Hordak gripped desperately for purchase on one of the concrete pillars in his lab. The portal droned at him like the engines of a starship and he was lost inside his awe at the sheer potency of the alignment.
With power like this, he thought, one would not simply be a conqueror. One could be as a ruler of reality. A mathematical law of strength and authority that can resolve itself in only one way. Ascended to an undeniable constant of the universe. The implications both terrified and awed him.
Overwhelmed fuses erupted into meteor showers of sparks and hurled the lab into darkness. Video screens that showed him his whole dominion went black and he was vaguely aware that untold damage was being done to a dozen ongoing experiments. But he could not look away from the portal anymore than he could resist the weight of gravity.
The long arc of red energy that fed into the machine waged war with the varigrade light from the portal to cast the room in dancing shadows of abstract colors. Briefly, the communicator in his wrist babbled with a hundred shocked voices alerting each other that something was going wrong before the channel became soft static.
The portal suddenly dimmed at its center. A shape took form there and Hordak's fangs gleamed as his mouth went agape. A towering figure was taking shape, in its right hand was a sword and speared on the tip was a small white orb rapidly blinking away the last of its life. As the humanoid became solid, it whirled its sword with a deft flick of its fingers and Hordak watched his greatest hope of escape flung away into the shadows of his lab.
Amidst the noise of the lab, it didn't even clatter when it fell to the floor.
He felt rage. Humiliation. A childish feeling of how unfair the universe was to him alone. Hordak pulled himself to his full height against the pressure of the event horizon that was this alignment's power.
The humanoid stood as well, impeded by none of the forces that whirled about it. Hordak observed with fascination as tendrils of light reached out of the portal and grabbed at the skin of the new arrival. Cords of muscles took shape in silhouette.
Idly Hordak was aware of his Imp shrieking and winging away to hide. Something else hissed and dropped from the humanoid's hands to scurried off in a streak of green and orange. Lord Hordak noticed none of it, too consumed with the rage building inside him with each arrhythmic beat of his heart.
"What is the meaning of this?" He snarled. The figure glared at him with eyes that burned a radioactive blue. Lips parted over teeth like white cliffs and huge hands raised the sword overhead. Hordak had a second to admire the sleekness of the blue steel and wonder at the hieroglyphics on its broad fuller.
Then, all at once, the warrior surged forward to attack. Hordak lurched away, hand snatching at the alarm button on his forearm.
She-Ra felt it at first as a tug at the back of her mind that pulled her face skyward to stare at the restless storm clouds. She was briefly aware of someone asking her if she was alright before a flicker in the sky, like a long thread of gold snaking down between the thunderbolts and heading straight for her.
It vanished and then the images came on like the charge of a heavy cavalry wing.
Dozens of women loomed over her, watching through beaked headdresses which mantled their shoulders in feathers. Owls, shrikes, harriers, vultures, falcons, and eagles. They raised their hands and rattled strange bone jewelry as they cried out in one, piercing voice. From their midst stepped a figure. A teenaged girl with umber skin and hazel eyes that looked on Adora with scared determination. The girl reached out a hand, setting her teeth together sternly. Lightning burst behind her and engulfed her, the bird-headed women, and Adora. The wordless cry of the women broke into ecstatic celebration.
Adora felt herself moving through a soupy fog of memories.
She braced against a wall of stones that rubbed against her like a stirring animal. Beyond it the river rammed itself against her strength and the wall cracked to spew little streams of water down onto her shoulders. In the distance of a forested valley, a flaming arrow arced above pine trees sagging with heavy rain. She heaved a tired sigh and felt no fear as the wall burst and the river swept her away. The tribe was safe. She was content.
Thunder rolled in her ears.
A youth with a red mohawk slowly drew gray paint across his face, highlighting his cheek-bones and the ridges of his eye sockets. He glared at Adora and thrust his hand out with a snarl.
Flashes of life and war and power.
A distant twilight sky jumped up and down as she raced towards the edge of a red mesa. Even, effortless breaths filled her with anticipation and she threw herself like a diver over the edge of the world. Below her, seemingly by miles, spread endless desert, ripped with canyons wider than Lake Bright-Moon and long enough to lose track of over the horizons.
Winged beasts did battle in the low clouds, setting some on fire with breaths of flame. They had reptilian bodies of every color. On either hand more of them dived from the mesa, following her into combat miles above the ground. She laughed against the screaming air current shoving back on her.
"Adora!" Someone cried out.
A child was staring at her. Her heart melted at the sight of him. A one-year old, tiny-limbed and wide-eyed. He sucked his thumb and rubbed at one blue eye with his fist, then reached out to her.
Sure, she thought, come here, little one. She wanted to hug him, if she could only move her arms. Lightning flashed once more and she felt herself shrinking, changing, and then there was cool metal under her fingers. And, for the first time since she was seven, she felt herself sucking her thumb.
"Adora?" Glimmer asked. Adora blinked away the last images and realized she dropped her sword to the ground a few steps back . She spent longer than she should have standing there with her giant thumb in her mouth, before she withdrew it and held it up to the sky.
"Yeah," she said with a rictus grin, "wind is definitely coming in from the north-east! Good to know. Let's get to Dryl!" She ignored all questions and went to retrieve her sword. She hesitated for a moment before taking the gold hilt into her calloused palm.
"By…I mean," she blinked as her mind jumbled for a moment, "For the Honor of Grayskull!" She-Ra shook her head, long golden hair flowing along her back. She soothed the Adora part of her that was trying desperately to not to freak-out. They could resolve it when they had secured Princess Entrapta's aid for the Rebellion. The mission always came first.
Catra dreamed she was still in that clearing in Plumeria, wrapped in a blanket woven from golden sword lilies. Adora was huddled next to her underneath it, chatting about something. Catra rarely paid full attention when Adora talked. She didn't care. She didn't care what her oldest friend was saying.
She just cared that they were together.
Adora giggled and cupped a hand over one of her feline ears. Catra leaned in, snickering at how her breath tickled. The voice came from Adora, but they sounded like Scorpia's words.
"I knew I'd find you here," it teased. Catra pressed herself into the space of Adora's arms and captured one of her hands. She pressed into her scalp and Adora took to stroking her like she used to when everything was normal.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I wanted to see you sooner." Adora laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Catra purred. Adora never laughed for any reason other than sheer, dopey delight. Usually delight taken from something simple, and dumb, and beautiful. A hand lifted her head gently by the chin. The soldiers from her detachment were looking on at them with expectant, happy smiles.
"Wha?" Catra said, cheeks burning. She almost pulled away but Adora held her there with a gentle grip. Adora had always been so careful not to hurt her.
"Didn't expect you to come back," Adora explained, in Lonnie's voice, as Catra took in her detachment, plus a few smiling Plumerians. The old man and his daughter stood at the head of them, bowing with big grins and tearful eyes.
They'd stay together. For an instant Catra had held their lives in her palm and let them have their happiness a day longer. The idea calmed and confused her at once.
Adora whispered again. This time in the old man's soft, shocked voice. Catra mumbled as a poke from the tip of Adora's nose made her ear twitch.
"You show rare honor," she stopped to give one of her trademark snort-and-giggles, like she was trying to tell a dirty joke. "Universe bless you for this act of mercy."
"I've been really stupid," Catra whispered, watching the regiment salute her.
"Catra, I want to tell you something," Adora said to her, this time in her own voice. Catra turned and watched her friend's face grow into a grin. Her gun-metal blue eyes twinkled and the ponytail on her head glowed a soft wheat with the evening light. She opened her mouth and loud, klaxon noise burst out of it.
Catra jolted from her bed and her claws, gripping at her sheets, ripped away long strips of cloth. Her eyes were assaulted with flashing red light and the alarm droned on in her ears, blotting out the rest of the world.
A second later the lights switched off and the siren whined pitifully into silence. Catra stumbled free of her bed and slammed heavily into her door. Biting back a scream of anger she waved her hand over the keypad to no avail.
"Come on," she snarled, thumping the steel with her fist, "Hey! Anybody out there? The door's stuck!" Red light bloomed again, the alarms stabbed her sensitive ears, and she fell through the door as it shot open. A wall of muscle caught her and wrapped her in enormous biceps.
"Catra!" Scorpia's voice was caught between relieved and scared stupid. "Oh, thank goodness! What's going on?!" Catra wriggled free and broke off into a run down the hallway, Scorpia following close behind. The lights and alarms cut off again, plunging them into eerie, lightless silence.
"How would I know that," Catra snapped. Scorpia heaved a big sigh of relief when they emerged from the tight corridors out onto the balconies above main roadways. Below, patrolling troopers had lit up their helmet-lights. A sergeant was barking at everyone in earshot.
"Keep it together, jarheads. If you got a light, lead the way. If you got night-gear on report to your commanding officers. If you can see in the dark, same thing. Everybody else follow the lights to the nearest armory! Come on, mudsuckers, let's win one for the Fright Zone!"
"We're under attack," Scorpia hissed frantically. Catra, who's own eyes were giving her twice the view of anybody nearby, began to search the sky for some sign.
"He doesn't actually know," Catra said, "he's just saying that so nobody loses it." She grinned at a thin crown of red light above the nearest rooftops. Her own basic curiosity, along with two decades of rigorous emergency-response training, pushed up onto the railing and she sprung through the open air onto a network of pipes she'd been climbing since she was four.
"What?! People are losing it?" Scorpia's teeth were chattering as she spoke. "Then we have no idea what's happe-…Catra?!" The magicat slid up the pipes until she was out above the warrens of the South-Western Wing. She gasped at what she saw.
The Fright Zone had gone completely dark.
Black-outs and brown-outs were so common most people barely remarked on them. The longest Catra had ever gone through was three days in one unfortunately hot summer when she was twelve. Even then there was still light somewhere. Doom Tower, the smokestack dominating the skyline, had still been lit up with flashing lights to keep air patrols from crashing into it. The great symbol of the Horde on its side had still been illuminated by gigantic, power-gobbling searchlights even when the children were sweltering in their beds.
Now, if the aligned moons hadn't been shining so brightly, she wondered if she could've seen it at all. Nonetheless, the sunken valley of pipes was navigable for her, and she knew at a glance which way to go.
"Of course," she scoffed, "of course it's those two." From roughly where Shadow Weaver's chambers sat, a thin vein of red lightning dipped and rose across the span of the Fright Zone rooftops all the way to the hub of the wheel. Hordak's Tower. "Alright, I gotta see what this is about." That was probably part of her new job description anyway, she figured.
This would serve to keep her mind off her stupid dream at the very least.
'I want to tell you something'. Get real, Catra. She's said it all at this point.
"Catra?" Scorpia yelled up.
"Something's going down in Horde Square," she called back, "I'm going there."
"What about back-up?"
"I'm fine alone," she growled, almost to herself, "I don't need help." She sprang from rooftop to rooftop, following the flow of red magic toward Hordak's lair.
Hordak crouched into a shadow, cursing his heavy raiment for every metal creak and the hush of his long cape. He'd been foolish. Emptying Horde Square. Sealing off his lab. Dressing-up as if Horde Prime would step through the portal and embrace him. All at once fearing the failure of his experiment while blindly trusting in its success.
Useless emotions.
It was almost too much to bear as he pressed himself flat against the wall and listened to the intruder ruin another piece of his life's work. The Black Garnet's energy and the portal's light made for poor viewing of the damage, for which he was almost grateful. A metal work table glanced off the wall next him, crumpled like paper. He saw a blue flash as the sword rose and fell on through tangle of cables like a machete through vines.
He could feel his teeth almost snapping with how tightly he clenched them. Every instinct told him to fight. To throw himself at this creature and tear until one of them fell. For his own pride. For the honor of Horde Prime.
But the creature was clearly too strong. His right hand felt almost broken from when he tried to strike it, and the laser pistol he'd drawn a second later had been sliced in half, nearly taking his hand with it. He'd hid since then, like a rat avoiding a hound.
Idiot, he thought, that's how you ended up here. Think. You are one of the Horde. You are the code of the Horde Prime. Think. The lights flickered on and the alarms tried to blare out a warning note. Acting on pure instinct, Hordak flexed his hand on the control panel at his wrist. The great doors of his lab slid open a measly two feet before sticking in place as the Fright Zone's energy grid collapsed again.
Yellow eyes crept down from the wall above him, the Imp had returned and - loyal as it was - awaited his orders. He glanced between the open door, the intruder, and the Imp.
Outside? No. If I fall, at least I should fall here where no one will come to gawk at a toppled ruler struck down with his back turned. I cannot fight him. Not as I am. Patience. Remember that revenge is patient. He leaned up to the Imp and whispered in its ear. The creature nodded and flew off, vanishing into the dark and re-appearing briefly as a shadow scuttling through the lab's doors.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hordak's voice thundered into the lab. There was a bear-like grunt of attention and he heard something shatter as it was kicked out of the way.
He heard the warriors steady breathing, deep as a bull's but unhindered by exhaustion even after his tear across the lab. Hordak's snarl twitched into a smile for the barest instant. Get out of my lab, primitive.
He despaired for an instant when the bulky intruder was thrown into the dim light of the moons that the door permitted. He was huge and couldn't possibly fit through the aperture. Then the creature shoved one door back with a metal screech and sidled through. Hordak stepped out of hiding and made for the manual winch to the doors side.
He grunted with effort as he wheeled it shut, meeting resistance with each agonizing turn. Outside, the intruder's long hair spun as he turned to face the noise. Hordak grasped the winch in both hands, his right hand sent an earthquake of pain through his arm. His throat ripped with a cry of rage and he forced the metal to obey, the doors shuddered closed around two feet of blue metal, the tip hovering an inch from his side. Lord Hordak smirked.
The lights came on after that and the door shivered as it tried to shut automatically. Hordak snorted angrily. His wrist communicator beeped.
"-coming over the gates now. Do you copy? I mean," the voice said quickly, "do you copy... my lord?" The rasp was familiar enough to remind him of the right name.
"Force Captain Catra," he growled, "an intruder to the Fright Zone is at my door. Deal with them."
"What-" the com-channel became static once again as the lights shut off. That was fine, he'd finished speaking. He limped away and activated a light on the left palm of his suit. He scanned the lab, face tightening with every revealed act of vandalism. He wasn't even happy to see that the one machine he needed remained undamaged. It wasn't finished. It wasn't near ready for use.
The sword jostled in place behind his back. He reminded himself, again, that revenge was patient. He could focus on it rather than the failure of his portal. It mocked him still with its vortex of potential. The thought that if he'd simply made a back-up bot he could have his freedom even now burned through him like acid.
Pointless, he thought, setting about his work, regret is another pointless thing. You don't deserve freedom yet. If you did you would've planned around this. Secure the Fright Zone. End this threat. Then return to the war. For the Horde.
"You are going to die here tonight," he said to the thin slit of light around the sword, "I want you to know that. For this affront to the Horde I will accept nothing less. Do yourself a kindness and go seek your doom at the hands of my soldiers. They will be far more merciful than I."
He marched towards the three standing towers he needed to finish and paused when the doors whined. He turned, unbelieving, to see the sword slowly prying the doors open. It was a slow pace but given that this should've been impossible, that fact gave Hordak little reassurance.
No emotions, he thought, fight and survive. He could at least die like a brother of Horde Prime should; with his enemy destroyed along with him.
Catra hopped the last ten feet to the concrete parade grounds of Horde Square. She tapped her badge with a snarl.
"Answer me…my lord," she growled, "I'm here! What's this about an intruder?" Her fur was still tingling from how closely she'd followed the Black Garnet's magic. She wanted to fight something. That need fought with her burning curiosity to a stalemate.
An intruder had made it to Lord Hordak's lab undetected. That made less than zero sense. Nobody could have gotten to the heart of the Horde itself without passing through some kind of resistance.
She crept into the pitch-black square, aware of the four titanic steel gates that shut her off from any kind of aid. The great stone teeth of the valley the Fright Zone sat in nearly blotted out the light of the moon's. She had advantage in sight at least, provided the intruder couldn't see in the dark. Her eyes were drawn up to the top of the stone stairwell into Hordak's throne room.
A line of flickering light pointed down to a blonde figure that made her heart stop. Catra felt the hungry grin spreading across her face and purred dangerously. She tensed, ears cocking for the creak of a bow-string or the snap of sparkling energy before she spoke. Her claws slid out to full length, scratching lightly on her crossed arms.
"I was just thinking about you," she called out. The words bounced around the empty square a half-dozen times, mocking and mirthful. The figure paused and turned its head over one muscled shoulder. Adora was in silhouette but Catra could tell she was wearing the form of She-Ra.
"Was this her plan?" Catra snorted to herself. "Shadow Weaver's big idea was to bring Adora crashing into Hordak's front door?" She watched the figure turn fully to her and raised her voice. "Well, it doesn't matter now does it, 'She-Ra'? Cuz I get to take you apart right here and let Lord Hordak watch me…that might actually be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. What a nice surprise."
Adora stared at her, unmoving. A chill ran up her spine and she didn't quite know why. She buried it in a growl.
"Hey," she snapped, "that tiara slipped down around your ears?" Adora said nothing. The chill came back and spread to her tail, poofing it up. Adora was never this quiet. "Get down here. Unless you're scared. Are you scared?" Much better.
There was a sudden metallic scraping as Adora slid her sword out from between Lord Hordak's doors. The blade described a line of sparks as it scraped free. The harsh noise bounced around Catra like it was trying to pen her in . Catra lowered her arms to her sides, claws up, ready for battle and slid one foot back in preparation to spring. If Adora came running down the stairs at her, she'd be ready to pounce. Adora moved suddenly and Catra thought for an instant that she disappeared into thin air.
Then a shadow crossed the moons.
Catra started, amazed, as the leaping figure hung there for a moment, framed between the dead lampposts. Then the Fright Zone's power returned and the lights flickered like a camera flash, blinding her. She shrieked and pressed her palms over her sensitive eyes. Her cheeks flushed at the way her voice cracked. A tremor five yards in front of her nearly made her fall over.
"O-oh," she stammered, "I bet you're enjoying this, huh? Well, we both know you're not gonna take advantage. Not you. Gotta keep your victories clean, right, mighty She-Ra?"
Heavy footfalls came closer and closer, Catra backed away, trying to tamp down her panic. She couldn't see and it was her own stupid fault. Dumb way to lose a fight. She chatted to cover her weakness as she blinked away spots.
"Find your way in ok? It's awful dark. Remember when Shadow Weaver told you that story about the Pookahs on Beast Island? And how you couldn't sleep?" The footfalls stopped and Catra grinned. Poor, predictable Adora. Sentimental as ever. She could play it up until her eyes adjusted.
"Yeah," she purred, "and you begged me to sleep in your bed? Remember how you begged for my help, Adora?" No answer. Not a hint of reaction. That hurt more than she expected. "Of course not. You've forgotten more important things than that, haven't you?" Her hackles rose and she began to stalk forward.
"You should never have come back here," she snarled, "even for you, this was a stupid move. Where's your two sidekicks, huh? Too afraid to come with you?" Nothing. Not a word of defence for her 'best friends'. "Hey! I'm talking to you, Adora, say something!" Resolute silence.
"Ok, you better just drop this whole cold-shoulder act because you aren't fooling me! I know you, Adora, better than anyone. Better than you know yourself. You're not scaring anyone just because you were stupid enough to come alone. Being quiet doesn't make you scary! An extra two little feet of height and that dumb sword doesn't make you scary!" Catra got up in her face, close enough to feel the even breaths and see blue eyes watching her through long hair. In a moment her vision would clear enough to see the wings of her tiara.
Keep talking, Catra. Keep her focused.
"I know who you are, Adora," Catra whispered, her eyes were finally adapting to the dark again, "we're best friends, remember? Forever and ever... I know who-" Catra stopped in her tracks as her smile fell. The eyes that watched her were the right color of blue, but they were cold and pitiless. Adora had never looked at Catra and showed her emptiness.
The figure stepped forward and Catra scrambled backwards, almost tripping over her own feet. The lights flared to life once again and she felt her heart plop into her stomach.
"Who are you?" She heard herself whisper with a squeak.
Big. The person in front of her was really big. At least as big as She-Ra. There were red tattoos all over their body. And their body was a She-Ra-esque icon of muscle. On their bare chest, a red cross dared her to strike for the heart. Jagged zigzags covered their arms and legs.
The hair wasn't quite right either. Golden, sure, but thicker, matted, and nowhere near as perfect. It was held just out of the face, hard and angular, by a thin scrap of sweat-stained gray cloth that bore hieroglyphics in red.
The rest of the outfit was equally worn and strange. Brown fur bracers on the arms that rattled with predator teeth of every size. There was a sort of loincloth and kilt of thick fur, with the top of a wolf-skull on either hip. More animal hide bound the ankles but left the toes bare. A thin brown-strap that circled their upper pectorals and right-shoulder but seemed to offer no real protection. Not that they'd need it.
They looked, Catra realized after a moment, like a man her age but twice her size. Like She-Ra.
This wasn't She-Ra, not her She-Ra. Even the sword in his right hand looked like an off-brand of Adora's. It was less elegant, closer to a giant slab of steel than a sword. It had no gold hilt or crossguard. And strangest of all, no runestone.
It's not Adora, she told herself, calm down. It's not She-Ra. Which was part of the problem itself. She knew Adora's limits. She knew what Adora would do.
This one was a stranger.
The huge face leaned in and snorted. A single finger shot up and pushed her shoulder. Catra fell back five feet and gasped. The warrior tossed his blonde hair and sneered at her.
"Weak," he said, then turned back to the stairs and Hordak's lab, body tensing for another high jump.
He wasn't Adora. But as Catra watched him walk away, strange light steaming from his broad shoulders, she felt something primal roar out of her that wiped away all their differences.
"Don't," she yelled, "you walk away from me!" She pounced forward, all ten claws extended and raked them down his exposed back. "Eeeeugh!" She leapt back and shook her hands. Her fingertips were numb like she'd just gouged out part of a chalkboard. But at least a chalkboard, unlike the warrior's back, would've shown marks. She raised her claws up to her eyes, her fingers trembling.
Filed. She'd filed her claws on his bare skin. A single blue eye glared at her with what seemed like annoyance. She squeezed her Force Captain's badge.
"Back-up!" She said. "Back-up in Horde Square! There's…it's She-Ra! She-Ra is here!"
Then the lights turned off all over again, but she could feel the warrior move and she ducked low as a metal weight sang through where her head had been. He wasn't holding back. He wasn't Adora.
Yikes! She heard metal bite deep into concrete as she scurried back. Reflexes shot her around the right side of the warrior and she swiped at him before she could rethink it. "Rrrrrgh! I hate that feeling!" She bounded back again, squeezing her left hand as the stinging numbness shot through it from her claws. The warrior grunted and retaliated.
The thing that slapped Catra between the shoulders blades of her back was shaped like an open palm. Her brain, as she sailed through the air, insisted it must've been a runaway skiff. She landed deftly on all fours and skidded along the ground into a tall metal lamppost, shoulder-first.
"Ow," she squeaked quietly. The lights flickered on overhead and she caught sight of the warrior twirling his sword in one arm, cocking it backwards, and-
The lights snapped off. She threw herself flat on the ground and heard an odd shrieking sound followed by the crumbling thunk of something piercing a concrete wall. There was a sad, metal groan overhead and she froze in place, waiting for the lamppost to topple. She was blinded by strobing lights again and grimaced as the toppling groan got louder.
Metal crashed and glass shattered off to her left, making her shriek. She got her night-vision back in time to see the warrior rush towards her, his bare feet crushing glass into powder, with one giant hand outstretched.
"Weak," the warrior huffed. A five-fingered vice clamped around her injured shoulder and lifted her up into the air over his face. Catra snarled at him and glared into his blue eyes. She flexed the claws on her right foot.
"Stop saying that!" she spat, "Who are you?" Her foot flashed and the sharp points shot right for the big, pitiless blue targets staring at her. Her stomach bubbled as she connected and felt something yielded. But it did not yield nearly enough.
The warrior howled in outrage and dropped her to the floor, rubbing at his eyes like a weepy little kid. Not that Catra could quip about that. She too was busy clutching her ankle while her toes informed her that she had just, against all logic, kicked a rock.
"You two are different for sure, or Adora has seriously been holding back," she whispered in agony. At that moment there was a heavy thud, like someone falling to the ground, back towards the gate she'd climbed over.
"Ow!" She heard a familiar voice cry out. "Oh…oh…landed right on my shins. Catra makes that look so easy."
"Scorpia?" Catra crawled towards the voice, and more importantly away from the injured warrior. A happy gasp answered her and the second muscle-bound figure of the night rushed her.
"You're ok," Scorpia's hug seemed almost feather-light after getting manhandled by Not-She-Ra, "where is she? I'll show her to come here and mess with our home! Are you ok? Do you wanna talk about it?"
From the dark behind them a wind tunnel screamed angrily.
"…does Adora have some kind of a sore throat," Scorpia croaked, "or…"
"It's not her," Catra said, squirming away, "it's not Adora." The lights flickered on once again and made that explanation far easier. Scorpia's eyes darted all up and down their new enemy, trying to take in everything at once. After a moment she found her voice.
"So…if he's not She-Ra, is there any chance we could maybe use our words to solve this?" The warrior's blue eyes were shot through with angry red, like Catra's claws did little more than irritate them. If looks could kill he would've wiped Catra from history.
"No," Catra winced, rubbing her shoulder because it hurt the worst of her injuries at that moment, "I-"
"Did he hurt you?" Scorpia's voice was dead. Then it was raised in an echoing battle-cry. "Get over here, you!"
"Scorpia!" Catra shrieked. She was too late to stop Scorpia before she slammed fully into the warrior. The results however, were far different than she anticipated.
With a deft pressed against the back of the man's leg, the Scorpia executed a textbook take-down. The warrior seemed too perplexed by the shift in gravity to resist as he was flipped on his stomach and both his hands were, quite literally, pincered behind his back. Catra almost laughed as she finally got some perspective on the man's size. Scorpia was a match for him, both in muscles and height, just like Adora.
"Ok, friend," Scorpia spat, "I consider myself a pretty even-tempered lady, but nobody just waltzes into my house and attacks my friends. Metaphorically speaking... The house part, not the friend part! Anyway, that's two charges of assaulting a Force Captain, pal. Ever hear of a place called Beast-"
The warrior's hair rustled as he threw the back of his head into Scorpia's face. Scorpia blinked, twitched her nose, and smacked her lips curiously before spitting out some strands of blonde hair.
"I…can't feel my face," she said, almost dream-like. The warrior flopped like a fish, launching her from his back and springing to his feet. Scorpia shook it off and jumped to her feet to grapple him into a full-nelson. Her tail snaked out and began to lance his tattooed skin, to no effect.
"Tell me when I'm not hitting armor!" she called out. Catra's mouth wouldn't work.
"He's…you're not…this isn't gonna work," she mumbled. This was different. Adora hadn't displayed this kind of raw power before and Catra couldn't begin to understand what the cause was. Then the idea popped into her head.
If Adora was here now…could she beat this guy? That question very rapidly found a home for itself in her mind and only lost her attention when the tide of battle shifted. The warrior began to flex his arms against her hold and Scorpia's voice suddenly jumped to a high, thinstrain.
"Oooooooooh, boy! Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy! Catra," she creaked out, "this guy is strong."
"Y-yeah," Catra gulped, the warrior glare was fixed on her.
"Like, really strong," Scorpia squeaked, her body trembling against the push, "magic-strong! Like not muscles, muscles don't work this way!"
"I noticed," Catra said.
"No…I think you're not…he's really quite the wrangler!"
The warrior slipped free and elbowed her hard in the chest.
"Okay," she croaked, dropping flat onto her back and going motionless. Catra's eyes slipped to the left and saw the sword protruding from a far wall. If it could cut stone and steel so easily, it might be her only option. The warrior advanced towards her and she locked eyes with him. She shot forward claws out and watched the big man smirk happily at the challenge. He rushed to meet her.
She tensed her legs and sprang into a somersault, relishing the look of growing wonder in the warrior's eyes as she spiraled over his head. When she'd landed on all fours, she took off running. The warrior gave chase. The sword gleamed with an inner light.
She slid to a stop, both hands clasping over the hilt of the sword, her climber's calluses rubbing over the thick leather covering. She grinned at the sudden consternation on her foe's face. She yanked.
Her shoulder screamed and the sword budged not an inch.
No. No it has to work. It has to! Adora's sword isn't…isn't…this isn't Adora's sword. The warrior grinned wickedly. Catra charged him again, waited for him tense, and dodged to the side. His tattooed forearm shot out at the last second and caught her around the middle like a steam-pipe.
The air smacked out of her lungs and she caught her breath after her face had been shoved into his armpit. She voice muffled curses, promises of revenge, and, sooner than she wanted to admit, pleas.
"Wait," she said when her head slipped free, "w-wait a second, ok? We-we don't have to keep doing this! We can-" The warrior's free hand slid his sword free like it was skewered in butter. Concrete dust puffed into the air and shot smalls stones around their feet. Catra yelped as the ground suddenly caught her whole body. A bare sole pressed lightly on her injured shoulder. "Just…. wait!"
The blue-blade tacked loudly on the ground so close to her head that she fogged up her wide-eyed reflection with her short, scared breaths.
"Please, listen to me," she fought anew as the sword rose, "who are you?! Where'd you come from?! If you want something, let's cut a deal!" She wrestled under his impossibly strength enough to turn her eye up to meet his. Spotting the sword in his hand, she considered her poor choice of words and suddenly felt sick.
The warrior leaned down and considered her.
"Weak," he answered. The sword raised high, Catra bit back a sob of fear and dug her nails into his thigh with a final, thunderous battle-scream.
"Agh!" The stranger's deep voice cried out suddenly. Catra felt the sensation of yielding flesh and warm, wet liquid trickle across her palm. Copper filled her nose. As one, Catra and her enemy stared at the five cuts she'd dug into his thigh.
Catra's eye searched in every direction, trying to find the change, but she didn't see anything different. Except, perhaps, that in the sky, far from their fight, the moons of Etheria had slipped back out of alignment.
She connected the dots quickly and ripped her claws free. Shock, more than agony, made the warrior cry out. He wobbled on one foot as Catra spun to her feet, sweeping his other leg from under him. She gave him a sharp smile and tried to claw at his face.
He tried rearing his head away but she quickly snatched a handful of his matted hair to yank his face down to meet her rising knee. He cried out and tumbled flat on his back, blinking at the sky with disbelief. Bracing a foot on either side of him, Catra leaned down at the waist and locked eyes with him.
"Weak," she huffed with a wide smirk. She danced backwards as he flailed his sword at her in a reactive sweep, then leapt forward, pinning his arm against his chest. Her hand tangled in his hair again and slammed his head against the ground twice. "Weak!" she shouted this time. Something flashed in the warrior's eyes and his foot pressed behind her leg, as Scorpia had done to him.
Like an alligator in a death-roll he twirled them both in place, but without his unbreakable skin Catra found wriggling free easy after a few shallow swipes. He gave a parting punch at her injured foot that sent her sprawling on her stomach. Catra grimaced as she tried to stand and gasped when a foot slid under her stomach and lifted her into the air.
He was still very strong, she deduced, as Horde Square dropped ten feet below her, then rushed up. She saw puce cloth and white hair before landing on something only slightly softer than concrete.
"Scorpia," she gasped, dread flooding her when the woman didn't respond, "hey, Scorpia, wake up. He's squishy now. We can take him!" Her foot was throbbing in pain, she couldn't stand yet.
She heard a snarl growing closer with the limping thud of huge feet. She spared a glance up.
He was coming closer and he looked less than happy. One hand clutched at his wounded leg then drifted to a dozen other injuries with each movement, the other raised the sword up, ready to swing down when he got there. Catra's foot buckled under her and every other wound joined in as she flopped back on Scorpia's chest.
"Scorpia," she hissed, "come on, please! Wake up!" The warrior was almost on them. They'd both be skewered in a second. She squirmed away, stomach bumping over one of Scorpia's claws She shouted. The nearest lamppost taunted her with the short distance she'd have to crawl to get to her feet.
Scorpia, the thought froze her in place, if she doesn't wake up before he makes it over here...
"Hey. H-hey! You want some more?" she shouted over her shoulder. "I'm gonna-Aaaaaaah!"
A bear-trap closed around her ankle and dragged her backwards. She found herself in almost the same spot she'd been in a moment before, but her arms were pinned this time. She glanced up and managed a nervous laugh at the caution in the man's eyes.
"You scared, big guy? Of little old me?" She cackled, voice frail. "I bet I'm the first one who ever tagged you, right? Seems like it." The sword rose again, then something long and red whipped through the air so quickly the warrior had to blink. Catra noticed the thin red line across his forearm first and then the warrior was swaying in place, before he toppled like a felled tree.
The sword clattered away from his limp hand.
The claw under Catra moved and before she knew it, she was snuggled against a broad chest. A breath rattled out of it.
"Venom, wildcat," Scorpia coughed, "not sugar-water." Catra found herself laughing in relief.
"I got you," Scorpia wheezed, "I got you, Catra." The magicat blinked and stared up into Scorpia's honest face. She looked beat five different ways but there was still that annoying, I-am-your-friend-whether-you-like-it-or-not twinkle in her half-opened eyes. "I got your back."
Catra's heart fluttered a little.
"About time," she muttered, sinking her face into Scorpia's shirt, purely to rest, "you…you scared me." A claw patted her back. Next to them, the warrior lay motionless.
"Yeah, I think he killed me... for like a second," Scorpia whispered, a grin cracking through her pain, "you're pretty brave, you know that? Trying to protect me from him even when you're hurt. Thanks." Catra rolled her eyes and denied the blush that brought to her face.
"You idiot," she said, cheek pressing against her 'friend' or whatever Scorpia called herself, her foot still hurt too much to stand, "you could have broken your legs dropping in here earlier. Why do I always end up with…I mean, end up near the stupid 'save-everyone' types?"
"Must be something about your personality…oh, you're kidding me." The warrior grunted and sat up, eyes wide and alarmed. "Please…just…can we, like, maybe take a water break or something, guy?"
Catra rolled out of Scorpia's arms and crouched, ready to pounce. The warrior seemed less than interested in her now, though. He clawed away from them both, grunting with effort.
He pushed himself up and then his left arm buckled. Forcing himself to sit up, he jammed his lips against the cut, sucking at it and spitting out red gobs of spit. Scorpia honked an exhausted laugh.
"That only works in the movies, buddy," she teased, "don't fight it. Just riiide the wave and let it take you places. It'll be a long… uh… boat ride? Something that fits that metaphor. Me? I'm fitting fight…I mean fitting fit-ooooooogh!" Scorpia had tried to sit up, made a nauseous sound, and flopped back to the floor. "No. No I am not. Vertical's not happening. Mama's gotta stay horizontal for now."
The warrior's left arm went limp again and his legs followed, splashing him to the concrete. Catra crept over Scorpia, curious and not a little smug. The warrior's right arm snapped out in search of his sword, forgotten just nearby.
"No you don't!" Catra vaulted him and grabbed the blade, dragging the heavy weapon away with a little snicker. "You don't get this back. You had your chance. We beat you."
"Kinda did," Scorpia coughed, "didn't we? We're pretty…sleepy. Hey, Catra, I'm gonna pass out now I think. You got him?" She was out before Catra could answer her.
"Oh, he's gonna be no problem," Catra spun the sword like a bottle and plopped herself on top of it. "Come on," she cooed at the warrior, "just wiggle a little closer! It's like you don't want it back!" A look of horror crossed the man's face.
"N-no," he whispered. Then, to Catra's stupefaction, he was suddenly bathed in white light. She scrambled back, nearly nicking herself on the sword's edge. Her fur stood on end all over as the familiar tingle of magic washed over her.
Then Catra began to laugh.
She recognized it. The white light and the slowly shifting shape within it. He wasn't Adora. But they were more alike than she'd realized. Her laughter rose in pitch until it rang around the empty square like a dozen throats were giving voice to it.
"Bad news, big guy," she hissed, "I'm the one person this won't impress. Most people probably would say: 'What's this?' 'How'd you do that?' 'Wanna abandon your best friend to be a tool for a stupid rebellion?' Me? I know what this is. And I know you're only just starting to feel the hurt." The lights burst again overhead and the red line of magic evaporated from the sky. But Catra only had eyes for the form under her. She reached into it and dug her fingers into bristly clothing that hadn't been there before.
She yanked the warrior up, waiting for the transformation to change.
"Lemme see your face," she whispered, "before I really start to mess it up. You're not Adora…but I'll close my eyes and pretend you are."
The body shrank… shrank… and kept shrinking. The figure in her hands gasped.
"Ah!" His voice was high and little. He was dressed in a long, hooded-tunic made from the hide of some kind of purple-furred animal. The hood was up and hid his face except for a trembling mouth and long waves of hair that tickled the backs of Catra's hands.
Her anger left her, wonder taking its place. He was so small.
"You're…" she said, leaning forward, "you're!" She craned her neck down, trying to see under the tunic's hood. A pair of cornflower-blue eyes bugged at her when she pressed her face near his. "You're just a little kid!"
The child drew back, as if to nod, and drove his forehead straight into her nose.