Title: It’s systematic
Fandom: Avatar the Legend of Korra
Prompt/Summary: Amon/The Lieutenant. To The Lieutenant, it’s systematic. Here at http://ficbending.livejournal.com/578.html?page=1#comments
A/N: Since these guys have had little screentime, these are just my impressions and theories on them inspired by those impressions. And this turned out more about how Amon and the Lieutenant are comfortable with each other, in actions and words. Hope you enjoy! I would really appreciate feedback, thanks!
[[MORE]]The Lieutenant was loyal, no doubt—but still, he wasn’t sure if he would ever fully understand Amon.
“You have all these plans,” he commented one morning after bringing Amon the day’s paper.
In response, Amon had not looked up from the paper. He simply gestured to the breakfast tray the maid had brought in, silently offering his Lieutenant a bite. And just said, “Of course.”
Accepting the offer and grabbing a dumpling, the Lieutenant leaned against his leader’s desk, glancing at the scattered documents. It was a mess of intelligence reports, cutouts from older newspapers, alchemical formulas, budget plans, diagrams of the body’s chi points, copies of ancient texts.
“Too many,” the Lieutenant clarified as he pulled one formula sheet closer, careful to only use the hand that hadn’t touched food; Amon may scatter his papers about, but he avoided stains. ”I don’t know how you keep track of them all.”
“By remembering they’re all for one goal.” Amon flipped a page, still focused on the newspaper, holding it in front of his face as if it wasn’t already covered by a mask.
“Then why not one plan?”
“And should that plan fail?” Another page flipped. ”I rather have several points of attack. Not to mention, there is the Problem’s complexity.”
“Complexity?” The Lieutenant echoed, his brow furrowing at the formula in hand, before finally letting it drop. He knew his engineering, electricity; he personally had little interest in Amon’s alchemy. (Even if Amon himself shared in his interests in engineering and electricity, always respectful of his kali sticks and their portable generator.)
Amon lifted up the formula his Lieutenant had dropped, holding it by one corner tip. Still, the newspaper blocked his face.
“The Problem is so vast that there are several different ways to remedy it. This, for example—”
“Has that potion suppressed anyone’s bending longer—?”
“Longer, yes, but nothing permanent.” The Lieutenant arched his brow, and either Amon somehow noticed it from behind the newspaper or predicted it, for he said, “Not including the subjects who died, though casualties were less this time. I’l have to revise the equation again, not to mention restock on supplies.”
Amon put the potion formula down, and lifted one of the copies of ancient text. It was in a dialect so old, it was gibberish to the Lieutenant. ”And then there’s this, seeing if there’s any way to duplicate Avatar Aang’s defeat of Lord Ozai on a grander scale—”
Amon put that sheet down, and finally laid his newspaper flat on the desk, revealing his masked face. He tapped on one story, its headline blazing. ”—or simple execution.”
“Isn’t the ‘simple’ answer the most advantageous one?”
Taking the tray’s pot, Amon poured his Lieutenant tea.
“It depends on the context. And though the context shifts just as easily as the wind, for now it’s centered, calm, and clear enough. A number of them can be killed, even the current Avatar, but to kill them all? If a possibility at all, it’s only as a last resort.” Amon handed the Lieutenant his tea. ”They comprise enough of the world’s population where it would be more harmful than good to extinguish them all.” Folding up the newspaper, Amon shifted in his chair, staring out the half-curtained window. ”And besides, they cannot help but be born with bending. They deserve a cure for their ailment.”
The Lieutenant drank his tea. To him, it was all systematic, the way Amon thought, but still a labyrinth of possibility and contemplation in the other man’s mind, too tangled and dense for him to crack.
Still, he felt a new satisfaction, a new clarity. It was probably for the best that he couldn’t read everything about his leader.
It was the Lieutenant’s turn to pour Amon’s tea. He tapped loudly against the tray. ”Don’t skip breakfast again.”
“I make no promises,” Amon murmured, picking up his formula and beginning to recalculate it. ”Meet me in the labs in an hour, I’ll have the list of supplies and criteria for new test subjects for you then.”
The Lieutenant left, knowing there was no chance in hell his leader would even fathom feeding himself in front of company.
A/N: I think there are many ways someone would try to end bending, and I have very particular ideas about Amon.
Yes, ‘make no promises’ is a reference to Jinora (and a reference to another Amon-centric AtLOK plotbunny I might draft one day).