Chapter Text
Wandering the abandoned buildings of Republic City, pilfering, snagging, grabbing, taking, snatching - but never stealing, since no one was around to say no - Quan loved Kuvira. Not in the way that many of her followers had, keep in mind. He wasn’t walking around with her face on a t-shirt like some silly fanatic. And he wasn’t about to follow her into any sort of battle, because he wasn’t in her army. Armies never seemed like a good fit for him. He liked his hair long, his mustache ragged, and his morals loose. Even walking in even step with other soldiers seemed like a real pain in the ass. Literally. He’d tried marching in place once - just once, mind - and all the muscles of his backside were on fire the next day. He resolved then to walk like he did naturally. It’d been getting him around for long enough - thirty some odd years now - so there was likely no reason to change.
Of course, he’d had to do some walking because of Kuvira. Literally and figuratively. Some long time ago, he’d been one of Kuvira’s targeted bandits - though he resented that term. Opportunist, he preferred. Just took advantage of the low hanging fruit. Someone had to pick it. Then someone had to eat it. If it was him, and his folks, then where was the harm in that? Well, other than with the villagers whose food and water they took. Probably harmed them quite a bit. But that wasn’t Quan’s concern. Never had been, and never would have been.
His concern didn’t arrive until the train did, with Kuvira on it. The so-called Great Uniter had stood on her shiny snake, prim and proper as you please, then unleashed a torrent of metal that took down each and every one of his brothers. Quan had seen from the hill, because he hadn’t bothered coming down it. Rolled his ankle earlier that morning, and their whole ‘sliding down a cliff face on a boulder’ routine didn’t sit real well with him. They understood, or at least they said they did. Couple gave him shifty glances, but he returned those right enough. Made sure to keep limping on his left leg - or was it the right? - in the hours before the train arrived. They knew it was coming, of course. Wasn’t any kind of secret. Nothing Kuvira did was secret. Promoted with posters and pamphlets and all the other propaganda you could want. It was all stupid. Or at least, Quan figured it was. Couldn’t read, so the pamphlets might’ve been pure poetry, so far as he knew. Of course, he never cared much for poetry either. Just ugly word salad. And salad wasn’t any good either.
Quan had found his legs then, right enough. Set to running across that great expanse, right the opposite way of Kuvira and her train. If she wanted soldiers, he wanted out. Wherever out was, didn’t much matter. After a few hours or a few days - he was hot and hungry and could not rightly remember - Quan stumbled up to a dirt road. And that was being generous. It wasn’t much more than a set of tire imprints that people kept following, maybe out of habit, maybe out of usefulness. Either way, Quan found those tracks, and set his two feet inside one of them. He walked and he baked under that naked sun, and he felt like his skin was turning to leather over his bones in a matter of minutes. Or maybe it was another day or so. Probably not, though, because he couldn’t remember a night passing. Though would he be able to remember it? Hard to say for certain, so best not to say at all.
Eventually, a car came around. Quan didn’t know much about cars but this one appeared to have all four wheels and it was running, and he knew that just by looking. He also knew that the man in the driver seat was about half his size, and looked near on wetting himself when Quan erected an earth barrier in front of his car.
“Where ya headed?” asked Quan.
The man stammered and - well, he actually did wet himself - and all the letters making up “Republic City” managed to tumble out of his mouth in just about the right order.
“Mind if I hop in?” Quan let his earthen barrier crumble back into nothing, but picked up a good sized rock, and leveled it at the man’s eyes.
The driver didn’t move or say a thing, so Quan seated himself. Not much in the way of permission, but it was more than he usually got. Villagers usually told him he couldn’t take their things. Of course, that never stopped him. Quan squirmed into the rough seat, and narrowed that rock into something like a crude knife - must have dropped his metal one a ways back, while running - and pressed it up against the man’s throat. The bitch pissed himself again and Quan grabbed the flask of water sitting in the backseat, opened it up, and chugged the whole damn thing. He was as parched as the dirt outside, and it wasn’t like the driver needed any more liquids. Seemed plenty hydrated, even if most of it was now running down his leg. Made the car smell like… well... like piss, for the duration of the drive, but then Quan didn’t figure he smelled like Spring himself, and he frankly didn’t give a shit. Or a piss, for that matter.
Getting to Republic City was one thing, finding something to do while there was another. Being honest… Quan didn’t have much in the way of trade skills. Of course, he wasn’t honest, and so he lied out of both his mouth and his ass, trying to get work as everything from a mechanic to a dishwasher to an exotic dancer. He actually got an interview for that last one, and, well… he didn’t get the job, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. And the owner actually said he’d give Quan a call if anything else opened up… but it wasn’t until a couple days later that Quan realized he didn’t have a phone, or a house, for that matter. Not that he didn’t notice he was sleeping in alleys. Hard to miss a thing like that. But you forget all the things you’re missing, when you’re missing everything. Easier still when you never had them to miss.
Quan was used to not having much. Not having a phone, a roof, or even a bite to eat, some nights. He’d go to sleep with the rumble of his stomach as a lullaby. Those weren’t good nights, but there were enough of them that it all kind of melted together. The sharp edges of the memories disappeared, and eventually, that life of bountiful opportunity on the wild, lawless plains of the Earth Kingdom - before the ‘Empire’ business - seemed awfully appealing. Seemed pretty damn rich, right about now, sleeping under a damp piece of cardboard, looking up at the a sky washed out by the bright lights of the big city.
He hated Kuvira for taking that life from him. Who was she, anyway? Taking something that didn’t rightly belong to her in the first place. Nothing but a low down dirty you-know-what. And Quan did know what. Might’ve said it too, but there were children walking by the alley. Didn’t even feel comfortable thinking it, in front of them. Never had been comfortable around kids. Weird little bastards. They pointed at him and laughed, and he thought maybe he could’ve put a dirty word in their ears, or maybe a palm upside their heads. Spoiled brats never knew discipline. That’s how they turned out with manners like that. Not like Quan. His father had whupped him daily, and sure, he killed the brute and ran away at thirteen, but it had made a man out of him, right enough. Made him the man he was today… a man sleeping under damp cardboard, in a Republic City alley.
So maybe it wasn’t the best life. Maybe it was a damn sight worse than his days as a high plains opportunist. Maybe the dumpster didn’t have everything a man could want to eat. But it did always have something to eat. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t nothing. And in a life spent teetering too close to nothing, Quan was glad for just about anything he could get. He found some sort of red vine candy, and gobbled that up. Berry flavored, probably. What kind of berry didn’t matter much, and anyway, wasn’t like Quan could rightly tell the difference between them. Red candy tasted like a red berry might taste or at least like it ought to taste, and that was good enough.
Good enough for that night, at least. But that sort of diet wouldn’t sustain a man for long. And so Quan figured he’d best start looking for work again. The sort of work he was well cut out for. He’d heard of the Terra Triads, heard they had an interest in men such as himself. Those who could bend earth and had no troubles bending their own morals to go along with. Quan figured he fit the bill right enough. And he heard they had a more glamorous life in this city, than what he was used to. Fancy cars and fitted suits, smokes that hadn’t been picked out of the dirt, or weren’t half full of sawdust. That all sounded mighty fine to him. The sort of thing he could sink his teeth into. Well, those that were left. A couple were already missing and a couple more figured to follow them out the door pretty soon. Maybe he could afford a dentist too, if this new opportunity panned out? That’d be something.
But right about then, Republic City itself got kicked in the teeth. There wasn’t much warning. At least, there wasn’t much that he knew about. Maybe the papers or the radio had talked about it; but he hadn’t heard a radio in a long while... and, well, you couldn’t read a paper if you couldn’t read the words put on it. So Quon heard some sirens and some confused voice calling out garbled instructions, saying something about Kuvira attacking; then Prince Wu - he’d heard the little shit’s voice once before; and it still sounded just as little, and just as shitty - going on and on about something. Quan didn’t listen. He didn’t much like Kuvira, not considering how she snuffed out his opportunities. But the Royals weren’t much higher on his list. Entitled pricks who were born with one opportunity so big, they never had to dig in the dirt for a thousand others. Not like him.
But now… now there were opportunities. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands. Quan didn’t know how many people lived in Republic City, and he couldn’t count too high anyway. But he could figure they were all leaving in a hurry. Leaving so quick that they had to pack light. He licked his lips, and tucked back into his alley. He couldn’t count too high, but he could stand to do some figuring, where money was concerned. That, he didn’t mind so much.
He did mind the rumbling. At first. Then, he missed the rumbling. He wished it would come back, when it turned to shaking, then to crumbling. Being an earthbender was one thing, but when entire city blocks were collapsing… that was enough to put fear inside any man. Even one such as Quan. He remembered that man in the car, then noticed a dribble of moisture down his own leg.
He dabbed at the wet spot on his pants with a tattered bit of cloth pulled from the dumpster, then turned to see the sky ripped longways by a purple beam. There was silence for half a moment. Quan held his breath, and it felt like the whole world did too.
“Son of a-”
The world exhaled, then it roared. Everything went to shit.
Quan dove into the dumpster, and bent a shelter around it. It wasn’t his best work, but then his best work had come when his hands weren’t trembling. And now the whole ground was trembling too. Trembling like it was about to be split open, just as the sky had been.
Quan trembled in that darkness for as long as he heard the explosions, and as long as he felt the ground shake. That took a while. Then, he trembled in the darkness for two sleeps, until his vision and sensations became memory. And memory couldn’t rightly hurt a man. Not like a falling building, or whatever that purple light was.
He didn’t know, and he couldn’t possibly make a guess. Of course, he couldn’t bother caring either. With silence and steadiness all around, greed entered his mind. But not greed, really. Just an opportunity. Just a man taking things others didn’t want. They’d left them behind, hadn’t they? That was as good as giving them away. He was just collecting.
And damn, was the collecting good. The first night, he found himself an apartment with running water. He figured that was a good get, what with the city being in ruins. And he didn’t figure anyone would mind for a good long while. Once anyone did mind… well, he could give them a piece of his. Maybe a piece of rock upside their head, until their mind was spilled out on the floor. People didn’t seem so disagreeable, when you put things in those terms.
The days that followed might have turned into weeks, but Quan couldn’t rightly say. Couldn’t be bothered to care, either. He wasn’t measuring his existence in time anymore. Time was for survivors. He was an opportunist, and such people measured their life in opportunities seized. Judging by how fast his apartment was filling up, Quan was seizing quite a bit. Enough art to fill a museum; enough jewelry to to melt down and outfit another Earth Empire army; and enough bills to… well, to spend on whatever he damn well pleased, once businesses opened back up. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and he wasn’t either. This was the best damn opportunity of his miserable life, and Kuvira of all people had given it to him. And he loved her for it. He didn’t know what had happened to her, or her army. But he was happy enough not to see them. Good riddance, and fuck off. He didn’t know why there was a golden stream of light, pissing its way up into the sky. But it made for bright nights, which made for very visible opportunities. So he was fine with it. This was his city now, and he was free to roam wherever he pleased, and take whatever he wanted.
That included the Spirit Wilds. He’d heard of them, way back when. Couldn’t remember much about it, or why they were called wild in the first place. They seemed pretty damn calm, truth be told. Sure, there were all sorts of strange things whisping around; but they were spirits and he wasn’t, and that should count for something, right? So long as they were in his world, he was boss. Made sense to him, and whenever he told them as much, they never denied it. So they probably agreed too.
At least, he thought they did. But on this night in particular, one seemed like it wanted to argue. Leastways, that it wanted to tease. He thought he saw something gold dangling off of it. And maybe he was wrong, but it was just so bright he couldn’t resist. And anyway, the spirit itself wasn’t gold. He couldn’t rightly say what color it was, actually, since it seemed to be all of them at once, and then none at all. And its shape was the most simple and familiar thing he’d ever seen, and yet something he never had. He wasn’t sure about much, and in a clear mind, he might not have chased after the thing, when it vanished into the Wilds.
But the Wilds didn’t look so wild anyway. And so he followed. The light from that big yellow something or other seemed to leak through the vines like motor oil, and it seemed suddenly just about as dark. But then… he could still see. It just wasn’t like he was used to seeing. Like he was seeing through his eyes, but not with his eyes. He blinked nervously, then slapped himself.
“Get it together,” he whispered.
It seemed like there was a response. Not vocal, and in fact he couldn’t hear anything at all. But he could feel it. Sense it. Deep within his bones and then deeper down in his gut, he could feel it. A creeping dread unlike anything he’d ever known. He thought about twisting an ankle, or pretending to, but then he remembered where he was.
He turned, took off at a dead sprint, and made it four steps, before colliding with a thick wall of vines.
Quan’s hands went to his head first, like he could rub the ache out of it. But there was nothing for it. Maybe there were some pills back home. There damn sure was some cactus juice, and that would do the trick. Or it would do a trick. Any trick would do, really. Just so long as he could get home. Only thing about that, the vines didn’t seem to open. Not like they had. There was a path here before. How else would he have arrived here? Maybe he’d gotten turned around. Maybe that was it. Quan pressed his hands up against the vines, but the found no grip, and slid right away. Looking at his hands… maybe it was the lighting, or the lack, but they looked red. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting out. If there wasn’t a path, he’d make one. He pulled up chunks of earth, and fired them at the vines. Nothing. He sharpened them, and sliced, then sawed. Nothing.
Quan turned left, then right, then back left again. It was all suddenly very open. Like the vines had pulled back, then shot straight up. His eyes followed up a shape that looked vaguely like a person, if a person could be made of vines, and then settled on two bright purple orbs, resting near the top. How many stories high, he couldn’t rightly say. Never was much good at counting.
Never was much good at running either. Certainly not fast enough to escape the pod of vines that hovered overhead, reached, and then came down.
“Son of a-”