Azula kept a polite expression on her face as she handed over a small spherical container to the man in front of her. He grabbed it with withered hands, flashing a gummy smile that caused revulsion to roll through her
“Thank you, dear.”
The man looked upon her with a wistful expression, and Azula fought to keep her pleasant expression in the face of her indignity.
“Of course,” she said, managing a modicum of sweetness that she failed to feel “Maya prepared it fresh this morning.”
The old man clutched the container to his chest as though it were something precious. His cloudy eyes studied her face with an earnestness that made her skin prickle.
“How is Maya doing? Haven’t seen her at the shop these past few days. Tell her old Harold’s asking after her.”
“She’s well,” Azula said, and that was all.
“That’s good, that’s good.” He nodded sagely, his wispy white hair bobbing with the motion. “You know, I’ve known Maya since she was just a girl. Her mother, rest her soul, used to make the most wonderful—”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Azula cut in, her smile faltering for just a moment before she wrestled it back into place, “I have several more deliveries to make before the afternoon is out.”
The man’s face fell, but he recovered quickly, waving a gnarled hand in dismissal. “Of course, of course. Young people, always on the go. Don’t let me keep you.”
Azula didn’t, moving down the road with a quickness that belied her nicety.
Azula’s footsteps carried her through the cramped streets, the basket of medicine tucked under one arm. A week of running the same routes had made her memorize the twisting alleys and narrow passages that made up this corner of Brockton Bay---the city she now called her home.
This land was stranger than she had first assumed. It operates on rules she was quite frankly unsuited for but which it’s people had clearly been adapted. From the advancements in technology to the style of government; she floundered to absorb the grand difference in their worlds.
But she was learning.
There were no benders, for one. Instead they had been replaced with men and women who possessed the potential to be infinitely more destructive. They were officially titled “parahuman” by the locals, a notion that Azula frankly considered laughable. They inspired hope and fear and some even ruled over the land like warlords, tending to their little fiefs mostly unopposed.
Two such entities existed here, though the way they applied their power was night and day. And it seemed that Azula had found herself in a position directly under the thumb of one of them---the horrifically named Azn Bad Boys, or ABB. Once a collection of Asian gangs, they had been brought together under one banner by the might of one man: Lung.
Though for all his might, his ability to govern left something lacking. It seemed he had no plan past forming his gang, and his territory, and people, had suffered for it .
Azula paused, taking bearing of her surroundings. After a moment, she stepped past a faded patch of graffiti and moved down an alley.
The woman who’d helped her when she first arrived, Maya, had been kind enough to give her a place to stay. It confused Azula a bit, as it was clear that her display in the alley had frightened the woman, yet she offered her home just the same. Granted, Azula was expected to work for the roof over her head, but delivering medicine beat plowing fields or picking crops—both activities that Azula had been forced to dirty her hands with during her time on the run.
Perhaps it was Azula’s resemblance to the woman’s dead daughter that kept the roof over her head. Whatever the reason, Azula was not left on the street, and that was more than enough for her.
Azula made two more stops before she was out of product to carry. As she handed over the last batch, Azula mused on how far she had fallen, from the princess of an entire nation to a simple medicine courier. Though she supposed it beat the alternative.
She made her way back home. The shop was a modest affair tucked on a corner of the street. The sign above the door read “Chen’s Herbal Remedies” in faded letters, and the windows displayed an array of bottles and pouches. Maya’s business, such as it was.
A bell chimed as Azula pushed through the door, the familiar scent of dried herbs and medicinal roots washing over her. Maya looked up from behind the counter, where she was carefully measuring out a powder into small paper packets.
“Back already, Lin?” Maya asked. “That was quicker than usual.”
“Several of your clients tried to occupy my time,” Azula noted. “I didn’t have the patience, today.”
“You weren’t rude to them, were you?”
Azula made no comment, moving to wash her hands in the sink. She hadn’t been rude, or at least not as rude as she could have been. She knew that a shop as humble as this could not survive by alienating its customers, so she tried to keep her worse remarks to herself when she could.
Maya sighed, disappointment painting her face. “What did you say?”
“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Azula replied, shutting off the tap and reaching for a towel. “The old man with the respiratory condition attempted to regale me with some interminable story about your mother. I simply informed him that I had deliveries to make.”
Maya’s expression softened in reminiscence. “Harold? He does love to talk. He doesn’t get many visitors these days.”
“I don’t see why that should become my problem.”
“Because we’re part of a community, Lin.” Maya set down her measuring spoon and gave Azula a look that she didn’t care for. “We look out for each other here. That’s just how things work.”
Pretty words, but in Azula’s experience communities were little more than collections of individuals bound by mutual necessity, ready to turn on each other the moment they saw an opportunity to climb above their fellows. A bounty as large as hers had been quite the prize to covet.
Her mood soured further. “I’m going to rest,” she announced, not waiting for a response as she climbed the steps to the loft above.
That evening, Azula sat across from Maya at the small kitchen table. A bowl of rice and vegetables sat before her, lightly seasoned. It was a meal that would have gone wonderfully with a viewing of the flogging of the royal chef who prepared it.
Azula took a bite. Edible, at the very least.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks against ceramic. Maya ate with unhurried grace, occasionally glancing up at Azula with those searching eyes that made her feel like a specimen under glass.
“You’re staring,” Azula said flatly.
“Sorry.” Maya looked down at her bowl, but not before Azula caught the flicker of pity in her expression. “I was just wondering what you were thinking about. You seemed a million miles away.”
Azula considered the question. She had been thinking about how different this world was from her own, how the rules she had lived by no longer applied. She had been thinking about how easily she could subjugate this entire city if she had the resources, about how Lung’s incompetence grated on her sensibilities as a former ruler.
“I was contemplating the futility of small talk,” she said instead.
Maya laughed, a soft sound that held more warmth than Azula thought warranted. “You remind me so much of—”
“Your daughter,” Azula finished. “Yes, you’ve mentioned.”
The words came out harsher than intended, and she saw Maya flinch. Azula felt nothing in particular about it.
“I’m sorry,” Maya said quietly. “I don’t mean to make comparisons. It’s just... you have the same look in your eyes sometimes. Like you’re carrying something too heavy for your shoulders.”
Azula eyed the woman over her nose. “What happened to her?”
Maya’s chopsticks stilled over her bowl. For a long moment, the only sound was Azula’s reluctant chewing. Then she set them down with deliberate care, her hands folding in her lap.
“She was a member of the ABB,” Maya said, her voice reluctant as if she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to tell this story. “She was just a runner, nothing significant. She carried product from one point to another and made a little money on the side. It was dangerous, but she insisted it was fine.”
Azula stayed silent, listening intently as Maya continued, “They thought she was skimming. Shorting her drops, keeping a little off the top for herself. She swore she wasn’t, and I believe her. She had no reason to lie to me.” A bitter smile crossed her face. “But it didn’t matter in the end. It wasn’t about the product.”
Azula’s raised a brow. “Meaning?”
Maya’s gaze dropped to the table, her fingers twisting in her lap. “A few weeks into the job, she caught the attention of one of the men higher up. He’s not a big name, but he has enough influence that people know his name.”
“I assume your daughter wasn’t interested?”
“Dawn... preferred women,” Maya admitted. “And she made sure he knew that. In front of everyone.”
All Azula said was, “I see.”
“She disappeared a few days later. That was almost a year ago so I’ve given up hope of ever seeing her again,” Maya shook her head. “Men and their pride... Its been the death of many good people. My daughter was rebellious, but underneath she had a heart of gold; I’m sure of that much.”
Azula set her chopsticks down, her golden eyes studying Maya’s downturned face. The woman’s grief was palpable, hanging in the air like smoke after a fire. It was uncomfortable in a way Azula couldn’t quite name.
“Do you think they had her killed?”
Maya’s jaw tightened, at the question.
“I wouldn’t dare say it out loud.” Her eyes flickered up to meet Azula’s. “But yes.”
Azula absorbed that information with a thoughtful hum. She’d heard of similar things happening in the military in her homeland, but rarely did such an act go unpunished. Not out of any banal sense of morality, of course, but because executing even the lowliest grunt during wartime was nothing more than a waste of resources. At the very least, it was another body to throw into the battlefield meat grinder.
“Does this gang make a habit of killing their own?” she asked. “That seems like a poor strategy for maintaining numbers.”
“It’s not common,” Maya admitted. “But Dawn embarrassed him and in some eyes, that’s worse than stealing.”
“How delightfully primitive.”
Maya rose from the table and began clearing the dishes. Azula watched her move around the small kitchen, before a knock at the door garnered both of their attention.
“I didn’t realize we were expecting company,” Azula noted. Maya swallowed.
“I wasn’t.”
Azula raised an eyebrow, noting the woman’s fearful expression. Whoever was on the other side of that door was not a welcome guest, it seemed.
Well then... Azula stood, holding a hand out to Maya as she went to get the door.
“I’ll answer it.”
Azula strode over to the door and pulled it open before Maya could offer any protest. Four men stood on the doorstep, their postures casually threatening m. They wore the same red and green that Azula had seen daubed on walls throughout the neighborhood..
The one in front was perhaps a few years older than her, with a narrow face and hard eyes. He had the look of someone who had been picked on as a child and had since made it his life’s mission to ensure others felt the same helplessness. When he saw Azula, his eyes traveled over her in a way she was growing intensely tired of.
“Who’re you?” he asked.
“Lin,” Azula replied, her voice flat. “Maya’s niece.”
The man’s brow furrowed, clearly not expecting this response. He glanced back at his companions, who shrugged with equal confusion, before turning back to her.
“Niece, huh? Didn’t know Maya had family in town.”
“And I wasn’t aware that was any of your concern.”
A snort from one of the men behind him. “Shit, she’s got a mouth on her.”
The leader’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking past Azula’s shoulder toward where Maya stood frozen in the kitchen doorway. When he looked back at Azula, his smile was edged with intent.
“Maya’s behind on her payments,” he said m. “Three weeks now. Boss is getting impatient.”
The meaning behind his words were obvious. The man was expecting protection money. Azula had seen similar arrangements before from the businesses nearby. She supposed she should have expected Maya would be similarly put upon by these brigands.
“How much?”
“Eight hundred.” The leader crossed his arms. “And that’s just what’s past due. There’s the matter of interest too, see, on account of her being late.”
Though Azula was still getting used to this world’s currency, she knew well enough that Maya didn’t have that much on hand.
“Maya,” Azula said without turning around, “have you paid these men before?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“Of course you have,” Azula murmured.
She stepped forward, crossing the threshold and pulling the door shut behind her. She heard Maya’s startled protest but easily ignored it as she pulled it to.
“Let me make one thing clear,” Azula said slowly. “That woman will not be paying you another cent.”
The leader scowled. “Excuse me?”
Azula waved a hand. “By all means, continue threatening any of these other fools to your heart’s content. This business is rather important to my current way of life, and I can’t have the likes of you jeopardizing that.”
One of the man’s Patsy’s scowled. “The fuck did you just say to us?”
“You heard me clearly,” Azula replied, holding her nails up for false inspection. “I don’t repeat myself for the slow.”
The man behind him cracked his knuckles. “Yo, Koji, you gonna let this bitch talk to us like that?”
Koji’s jaw clenched, his hand shooting out to grab Azula’s collar, but Azula, who had been keeping her eyes on the men, saw it coming. She let him get close before her hand snapped up, catching his wrist and twisting sharply.
The man yelped as she wrenched his arm sideways, using his own momentum to spin him around and drive her elbow into the back of his skull. He staggered forward, cursing, and Azula released him with a shove that sent him stumbling into one of his companions.
“Big mistake, bitch!” One of the other men lunged at her, swinging wide.
Azula sidestepped the clumsy attack and caught the man’s arm as it sailed past, using it as leverage to deliver a sharp kick to his knee. The joint buckled with a satisfying crack, and he went down screaming.
The third man was smarter than his companions, or at least more cautious. He circled around, trying to flank her while Koji was still reeling from the elbow to his skull. The fourth hung back, his hand disappearing beneath his jacket.
Azula’s attention split between the two remaining threats. The flanking man moved with more discipline than his fallen companion, but he was clearly no soldier. The one reaching beneath his jacket was the more immediate concern.
Azula feinted toward the flanker, drawing his commitment, then pivoted away from his grasping hands. Her heel caught him across the jaw and sent him reeling, but the motion brought her within reach of the fourth man, who had drawn his weapon: a short blade, glinting in the streetlight.
She twisted away from the knife, feeling the air shift as it passed her ribs. Her hand shot out, fingers finding the pressure point beneath his wrist. His hand spasmed open and the blade clattered to the ground. As he staggered back, she moved to capitalize, but an arm wrapped around her throat from behind.
“Got you now,” he snarled into her ear, his grip tightening. “You’re gonna learn not to mess with the ABB, kid!”
Unlikely As the man pulled her close, Azula turned her head and pursed her lips. Heat built in her lungs and she exhaled a thin stream of azure flames directly into his eyes.
The man’s resulting howl of pain made Azula’s eardrums vibrate in sympathy. He all but shoved her away as his hands came up to claw at his burning skin. He staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the ground, where he writhed and shrieked like a wounded animal.
Azula turned to face the remaining men, blue fire dancing in her palm. The flanker she’d kicked in the jaw was pushing himself up on shaking arms, blood dripping from his lips, while the one she looked at was staring at her in horror.
“Now then, whose next?”
“What the fuck?” The standing man breathed. Azula’s eyes snapped towards him and he flinched.
Azula was considering how to deal with the remaining men when a deep growl reverberated through the street, shaking the windows and drawing attention down the road. A single headlight swept across the gathered group, and Azula covered her eyes with the hand that wasn’t currently on fire
What now? She thought as she squinted against the glare.
A motorcycle pulled up to the curb, it’s engine rumbling loudly as the rider dismounted. He was a massive figure of metal and strangely glowing blue lights, and only the square, bearded jaw peeking out from underneath his helmet gave any indication he was human and not a contraption himself
Reaching over, he powered down his vehicle, the rumble fading into the distance and the glare finally sparing Azula’s eyes. As she blinked spots out of her vision, he strode forward, clutching a long, bladed weapon which he held out to one side.
“Unidentified Parahuman, temporary designation ’Flare,’ You are under arrest for crimes of arson, attempted manslaughter, assault in the second degree—”
As the man continued his tirade, Azula noted that It had taken her less than a month to find herself on the wrong end of the local government.
She would have been proud in her ability to make trouble, if she wasn’t the one it affected.