In a canon-divergent AU where Amon is imprisoned rather than killed, Korra makes the decision to go speak with him amidst a new civil war brewing in Republic City in the wake of his capture. She wants answers - a resolution to the lingering nightmar...
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"Korra... you don't have to do this."
Asami's voice was gentle, comforting; and the soft hand on her shoulder eased Korra's pounding heart slightly. The Avatar closed her eyes for a few moments, took in a deep breath, and opened them again. "Yes," she said quietly, resolutely. "I do."
As she moved forward, giving a ready nod to the officer waiting for her, Asami's hand slid from the brunette's shoulder. Korra gave the woman one last reassuring glance back before moving further into the police station and descending into the lower levels.
Where the prison cells were.
The police officer stopped rigidly in front of a particular cell; Korra felt her body seizing in fear as she remembered what she was doing - who she was visiting. Memories flashed across her vision, vivid images of the despair she'd felt, all caused by him.
To see him now...
Korra's eyes narrowed on the man. The light yet effective armor he'd worn under the dark overcoat was gone, replaced with dark rags of clothing. His black hair was now past his shoulders and scruff darkened his chin and cheeks; but those eyes... those ice blue eyes, they still pierced her, right to the very bone. She could see that even sitting in the cell, leaning back against the wall with one knee pulled to his chest and the other leg sprawled out, the villain was alert as a cat on the prowl, muscles tensed and ready to pounce. His gaze followed her every movement, eyes never once leaving her. Fear palpitated her heart; he had given her nightmares. He had taken her bending.
The police woman, named Zumi, must've heard the Avatar's shuddering, panicked breaths because she was moving forward, wires coming from the pods on her back threateningly. Licking suddenly dry lips, Korra glanced over at the officer. "I-It's alright," she said, voice wavering. "You can go. He... he can't hurt me. He can't do anything anymore."
The last part of her statement was nearly spat. Maybe an attempt to hurt his pride, maybe to somehow try to affect him the way he'd affected her. As the officer left and Korra focused on the man in the cell, she found that his expression hadn't changed in the slightest; he still stared at her with an enigmatic look in his eyes. She folded her arms over her chest, mustering all the bravado she could manage to fix him with a nasty glare. "You're not so scary without that mask," she growled.
His lip quirked. The small gesture sent a shock down her spine. "Why are you here?" he finally asked. His voice was that same rough, deep gravel, the grinding of rocks against each other accompanied by the deep bass of a roaring Satomobile engine. Korra was so struck by it, by the memories that accompanied it, that her composure crumbled for a moment and her arms lowered to her sides.
She opened her mouth to speak, but found nothing. Her voice had died in her throat. This was Amon. The man who'd nearly destroyed Republic City. The man who'd nearly ended the Avatar. The man who still haunted her dreams.
