The day had just turned into the evening as Jinyong made a cup of tea in his kitchen. It was already the last month of the year, and the weather turned colder and colder by the day.
He brought the tea to his workshop, where Asami was working by herself in front of a steel suit that stood a little taller than her. It was bulky, armor thick like slabs of metal, shaped like a human, only more intimidating.
The suit was still a prototype. More exoskeleton than actual armor. Its head was round like a half-ball, with two small glass windows that served as the only view outside.
Jinyong placed the tea near the table covered in tools. "You've been working here all day, Asami. You should rest for a little."
She scoffed, twisting something with her wrench. "Are you kidding? It's almost finished."
Jinyong chuckled. "Yeah, as soon as you find something that could power it."
"That's… I mean, that'll be easy later."
"Sure, buddy." Jinyong shook his head, amused. "If you really are going to work all night, then be a dear and watch the place."
He walked to the corner where his scarf hung and wrapped it around his neck.
"What? You're going elsewhere?" she asked, her head popping out from behind the armor's shoulder.
"Training the guys," Jinyong said simply. "It's the last week of the year. Doesn't mean it stops."
"But you usually do it in the morning."
"Well, today's lessons are different." Jinyong smiled.
He walked closer as she finished tightening a valve on the armor's back. Asami let out a satisfied sigh. "Finally. Took forever to put this thing in."
"Want to try it? See if it works?" Jinyong asked.
Asami gave him an amused look. "I know it'll work."
She turned back to the valve and twisted it. The entire back of the armor hissed open, unsealing with a rush of mist that spilled out of the chamber.
"See? It works."
"Alright, genius." Jinyong chuckled, kissing her oil-stained cheek. "See you later."
She just hummed and went back to work.
Jinyong took one last glance at her before heading out. The cold air met him as he stepped outside. He adjusted his scarf and continued on his evening.
—
The door burst open with a loud crack.
"Go, go, go!" Zhu shouted.
Boots slammed against the concrete floor. The team poured into the mock building, wooden walls rattling from the impact. Flashlights flickered across the dark, catching faces painted on cardboard cutouts, some marked ENEMY, others CIVILIAN.
Jinyong stood outside with his hands behind his back, scarf fluttering slightly in the night wind. He watched the chaos unfold through the open door.
"Check your corners!" he yelled.
Ping was first to respond, sweeping left. Zhu followed right, two others covering the rear. They moved like they had practiced, but it was still rough.
A mannequin fell from the ceiling, dangling from a rope. They flinched,
"Control your nerves," Jinyong called out. "If you flinch or hesitate, someone's going to be killed. Either you, an innocent, or still the enemy if you're lucky."
Inside, Zhu cursed under her breath and raised her gun. "Contact!" she shouted, firing two blanks into the dummy's chest.
Ping moved up beside her. "Left clear!"
"Right clear!" another replied.
They started to get into rhythm, clearing the next room faster. It wasn't perfect, but it was smoother.
Jinyong followed them now, keeping his distance, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "In this kind of situation, where there are a lot of civilians, it isn't about shooting first. It's about thinking first. You walk in, you read the room, then you act. All in a span of less than a second. You understand? we don't want a PR nightmare later."
"Sir, yes sir," they chorused.
The sound of boots echoed through the wooden corridors. Ping kicked down another door, shouting, "Room clear!" before tripping on a wire. A can clattered to the floor, releasing a small puff of white smoke.
"Trap!" someone yelled.
The hallway filled with fog. Visibility dropped.
"Don't panic," Jinyong said calmly. "Talk to each other. Use signals. Also, Ping, if that's a trap to kill, you're dead. Be careful next time."
The group started to move again, hands brushing shoulders to communicate. The light from their flashlights cut through the haze.
A mannequin appeared suddenly. Ping almost fired before seeing the white tape across its chest. CIVILIAN.
He lowered the gun immediately.
"Good," Jinyong said quietly from somewhere behind them. "Keep your heads."
The smoke thinned. Zhu led the next push, signaling with her hand. Two recruits flanked her, while the others covered the rear. They entered another room, this one wider, with multiple dummies positioned behind crates.
"Enemies!"
They fanned out, aiming, squeezing triggers. Clicks filled the air. Dry fire only, but they acted like it was real. Someone yelled for cover, another shouted "Reload!" even though their magazines were empty.
Jinyong smiled faintly, half amused and half satisfied. The rhythm was coming together. Teamwork. Communication. Awareness.
When they reached the end of the course, Jinyong blew the whistle hanging around his neck. The recruits stopped immediately, panting, guns lowered.
"Not bad," he said, walking past them. "Still sloppy. But better than last week."
Ping rubbed his wrist. "We almost hit a civilian again."
"Almost isn't good enough," Jinyong said. "You do that in the field, someone dies. You can't afford that."
Zhu rolled her shoulders, annoyed. "We'll do better."
"I know you will." Jinyong stopped at the exit, looking back at them. "Again. From the start. I'll rearrange the course."
Groans filled the air, but they reset the course anyway. Jinyong walked inside, rearranging the dummies and setting up new traps. After that, he started again, with him following the crew from the back.
In front of him, the recruits shouted, stumbled, laughed, cursed. They weren't soldiers like he wanted yet. But they were learning. They were getting there.
When morning came, the training ground was quiet again. The recruits sat around in the dirt, exhausted but smiling, passing around water bottles and a few stale snacks.
Jinyong popped the trunk of his car and pulled out a small canvas bag. He walked back toward the group and tossed it into their circle.
"What's this, boss?" one of them asked, catching it.
"Nuts," Jinyong said simply, sitting down by the fence.
That was all it took. The group tore it open like a pack of wolves, each grabbing a handful and laughing at whoever took too much. The sound of their chatter filled the air, arguments over who had the best shot, who tripped the most traps, who almost shot a civilian dummy.
Jinyong just watched them. Silent.
After about thirty minutes, the laughter started to fade. People stretched, leaned back, and began to quiet down. That was when Jinyong stood up and brushed the dirt off his coat.
"Leaving already?" Zhu asked, looking up at him.
Jinyong hummed. "End of year. A lot of parties and galas."
Zhu snorted. "Of course."
He looked over the group again, one face after another. Some were still grinning, others half asleep. He nodded once.
"Listen, everyone."
That got their attention. They all looked up.
"Something's going to happen at the end of the year," he said, slipping his arms through his coat sleeves. "Better get ready."
Zhu frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You'll see."
He turned away, tightening his scarf as the cold wind started to pick up.
"Anyway," he said, starting to walk toward his car. "Good work today. See you tomorrow."
The door shut behind him, engine rumbling to life. The recruits watched as his car rolled down the dirt road, dust kicking up behind it until it disappeared into the city skyline.
Zhu crossed her arms, glancing back at the others. "Something's going to happen, huh…"
Ping leaned back, chewing another nut. "Man's always talking in riddles."
Zhu scoffed. "You're a man too, Ping."
"No, I mean—" Ping sighed. "Whatever."
—
Inside City Hall, Jinyong sat among the most important people in Republic City, facing the five council seats representing the nations of the world. The Air Nation. The Fire Nation. The Earth Kingdom. The Southern and Northern Water Tribes.
Today, they were gathered to commemorate the passing of a new law—one that would regulate the production and sale of consumer goods. It all started from Jinyong's paper on the toxicity of lead. That report had spread like wildfire through the city, stirring questions about safety, production, and responsibility.
The law had already passed hours ago. This was just the ceremony. The photo opportunity.
When the final signature was done and applause echoed through the chamber, the crowd scattered into groups, murmuring in the corners, exchanging shallow compliments. No food. No drinks. Just handshakes, and polite laughter.
Lau Gan-Lan of Cabbage Corp. San Ho of the San Ho Consortium. Hiroshi Sato of Future Industries. Varrick of Varrick Global Industries. Wonyong Keum of Keum Enterprise. The whole lineup of industrial giants.
Jinyong wasn't excluded. He stood among them, glass in hand, smiling like he belonged there.
He was talking with Hiroshi, Tarrlok, and Tenzin. All of them looked pleased after the ceremony.
"So, young Mr. Keum," Tarrlok began, his usual confident smile in place. "Are you satisfied with the regulations? It's thanks to you that we managed to convince everyone to finalize them."
Jinyong shrugged lightly. "Well, Councillor, I have no say in it. You know why I wrote that paper in the first place."
"And why's that?" Tarrlok asked, already knowing the answer.
"Business," Jinyong said, smiling faintly. "Nothing more."
"At least you're honest," Tenzin said with a sigh. "Still, it's an issue that had to be addressed. Left unchecked, who knows what kind of sickness long-term exposure to lead might cause."
Hiroshi laughed softly. "You're an Air Nomad, Councillor Tenzin. You and your family probably eat nothing but vegetables and clean air. You'll outlive us all."
Tenzin smiled politely. "Maybe so, but as a member of the council, I have a duty to protect the public. Even those who aren't as fortunate."
"Right," Jinyong murmured.
Tarrlok turned to him, noticing the faint exhaustion on his face. "Something wrong, Mr. Keum?"
"Huh? Oh, no." Jinyong rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just haven't slept much."
"I heard you've been working on a project with Asami," Hiroshi said, tone sharp despite his smile. "She's been spending less time at home lately. I hope it's really a project and not—"
"Mr. Hiroshi…" Jinyong interrupted awkwardly. "Can we not talk about that right now? It's not really appropriate."
Hiroshi chuckled and patted his back. "I'm only kidding."
"Ah, to be young again," Tenzin said wistfully.
Tarrlok smirked. "I've heard stories about your youth, Tenzin. Don't act like you didn't have your fill."
Tenzin cleared his throat. "My youth has nothing to do with this discussion, Tarrlok."
The laughter died down when Hiroshi's voice turned serious. "Speaking of which, I've been hearing about protests around the city. Small for now, but growing."
"Ah yes, the Equalist sympathizers," Tarrlok said, waving his hand. "Nothing to worry about. Just university students and factory workers. They'll get over it."
"How so?" Jinyong asked. "Shouldn't the youth and the working class be heard? If they're the ones taking to the streets, maybe you should listen."
"Their talking points are the same as the Equalists," Tarrlok scoffed. "One step away from being terrorists."
"Really now?" Jinyong raised an eyebrow.
"Oh right," Tarrlok said smoothly. "I remember when we first met. You seemed… critical of how the Republic runs. Are you an Equalist sympathizer too, Mr. Keum? The young can be easily swayed by such ideas."
"I think they make some very good points," Jinyong said. "And I'm not hostile. I just question things. Do you dismiss everything they say, Councilman?"
"Of course," Tarrlok replied. "It's just an excuse for Amon to recruit more followers for his triad. That's all this movement is: attacking triads, stealing turf."
Jinyong turned to Tenzin. "And you, Councilman Tenzin? Do you dismiss them too?"
Tenzin shook his head slowly. "They do have valid concerns. I don't agree with their methods, but I understand their anger. Benders have a biological advantage. Some jobs naturally favor them. Non-benders feel left behind. It's not an illusion."
Hiroshi gave a thin smile. "Indeed."
"So," Jinyong said quietly, "you have no plans to make laws that actually improve non-bender lives?"
"We're… discussing it," Tenzin said, hesitating.
"Improving the quality of life?" Tarrlok snorted. "What do they want? Free money while benders do all the hard work? Benders are more sought after because of their abilities. That's just how it is. If you want success, you work for it. Bender or not."
Jinyong's expression didn't change. He looked over at Hiroshi, who only smiled back, calm and unreadable.
"Fair enough, Councilman," Jinyong said softly. "Let the disadvantaged keep being disadvantaged, am I right? It's their fault they can't bend water, or earth, or fire, out of their asses."
"That is not what I am saying, Mr. Keum, and you know it." said Tarrlok with a thin smile. "And what of your father's company? Did he do his part in helping the prosperity of the non-benders?"
"My father is a non-bender too, Councillor Tarrlok, of course he does." Jinyong said. "I will be honest. I hate your carelessness in speaking. I thought you were more charismatic than that. With you being a councillor and all. Any child knows that asking for improved quality of life does not mean that the city should give free money. And you know it. Still, you choose to dismiss it with your disingenuous comparison."
Tarrlok didn't say anything, but his eyes darkened at Jinyong, which he took in gracefully with a smile. The atmosphere turned awkward, which made Tenzin clear his throat.
"I feel like this conversation has taken a turn for the worse, gentlemen." said Tenzin, as he guided Tarrlok away from Hiroshi and Jinyong. "...If you'll excuse us."
It was then that Hiroshi chuckled, patting Jinyong's back. "I must say… comparing councillor Tarrlok to a child? You don't hold back do you? Also, Jinyong, you can't do that if you don't want to have political enemies. He'll at least dislike you now."
Jinyong shrugged. "I don't plan on making him a friend anyway, Mr. Hiroshi." he looked around, and saw that his father was already waiting for him at the entrance to leave. "Oh, looks like my father wants to leave. If you'll excuse me…"
—
Inside a luxurious car, Jinyong and his father sat beside each other as they drove through the streets of Republic City. It was quiet. Neither of them spoke.
At least, that is until Wonyong spoke up.
"I saw you talking to the councillors and Hiroshi," he said. "Seems you don't hide in the corner of the room anymore in terms of socializing."
Jinyong rolled his eyes. "That's old news, Father. I've been sucking it up for the last year or so."
"Still, it's good that you're making connections to the city." Wonyong stated. "...I'm planning to retire in a couple of years. You have to take up the mantle."
Jinyong turned to him and raised his brow. "How so?"
"I'm old, son." he said tiredly. "And with all the equalist things, it's hard to keep up these days."
Jinyong didn't say anything for a moment, before saying: "I'm sorry."
Wonyong was confused. "For what?"
"For making you put up with those equalists." Jinyong said. "I'm sure it takes a toll on you."
Wonyong chuckled. "I just nodded along whenever Amon spoke his nonsense. It's nothing tolling. I'm not involved in the actual field work. Still, seeing the new weapons they're making and the destruction it could make… it's just a matter of guilt."
Jinyong hummed. "It's close now. We can clean our hands after it."
"I told you, didn't I? Nothing will happen in a couple of months." said Wonyong. "At least, two years from now, and the movement will implode to execute their months."
"They're waiting for someone, am I right?" Jinyong simply said.
"How did you—" Wonyong stopped himself, sighing. "Sometimes I feel like you have visions of the future or something."
"I don't." Jinyong chuckled. "I just have a really good memory."