TW: Some Verbal Abuse. Child in a dangerous situation.
Lonnie found Kyle's luck a funny thing to observe. He wasn't exactly accident prone. It was more that a higher power seemed to choose him for specific moments of near-fatal clumsiness. Lonnie hands wrapped tight around his shoulders and stopped him from slipping in the slick puddle on South-East Air-Bay's floor.
"S-so much for a 'dry-dock', huh, Lonnie?" The young man stammered. Lonnie righted him with a grunt and took the box of explosive charges from his arms. "Hey! I can do it!"
"Just take a seat, Kyle," she sighed, "I'll get this onboard." The twenty troop carabus, a bit like an overlarge skiff, swarmed with movement as she stepped onto it. The rain had been pounding down on them all morning, a tropical depression off the Sea of Sighs that showed no plans of stopping. Swathed in black hooded-ponchos the Hordesmen looked like wraiths haunting a ghost ship.
Lonnie nodded at Marg, shared a brief invective against the storm with Chloris, told Gan 'save some Rebels for me' and shouldered her way into the cramped cargo hold. The security crate was shiny with rainwater in the dim light then it went dark as the hatch swung shut. Lonnie's was left in sudden pitch-darkness ahead and fought the urge to hyperventilate.
Get ahold of yourself, girl, you're not eight years old.
Lonnie shoved her way back onto the deck, so absorbed in thought she bounced off the solid mass of Force Captain Scopria as she walked up the gangplank. She had one huge bundle of spears tucked her right arm.
"Oh," Scorpia smiled, "hey, Lonnie, how's it hanging?" Lonnie mumbled as she saluted, pulling up her hood against the rain with her free hand. "Glad you bumped into me, I wanted to say thanks!" Lonnie was wrapped in a one-armed-hug that everyone could see and would spend nine-days coming up with ways to razz her about. She struggled against it as Scorpia went on. "That is, thanks for looking after the little guy for us!"
"Not like I volunteered," she said, breaking away at last, "why couldn't you do this, Force Captain?"
"Oh, come on now! 'Scorpia' is just fine! We're practically squadmates at this point." The eager grin did nothing to improve Lonnie's mood. "Really though. Catra was really relieved when she found out you weren't one of the…people still in the Infirmary."
"Like she even knows the names of the guys who are," Lonnie grumbled, "like she cares."
"She'd stay herself. Goodness knows I would to! But... Shadow Weaver said we can't. Lord Hordak said we can't."
"Oh cool," Lonnie barked, "so I do my job right, get injured, and thanks is I gotta carry everybody's water anyway."
"Hey," Scorpia rested a huge claw on Lonnie's shoulder, "You. Got. This. You're the best soldier we have! Just make sure Adam is getting the meals he needs, show him the ropes, and in nine days from now? People are gonna be amazed by what they see."
"Or nauseated," Lonnie shivered, " a ten-year-old kid in a deathmatch? Messed up."
"I've seen worse odds," Scorpia shrugged, adjusting her hold on the spears.
"When?"
"Hah! Well, for a start, yesterday," Scorpia said, "when I was, like, eighty-eight percent sure he was going to Beast Island. Oh! And when he was fighting that shadow thingy!" Lonnie tried not to react to that reminder. "Longest odds I've ever seen, let me tell ya."
"Third time's the charm," Lonnie said.
"That's the spirit! Good luck. Tell Adam we're all rooting for him!" Scorpia's badge blinked and she activated it.
"We're moving out in ten minutes," Catra's voice crackled through it, "tell everybody to shift into high gear."
"Sure," Scorpia grinned, "hey, Lonnie's here. Got anything you want to say to her, boss?"
The silence from the badge was deafening.
"She…probably just didn't hear me," Scorpia's smile was friendly and full of embarrassment. "See you soon!"
Lonnie stood on the dry-dock, not quite knowing what to do with herself, as the engines slowly turned from a low hum to a deafening roar. Her poncho flapped wetly around her and her hood flew back. A moment later the carabus and an escort of three skiffs roared away towards the eastern horizon.
"This. Bites." Lonnie said to herself. It was a short walk back to the barracks but the pockets of open sky made the journey longer with the heavy rain.
She ducked into the room and fumbled for the light switch. Even in the weak fluorescents she felt unnerved by the sheer loneliness. She slapped her cheek slightly.
"Come on, get with it, trooper," she sighed, "grab and shower and some sleep." The kid could wait. So what if Catra would bite her head off if she found out? A ten-year-old had no chance in a fight against anyone except maybe another ten-year-old. And she doubted anybody in the Prison couldn't fight the kid. The idea that anyone would take out a kid to get their freedom made her want to spit, double so for whoever commanded it to happen.
Careful, soldier. That's your fearless leader you're badmouthing.
Even in an empty room, or inside her own mind, badmouthing Lord Hordak felt like a risk not worth taking. She'd never known how to feel about him, the 'Lord of the Fright Zone,' whatever that was supposed to really mean. It had never mattered anyway. The Horde's finest answered to him, no questions asked. That included every decorated trooper she'd met, every Force Captain worth their badge, every friend she'd ever had. That had always included her, too.
But this time, something about it all felt… wrong.
A kid fighting to the death? Where's the 'honor' in that? What's honor even mean to a ten-year-old? And I gotta be the one to tell him... to explain it to him. What am I in the middle of right now?! The bundle of food and purple fur rested at the foot of Adora's old bed and gave her pause.
Adora. She had so much payback coming her way. Lonnie didn't blame her for running, but Catra was the worst person in the world to serve under. Adora had done that to them. The empty barracks alone attested to her crime.
"Coulda just stayed," Lonnie grumbled, "coulda just gotten the badge like we all knew you would. But nooooo. You two. Your drama. Taking us all along with you, like always." She picked up the tunic and sank her fingers into the rough fur. "How do you all keep getting me involved in stuff like this! I never asked to be a part of all this!" She hurled the bundle at the door, the whisper of it's impact doing nothing to relieve the anger in her.
"Stupid kid," Lonnie growled to herself, "why are you my problem now?" Her bunk called to her. She'd been sleeping poorly the last few nights. She hated the Infirmary. Every minute there felt like she was risking exile. Good soldiers didn't go to the Infirmary.
She retrieved the tunic and the ration bar wrapped in it. The door slid open automatically. It was a long trip to the Prison, most of it under the downpour. She arrived soaking wet at the shoulders and hair; it seemed even the Horde's finest rain-gear had limits.
"You know you can't just waltz in if you feel like it," the Prison Trooper leading her into the heart of the complex said, Lonnie rolled her eyes, " now I gotta take you to the Warden. Better be good." This guard was fishing for a fight and Lonnie refused to tug the line. It was with a frustrated sigh that the trooper directed her onto the huge, extra-wide bridge that led to the core control tower of the Prison.
Built into an ancient sinkhole that reached the watery depths of the Southern Wing, the Prison was an upside down beehive shape. Honeycombs of green light marked thousands of prison cells. It was lit every few hundred feet down by blinding floodlights until it was lost in an abyss of darkness she did not need to look at right now.
She entered in as some joke or conversation erupted into boisterous laughter. The officers lounged at what looked vaguely like the helm of a battleship. Below them, scrunched together and sweating from the humidity, were dozens of lesser officers, monitoring the Prison inside and out. Sitting in a huge swivel chair, framed by the largest window Lonnie had seen in her life, was Warden Trapjaw.
Kronis. Kronis. Kronis. Don't call him Trapjaw. Lonnie marched up and saluted.
"Yeah, yeah," Trapjaw sighed, "what is it? You're getting my floor wet." Lonnie grimaced at the drip-dripping of her rain-slicked poncho.
"Force Captain Catra sent me, sir," Lonnie said, crisp and clear, focused solely on her 'mission, "I'm supposed to bring the kid his food. Three times a day. At 0800. 1300. 2000. And-" a monstrously large hand rose.
"That's a lot," Trapjaw said, smiling wryly as he could with his large features, "especially for one trooper. Tell you what. Leave it here. I'll see to it personally." That was her out. Her out of doing any of this. Knuckle under and ignore the way his buddies snickered. Pride didn't matter when you were on a mission. She'd never have to see any of these people again, most likely, so she didn't need to care what they thought.
You. Got. This. Scorpia's words started flanking her. The kid had bad chances at best right now. At best. But if he went into the ring without training -or starved by Trapjaw- he had zero chances. When the inevitable happened, Catra was gonna hold her accountable anyway… but let no-one say Lonnie didn't try.
"Thank you, sir, but I'll be taking care of this. I wouldn't want to trouble you with the responsibility." Trapjaw's smirk turned downwards and he rose from his seat. "And I have orders."
"Oh, do you?" Trapjaw stepped forward. "Everyone thinks they can run over me, huh? Force Captains are one thing. But some grunt who barely looks like she graduated from the Academy? Am I supposed to listen to you?"
"You should," a dark voice stole the air from the room, "if she speaks with my authority." Lonnie froze as a spindly hand rested on her shoulder. She turned her head and found white eyes considering her pleasantly from behind a red mask. It was not Shadow Weaver's sudden appearance that disturbed her, she'd become numb to that by being part of Adora's squad, it was how dry the woman was.
Even where her sleeve touched Lonnie's soaked poncho, the water seemed repulsed by the sorceress. She couldn't blame it.
"Shadow Weaver," Warden Trapjaw nodded, "I didn't realize…"
"And now you do," Shadow Weaver replied, " Lord Hordak has ordered the child to be ready and able to fight in precisely nine days. Or eight and half by this point, I suppose. I intend to see his wishes carried out…as we all do."
"Lord Hordak said no interference," Trapjaw said, glaring at Lonnie, "Catra-"
"Was given permission to send a squadmate that would oversee the boy's care," Shadow Weaver cut in, "a weight off your shoulders, Warden, so you may choose the perfect opponent with no one to make… insinuations of interference on your own part. Now, where is the boy?" Trapjaw sulked silently.
"Where, Warden?" Lonnie winced as the fingers on her shoulder tightened and a whisper, vaguely familiar and unsettling, tickled her ear. The Warden tensed and his namesake jaw worked like a rusty backhoe as he spoke.
"Level 19," he croaked, "Cell 82." His jaw unclenched and his hand shot up to rub at his neck. His eyes seethed with hatred but he said no more. "I see how it is. I'll tell my crew you're allowed to be here, trooper…"
"This 'trooper' has a name, Warden. She is Lonnie," Shadow Weaver's hand moved up to fix one of her braids. Lonnie tried not to shift away from the touch. "A fine soldier from Barracks 45."
This fine soldier would give anything to be back in Barracks 45 right now. Trapjaw picked up a plastic clicker and keyed something into it. He handed it Lonnie and grunted at Shadow Weaver.
"That'll get her to the cell and back. No questions asked."
"She will be training the boy as well," Shadow Weaver turned to Lonnie as Trapjaw bit down his protests, "do try to be reasonable about the hours, my dear. The Warden needs sleep like everyone else."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Lonnie flushed at how loudly she said it. No one had the guts to make fun while Shadow Weaver was in the room. Shadow Weaver led her out and over to the docking station. "Are…you…going to accompany me to see the prisoner, ma'am?"
"I did not plan on it," Lonnie tried not to show her relief visibly, "my purpose here was exactly as I've described; to see Lord Hordak's orders carried out. But that applies to me as well. I will not be interacting with the child until his trials are complete. In any case, I have more pressing matters to attend." Unlike me, huh? Lonnie's agenda is always free and clear. Lonnie thought bitterly. "But, if there are any issues do not hesitate to seek me out, my dear." Shadow Weaver stared at her and Lonnie suffered silently. "I must say, I do wish Adora had chosen you as her confidante, Lonnie. You are the Horde's image of a model soldier. Surely a much better friend than Catra."
"Adora made her choice," Lonnie said. She awaited what was certain to be a very sad death. She got off with a murderous glare that vanished in an instant.
"Make no mistake, dear. Adora is not lost to us," she whispered, her eyes crawled over the tunic in Lonnie's hands, "there is much yet we can do to save her from herself." Lonnie's teeth started hurting from pressing together. "I may come to you to ask after the boy's progress. Please, do let me know if anything… peculiar happens."
"Peculiar. Got it, ma'am," Lonnie saluted again, "I will do that." She knew her wording made her sound stiff and robotic, but she couldn't help it. Shadow Weaver had an uncanny way of making every exchange you shared feel like a chess move in a game you were already losing. The shadowy woman stared at the tunic for another moment, secrets glittering behind her eyes that Lonnie had no interest in uncovering. Then she turned and floated off without another word.
Lonnie found a great comfort in the loud, buzzing engine of the prison-barge as it dipped down towards Level 19. Past four more control rooms on the main spire and tucked away on what her innate sense of direction told her was the Northern facing curve of the prison. She found the 80s section and worked backward from 89. On her way, she passed a shirtless man doing sit-ups, glaring unrelenting at the ceiling. She saw a bald woman meditating quietly in her cell. A huge Tauranian with one horn missing paced in a cell that was far too small for him to be comfortable.
Any one of them could be the kid's opponent in a battle for their freedom. Some of these prisoners had been incarcerated since before Lonnie was born, left to rot for somehow defying Lord Hordak. Or for failing in their duties. The full weight of her 'mission' crushed down on her. These would be the worst eight-and-a-half days of her life, bar none.
"I really hate you, Catra," she muttered. She pulled to a stop in front of cell 82 and stared. As far as she remembered, the light-grid cells shocked you something fierce if you pushed on them too hard. She'd done that on a dare once when she was sixteen. Her left hand was numb for a full day of sloppy training.
But there was a small figure in Cell 82 shoving both palms against the green light, adding pressure til it turned a harsh red before yanking them back. Not in pain, but playfully, his eyes sparkling at the strange streams of light that seemed to erupt from his palms. She banked towards it and the figure froze, then darted underneath the meager, chained-into-the wall cot that took up a third of the cell's square footage.
"Great start," she grumbled. The barge docked into the cell entryway and a click from her key turned the shield off with a hum. She entered slowly, tossing her poncho over her left shoulder to free up a fist. "Alright, little man, come out right now, and do it real slow."
The boy, pressed almost out of sight, burped loudly in response.
"I can see you there," she said, "come on." There was no movement. "Right now!" The boy made a muffled noise and peeked around the cot. Lonnie stared, struck dumb. The resemblance, while not perfect, was enough to be uncanny. He was smaller than Adora had been at ten, for sure, but the facial structure was a near perfect match.
"Hi?" He asked. His voice was high-pitched, unsurprising for a boy his age, but he was cautious in a way that seemed strangely mature.
"Hi," Lonnie said back, thrown off her balance momentarily, "you're name's…Adam, right?" The boy cocked his head and then nodded slowly, pointing at himself.
"Adam," he pointed at her, "ah?"
"Lonnie," Lonnie said, "and just so you know, I didn't ask for this. Ok?"
"L…La..la-la," the boy said, squinting, "l-la-lawn…eeeeee?"
"Lon-Eee," she said, throwing her poncho's hood back and tugging at a braid of her hair.
"Geez, kid, do you even know where you are? Or what's gonna happen to you?" The boy stared at her, his little face pinched with thought.
Lonnie suddenly felt a need to break into loud, furious laughter. She had to teach him to fight for his life, and his first lesson so far was how to pronounce her name. Even better, he wasn't doing well at it.
"Lllllll," his tongue stuck out, "Llllll. On-on. Eeee. Llll-on-eeee."
"Catra owes me big time for this," she muttered. The boy gasped.
"Ca-tra? Catra!" He grinned and jumped out of hiding. He looked behind her, face falling, then turning suspicious. "Catra?"
"No," Lonnie growled, "Catra isn't here."
"Catra?" Lonnie stomped her foot and the boy went scurrying back into hiding.
"No! N-O. There's NO Catra here! She left you. And now I gotta look after you!"
"No?" The boy asked, frowning as he peeked over the edge of the cot. He rested his chin on his hands. "Ca-tra."
"Oh, think you've got it bad?" Lonnie growled. She almost launched into a tirade of her own bad luck, but remembered where she was and what this little boy's future had in store for him. "Forget it. I'm gonna bring you food and… wait a minute. Here. Recognize this?" She produced the tunic from her poncho.
The kid's eyes lit up like the Fright Zone highrise at night. He grinned and hopped forward snatching his clothing back. He donned it at once, humming with delight as he fidgeted with the teeth on the front and threaded his long hair out to spill over his chest in two loose fronds. He jumped in place, giggling when the bones on it clinked together.
He paused, sniffed the hood and made a pleased noise before sneezing loudly.
"'Cool. Thank you,'" Lonnie grumbled, dusting her pants.
"Ah?" The boy looked up a smile on his face and sudden trust shimmering in his cornflower-blue eyes.
"Nothing."
"Thhh," he tried. His eyes squeezed shut. "Th-ak? Thaa-ak?"
"You?" She tried, a little intrigued.
"You." He repeated grinning. "Tha-ank you?"
"Like you even know what it means," Lonnie said.
"Llll-oon-eee?"
"YES," she groaned, raising her voice, "my name is Lonnie! Lonnie-Lonnie-Lonnie! Two syllables!" The boy crouched back but didn't run this time. Lonnie slumped to sit on the cot, face going into her hands. "This is the single dumbest thing I've ever had to do in my life and I've only just started, plus I've done some really stupid things!" Adam had found the supplement bar in the meantime and fell on it like a rabid wolf on a wounded deer. "Hey! Slow down."
To her amazement he paused, nodded, and began to eat slowly, watching her for approval the whole time. She rested her chin in her hand and looked him over.
"You remember me, kid?" The boy hummed curiously around a mouthful of food. Lonnie mimed getting bopped on the noggin. "You hit me on the head? Or that big version of you did? Catra's sure you two are different." Adam shook his head and shrugged but a moment later froze, thoughts blinking across his eyes strangely. He backed up, death-grip on his food, eyes suddenly wary.
"Oh," Lonnie leaned forward, "you do, huh? Y'know, I got a bruise here still and I feel it everytime I wash my hair." She settled down and shook her head. "Forget it. I don't care. You got a lot worse than a bump on the head coming your way." She rubbed at her eyes, fantasizing about sleep. "Still got half a day left. Gotta use it. No point not to. You done?"
He was in fact done eating and gave a little hiccup from eating so quickly. Lonnie stood and pointed outside. Adam hesitated and she snapped her fingers twice and pointed at herself.
"Get this," she snapped, "I am your boss. I say do something? Do it." She pointed at herself. "Boss." Adam's face scrunched up and he shook his head, pointing at her.
"Lonn-ie," he said.
"Boss," Lonnie said, then pointed at her ear, "you 'listen' to your boss. Got it?"
"Lonn-ie," Adam was laser-focused on her and pulled at the big ears hidden in the depths of his blonde hair, "b-osss."
"Good... I think." She pointed outside. "Go." Adam went, slowly and with the greatest reservation. The barge detached and he clung to the railing with a gasp of fright. As it raced upward his fear vanished and his face turned up into the air as it rushed down on him, laughing uproariously.
"Probably the first person who ever laughed in here, kid," Lonnie yelled over the noise. They returned to the main bridge in short order, Lonnie sacrificing her dignity and taking Adam by the hand. The boy didn't mind, in fact, he seemed to like that quite a bit. He kept squeezing her palm, testing his grip and giggling to himself as he hopped a step forward to keep up with her longer legs.
"Careful with that thing," the trooper from earlier said as they left, "little monster is more trouble than he looks."
"Believe me," Lonnie mumbled, "I know." She stopped to pull up her hood and arrange her poncho. She turned suddenly as Adam reclaimed his hand, but found he wasn't seemingly interested in running off. He stared up at her hopefully, donning his hood and adjusting his tunic like she had. He grinned.
"Boss," he said, "Lonnie." He frowned back at the trooper they'd passed. "Mmm-on….m-mon-ster?"
"Don't think about it, kid," Lonnie sighed, "you got enough to worry about. Come on. Training time." She strode forward, the child trailing behind her, out into the rainy avenues of the Fright Zone. It was an interesting trip back towards the familiar neighborhood of the South-East Wing. Every soldier she passed paused to observe the kid. Not all of them with contempt.
"What's that thing he's wearing?" A patrolman asked at one corner.
"How should I know?" Lonnie grunted, quickening her step.
"Hi!" Adam chirped as he was pulled along. "Bye!"
"You little weirdo," Lonnie grumbled, "come on!" A few minutes later they found a spider-bot of medium size carefully maneuvering along the wall to avoid an open patch of rain-slicked pavement. Adam yelped and pressed his face against Lonnie's leg.
"Get off me!" Lonnie shook him free, "That thing won't hurt you. It's just a bot." The bot swiveled its square eye at them and scanned them briefly before going on its way. Adam watched it go and then tried to follow, fascination outweighing his terror. Lonnie yanked him back. "You are killing me. Just keep walking."
Lonnie left him standing in the main corridor. He was outside the old training room she and her squad used before they'd been given Senior-Cadet access to the battle-sims. She peered around the rubber matted room that had been a huge part of her world, once upon a time. Some of the motivational posters she remembered were still stuck to the walls, urging their readers to 'Work through the Pain! You Owe the Horde Everything!' and so on. She flicked on the light, stared at herself in the room-length mirror on one wall. She blew a puff of dust off the nearest weapons rack and marched back through the locker-room foyer.
"Hey!" She yelled. The kid didn't hear her, he was too busy finding the largest puddle and leaping into it with both feet. He giggled at the splash and ooohed over the water droplets clinging along his bare arms. "We're not here to play with water, kid! Get inside!"
Adam obeyed; pausing in the doorway to marvel at everything he saw within, Lonnie urged him forward by the shoulder.
"Ok," Lonnie gestured him into the practice room, "let's get started…somehow. So-would you please focus!?" She ground out the words as Adam ran over to the mirror and stared at himself. He snickered, made faces, and stuck out his tongue.
"Nyah!" He turned. "Lonnie…er…boss!" He gestured at the mirror, clearly eager to share his discovery. Lonnie stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. She pointed at the ground in front of her, tapping her foot impatiently.
Adam approached and stood in front of her.
"Listen up," Lonnie said, gesturing to the room, "you're gonna be spending a lot of time in here over the next few days. You have to fight." She made a fist. "Fight. Fight for your life. Eight days. You got that? Fight." Adam made a fist and looked at it. "Fight!"
To prove her point Lonnie punched the air by his ear once, a rapid jab that the boy barely had time to react to. He stumbled away.
"B-boss?" Adam offered, eyes lighting up in fear. Lonnie snarled.
"No. None of that! Come on, now, I know you're not so helpless. You were fighting everybody a few days ago. No more playing games, we gotta train! Come on!" She surged forward, throwing another punch that missed on purpose. Adam hurled himself backwards, face narrowing in betrayal. "Make a fist! Defend yourself!" Lonnie felt the impossibility of her task bearing down on her brain. Eight days. She had to do this for eight days.
"S-stop!" Adam yelped as Lonnie advanced. He darted to her right, she caught him by the tunic and shoved him back into the center of the room. He lost his footing, boots still unfamiliar to him, and landed on his backside. A few tears, of surprise or humiliation, squeezed out of his eyes when he glared at her. "Stop!"
He doesn't get it. He never will, at this rate. If we can't even communicate, he's going into that ring without a prayer. Why am I doing this? An image suddenly cropped up in her mind. One of the boy in a fighter's ring, his weapon of choice unselected, begging for someone to bring him Catra. His opponent, whoever they'd be, would have their chance at freedom dangling right in front of them like fruit on the vine.
He won't even get it. Why it's happening to him.
"Stop?" Lonnie snapped. "Stop!? If I was your opponent you'd be dead! Dead? You understand that?" She drew a thumb across her neck. "Dead. D-E-A-D. Now make and fist and fight me!"
Adam scrambled to his feet and lunged for the nearest weapon rack. Lonnie growled.
"Uh-uh! We are not even close to using equipment yet!" She stomped forward and reared back as the heavy plastic edge of a training sword arc by her side. "Put it back!" She jabbed her finger at the rack. "Back, right now!"
The boy hissed at her, struggling to bring the sword to bear.
"That's not gonna work," Lonnie said, "you think hissing is gonna scare anybody here? You can't run, can't hide. You gotta fight for real. No magic, no hiding!" She tugged at her ear. "Now listen! Listen to me!"
"Grrrrr," Adam said, backing up with the plastic sword angled at her loosely. He was so weak he could barely lift the thing. She stepped forward, anticipated his wild swing, and stomped the moving blade under her boot.
"Owch!" He yelped, curling his fingers in as the hilt was ripped free of his hands. "Ow-ow-ow!" He turned pained, fearful eyes on her. She reached out to take the sword and he threw himself forward, snapping his teeth an inch from her fingers. Lonnie fell backwards into a boxing stance on reflex, then dropped it as the boy huddled away, stinging fingers trying to grip the sword.
"You're doomed, kid," Lonnie spat, "and I…I don't want to waste my time if this doesn't even matter so… Forget it. Forget this! I'm obviously not gonna make this work." Lonnie whirled, storming out of the room without bothering to take her poncho. This wasn't her problem, whatever Catra threatened, whatever Shadow Weaver expected. This was not her problem.
Adam watched Lonnie leave and felt a deep empty sense of guilt rush in as the fear drained away. She'd attacked him! Why was she so mad at him all the sudden? Maybe because he'd been playing in the rain puddles? Or in the mirror?
Beware…
Adam growled quietly. The Other One had been no help during all that.
…I…cannot…react…as…quickly…
"Hmmmpf!" Adam's lip quivered. He missed Catra. He wanted to see Catra.
…you…cannot…trust…her
"Rrrrgh!" He was getting so sick of hearing that.
You cannot trust any of them.
Adam slapped the sword against the matted floor once. Then twice. Then he was standing, grunting, hammering the weapon clumsily into the ground. Why was Catra gone? What hadn't he done right? Why was everyone treating him like…like this?
"Ca-tra," he mumbled sadly, sniffling a little. He wanted his friend back. Instead he was stuck with 'Lonnie' or 'Boss' or whatever the lady with brown hair wanted to be called. The door opened to the room and Adam resolutely did not look up. He'd really wallop her with the sword if she tried to hit him again.
"That's him?" A stranger's voice asked. He glanced up out of reflex. A man and woman stood in the room. They wore gray cargo-pants and heavy boots, the rest of their bodies were concealed in the thick black ponchos like Lonnie wore. They were shiny, oily black with rain as the man moved forward, silent as a ghost.
"Purple fur clothing. Yeah," he growled, "that's the little monster. Watch the door. This'll be quick." 'Monster'. That word again. Adam blinked.
"Hi?" he offered.
"Geez," the woman said, "maybe…he's just a kid. They say he's dead in eight days anyway. Come on. We get caught doing this, its Beast Island if we're lucky."
"And if he slips out? Has some magic friends break him loose or something?" There was a movement under the man's poncho, light caught off metal in his left hand as it emerged. He gripped a serrated knife with knuckle-whitening pressure and swept forward. His stubbly chin tensed with a furious grimace that showed off a few metal teeth.
"You remember a trooper with black-hair and green-eyes, freak? Her name is Hannah." Rain water dripped from his hood and poncho and for a moment Adam thought it ran down his cheeks. Then he realized the foreboding man was crying and doing his best not to sob. "She's…she still won't wake up! They're moving her out of our squadron. I'm never gonna see her again... and it's your fault! Why'd you come here?! Why'd you attack us?! You freak. Magic monster!"
"Hey," the woman hissed, stepping around to stop him, "cool it with the yelling, man, you wanna get caught? Do it or let's get out of here!" The man shoved her back, freeing up his knife arm. Adam felt a sensation like his guts coiling and brought the sword up as high as he could. They were going to hurt him. Why? What did he do wrong? Why was everyone trying to hurt him?!
"This one's for you Han," the man whispered as he approached, tears glistening, "I love you, babe. Come here, kid." The door opened and the figures whirled, the woman drawing a knife of her own.
"Ugh," Lonnie sighed as she stepped back into the room, "pride of the Horde right here. Look, kid, we're stuck with each other and I…" Lonnie took in the scene. She glanced between Adam and the cloaked couple. Her olive-green eyes slowly narrowed, her teeth ground together. "Two people. You really weren't brave enough to do this without back-up?"
"Just leave," the man said, "get out. You're one of us. You know what this thing is, he's practically one of the Princesses."
"Hey," the woman stammered, "we…we uh didn't know anybody was in here-"
"You two," Lonnie's voice was soft, dangerous, "you two scumbags couldn't even work up the courage to fight a ten-year-old unless you had him outnumbered?"
"He deserves this," the man shouted, "he deserves this for what he did!" He surged forward and screamed in Lonnie's face. "You one of us? Or you like that Force Captain who wants to keep him as a pet?!"
Adam! Adam bit down a yelp as the Other One shouted, back in his mind all at once. Adam, listen! I cannot…defend…you…but…I…can help…look. Look with my eyes!
"Huh?" Adam blinked and, in a moment of understanding shut his eyes, then opened them unto a world that felt different. Everything was sharper. Clearer. But the anxiousness…the tension in his heart kept cranking tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.
"Listen," Lonnie said, eyes flicking to the man's knife as she backed away, palms raised, "I'm done fighting for this kid, okay? You two do this, it'll be one less problem for me. And a mercy for him, honestly. But if you really want to see some payback, why don't you just wait till his big fight? Trust me, he's got no chance."
A flash of hatred. Of betrayal. This was the Other One's view of the world. Lonnie was no more worthy of trust than Catra. Than anybody. Adam felt the Other One's overwhelming desire to defend him. His resolve in hating anything that was not Adam. Adam shivered. The Other One was so angry.
"That's what I was trying to tell him," the woman sighed. Adam looked at her. Her back was to him and the Other One directed his eyes around. The back of her left knee, the sword point, and the space to his left. Adam hesitated.
Quickly. Do it quickly! He raised the sword and jabbed hard at the back of her knee. The woman squawked and fell quicker than Adam expected. Her poncho slapped wetly as she fell, in another second she was rising, but the Other One's eyes drew a line at the side of her head.
She made a 'hurk' sound as Adam brought down the training sword on her temple and slumped to the floor unconscious. The man turned, mouth forming the name 'Azalea!" in a cry of horror that choked off as a muscular arm wrapped around his throat. Lonnie kicked the back of his knee and slammed him to the ground. She ripped back his hood and studied a scarred face twisted in agony.
"Hey, kid!" She called out. Adam blinked away the Other One's eyesight and shook his head. He felt a little woozy. "Adam!" He looked up.
"Ah?" He asked. Lonnie gestured to the hood in her hand. "Oh!" He donned his hood, confused as to what she wanted but trying to be helpful.
"Someone help this child..." Lonnie groaned, "not your hood. Her hood!" She nodded at the woman. Adam pulled her hood back and frowned at the long purple bruise along her temple. He hadn't meant to hit her so hard. If she'd just left him alone…
"I've seen your faces," Lonnie growled to the scarred man, "I've seen 'em and I'm gonna remember 'em. If you idiots even think of looking for revenge again, you better believe I'm going to Shadow Weaver first, and then Lord Hordak!"
"You…he's magic! He's a freaking monster!"
"And you're such a prize," Lonnie crushed his face against the mat, "I'm letting you up and you're getting your friend, then you're leaving. Don't try me. We clear?" There was a growling, spitting noise from the man. He yelped as Lonnie pressed harder. "Clear!?"
"Clear!"
Lonnie sprang back, taking his knife and directing Adam to do the same with the woman's knife. The man limped forward, collected his friend and dragged her out, tears of fury streaming from his eyes. Lonnie slid the commandeered knife into a sheath on her boot.
All the movement had happened so quick that Adam didn't have time to defend himself when Lonnie strode over and knelt down in front of him. But she didn't yell or hit him or anything. She gently took the knife from his hand, his fingers gripping it so tight that it stung when she pried it loose.
A calloused palm touched his forehead and brought him back to the present. Lonnie smoothed his hair back. There was pain in her eyes.
"You ok, little man?" She asked. "That…that was pretty scary, huh?" She tried a smile. "But, hey. Turns out you can handle your business after all." Her face fell. "Fight." She said, nodding back towards the door. "You get it now, Adam? You gotta fight."
"Fffff-ite." Oh. Adam understood. Fight. He had to fight people. "Mmmm!" He had to do that again? He hated fighting! It was scary and he didn't know what to do. Not like the Other One did. The Other One fought all the time, but he just…he just bit, and clawed, and growled, and hoped people would go away. The Other One always made them go away.
"Easy," warm hands cupped his cheeks and soothed him, he touched his palm to one of Lonnie's wrists, "easy. Don't think too much. That'll just confuse you." She moved her hands to his shoulders, steadying him. "I'm gonna help you. I'm…I'm sorry I left you in here by yourself."
"Sssss," he hissed gently, "ssss-rrrr-eeee?"
"Sorry is…" Lonnie squeezed his shoulders and frowned, "sorry is…" she sat up and pointed at herself. "Lonnie's fault. Sorry." She pointed at him and shook her head. "Not Adam's. Ok?"
"O-k." He said. Then he smiled a little. So…he hadn't done wrong? That was good to know. 'Sorry'. He liked that. If only it wasn't so difficult to say.
"Good," Lonnie said, standing up, she pointed at the rack, "Now, can you go put that sword back for me?" Adam frowned at the weapon in his hand.
Be careful.
Maybe the Other One couldn't trust Lonnie, but Adam could try. She'd said 'sorry'. No one ever said 'sorry' to him before. He did as she directed and giggled at the big sigh of relief she heaved.
"There. Is. Hope." She declared to the ceiling. "OKAY! That thing over there is a punching bag. We're starting there. Gotta teach you about the basics at least. Good starting point. Make a fist." He did. She used gentle touches to adjust his hand and when he looked at her she made a fist too. "This way you won't break your thumb. Let's get to work, Adam, I got a lot of training to put you through."
Training. There was a flash of gold light across his vision that made him want to sleep but he shook it off. Training. Why was that word familiar? He didn't have time to think about it. Lonnie walked him through a great deal of 'fight' training that day. All about how to punch and how not to punch and how to use your body to punch harder. 'Punch'. He understood that word by the end of the day.
When he tumbled into his cot, back in the strange, dark place where the big blue man with the huge jaw had taken him from Catra, he didn't even have the energy to feel sad about how lonely he was. He hoped Lonnie came back tomorrow. She seemed nice.
"Boss," he said to himself as he drifted off, smiling.
Adora slipped the knife into its new home on the headboard sheath she'd installed behind her pillows. She smiled. Bow's idea was brilliant. Now Brightmoon's maids wouldn't come away needing stitches every time they tried to fluff the pillows. She massaged her scalp a little and slipped into bed. Smiling up at the ceiling of her room.
She laughed at herself. Her room. She was finally thinking of this cavernous, soft-edged, room with a waterfall as hers. That was crazy. It was progress. Outside she heard the soft hush of a guard's cape approach her door.
"Princess Adora?" A voice called to her. Adora winced at the title. She hadn't progressed totally. The word 'princess' still conjured up images of tyrants, monsters, and the Horde's propaganda. "Sorry to disturb you, but Her Majesty, Queen Angella, has ordered training for new guardsmen this night. Would it be inconvenient to you if we used the post across from your door?"
"Uh," Adora searched for an answer, overwhelmed by the idea that her convenience mattered so much. It was so strange having this much weight put on her opinions. "That's fine!" She added, unsure what else to say. "Have a good night."
"Understood, Princess, good evening." The guard left quietly as she came.
"Training," she yawned, "training new guards…" a little flicker of gold light made her blink. "Wow. More tired than I thought. Seeing things." She lay perfectly flat against her bed, a firmer, smaller cousin of the first bed she'd murdered by accident. Closer to the Fright Zone beds.
But not exactly like them. She grew aware of a cold, empty spot by her feet. Almost a whole day without thinking about Catra. Tripped at the finish-line, Adora. She breathed out. No. Remember what Bow's been teaching you. It's not wrong to miss people. And it's not wrong to move on.
"I really miss you, Catra," she allowed herself to say as she drifted off.
"Happy Fifteenth Birthday, my prince," a man's deep voice said. Adora drowned in her sheets momentarily, fingers grasping for a knife that wasn't there. Because the headboard wasn't there. Because her bed wasn't there. Because she wasn't even there in her room. She was lying on cold stone in a room lit by several high barred windows.
A battalion of dummies made from hay-stuffed cloth on wooden pegs occupied a dream obstacle course. Standing before it was a large man in strange armor. An orange uniform under green plate-mail. His face was calm and proudly defined.
"We've hopefully discussed this already, so none of this should surprise you," he said with a smile. Adora pressed her fingers into her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. A dream. A very weird dream. And yet the stone felt rough under foot and the air smelled like old sweat and stone. Real enough to make her sneeze. Adora was pretty sure you didn't sneeze in your sleep.
"W-We haven't," Adora said after wiping her nose, "a-and-and I am. Very, very much surprised!"
The man didn't respond verbally, but his face grew tense, concerned and his pleasant demeanor vanished.
"Still calibrating, hold on..." He cleared his throat and donned a smile once more. "I'm sure the castle-staff has spoiled you rotten today, so it's time for you to do a little work! With an arena like this, there's plenty of fighting techniques we can try out safely, Prince Adam. " Here the man had turned away, seemingly talking to someone other than Adora, "But try to contain your excitement. For now, let's start with a refresh of the basics, my prince."
"Okay, I am not who you think I am," Adora said, "I'm not a prince." The man nodded. Adora was thunderstruck when he actually responded to her words.
"Of course," he said, seeming to listen to her for the first time, "If you'd prefer I address you otherwise, that is always in your power, my liege. You must forgive me, I'm a recording of sorts, and I might be outdated." Ok. Stranger and stranger. But maybe if she'd leaned into dream logic she'd find a way to wake herself up. "I have a list of over four-thousand names or titles, if that helps."
"Adora," Adora said. The man froze oddly.
"Apologies," he sighed, "that is not one of the listed names. Try again?"
"Weird," she said, "ok. She-Ra." The man froze. The same way he had before. Exactly the same way he had before. Then he said, same tone and inflection, the same thing he had before.
"Apologies," he sighed, "that is not one of the listed names. Try again?"
"Hey!" Adora whined. "Brain, what's your problem now? Is this some kind of symbolic message you're sending me? Fine. Um…uh…uh." She chose the first thing that came to mind. "Princess?"
"Understood, Princess," the man smiled, "are you ready to begin training?"
"Training? Is that what this is about? Too much training?" She paused. "Not enough?"
"Are you ready to begin training?"
"No!" Adora stomped her foot. "I want to sleep normally!"
"Very well," the man's smile didn't falter, "another time. Tomorrow is a new day, princess, I hope you sleep well." The man, the room, and the dreamscape faded. For an instance, out of the corner of her eye, Adora caught the sight of what looked like a small figure in hood watching from the sidelines. She blinked again, and was staring at the ceiling of her room.
"Ok," she said to herself, "just a dream. A dream." But most dreams didn't leave the sensation on the stone floor under your bare feet or leave a smell lingering in your nose. Adora rolled over and stuffed her face into her pillow. "Just a dream."
Three seconds later she sat on the edge of her bed and donned her boots. As she put her hair into a ponytail she mumbled to herself.
"You're being crazy. You're being crazy Adora. It's just a dream. Ok. Deep-breaths. Calming thoughts. Go to sleep." Her sheer determination put her back into slumber with military precision.
"Happy Fifteenth Birthday, my prince," the dream-warrior said pleasantly. He launched into his speech, interruption included. Adora found her hair and boots in the same order she'd left them. She found the man standing at attention, breathing evenly and only giving away that he wasn't a statue by the slight twitch of his mustache.
Adora stepped by him, feeling disoriented with how real the movements felt. Normally dream-movement was swimming through a heavy current or floating while your body pantomimed. This was...real. She felt the tongue of her boot scrape on her bare ankle as the sole of her foot felt the pressure of the stone floor, uniformly even.
Screaming. When I've yelled in dreams before I've made weird scratchy noises. Let's see...
"Hello!" She yelled and turned at a little gasp from her left. She turned, finding nothing in the room's shadows.
"Hello, my prince," the dream warrior said, staring at the place she'd been standing, "are you ready to begin training?" Adora moved back into place.
"What kind of training?" She asked, not expecting an answer. She backed away with a cluck of surprise as a weapon rack materialized before her. There were shields, swords, and maces. Too few to fill the racks, which displayed the kind of holders used to store pole-arms, bows, and more archaic instruments of war.
"We could begin work on the longsword, my prince-"
"Princess," Adora cut in, "ah, what's even the point of this, Adora?"
"We could begin with work on the longsword, Princess," the man said, unperturbed, "if it please you?"
"O-ok," Adora said, "let's start." The man stood there. "Activate? Begin training! Hey. Let's do this."
"Please," the man said, "pick up a sword to begin training."
"Well," Adora flushed suddenly as she pulled a longsword from the rack, "you didn't say to do that…"
The longsword's weight was as real as everything else. The leather grip pulled her calloused palms, the metal parted air with a satisfying woosh as she swung it in a practice arc. The man moved in her periphery, a longsword materialized in his hands and offered a short, formal bow to her that he held until Adora, uncertainly, bowed back.
"Even here," the man said, "we respect the rules of sparring." His longsword rose in both hands, making an acute angle over his helmet.
"Begin!" The man yelled, then he was on her. The shaking impact of their blades meeting sent a very real numbness coursing up her wrists. Instincts took over and she backed away, distracted by the scuffing of sand between her leather soles and the floor. The dream-warrior's longsword shimmered in the daylight as it flashed an inch from her face.
She saw the opening lunged and gasped in horror as the dream-warrior's stomach offered resistance as the blade went through it. She stumbled back, relieved when the realism of her dream did not include any kind of damage to the body.
"Point to you, princess," the man smiled, "well struck." Adora smiled, enjoying the praise more than she thought she would.
"Thanks," she said, adopting a new stance. Her blood was pumping in a way too believable for a dream. But her adrenaline was up and she had always enjoyed sparring.
They met again, swords missing each other and Adora laughing as she retreated a step. They passed each other on guard, switching their stances to counter the other. Then, with a soundless lunge, the dream-warrior backed her into a dummy. Adora ducked, heard the sound of cloth and hay tearing under the longsword, and rose to cut the man across his unprotected side.
"Point two to you, princess," he said, "well struck."
"Hah. Was there any doubt?" Adora beamed. "It's my dream after all." She stumbled away from a sudden swipe and rolled to the side when the sword point came down to click against the stones where she'd been. Adora kicked the man's fingers and the blade scattered away, she rose, skewering him harmlessly once more.
The man smiled.
"Three points to you, princess," he said, "and none for me. Very well done." Adora twirled her weapon confidently, nodding at his abandoned sword.
"Best two out of three?" she offered. The man raised his right hand, middle and index finger pressed together and raised towards her. "Huh?" There was long pause. Adora mimicked him.
"Even here," he said, "we respect the rules of sparring. I cede this match to you, princess."
"Cool," Adora said, "now let's go again!"
"Apologies," he said, "but I have ceded the match and our session is over." Adora blinked.
"Hang on," she said, "I want to train again. Let's try with the shield."
"We'll spar another day," the dream-warrior smiled, "it is important you balance work with rest, princess."
"But…" Adora went quiet as the man's face shifted into a new expression. He looked very sad for a minute and then turned his head to the right, speaking rapidly to someone. As he stepped forward, the image of him went softer, like he was a ghost fading away.
"A moment," he said, then turned to Adora, "guardsman, I know this has been a strange experience. And I want to be clear how grateful I am that you agreed to test this...new magic."
"New magic?" Adora's neck-hairs began to stand up with alarming realness.
"These have been trying times. Times when these experiments of ours have seemed like the last thing holding us together. And times they've felt like the most...useless thing in the world. So much uncertainty. I hope hearing this from your Captain does not disturb you unnecessarily, but you've all stood by me through this chaos. I have to appreciate that. Your loyalty."
Adora said nothing, enraptured by the strange history spilling from the man's mouth. He pressed his fist to forehead in a salute.
"I am proud to stand with you," he said, voice quieting in his emotion, "we defenders of the Secrets of Castle Grayskull."
"Castle Gray…" shock numbed her voice, spreading down from her throat and making her stomach turn icy. "Did you say 'Castle' Grayskull? Who are you? What is this?!"
"We've two more trial runs for this training spell," the man said, "but we'll discuss that more when you wake up."
Adora lurched up from her dream, chest heaving with her shock. There was the full-body bitter taste of disappointment that came from realizing you'd been dreaming. She pushed through it, too awake to even consider sleeping.
"Glimmer," she breathed to herself, "gotta tell Glimmer. Tell somebody!" She met the floor stomach first as the sheets snaked between her ankles, but she was on her feet in an instant, glad for the boots around her bare feet even as they grew muggy. "Gotta tell Glimmer!"
She stormed into the hallway, the poor guard-in-training cawing at her in surprise and then shifting in place nervously as she tried to figure out if she should follow or stay at her post. Adora didn't stop to check. She found the door to Glimmer's room and pushed through, heedless of the time of night.
"Glimmer!" She yelled up at the hanging bed. A loud snore was her only answer. Glimmer could sleep deeper than Adora had thought, but she was determined. She took a run at the nearest wall, clapped her boots against it three steps vertically and shoved herself off of it to grab the edge of the lowest step that ascended Princess of Bright Moon's nest of pillows.
"Glimmer," she grunted as she pulled herself up by her fingers, "Glimmer, wake up!" Her friend snored away quite peacefully. Adora hopped the last few steps and kneeled next to a lump of breathing blankets.
"Glimmer!"
"Ah..ah! I wasn't sneaking out to a Horde ambush!" Glimmer shot up, choking off her last snore, "It was Bow's idea! I...what?" She blinked around her room and finally settled on Adora. "Adora-"
"I had a dream!" Adora said, lowering her voice as she became aware of how late it was. "A really, really weird dream!"
"Adora," Glimmer said, pink eyes focusing with a look of alert annoyance, "you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me about a dream… this isn't really happening, right?" She flopped back onto her mattress. "I have a long-form letter to write to Sweet Bee tomorrow to get her to join the Princess Alliance."
"But...but Castle Grayskull!"
"Is this about She-Ra? Adora, you might just be stressed from our missions..." Glimmer's eyes slipped closed. Adora grabbed the sides of her head and shook her hard. "Hey! Quit it! What?!"
"This wasn't just a dream! I was wearing my boots in it! And, and... I think I know what 'Grayskull' is!" Glimmer held a glare at her friend for a pause, then vanished in a snap of ozone and sparkles. "Wait, Glimmer!" She'd needn't have panicked. The cranky Princess returned an instant later, Bow, in a fetal curl around one of Glimmer's stuffed animals, under her left hand.
"Good morning, Glimmer," Bow yawned, "good morning, Adora...ah!" Bow shot upwards, arms pinwheeling to keep balanced on the crowded bed. The stuffed animal spun sadly to the floor. "Kowl! Noooooooo!"
"Shhhhush!" Glimmer hissed. She turned her exhausted face towards Adora. "If I gotta listen to this, so do you. Adora?" Adora launched into a rapid explanation, breathless and back-tracking through her bizarre dream. Glimmer raised a palm. "Ok...new magic? A dream that felt real? 'Castle' Grayskull?" Glimmer shook her head. "Adora, it was a dream, alright? Dreams don't make sense."
"But...but what if there is a Castle Grayskull? Maybe there's somewhere on Etheria I can learn more about She-Ra! And they said something about their enemies!" Glimmer began to fade.
"Dream enemies, maybe?" she countered, her eyes struggling to stay open.
"And-and 'protecting secrets!'"
"Dream secrets?" Adora gave up on her, turning to Bow for help.
"Bow, is there a Castle Grayskull?" Bow was leaning forward, hazel eyes bleary.
"Um, maybe?"
"Adora," Glimmer sighed, "can this please please please wait until tomorrow? I am begging you."
"What if I forget it all?!" Adora scooched forward, her boots dragging across Glimmer's delicate fabric sheets. Glimmer was suddenly awake again.
"Ah-ah-ah! No shoes on my bed!" Glimmer teleported her to the ground before appearing in her bad again, calling down to her like a sparrow in her tree. "Adora, I really don't have time to fight you on this! I need sleep tonight! And I..." Adora's eyes grew big and shimmering, Glimmer looked a little guilty through her sleepy frustration. "Look. Maybe there's something to this. Brightmoon's library might have something on a 'Castle' Grayskull." At the look of hope in Adora's eyes Glimmer jabbed a finger at her. "Might, Adora! Might. Now if you'll go back to bed…"
"Could I go there now?"
"N-Now?" Adora nodded rapidly. "If I say 'yes' can I go back to sleep?" Again, Adora nodded rapidly. "Be my guest." Glimmer rolled her eyes at the rapid barrage of thank you's she received and closed the door behind her friend when she dashed out. She sighed, teleported back to her bed, and was asleep before the sparkles around her finished vanishing.
"Glimmer?" Bow whispered, "Can you get me back down to the floor, I'm…" Bow trailed off as the snoring began. Never one to upset his best friend's precious sleep schedule, Bow scooted off the edge of the hanging bed and lost his balance. He shrieked like breaking glass and grabbed the edge of the bed, feeling the burn in his shoulders at once.
"Glimmer!" He called. Glimmer snored on. He guessed she would likely not awake for -Bow turned and looked with horror on the nearby clock- another three hours.