Equalist Propaganda

“I don’t think you fully understand what kind of club this is, sir.”

Amon stared at the leather-strapped woman and than down at the gagged man whose arms and legs were trapped with earth. “I understand enough, bending scum.” Amon’s fists flashed out and struck the woman twice on the side of her neck. Like a balloon deflating, the woman collapsed and the man’s restraints crumpled to dust.

“Rise, my non-bender brethren,” Amon pulled the gag off and lifted the man to his feet, “Rise from the heel of the benders oppression.”

“Um, sorry.” The man stood freed, but blushing and his eyes firmly pointed down.

“You have nothing to apologize for. We are equals here.” Amon said as he placed a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder.

“See,” The man coughed, “I get that and I’m all for it, but that’s not really. AHEM. Not what I came here for.”

Amon stared in thoughtful silence, “What?”

“Well, what I mean to say is, this is one of those clubs where um, you know? A guy comes in and he’s not… he doesn’t want to be equal. One of those clubs, you know what I mean?”

Amon blinked very slowly, “I don’t quite follow.”

“Okay, so you don’t know. That’s fine. That’s probably better.” The man reached down to pick up his pants, “I’ll just go then. And uh… don’t tell anyone that I was here, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Amon asked, “This is the day you were liberated. Surely you would want the world to know?”

“No!” The man took a breath, “No, please.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. And now if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.” The man gave Amon a worried look before scrambling out of the club.

“What a strange man.”