The Cat and her Moon
The screaming. The wretched screaming. It just wouldn't stop. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, nothing could get it out of her head. It echoed around over and over again, like a horrific record that she couldn't turn off. Even though it had physically stopped several minutes ago, it still rang in her ears as if it she was still in the room.
She continued to walk down the hallway, eager to get as far away from lower dungeons as she could. She was visibly shaking, the shivers rolling from her shoulders all the way down the back of her legs. It was a sheer effort of will to keep from breaking down, the sight of what she had just seen shocking her to very core.
Her ears lay flat and the ruff of her neck stood out, as if charged with static electricity. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her arms, crossed over her stomach as she tried to keep her head down, not wanting to garner any attention.
It had been two weeks. Two weeks since she had celebrated her victory. Since she had been honored for her successful raid into the rebellion territory. The fighting had been hard, it always was. But this time, an opportunity of a lifetime had landed in her lap, and she had been more than happy to take advantage of it.
The plan had been to advance further towards Bright Moon, moving their pickets forward and widening the scale of the battle lines. The rebels were limited by the number of their troops, and escalation of the war would most certainly strain their already thinly spread troops. With this plan, they would be able to go around the northern point Erelandia, and set up forward camps closer to the rebel stronghold.
Fighting through what few troops were stationed near the subservient kingdom, the Hord had made quick progress in covering ground when they had stumbled across it. The Princess of Power, She'Ra, trying to move refuges from the towns that were being destroyed. It was perfect.
Catra had quickly mustered her troops in pursuit of the Princess and, in short order, cornered her in a small gully with embankments too steep to be climbed on foot, even for a being with godlike powers. Her troops made quick work of the refuges and, after some significant losses, subdued She'Ra and brought her back to the Fright Zone.
Despite all of the things that had happened to her, despite having been abandoned, despite the constant string of defeats at the hands of the being that had possessed her once beloved friend, she still yearned to see Adora. Nothing would ever change that. Not after what they had been through in their training, in all their time spent together.
The day that they had returned with the rebel hero in chains, they had been heralded through the city streets with cheers and fanfair the likes of which she had never seen. It had felt so good to be praised, even if it was by people she didn't know or care about, for her efforts and success. When they made it to Lord Hordaks palace, he had personally thrown open the doors in welcome, a satisfied smile splitting his lips as he laid eyes on the defeated She'Ra.
Catra had been thanked for her service, given awards and then placed on temporary paid leave, her reward for a job so well done. Everywhere she went, her praises were sung. A true warrior of the Hord, a force captain of no equal, a conqueror and savior for the people of the fright zone. It had felt beyond satisfying, it fulfilled a gap in her soul that she hadn't known was there.
Then it began to wear off, the novelty of it all. In quick order she had begun to actively avoid people, no longer wishing to hear the same phrases shouted again and again. Inevitably, her thoughts returned to her captive, her prize, her former comrade.
She made had made her way to the lower levels of Hordaks palace, a place that her continued loyalty, hard work and recent successes had given her access to. She knew where Adora, no, She'Ra would be held. Hordak had always been vocal about what he would do if he ever got his claws on the wretched Princess of Power. The lower levels of the castle held horrors uncounted and untold, the product of centuries of Hord leaders possessed of eldritch powers, and the minds to wield them.
Catra decended the cold, black steps to the torture chambers, a single wrought iron door with no windows the only entrance to the sparse, damp chambers behind it. Two guards flanked either side of it, standing at attention, tall spears up smartly by their sides. As she approached the door, the two men saluted and opened the door for her, the tide of stench and noise instantly pouring forth from the dimly lit room.
The chamber was almost completely empty, save for a few tables, a chair and a single grubby cot in the corner. Scattered on top of the tables were various sinister implements of torture. Spiked chains, hammers, lengths of rough rope, small serrated knives, and many other such tools all lay with blood dripping from them, an obvious sign of recent use.
Suspended by her wrists near the center was what had been only several days before, She'Ra. But it was the god like hero no more. All that remained was the much smaller Adora, what remained of her clothes drenched in blood. Two men stood next to her, one with a grip around her ratty hair, the other, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, watching attentively.
As she made her way towards the trio, she could see the extent of her former friends injuries. Her stomach boasted a myriad of crisscrossed cuts and black bruises, where she had obviously been flogged. Her left leg lay at an odd angle, seemingly shattered at the knee, her feet barely touching the ground. Her face was swollen her eyes almost completely forced shut, her nose broken, covered in deep welling cuts on her cheeks.
The man holding her hair pulled her head back viciously, coming face to face with her, making eye contact and he jabbed his pointed finger at her.
"I'm going to ask you again, where are your troops getting supplies from? There's no way your gettin 'em without one of the townies helpin' you. Who is it? Tell me, or I star' poundin on your face again," the torturer said menacingly.
His captive said nothing, instead looking up at the celling, her breathing labored. The man snarled and raised his fist, bringing it crashing down into Adora's face. He struck her again and again, increasing the strength behind his strikes, bringing her almost to unconsciousness before his counterpart stopped him, seemingly to keep him from killing her.
Adora made almost no sound through the entire beating, her small frame shuddering from the force of the blows. As her tormenter stopped, her head hung down limp, her breathing coming in sharp and shallow. Catra could see that she was struggling not to cry, her small body trembling in pain.
"I'll get what I want from you, little bitch," the man began again, "one way or another, you'll tell me what I want to know, even if I have to peel ever inch of your skin to get it."
He picked up a small metal device, two plates with a screw going through the center of both, a small handle at the top. He moved to Adora's side and undid one of her arms from the chain bindings, making her stand lopsided. He re-attached the chain from a hook that hung slightly farther away, making her arm stretch out straight. He took her thumb and placed it inside the metal device, between the two plates. She tried to curl her hand in an weak attempt to fight him, but a sharp blow to her stomach quickly subdued her.
The man held her wrist in place as he quickly cranked on the handle to bring the two plates closer together, tightly trapping her thumb between them. Its function immediately became clear to Catra as she began to frown.
"Now, unless you tell me, EXACTLY, what I want to know, I'll destroy every single one of these pretty little fingers," he snarled into her ear.
"Anything you want to say? Hmmm? No? Very well then," he finished when Adora said nothing.
He began to slowly crank down on the lever, instantly beginning to crush the trapped digit under the extreme pressure. The effect was immediate. She began to scream as she felt the metal digging into and breaking the skin, blood gushing out from the wound. The sound of breaking bone filled the air with a sickening crack. Her screams took on a fevered pitch as she shook in her chains, unable to stop the pain or fight back.
The torture man continued to crank on the device, turning his victims finger into a limp mush. When he was satisfied that he could go no further, he removed the device, looking down at the small woman. She was unconscious, the pain having driven her to her limit.
He grunted and set the device down, leaning off to the side and grabbin a large wooden bucket. He reared back and splashed its contents onto the head of the hanging girl, bringing her at once to life.
Adora leaned back up, freezing cold water, or at least, she hoped it was water, chilling her to the bone. She was at once set upon with pain from her hand. She turned her head and saw what remained of her thumb hanging lamely from her manacled hand. Tears streamed down her face as she stuggled not to pass out again.
"See what I mean, you little insect. I can make it hurt so much worse. And you've got nine more fingers, and all of your toes. I will make you suffer beyond what you could possibly imagine before I kill you. So tell me what I want to know, and I'll put you out of your misery."
Adora could barely hear her captor, the pain sending endless waves of throbbing pain coursing through her body. Her mind was muddled, she couldn't think clearly. She pulled her head back up, opening her eyes, and as her mouth opened to respond, she saw her former feline friend.
She said not a word as they looked into each other's eyes, a silent battle going on between them.
She set her jaw and steeled herself once again, her purpose envigored once more. "Do whatever you want. I will never, ever, tell you anything," she whispered, her voice devoid of its usual strength.
The torturer shrugged and replied, "Have it your way then," and set once again to his barbaric task. Adora kept eye contact with Catra, even as he began to crank down on another one of her fingers. Soon, however, the pain once again returned, and overwhelmed her.
Catra stood frozen, unable to look away from the horrific scene before her, but wanting to run from it with all her heart. She had tried to plead with her eyes in their silent exchange, begged her to stay something, anything that would allow them to stop. And yet, Adora would not.
Before long, she could stand the sight now longer and found herself quickly exiting the chamber, casting once last glace over her shoulder. All she saw was Adora, her eyes filled with tears, her face a mask of despair as she screamed in absolute agony through her pain, unable to see the horrified expression of her former friend.
Catra walked past the guards and back up the cold black stairs, a tirade of emotions working their way up to the forefront of her mind, threatening to quickly overwhelm her.