Uncanny unease filled Lieutenant Koshi of Republic City’s Metalbending Police as he watched two children running about the arena backstage with professional competence that shamed not a few city officials. Asami’s young aides were dashing back and forth, calmly giving advice to Future Media’s nervous and/or excited talents, attentively receiving reports on the broadcasting equipment, and making st minute adjustments to their pre-show schedule based on the speed the arena was filling up.

  Koshi had seen adults crack in less stressful situations.

  “Engineer Hyung, if the stupid announcer tries to mess with the settings again, tell him the coming medical tab’s on Future Media and then kick him the fuck out of the booth,” the boy Kai firmly and formally said to Future Media’s grizzled engineer.

  Meanwhile the girl, Ren, was scolding a dressed-up guzheng pyer as if the roles of parent and daughter had been reversed. “Miss Lu-Xia, if you’re really that nervous, go to the toilet now. If you’re gonna shit mid-performance, that’s all on you, and I’ll bet you that Xing’s going to build a story around it so that you’ll have to keep referring to it in interviews.”

  “Ugh, why hasn’t it started yet?”

  “There’s still a good amount of people trying to buy merchandise outside,” a distractingly pretty young woman about Koshi’s age replied.

  “We’re going to be running te,” Kai compined. “Ping, please tell Hitori Kuro to use the second version of her speeches. And no flirting. We want people to watch the pro-bending, not…think they’re in a tea shop.”

  Ping gave a soft chuckle as she nodded and left. “Heh, will do, kiddo.”

  The frantic energy from the precocious aides was simir to the rush Koshi felt during the buildup to a raid. Except that the kids had it easier because they didn’t have Ironcd Lin breathing down their necks, double checking every procedure to ensure the operation was legally watertight. If so much as a badge was not worn properly, or the wrong ink was used for the official stamp on the warrant, not only would the chief of police be pissed beyond all reason, but the well-paid wyers of the triads and nobles would seize on the minor mistakes as footholds to wrangle their clients free.

  While they weren’t preparing to apprehend criminals, Koshi still was impressed by the two kids’ work. They wielded their authority with ease, fully confident in the Sato name that empowered them. But still, the sight of the pair of barely-teens bossing people about was a bit too unusual for the lieutenant. He was used to dealing with the spoiled children of the migrated nobility or opulent triads.

  Kai and Ren gave off the air of forced maturity that Koshi had seen in the eyes of urchins inhabiting the alleyways of Republic City. Then again, the chief did say that Asami had picked these two off the street, so that made sense. After listening to testimonies and piecing clues together of triad operations, Koshi couldn’t imagine the desperate life the two children had to eke out to survive.

  Urchins like them were often used as disposable catspaws, as messengers, scouts, burgrs or even saboteurs. Regardless, their small bodies were just as likely to be found as common footmen or freence mercenaries in the triads’ shadow wars. And there was no discrimination in the gruesome deaths they endured too, Koshi thought with a calming breath.

  It was perhaps the only thing the officer would give credit to the Equalists; up until now they haven’t used or eliminated the young in their delusional crusade. The kids that did cross their paths were often roughed up and kicked aside, but in the pragmatic way of clearing an obstacle, rather than the sadistic messages some gangs used.

  And for all that, for all the triads’ corruption and crimes, Republic City had never gone after the gangs with as much zeal as they did against the Equalists. It was a depressing thought, but Chief Lin had bitterly expined the entangled nature of politics and networking to Koshi, and he had learned to resign himself to that fact.

  “Oh come on… Hyung, if anyone from Republic City Radio tries barging in again, forget suing, tell them that you know a pce just outside, just outside the arena where they could have an accident and end up feeding the fishes, alright?”

  “We should’ve asked Xing to let us keep our shivs, Kai.”

  “Urgh, don’t remind me. I want to stab someone…and then myself.”

  Well, at least these two shouldn’t have to suffer the myriad of bloody fates from the back alleys.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Koshi offered politely to a passing Ren, and the girl barely stopped to shake her head at him.

  “Thanks, but company business is company business. We promise we’re not going to commit any crimes.”

  “It’ll be self defense!” Kai yelled from over his shoulder.

  Huffing in amusement, Koshi watched the girl run off to urge an old man to sit down, and then turned his attention back to his squad of babysitters. Despite the initial disdain at what was considered a boring posting for the sake of thoroughness (spirits help you if the chief heard you call it a favor to Xing of Future Media), none of the metalbenders were wearing expressions of boredom or irritation anymore. Instead, all of them were just as amused and impressed as he was.

  “Think we can outsource some of our work to them?” Bofang asked with a lop-sided smirk. “They can be our liaisons for the other departments.”

  “They remind me of a younger Ironcd,” the more veteran Shan-Tsu remarked. “Full of energy and purpose…”

  “Yeah, but the chief’s never gone running about at their age, has she?”

  Shan-Tsu gave a bnk stare. “D’you think Toph Beifong would allow for such a thing?”

  “I thought she’d find it amusing?” Kwan joined in.

  “Nah, ol’ Steel Eyes might have been loose with her kids’ upbringing, but wasn’t the type to put them to work so young. Or put them in any danger.”

  Murmurs of agreement were exchanged among the squad, and Koshi let the idle moment linger for a second more before asserting his rank. “Come on, we might as well do another round of the area. Maybe Kwan, Shan-Tsu, maybe have a look at the broadcasting booth, and see if there’s any tension to ease.”

  “What, before the engineer tosses someone over Yue’s Bay?”

  The lieutenant shook his head in a deadpan manner. “Before the boy finds something to stab someone with.”

  They all exchanged looks with each other, and then gnced at Kai who was now reading through a report of some kind with frantic energy.

  “Yeah, will do, sir.”

  “Bofang, we’ll head for the service entrance.”

  “Aww, I don’t want to deal with fans sneaking in…”

  “Too bad, that’s part of our job. Come on, let’s go.”

  Koshi and Bofang managed to make one circuit between the service entrance and the backstage before the pre-show finally began. The ck of trouble encountered further spiced the lieutenant’s anticipation of the coming performance, though he still kept an eye on his surroundings. To ensure his duty still remained fulfilled to at least a technical degree, Koshi kept himself and Bofang close to the backstage’s main entryway, and kept the door closed as a minimal means of security.

  With his back against the wall, and the door just a few paces away, Koshi endured the wash of noise coming from the seats, and watched as Ren gestured at a young, thin man holding a blocky microphone that was connected to a small hill of coiled wires.

  “Here’s the big chance you wanted, go show ‘em what you’re made of.”

  The announcer gave a soft sigh before walking out to the ptform that was still extending towards the pying field. Outside, the cacophony of spectators finding their seats, conversing, and arguing over prime spots was an almost tangible reverberation that gave the backstage a faint thrum. It didn’t change at all as the announcer walked out onto the arena, nor when the soft whine of feedback came to life and the man brought the mic up to his mouth.

  “WWWELCOME ONE AND ALL-”

  The unexpectedly strong voice that came from a seemingly frail body startled Koshi and everyone else into wide-eyed silence.

  “-TO THE ONE, THE GRAND, THE ONLY, PRO-BENDING CHAMPIONSHIP TOUR-NA-MENT!”

  Silence tainted by the dying shriek of static-ced feedback punctuated and trailed after the words, as no doubt the announcer had the full attention of the arena. The man’s stiff poise rexed noticeably, and his free arm went up as he began to turn in pce to address every spectator in a less assertive, but no less commanding, tone.

  “I hope you’re all comfortably seated, I hope you’ve all eaten, I HOPE you’re all READY. For the great games coming up tonight. Are you ready?”

  An uncertain murmur answered him but the young man didn’t waver, and asked again with an exaggerated punch in the air.

  “Republic City, I asked: are you ready?”

  This time, Koshi could make out a few yeses and yeahs.

  “I said. Are. You. Ray-deah?”

  And this time, the response was far more animated, as shrieks and hollers shook the arena walls in a discordant chant.

  “This definitely beats the usual announcer,” Bofang half-yelled to get the words across the din of excitement.

  “Excellent! Now, we’re still a few minutes early, so while the teams are finishing up their preparation, my friends at Future Media would love the honor of putting on a show for you. And don’t you worry, it’s not going to be a dry py about sobbing maidens and heroes singing too long about getting stabbed to actually die already.”

  Laughter rippled, and the announcer beckoned for the first act.

  Ren hurriedly waved her arm, and the guzheng pyer and other musicians walked out to the arena in a spectrum of nerves. The men who rolled their drums out seemed excited, while futist in contrast was visibly trembling to the point his robes fluttered erratically. Incidentally, the guzheng pyer, Lu-Xia, seemed calmer now, probably after discarding her nerves in the toilet.

  The motley orchestra assembled at the center of the pying field under the heavy pressure of anticipation, a ring of drums facing outwards with every other instrument looking inwards into the central microphone.

  A sharp crack of drumsticks ccking together, and then as one the drummers began a rolling beat that quickly built up like a looming thunderstorm. Then the horns came in like a hunting call, echoing like wailing spirits from the arena’s many speakers. The guzheng and other instruments came in ter, a little muted from the storm of percussion and horns. They still did the job though, as the bsts of noise grabbed everyone’s attention.

  Koshi had the misfortune of being dragged to theaters before. They were long, drawn out affairs often with shrill music set to the wailings of the actors, or at best short tunes for heartbroken maidens to sing to. He’d also heard street musicians with catchy tunes and gentle verses to draw in passersby.

  This was completely different; a bold, demanding performance that cared not for any cast, but at the same time possessing its own character. This was not court music, or the common man’s emution of it, nor was it festival music or something one could rex to after a hard day’s work.

  “Fucking…” Koshi could barely hear Bofang swearing a few paces away from him, though he also saw the kids moving around completely unrattled while several other performers waiting for their turn were covering their ears.

  The orchestra pyed on, building to a climax that seized breaths and dragged its listeners in, and then unleashed its finale like an avanche of drums and horns. The air was still reverberating as the musicians lowered their hands and bowed as one, and then the arena promptly trembled again as appuse exploded.

  It seemed to go on for as long as the song itself before dying down, and only the sudden appearance of an increasingly famous voice abruptly shushed everyone into eager silence.

  “Thank you all so much for your praise,” Hitori Kuro said with her sensuously thick voice over the arena speakers. Koshi heard some people scream her name like drunkards proposing to their crushes.

  “I hope you can keep the energy up for our next piece. But please, pace yourselves, alright Take a break for a drink or two- can’t have anyone lose their voices tomorrow, can we?”

  “Ugh, she’s flirting,” Ren muttered, the annoyance on the girl’s face looking outright comical when compared to the mood pouring in from the arena seats. “I told her to cut that out.”

  “She can’t help herself,” Kai consoled as he gestured for a trio of men with wrists bound together in lengths of rope to head out. “Look on the bright side, if she keeps at it, the Fire Ferrets are bound to win because everyone’s going to be too distracted.”

  Koshi could only look on as the rest of the evening unfolded in two more rousing songs by unusual performers, with Hitori Kuro’s voice appearing in between performances to give the men especially another reason to be pumped up.

  “Thank you again for listening to my friends,” she said, the words melting through the speakers. “Now, please prepare yourselves; we have the first match of the night coming up: The Makapu Moose Lions, versus the Ember Isnd Eel Hounds.”

  “The coming matches better be good shit,” Bofang muttered with wry amusement.

  “Huh?” Koshi gave his colleague a confused look, and earned a chuckle for it.

  “After all that hyping up, if the games are going to be sloppy back-and-forths and boring time-outs, I think we might have to worry about a riot in our hands.”

  The lieutenant was about to dismiss it as hyperbole, but gncing out to the arena and the returning sweat-drenched performers, where the excitement felt almost tangible in the air, he had to concede the point.

  “We’ll see how the first round goes before deciding if we should ask the chief for reinforcements.”