AN: Sorry for the wait. Work is killer. Anyways, enjoy.
Cadet 424 displays advanced skills in deduction and logical reasoning. Similarly, Cadet demonstrates an aptitude for cunning and "outside the box" thinking. Cadet frequently chooses unorthodox and subtle means of solving problems presented.
Example: Cadet was presented with a simple logical puzzle for intelligence testing, wherein 6 dots were meant to be connected to each other by 3 lines. Other cadets, including Cadet 423, struggled to figure out the test based on rules provided, however 424 solved the problem by utilizing 3 curved lines to connect the dots, beating Cadet 423 by 10 minutes.
Cadet 424 shows a propensity towards grand strategy and political thinking, but does not show an ability to inspire or an ability for charisma.
Cadet 424 demonstrates a tendency towards aggression and animosity with other Horde members.
Cadet 424 demonstrates great attachment with Cadet 423. As Cadet 423 has been predetermined for Academy placement, the Orphanage hereby recommends 424 accompany 423 to the Academy where we believe she will prosper as a student, despite being designated by the Echelon for liquidation at end of solar rotation.
Catra sat in her favorite spot, a high window in her and Adora's room. It was accessible to only her, and Glimmer on occasion, and overlooked the waterfalls that surrounded Brightmoon proper. She stared out at it, thinking. Thinking about a lot of things.
"Catra! Come down! Please!" a voice shouted up at her. It was Adora's. Catra looked down at her and scowled slightly.
"No! You're just going to try to get me to go back again!" Catra yelled back down.
"You're being stubborn! And I know it's bothering you!" Adora voice was tinged with frustration, but also a sadness.
Catra bristled at that, she turned and peered over the edge, "Bothering me? Bothering me! He insulted me! He called me weak!" She turned back to the window and scowled, mumbling to herself, "I am not."
Adora sighed, and there was a whooshing noise, combined with a brief flash and Catra knew what was coming.
She-Ra landed roughly and heavily on the windowsill, but maintained balance. Catra didn't turn, but eyed the transformed Adora out of the corner of her eye.
There was another glow, dimmer this time, and Adora was returned to normal. She balanced on the ledge and lowered herself to a similar sitting position.
"I know he insulted you. He made you feel small. And that is why you need to go back!" Adora continued.
Catra looked incredulous. "So what? He can do it again? Plus I don't like how he looks at me, like he's…" She wanted to say something like, "He sees too much," or that he looks through her. Instead she just huffed.
"No, you need to go back and call him out. You need to face him at least. Tell him you won't be back. Otherwise you're gonna keep sitting up here sulking."
"I do not 'sulk'. I-"
"Yeah I know, you brood. It's not here nor there Catra. You know I am right. You don't leave fights half finished. Never have. So don't leave this one," Adora pleaded. "And if you don't want to I won't make you see another one. But you need to face him. At least one last time."
Catra looked down. She sighed. There was truth to what Adora said.
"I'll go with you, if you want," Adora added.
Catra looked at Adora affectionately. She knew she would. She also knew that if that shrink continued to be an ass, Adora would throw him out that stupid window in the office.
She thought for a moment. That would be a thing to see. But no.
"Nah, I'll go. But I'll go alone, I rely on you too much as is."
"Don't push yourself," Adora cautioned.
"First its do something uncomfortable, then its don't push yourself?" Catra asked. But there was a playfulness in her tone. Adora smiled.
"Just saying. Take it slow. You don't… You don't get over what we went through overnight."
Adora reached out her hand, open, palm up.
Catra reached out, gently took it, and squeezed. There was a comfort there. A solidarity. Catra smiled softly.
"I know."
Any day now.
It had been almost a week.
Riley looked out his window, watching the throng mill past outside. Veterans of the Rebellion and the Horde mingled. Without armor or uniforms no one could be sure who was who. Riley could tell though. The Rebellion had heart, and magic, raw unrestrained power. And those two had carried the day. But they overall lacked discipline of the martial variety. There. That squidman, he carried himself tall. Military bearing. He walked with confidence wherever he went. Horde.
Riley turned from the window and returned to his desk where a file sat open. It bore the Horde's insignia, and was rather thick. He glanced down. Personnel files.
Toof had been a kind of nexus, an intelligence hub. Riley had spent two sleepless nights sorting through the thousands of files stored under that bookshop. He took what he deemed necessary.
Files on other hubs, members and agents, assorted Horde personnel files, historical records, mission reports. It was haphazard. Incomplete.
Before him sat Catra's file. It had whole years missing. Begins in the Orphanage, picks up years later at the Academy, then later on for a term as Force Captain. Then it just stops.
Incomplete psych evals. Training records.
And some personal logs by an administrator. They were not favorable towards Catra.
The administrator constantly downplayed accomplishments, displayed disdain for actions, consistently advocated for liquidation.
Liquidation.
Horde colloquialism. Murder. Execution. But not for a crime, at least not a real one. It was reserved for those deemed useless or insufficient. The crime of being weak.
Higher powers prevailed however. Someone higher in the Echelon was protecting Cadet 424, designation: Catra.
That was another thing.
Catra. That name. It was barely even one.
Catra was an old Magicat word, before Etherian languages coalesced into the nearly universal Basic. Magicat had been a functionally dead language for decades, centuries maybe. But manuscripts had survived in fragments.
Catra wasn't a name. It was barely a pronoun. It essentially meant, "You," something you would call someone you didn't know. It bore no identity or meaning. It was meant as an address, nothing more.
Shadow Weaver struck cruelly, even when no one would know what she was doing.
And that was Riley's fault. Or rather it was Apollyon's fault. But they were one and the same, whether Riley wished it or not.
There came a harsh, sharp pounding on the door. Angry. Frustrated. Impatient.
Good, she was back.
Catra stood outside the door, anger evident on her face. She was tempted to just lash out and deck that damn egghead the second he opened this door.
It swung open so suddenly Catra didn't even have time to decide on that last matter. She was greeted by a startled expression looking down at her. It changed into one of shock.
"You're back."
Catra bristled but stayed calm. "Yeah, I'm back."
Riley stood aside and gestured for her to enter. Catra looked at him, glaring, and entered the office.
"Listen I'm not here to do some session or whatever," she said, marching to the center of the room, "I'm just here to-"
"I'm sorry for how I acted last time. What I said. You didn't deserve that."
Catra was taken aback a little. And slightly frustrated. She had practiced this speech on the way over.
"You were a victim of the Horde. Like all of us. Forced to fight all your life. I thought I would pressure you, try to get you to open up. But I was wrong. And I am very sorry. That was wrong."
His face was contrite. He sat against his desk. He looked down, away from her.
Catra was confused and felt slightly awkward. "Ah, uh, Its ok. Its fine."
"No, its not. I am a doctor. I help people. But I didn't help you. I pushed you away. And I am sorry."
Catra wasn't sure what to say or do at this point.
"Would you care for a drink?" he spoke up suddenly.
Catra was again taken aback. "You mean like water or…"
"Rum. Salenian Rum. Old stock."
Catra couldn't say that didn't sound nice. She had a taste of stronger stuff in the Crimson Waste, but the Horde forbid alcohol. And the Palace stocked some kind of wine, which tasted great, but didn't really do anything.
She looked at the doctor, measuring him. She nodded slightly, "Yeah. Sure."
"Good." He said and retrieved a bottle from under the bar, and then two glasses.
He returned and gestured her to sit on the couch as he took the chair. He poured a glass, then gestured for her to take the bottle. Catra took it hesitantly and poured a small amount in the glass.
Catra wasn't stupid. She waited until he took a sip, releasing a satisfied sigh afterward. She took a small sip after, and didn't recognize any change in him. She swallowed, feeling the burning warmth travel down her throat and spread outward from her stomach.
She sighed as well.
It tasted different then the dreck that she had tried in the Waste. It tasted like, she smacked her lips a couple times, thinking back on the flavor.
"Coconuts."
"What?" Catra asked.
"That taste. It's coconuts. Or the aftertaste I should say. Let that rum sit in your mouth and it'll taste like cleaner."
"And you know what cleaner tastes like because…" Catra taunted.
The headshrink chuckled embarrassedly. "Well, we all do dumb things in our youth."
Catra thought back briefly, to stealing a skiff after Adora had been promoted. That felt like a lifetime ago. She smiled sadly.
"Yeah, I guess we do."
"What's wrong?" Riley asked.
"Hm?"
"You're crying."
Catra looked down, saw the wet drops that had landed on her thighs. Then she reached up and felt her face. Damnit.
"It's fine, I'm fine."
"Pardon me, but I don't think so," Riley looked concerned. He sat his glass down.
"Would you want to tell me about it?"
Catra glared at him. It was a trap. To get her to talk.
"I won't interrupt. No talking on my part. No commentary. No questions." He raised his hands up defensively. Catra saw it briefly then. The claws. Similar to her own, but, it looked like some were missing. At least four.
"What happened to your hand?" She blurted out.
Riley looked confused, then looked to his crippled hand. He looked slightly embarrassed.
"Ah, uh, accident. During the war. Lost a few nails."
Catra didn't buy it. "And you called me a coward…"
Riley looked incredulous, and briefly anger traveled across his features, but then he relaxed. He nodded to himself.
"Yes. Yes, I suppose I did. I guess I owe you some kind of a story."
Catra rubbed her face quickly. It came away mostly dry. Good. No more tears. She leaned back, ears pricking up expectantly.
"It was when I was young. In Plumeria. My family had immigrated there at a time when the War was just a distant thought. But the Horde encroached, bit by bit."
He took a sip from his glass. Then he continued.
"I was maybe about, seven. Seems like ages ago. A Horde Force Platoon attacked the village. We lived on the outskirts, and we hid. They tore the house apart. My mom hid me in a little hideaway, basically a closet. They…"
He looked at the table. He had a distant look, like he wasn't here anymore. Catra didn't like this story.
"Hey, you don't need to-"
"No. No I do. You told me about you. So I return the favor."
He shook his head, continued, "They killed her. Dad too. Then they set the house on fire."
Catra glanced at his arms, the faint discoloration in the fur. Burns.
"I got out. But they got me. They took my claws. Some of them. Almost half. But I got away before they finished. Ran into the forest, kept running. Eventually someone found me. It got better over time."
He flexed his hands. "Did you know a Magicat's sense of touch is linked to their claws? My fingers feel kind of numb even to this day. I have pressure, but textures? Textures are alien to me."
He looked up at her. Smiled. "But like I said. Things got better. Things can always get better."
Catra was without words. "How?"
"What do you mean," Riley looked confused.
"How, why do you want to help me? Help any of us Horde?"
Riley sat there for a moment. He swirled his glass. He thought.
"Because hurting people makes hurt people. And if all we do is hurt each other, what is the point of continuing at all? If you take someone's eye for taking yours, eventually you both end up blind."
He shrugged.
"I've seen enough death, killing and destruction. It's time to build something new."
Build something new. Renewal. Redemption. Catra liked that.
"I'd like that. I'd like to help with that. Somehow."
"You already have. You helped to pass the General Amnesty. Your presence was reported in the council meetings."
Catra made a face, looked unsure. "I was more like an example. 'Look, not all Horde are pure evil. She helped beat Prime.' Being She-Ra's girlfriend helped too I guess. People love Adora." She dragged out the word love.
Riley chuckled. "Regardless, I think you can do a lot of good. Just don't give up. A tiger doesn't change his coat overnight." He gestured to his almost luminescent white coat, "I should know."
He smiled reassuringly. Catra saw it and felt something. Some kind of kinship. It was weird. It wasn't like with Adora, hard won and full of regrets. This felt different. But she knew in that moment. She trusted this weird man. She smiled back.
"I'll try."
"That's all any of us can do."
Riley glanced up at the clock on the wall. His eyes widened in shock. "Oh dear. Catra, I am so sorry, I need to go. I have an appointment with a patient. They… they really need help. They had a lot go on during the War. More than most."
Catra stood up, swaying only slightly. Jeez that rum was strong. "Hey, no, I get it. And it is ok. You're forgiven."
He smiled at her approvingly. "Thank you."
He began collecting the bottle and the glasses. "And just so you know, I would like to keep talking to you. Even if unofficially. There aren't many of us left, us Magicats need to stick together."
Catra liked the sound of that. She wouldn't let him know though. She adopted her usual aloofness, "I'll think about it."
"All I ask."
He turned, having store the glassware. "You'll need to take the back exit. My clients demand confidence. So you can't go back out the waiting room."
"Back exit?" She looked to the corner near the window, and sure enough, there was a door, hidden slightly into the wall.
"Right through there, takes you downstairs to the alleyway. Convenient for patient confidentiality."
"Alright," she said, heading for the door. As she opened it, she turned and said, "Thanks again, doc. It was nice meeting you. For a second time."
"The pleasure was mine," he said, giving a slight bow. Catra smiled at that gesture, so weird, and then left.
As soon as she left Riley straightened. He exhaled deeply. That was an ordeal. He enjoyed that conversation, but having to fabricate that story about his claws, that was just another unnecessary detail into his cover. He looked at them and flexed. It wasn't a total lie. The Horde had taken them. Just not in Plumeria, but in the bowels of the Fright Zone. And he hadn't been a child, but a man, a monster, a murderer a hundred times over. They had wanted information he wouldn't give them.
A knock, short and rather soft came from the door. Riley collected himself, and checked his breath. Good, the smell of rum was only faint, and smelled mostly tropical. No one should suspect anything amiss. That kind of attention was not something he desired. It would hinder the mission.
He went to the door and opened it. "Welcome," he said. He moved aside as a cloaked figure entered and moved to the couch. They sat down in a huff, and threw the hood back, revealing a head of short pink and purple hair, covered in etheric sparkles.
Riley sat in the chair adjacent.
"Your Highness," Riley greeted, "How have you been since our last session?"