlier that day from another fight). Snarling, he grabs the nearest thing (an oinking pig, and it's only the influence of Korra's curse that makes him think a little pig would be an effective weapon) and hurls it at Korra.

The little creature screeches as it gets caught up in the storm and struggles. It actually manages to break free and goes flying straight into Korra's stomach.]

OOF!

[She stumbles backwards, the storm dying in her distraction. Freed from the curse, the rest of the bar's patrons decide the best idea is to get the fuck out, leaving only Korra and Hei in the rubble.

The pig makes a quick getaway.]

[ Hei has never witnessed such a scene of sheer gobsmacking stupidity in his entire life. And with his record, that is impressive. Astounding to imagine that that massive sign missed Korra. But a pig -- a pig! why is there a pig in here? -- actually managed to hit her. Even as he rails at the injustice of this, the scene seems to slow down so he can experience every detail with idle focus: Korra staggering backward, the sharp aura of her resolve dissipating like the cyclone itself. The patrons' burgeoning horror as the full gravity of the situation hits them, followed by the helter skelter commotion as they scramble out. The pig, tottering out after them, but not before it shoots a glance at Hei and Korra, seemingly full of disdainful reproach. ]

[ Hei's own reaction feels slower, a film caught frame by frame. He stares at the disaster-zone left behind, eyes narrowed. That sense of blind irrationality, once so strong in him, now fades, bit by bit, replaced by a chill clarity. He's still crouched behind the table, adrenaline and the dull drumbeat of his heart a counterpoint to the crackling wires and stereo that still plays staticky music on and off. Yet he feels, vaguely, like he's just awoken from a dream. ]

[ The feeling only lasts a moment. Whatever anger he'd felt when he crossed the bar's threshold -- when he strung Pavel up on the roof -- is still present. ]

[ Korra won't see much beyond a dark blur -- before he lunges at her, aiming an uppercut to her jaw. ]

[The blow chips one of Korra's teeth and makes her vision blur. She sweeps her leg under his to knock him off balance.

Distance. She needs distance. If he can touch her, he can electrocute her.]

[ He lets her kick his legs out from under him. But he uses the gravity and angle to take her with him, tumbling with the impact until he has her pinned flat under him. Distance is what she's aiming for. And distance is what he refuses to give her. Letting his legs slot on either side of her to support his weight, he lashes out again, not with an uppercut but a backhand -- hard enough to send her head spinning in a 360. And even if she manages to dodge that by some stroke of luck -- or via more flying pigs -- his free hand splays across her sternum. A sharp jolt of electricity flows from his palm -- the kind that makes your muscles spasm and your teeth sing and leaves a metallic aftertaste in your throat. ]

[Korra screams, the uppercut and electricity blurring her vision in a chaos of black and red. She doesn't struggle against him or try to move yet, more sensible in a fight than she is in the normal course of events. She needs to wait for the pain to clear so she can figure out her next step and pull up her reserves of strength.

Still, she can't play passive.]

Where's Chekov?

[ Hei can track the little steps blooming through her mind, a series of ripples left by a skipping stone in the water. He keeps his weight secure, his center of gravity balanced with one hand pinning her down, the other free to whip out either a weapon or a wire, depending on what she throws at him. His breaths come deep and even, but a degree faster than normal, and his pupils are dilated with adrenaline, but there's something a little too focused about the way he stares at her. ]

Alive. [ There's a frigid bite in his voice. The message is clear: And unless you want to be the opposite, stand down. ]

[She can feel blood welling up in her mouth; she turns her head to spit it out before it can choke her. The word alive doesn't bring with it much relief; she hadn't really expected Chekov to be otherwise.]

Are you cursed or have you just completely lost your mind?

[ Have you completely lost your mind? The look he gives her is one of dim incredulity, but the anger overrides it too strongly for the moment to last. Pitching forward, so his glowering face is inches from hers, he seizes her jaw in his free hand, rough fingers digging in as he tips her head up until her eyes meet his. ]

You broke into my flat with your friend -- dismantled my alarms -- glued all my furniture to the ceiling -- acted like a pair of suicidal idiots -- [ he shakes her face in emphasis for each transgression ] -- and I'm insane?

IT WAS A STUPID PRANK. [She tries to knee him in the crotch for emphasis, but she doesn't have enough room to put a lot of power behind it.] You tortured a room full of people and destroyed where I work. Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're either cursed or completely batshit crazy.

'Tortured'? [ His voice drips with cold disdain. When she tries to knee him, he lets his weight go heavy on hers, flattening her down. A reminder that she may have the force and physique of a tank, but he's much, much stronger than he looks. ] Let me play you the world's saddest song on the world's smallest violin. [ Without warning, he grabs her by both biceps and hauls her up, shoving her against the wall. Their faces are barely a sliver apart. ] You destroyed the bar -- as much as any damage I caused. As for your 'prank' -- [ something shutters across his expression, vicious and self-contained in turns ] what made you decide that was a good idea? Did you run out of boy-troubles and drama to keep yourself occupied?

[ If the words are cruel -- well, they're meant to be. ]

[His words cut off any defense she planned to make -- The bar was fine until YOU arrived! and I was just protecting myself! She doesn't have an answer to his question...nothing that makes any sense to her now, at least.

Boy-troubles and drama Way to trivialize everything she's been struggling with -- desire, doubt, confusion, shame. It twists up her insides, making her feel nauseous with shame. Aang wouldn't have gotten into this situation. Aang didn't let his personal problems get in the way of being the Avatar. She hates herself, hates the memory of the last time they were in a position like this. What have you been doing with yourself?!

She's not sure whether she wants to cry or throw up, but she does neither. Right now she needs to keep her head in the game. For Chekov.]

[ She may be trying to keep her head in the game. But that doesn't stop Hei from reading her emotional signature right on her face. She's always been semi-transparent to him. The blue whorls of her eyes don't have the power to entangle secrets so much as to transmit them. Any enemy can get what he needs in a glimpse. He wants to say something more -- something much crueler. But there's little satisfaction in winning a verbal spar against a teenage girl. ]

[ She's not his enemy. Just a nuisance. ]

[ A sudden sick chill rides up his spine; disgusted -- with her, with himself -- he's prepared to let her drop and walk away. But underneath all that he's still furious, the emotion percolating into a black frustration. Because he's not some goddamn teddy-bear in a big jacket -- someone she can play around with, pull pranks on, without expecting repercussions. If she knew who -- and what -- he truly was, she'd shrink away in dismay. ]

[ Pressed this close, he can smell her, that familiar Korra-smell, with the acrid undertones of sweat and rage, and the combination stirs up a weird alchemy. Hei's face drops to her throat, at first as if he just plans to brace it there -- but in the next breath he's leaning in to kiss her. Except Kiss isn't the right word. It denotes an intimacy and tenderness -- and this gesture lacks both. It's hard and biting, an assertion of control, a warning, a hint as to what's to come. ]

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