Chapter Text
Catra breathed gently and evenly as she laced her boots.
Slowly, methodically, one step at a time.
It was almost ritualistic, and she supposed it was a ritual at this point. A practiced routine that kept her mind clear, her senses sharp, and her heart calm. The importance of focus had been drilled into her head over and over again. Meditation had been recommended a few times.
She’d never bothered to try it.
When she was finished with her boots, she stood up and paced over to the long table against the wall of her shoe-box apartment. A smile played at the corner of her lips. She’d never been interested in meditation, but this? She could do this.
She grabbed one of the 9mm pistol magazines from the table and inspected it - just like all her other tools, it was pristine. Cleaned and oiled regularly, much like the matching 92 FS Beretta it belonged to. The silver bullets glinted in the light of a nearby lamp as she inserted the mag and racked the slide. The gun was deposited in a holster on her left hip, and a second identical gun was loaded and equipped on her right.
A makeshift tactical vest of straps and buckles and pouches was thrown on over her black undershirt, and several extra mags were stuffed in. Next, two sheathed daggers slipped into the belt of her jeans, resting just in front of her holstered guns. A plastic water bottle filled with a clear liquid was placed in a pouch just behind.
Finally, into several loops of elastic along her vest she slid carved, sharpened wooden stakes.
Catra took a moment to inspect her gear, making sure everything was secured and every buckle fastened. She shook herself, and when nothing moved too much, nodded approvingly. A long, dark brown trenchcoat was thrown overtop, completing the ensemble. She flipped the collar up, covering her neck, and felt the metal reinforcement that had been sewn into it.
It was massively cliched, yes, but it concealed her gear and the thick, stiff fabric offered decent enough protection while being large and loose enough to not constrict her movement.
Catra looked at herself in a full-length mirror leaned up next to her prep table, and smiled.
She was calm, and focused, and ready.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Scorps: You ready, Wildcat?
Catra rolled her eyes at the nickname she’d begrudgingly accepted and long since grown used to.
Catra: yup send it
Scorps: Backup?
Catra: nah its young
Catra: send it
Catra grabbed her car keys, a backpack filled with extra gear and medical supplies, and made her way out of her apartment. The sun had fully set, and the dark night sky was entirely overwhelmed by the bright lights of the city. Only a few stars were bright enough to be seen, and of those, most were satellites and airplanes. A half moon hung low, close to the horizon.
Just as she was getting to her rust bucket of a car, her phone went off; an address that she copied into her map.
Scorps: Good luck :)
She didn’t respond to that. She didn’t need luck. She’d never had it, either. No, all she needed was her focus and her skills that had been honed over years of practice and experience.
Slamming the door behind her, Catra took a moment to smile fondly at the small picture held in the locket that dangled from her review mirror. It filled her with equal parts determination and sorrow. The anniversary was tomorrow, but for tonight, she had a job to do.
For tonight, she would have just a little bit of happiness.
The engine roared to live, and Catra ripped out of the tightly packed parking lot with practiced ease. She glanced at her map, noting the turns towards her destination. It looked like a warehouse in the industrial district, and she couldn’t help but scoff.
Typical, she thought.
She was thankful it wasn’t a weekend; the streets were quiet, and she could really let loose with her driving as she sped through the night. She rolled her window down and felt her thick, curly brown hair whipping in the wind. Oh, how she relished this feeling. The buildup, the calm before the storm, the promise of what was to come.
It wasn’t long before she’d arrived, and she stared up at the abandoned warehouse she’d parked in front of.
Did they always have to be so predictable?
Killing the engine, Catra crawled out of the vehicle and triple checked her gear one last time. She unbuttoned her jacket, and drew one of her pistols, its weight a familiar comfort in her hand. A single glance was spared back at the locket through the windshield, then she set her face into a neutral, unreadable line and made her way around to the side entrance of the building. A heavy metal fire door was, of course, locked, and she circled further back to find a vehicle bay door slightly raised. The lock had been busted, the metal sheeting bent inwards where it had been forced open.
Shimmying through on her belly, she blinked in the inky darkness she’d entered, and a moment later a flashlight was pulled from her vest. Its cone of light swept the loading bay. Long forgotten pallets of flattened cardboard boxes littered the space, metal scaffolding scaled one wall, but nothing else. No movement, no sound.
Catra breathed silently, taking quiet steps, one foot in front of the other, bumping her shoulder against the cold concrete wall as she crossed the wide open space towards a door at the back. Her flashlight was kept on a swivel, scanning every corner, checking every shadow. She could have sworn the temperature was dropping, but she knew it was just in her head. Her next breath shook as she reached the door, and she took a moment to calm herself, slow her suddenly thudding heart. The last thing she needed was-
There was a crash in the darkness, and her attempt to slow her pulse went out the window as her heart jumped into her throat. She leveled her gun at where the noise had come from, pressing her back against the wall. For a few, endless moments, there was nothing. Then, very faintly, another noise.
“Mrow?”
A pitch black cat stepped out from behind a shelf, into the light of Catra’s torch, and she nearly laughed out loud.
Quiet, she mouthed at it, holding a finger to her lips, and it just tilted its head before trotting off into the darkness.
Before Catra could finish slowing her breathing, however, the door she was next to opened abruptly. She barely managed to get her flashlight turned off before it swung wide.
“Who’s there!?” a woman’s voice demanded into the dark. Catra used every trick in the book to keep herself calm, and leveled her gun at this new presence, blinking hard in an attempt to acclimate her eyes to the darkness, but it was useless.
Then the lights flickered on, and she was momentarily blinded. By time she’d recovered the woman had stepped fully through the door and was standing just a few paces in front of Catra, back turned.
Catra readjusted her aim, moving slowly to position her own back at the door, both to block the path and enable her own swift exit.
The other woman scratched the back of her head through her long, flowing reddish hair.
Taking a breath, Catra placed her finger on the trigger. “Hey!”
The woman whirled around at the call, and Catra took it all in at once; an eyepatch that covered one eye, the other shining a bright, almost glowing red like the embers left behind after a fire. Two long, white fangs poked down from her lips, both of which were dripping with fresh blood.
Catra smiled, and pulled the trigger.
The thunderous clap of the gun echoed off the concrete walls but was quickly replaced by the scream of shock and pain from the vampire. Thick, deep red blood poured out from the bullet hole in her chest, dead-center.
“You bitch!” it roared, clutching the wound.
At that, Catra grinned. “Yup,” she said, and pulled the trigger again. This time, the vampire saw it coming and dove out of the way, behind a pallet of boxes.
“Hey now, what are you running for?” Catra called tauntingly. “We both know that’s not gonna kill you.”
“Fuck you!” it screamed. “I’ll drain you fucking dry you Hunter whore!”
Catra drew her other gun, but stayed where she was, between the vampire and its closest escape. “Yeah? Come and try it. I’d love to see it.”
There was a hiss of pain from behind the cover, and Catra’s smile grew twisted. “Hurts, doesn’t it? It’s no replacement for a wooden stake but silver is pretty good at actually fucking you freaks up. And hey, you deserve a little suffering before the end, don’t you think?”
“You’re one sick bitch, you know that?” the vampire said, and Catra could tell it was already recovering from what would have been a fatal wound for a human. On a vampire though, even with a silver bullet now lodged in its chest it was little more than an inconvenience. A painful one, at least.
“Can’t blame a girl for enjoying her work.”
With a roar the vampire jumped up and over the boxes, fangs bared and sharp, claw-like nails reaching out to rip at Catra’s throat. With practiced ease she shoved one gun against the vampire’s palm to block the strike, bringing her other to bear and firing three rapid shots. Two went wide while the third grazed its neck. She barely had time to register her miss before she was tackled to the floor beneath the super-human strength of a blood sucking vampire. It grinned down at her as it pinned her hands - and her guns - above her head.
“Well, well, well, guess you’re not as good as you thought, huh?”
Oh, how Catra just loved that pride-filled voice. Because she knew what it meant. “Oh yeah?” She smacked her heel against the ground, and a silver blade shot out the front of her boot. But she waited to use it. The vampire didn’t notice.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy draining you. I haven’t had a good meal in so long.” It leaned down, fangs long and sharp and poised to strike. “Remember my name, Hunter, I am Octavia, and I am your end.”
Catra just laughed, a wild look in her mismatched eyes. “Spare me the theatrics,” she said, and as Octavia reared back to strike, Catra swung her leg up, looking into the vampire’s blood-red eyes as it screamed and recoiled in burning pain. Claws scrambled at its back but were unable to reach the blade.
How she loved the overconfidence of a thing that thought it had won. How she loved watching that notion be stripped from it.
And how she loved the feeling of pulling her knife out of the thing’s back, her hands now freed.
“You biph!” Octavia tried to say, but found the barrel of a pistol wedged between its teeth and pressed against the roof of its mouth.
“Since you love silver so much, have some more,” Catra said, pulling the trigger. A mess of viscera and gore exploded out the top of Ocatvia’s head as the vampire was sent tumbling back. Blood rained down on Catra’s clothes and face, but she hardly cared as an almost manic laugh shook her chest.
She stood up, looking down at the limp, broken creature splayed out on the ground. In a way, she almost felt sorry for it - almost. That feeling dissipated entirely as she watched its flesh start to knit itself back together. Bone and muscle and skin healing disgustingly fast, the mess writhing like a pile of leeches. The silver could hurt it, but the shot was through-and-through, leaving no residual effect.
Before it could finish regenerating, Catra holstered her guns and pulled out a stake from her vest. She kneeled down to straddle Octavia’s hips, and pressed the pointed tip against its chest, just above whatever passed for a vampire’s heart.
Then she waited patiently.
“Any last words?” she asked, once its jaw had healed enough for it to speak.
“Fuck you!” Octavia screamed, a clawed hand swinging up and tearing at Catra’s shoulder. Catra just shrugged it off and pressed her full weight onto the wooden stake, plunging it forward into Ocatvia’s chest.
The scream that tore from its throat was unlike any of the other pained noises it had made before, but exactly like every other sound every other dying vampire made. Catra twisted the wooden spike and pressed it deeper, and then deeper still, until she felt it hit the concrete floor beneath them.
Already it was starting - a smoking hole grew outward from where the stake had pierced Ocatvia’s flesh, burning away like a piece of thin paper lit on fire, leaving only ash and bone behind.
Catra enjoyed the sight for a moment, before quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture that included both the vampire’s exposed fangs and the stake wound. She sent it off to Scorpia, knowing she’d get it back to the Hunter’s Guild proper, and included a little smiley face of her own.
“...Shh… sha…”
She looked down at the noise, seeing the vampire’s lips moving. It was basically just a head now, and Catra leaned down. “What was that?”
“Sh-shadow… Weaver… avenge… m-me…”
Catra’s eyes grew wide, and she gripped Octavia’s cheeks. “Weaver? You’re one of Weaver’s!? Where is she? Tell me where she is!” she screamed, but it was clearly too late - the bottom of Octavia’s jaw was turning to dust.
“No! You bitch! Where is Shadow Weaver!? Where the fuck is she!?” Catra slammed the burning head against the concrete, splattering yet more blood over herself. She felt the skull crush beneath her hands but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop herself. She knew it was pointless, but as the last of Octavia’s flesh burned to dust and Catra was left holding a fractured ashy grey skull, she was forced to accept it.
“Fuck,” she muttered, dropping the skull. “Fuck!” She yelled, throwing her head back and trying to calm her breathing, but was quickly broken out of her reverie by her phone buzzing.
Scorps: Great job, WIldcat. Angella will send you your bounty tomorrow.
Scorps: Celebratory beers?
Catra softened slightly at that, being able to perfectly picture Scorpia’s hopeful eyes. The mental image helped her regain control, and after a moment to breathe, her thumbs tapped out a reply.
Catra: sry scorp
Catra: u know what 2morrow is
She frowned slightly at her own text as she stood up, dusting herself off but managing only to smear more vampire blood over herself. Cursing under her breath, Catra inspected the one wound Octavia managed to inflict during the fight; a slight scratch on her shoulder that had managed to tear a hole in her jacket.
Great, she thought, I’ll have to get that patched... Again.
Quickly shaking the thought, Catra stood back up to leave, deliberately stepping on Octavia’s skull and crushing it into dust as she passed. She made her way out through the office section of the building this time, guided to the emergency fire door she’d seen before by the light of her flashlight and the illuminated exit signs. She paused only once as the odour of rotting flesh hit her, and she turned.
In a pile on the floor of one of the offices were several dead cats, not a drop of blood around them but with holes in their necks.
She sneered. “Sorry, guys, I wasn’t fast enough. But she’s gone now.”
The young ones always started with stray cats and dogs, but she knew it would have been only a matter of time before it graduated to humans. As sad and grotesque as it was, at least she’d caught it early.
Catra got to her car and pulled out her backpack. She changed into the spare set of clothes she kept with her - wiping the blood from her face with her shirt as she stripped it off - and tossing her blood-soaked ones into a bucket that was always in the back seat. Her gear was tossed into the passenger seat, save for one pistol, which was promptly shoved into the waistband of her spare jeans and covered by her shirt.
Her phone buzzed.
Scorps: Oh my gosh, I forgot, I’m so sorry!
Catra: its ok, the weekend?
Scorps: The weekend! Yes! Absolutely! It’s a date ;)
Scorps: Oh, gosh, not like, a date-date, I know you don’t do that.
Scorps: Like a friend date. A get-together. A hangout.
Catra actually heard herself laugh. She’d known Scorpia for long enough to not be bothered by her eagerness and occasional social faux-pas.
Catra: its fine
Catra: i know what u mean. its a date :)
Pocketing her phone, Catra started to get into her car, but was stopped by something pressed into her ankle. She looked down, and a black void of a cat looked up at her with piercing blue eyes.
“... What?”
The cat just trilled at her, continuing to rub itself against her leg, and Catra sighed.
“You’re safe now, she’s not gonna hurt you,” she said, reaching down to scratch behind its ears. “I’m sorry about your friends.”
“Mrow?” the cat replied.
Catra shuddered as it looked at her again. Those eyes were too blue, too familiar. She shooed it away with her foot, and all but collapsed into the driver’s seat. She almost managed to shut the door before the cat jumped up into her lap.
Almost.
“Hey, no, I am not-” Catra started, but was cut off as the animal butted its head into her chin. Despite herself, she found herself petting it again. She remembered the stench of death in the building, and idly wondered if this cat had known any of them. It was a silly, foolish thought - animals didn’t have that kind of awareness. But she couldn’t help it as she looked at this thing that seemed so desperate to be with her.
To not be alone.
“Fine,” she said eventually, begrudgingly, closing her door properly with the cat still on her lap. “But only for a little while.”
The cat seemed to understand, purring happily as it licked her finger before hopping over to the passenger seat and curling up amongst the pile of Catra’s gear. Wincing, Catra reached over to delicately extract her gun, making sure the safety was on as she shoved it into the glovebox.
After a moment longer of watching, Catra huffed - though a smile pulled at the corner of her lips - and started the car, quickly leaving the warehouse behind her.
She glanced down at the radio clock just in time to see it tick over to 12:01am, and her eyes glossed over as the date changed. A hand instinctively reached for the dangling locket, delicately running her thumb over the picture contained within. Driving happened on autopilot, and before Catra knew it she’d parked on the street outside of a familiar bar, buzzing with a moderate amount of activity.
The cat looked up at her, and she offered it a smile as she reached behind herself for her bag. “Wait here,” she said, pulling out a single white lily and getting out of the car. She adjusted her shirt, ensuring her gun was still concealed, and walked up to the bar - then past it - around the corner into the side alley. It was dark, but not pitch, and smelled vaguely of the dumpster against the one wall.
Catra stood in a very particular, seemingly random spot. A spot that to others was utterly unremarkable, but was everything to her. She knelt down and placed the flower gently on the asphalt. Her eyes were hazy despite the age of this particular wound, though no tears fell.
“Happy birthday,” she said, her voice strained and far away. “You would have been thirty today. I’m sorry.”
She took a moment. To breathe, to mourn, to remember.
Then she stood, turned, and walked away. Back to her car, back to her life, back to her reality. She looked up at the picture again and smiled fondly. Then, she looked over, and piercing blue eyes caused her breath to catch in her throat.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she hissed. But the cat just stared at her with those horribly blue eyes. “I said don’t!” The scream was raspy and sharp, and the cat jumped up and hid under the seat.
Free from those terrible, horribly familiar eyes, Catra clutched at the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white and the spots cleared from her vision. Eventually, quietly, she muttered; “Sorry.”
Then she started the car and drove away.
A pure white lily left at the base of a nondescript brick wall the only evidence she’d ever been there.
By the time Catra reached her favourite twenty-four-hour laundromat, she had almost gotten her breathing under control. No tears had spilled, but her eyes were red, and she took a moment to rub at them before getting out of the car. The bucket of bloody clothes was collected from the back, and she stepped into the painfully white fluorescent lighting. No one was here, save a single attendant that wasn’t paid enough to bother looking up from her magazine, nevermind question the blood-stained clothes that Catra hurriedly loaded into a machine.
This place was familiar to her - comforting in a way. Her line of work resulted in more bloody clothes than she could afford to replace. Thankfully, she’d found this place always kept stock of the only cleaners that never left bloodstains behind. Even on the few times she’d mistakenly worn something white on a hunt in her early days.
Catra could feel the aches and tiredness from her fight setting in. She’d escaped almost unscathed, sure, but as the adrenalin bled from her system and her muscles relaxed she began to fall slack, watching the sloshing pinkish water in the machine.
Cleaning away the blood. Cleaning away the night’s events. Cleaning away the coiled tension that always accompanied a hunt.
In her half-awake dreams she could see beautiful blue eyes and long golden locks of hair. Slowly the mental images shifted, tinging red from the center out like pooling blood. Blond hair became deep crimson, blue eyes went dull and lifeless and red. So horribly, indescribably red.
She was almost entirely asleep when the door opened, and she almost didn’t think anything of it until there was an audible gasp and the door was slammed shut. This drew attention, and she looked over just in time to see a long, blond ponytail run out of sight through the large front windows. And once more her heart stopped. Her lips parted, a ghost on her tongue.
Jumping up, she raced out the door, throwing it open and running into the street, looking after where the ponytail had gone. There was nothing but an empty sidewalk and a flickering street light.
When Catra finally remembered to breathe, the ghost came with it.
“Adora…?”
“Adooorrraaaaaa,” Catra groaned, her head lolling off the front of the couch, her legs sticking up against the back. “Come ooooooon.”
Her heterochromatic eyes were focused on the blond-haired beauty sitting on the floor of their shared college dorm room. She was tall, toned, and her tight fitted white t-shirt showed off her muscular arms in a way that Catra couldn’t help but notice. And, from time to time, stare at.
“I need to finish this worksheet,” Adora mumbled around the pen she was currently chewing on - notably, not writing with.
“Adora, you can finish that any time. But you only turn 21 once,” Catra moaned, sliding off the couch so her back was on the ground, her head next to Adora’s thigh. “You can drink now! Legally!”
Adora looked over from her homework, fixing Catra with a flat stare. “Yeah, but you can’t for another couple months, so I don’t know why-”
“You are literally the only person I know that doesn’t have a fake ID,” Catra deadpanned. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I know this great bar, it’s not too far away, we can walk.”
Adora huffed. Catra stared up at her, brow furrowed, a pout pulling at her lower lip. Adora looked down at her with those striking blue eyes.
Finally, the stalemate ended and Adora was forced to look away. “Fine,” she muttered, getting up from the floor with an exaggerated groan.
Catra all but sprung to her feet, a grin showing her teeth. “Atta’ girl.” She sprinted over to the door, grabbing her signature leather jacket that was just-slightly too big on her (stolen from Adora’s wardrobe at some point in their high school years - it never suited her, anyway) and tossing Adora’s varsity jacket at the girl. “Let's go.”
Shaking her head and entirely failing to hide her own smirk, Adora acquiesced and donned her jacket. No sooner had she done so before Catra had gripped her wrist and dragged her out of their dorm and out of their building into the cool night air.
Adora’s laugh seemed to light up the night, and Catra watched her over her shoulder, feeling a blush come to her cheeks before she could tear her eyes away and focus on leading them. The sky was blank as ever, stars drowned out by the light pollution of the city, but the moon was full and bright, lending the night a gentle silver glow between the streetlights.
“C-catra! Slow down!” Adora panted, pulling back - but never pulling herself free from her friend’s grip.
Catra tossed a sly smile back at her. “Aw, what, is lil’ miss sporty tired already?”
“Oh, my gosh, Catra, I’m sorry I joined the volleyball team without asking you,” Adora growled, but it was clearly good natured. “It’s not like you’ll still see me every single night after practice since you somehow tricked me into living with you.”
Yeah, but I’ll see you less was Catra’s first thought, and it was quickly bit back before her tongue could betray her. Instead, she said; “Hey, I’m not complaining, seeing you in those shorts?” Her voice had a teasing lilt to it that made Adora blush cutely.
The mental image of said shorts made Catra look away.
To her credit, it took Adora only a moment to recover. “Oh, so I’m just some eye candy to you now, huh?”
Catra leaned her head back and loosed a cackle. “Pretty much!” she agreed shortly, pulling them around a corner. “Now come on, princess, I need to show you off to random bar strangers like the trophy wife you are.”
“Pretty sure you have to actually put a ring on me for me to be your trophy wife,” Adora muttered, but didn’t fight the pull anymore.
“You asking me to marry you?” Catra shot back without hesitation. “Last I checked we weren’t even dating. Oh, wait, is this your confession? Are you confessing to me right now?” she asked, a bit more excitement than teasing in her voice, and she cursed herself for being so obvious.
“W-what?” Adora sputtered, shocked. “N-no! I mean, um, not… uh, you wish!” she finally settled on, nodding her head firmly. She hated the way Catra was smirking back at her, and choked out a half-hearted; “Shut up!”
The two just shared a laugh at that, and Catra decided to keep her mouth shut lest she reveal her hand far enough that even dumb, oblivious Adora could realize what her cards were. Besides…
“We’re here,” Catra announced unceremoniously, coming to a stop so abruptly that Adora slammed into her back with a quiet ‘oof’. She shot her a look. “Too distracted staring at my ass?”
Okay, maybe one more tease.
“Shut up,” Adora said again, and finally pulled her wrist from Catra’s hand to strut forward into the unremarkable bar she’d been brought to.
Catra very much was distracted by her ass.
“Um…” Adora trailed off, snapping Catra out of her lecherous reverie. “Do we just… go in?”
“Oh, gods, I forgot you’re a goody two shoes,” Catra groaned. She held out her arm. “Okay, just… act like you belong here, and follow my lead, okay?”
Adora accepted the offer, muttering an indignant, “I do belong here,” and linked their arms together as she was led into the bar. If a passerby saw the pair, they’d have assumed that of the two of them, Adora was the one with the fake ID with the way her eyes flitted about the room.
Catra tried her best not to chuckle as she found them a quiet spot at the end of the bar. She flagged down the bartender and ordered for them both. A screwdriver for herself, and a simple cider for Adora - she figured she’d start her out easy.
“Well,” Catra started as they got their drinks, pulling Adora’s eyes from wandering the unfamiliar environment. She held up her glass, “Happy birthday, Princess. Congrats on finally making it to being an adult - I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Har-har,” Adora snarked, “we both know you’re far more likely to do something stupid than I am.” She clinked their glasses together regardless, her eyes going wide as she took a sip. “Hey, this is pretty good.”
Sharing a smile, the pair lapsed into idle chatter as the drinks flowed. Evening faded into night outside, the moon rising higher into the sky, and the bar began to quiet. All the while, gnawing at the back of Catra’s mind, was a little box in her jacket pocket. She had hoped, with the drinks and time, that she’d work up the nerve to bring it out. Adora was far too… Adora to point it out, but Catra had distinctly not given her a birthday gift for the first time in however many years they’d known each other.
It was a small thing, really. But to Catra it meant so much more. She knew she was running out of time. She knew she had to come clean tonight, or risk biting her tongue for their entire college life. Even still, as Adora laughed at a stupid joke and she cracked a cocky smile, she could feel her hands shaking.
“Hey, I’m gonna take a piss, watch our drinks,” Catra said as she stood abruptly.
Adora’s face scrunched. “Catra! Don’t be so gross!” she said with a drunken giggle that brought more than just an alcohol-induced flush to Catra’s cheeks.
“What? It's true. You wanna come watch or something?”
“Catra!” Adora all but shrieked, hiding her face behind her hands.
Smirking, she turned away towards the bathrooms. “Dont go anywhere. I don’t need some strange woman taking you home before I can.”
“Stoooooooop,” Adora moaned, sinking further in on herself.
Catra kept up her teasing smile until she was safely out of sight, only then did the mask slip as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, clutching at the counter. Her heart was practically in her throat, how Adora couldn’t hear it was a mystery. How she managed to talk normally at all was a small miracle. Gods, how could she let this happen?
It was stupid to get a crush on your best friend. Especially when that best friend was Adora! The dumbest of dumb blond jocks, even if she was far smarter than Catra would ever give her credit for, and beautiful to boot.
Gods, how could she have stopped this from happening?
Adora was everything to her. Just being in the same room as her made Catra feel lighter, made her happier, made it seem like the world wasn’t such a bad place.
One hand slipped from the counter to the box in her pocket. Carefully, she slipped it out and opened it, admiring the small golden bracelet held within. It was a small, plain, simple thing, really. But it had belonged to her grandmother, and it carried with it a weight not its own.
Catra felt like an idiot for even thinking about it - Adora knew about the bracelet. She knew what it meant for Catra to give it to someone.
Catra also knew, though. She knew there was only one person in the world she would ever give this bracelet to.
A bitter laugh trickled from Catra’s mouth at that realization. “Oh, gods, I love her, don’t I?” she asked her reflection, which merely stared back at her with glowing cheeks. “Fuck.”
It took her another several minutes to gather herself enough to brave leaving the bathroom. She’d have to make some excuse, but then… then she’d do it. She’d finally do it. She’d tell Adora everything, she’d give her the bracelet, and she’d take whatever response that dumb, beautiful, bullheaded woman gave her.
Catra’s feet stopped dead as she rounded the corner and saw Adora.
Adora was not alone.
Adora was sitting exactly where Catra had left her, but Catra’s spot had been taken by some tall, muscled, biker-jacket-wearing bitch.
Perhaps, had Catra not been drinking, she’d have slowed herself down and recognized the spark inside her as jealousy rather than anything truly rational. Maybe, if she hadn’t just spent ten minutes hyping herself up to confess her feelings, she’d have been able to smile instead of glare as she approached.
“Catra!” Adora’s drunken cry echoed in Catra’s ears, which burned as Adora leaned over and practically draped herself over her new friend in an intoxicated heap. “Meet Huntara! She’s really pretty.”
And if Adora hadn’t been quite so deep into her very first experience with alcohol, she might have realized her mistake. But she didn’t, and Catra saw red.
“Who the fuck are you?” Catra demanded angrily, all but ignoring Adora as she slammed her hands down on the bartop.
The big, burly, apparently pretty (Catra burned even hotter at that) biker looked at her with an idle smile and sharp eyes. “Huntara,” she greeted cooly, holding out a large, calloused hand.
Catra slapped it away. “Why are you talking to my friend?”
“Catra!” Adora snapped, summoning every last ounce of soberness she could to fix her brow into a glare. “Don’t be rude, Huntara was just-”
“Your friend looked lonely,” Huntara supplied smoothly, slapping an oversized mitt on Adora’s shoulder. “And she needed a refill, so I stepped in.”
Looking between Adora - drunkenly trying to figure out what was happening - Huntara, and Adora’s fresh glass of something that was definitely a lot stronger than cider, Catra could feel herself shaking. “Well, my friend isn’t alone anymore, so why don’t you go ahead and step the fuck out now.”
To her credit, Huntara stood up. But then instead of leaving she instead chose to square up to Catra. “What are you gonna do if I don’t want to?”
Catra's hands balled into fists as she stood on the tips of her toes - still only managed to be eye level with Huntara’s collar bone. “You wanna find out?”
“Please, show-”
“You throw that punch, I'm calling the cops!” a new voice called, and it was only then Huntara seemed to notice Catra had cocked her arm back, her eyes widening slightly.
She huffed, waving a dismissive hand at the bartender who had interrupted them. “Fine, fine, blondy here isn’t worth it.”
“No, wait!” Adora called, almost falling off her seat as she reached out and entirely failed to grab Huntara’s arm as she walked away. Catra made sure to step forward and place herself between the two of them.
“Bye-bye, meathead,” she called with a venomous sweetness, then turned back to face Adora, who was fixing her with a look.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Do what? Adora, she was a piece of shit trying to take advantage of you,” Catra explained as gently as she could - which wasn’t very gentle given the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins.
Adora gasped in what could only be described as drunken indignation. “She was not! She was so sweet, and tall… a-and…” she trailed off with a dreamy expression. Catra rolled her eyes.
“Sure she was,” she sneered.
That seemed to wake Adora up some. “Why do you always do this?” she asked, her voice sharper than her inebriation should have allowed.
“Do what? Protect you from strange creeps in bars?” Catra questioned with a scoff. “So sorry for looking out for my best friend. I’ll make sure to let you get kidnapped next time.”
“I can take care of myself!” Adora snorted, grabbing her drink and hissing as the sharp sting of alcohol hit the back of her tongue from a single sip.
Catra glowered at her. “Sure you can, princess.”
“And stop calling me that!” Adora almost-yelled, screwing up her face and downing her drink in one go just to prove she could. “You always do this, Catra. Everytime someone shows interest in me, you show up and chase them off! You’re, like, the only friend I have, because you won't let me get close to anyone else.”
“Oh, trust me, princess,” Catra said again, with more venom in her voice than she’d have allowed had she been sober. “She didn’t want to be your ‘friend’.” She made sure her air-quotes were obvious.
“And maybe that’s what I wanted! Did’ya ever t’ink of ‘at?” Adora’s eyes crossed slightly, as though trying to look down at her own lips that had suddenly started badly slurring. “Did you ever… think of that,” she repeated more slowly.
Unbeknownst to her, Adora’s words cut deep, and Catra bit her tongue to keep her voice at a level acceptable for inside a bar. “I doubt you even knew what you wanted,” she spat. “You never do.”
“You know what I want!?” Adora raged, standing up from her seat on wobbling legs. “I want a friend that actually fucking cares about what I want!”
Catra knew this was rapidly devolving; Adora basically never swore at all, never mind directly at her like that. But those words hurt, and her knee jerk reaction was to cause hurt right back. And she always knew exactly where to strike. “You and I both know I’m the only one that gives a damn about you or what you want.”
She knew as soon as her mouth opened that it was too far. The way Adora recoiled, tears suddenly brimming in her eyes, told her she fucked up.
Adora opened her mouth as thought to respond, then shut it tight with an audible click of her teeth. “I need some air,” she announced finally, turning her head to hide her pain-filled face, and Catra desperately reached to grab her arm. Her hand was swiftly knocked aside. “Don’t!”
Rooted to the spot, legs weighed down with what felt like several tonnes of lead, Catra watched her go out a side door, a deep, nigh bottomless pit forming in her own stomach. “Fuck,” she breathed as she collapsed into her seat. She glared down at her reflection in her half-empty glass. Then, up at the bartender watching her from the corner of their eye. “Two shots of tequila,” she said gruffly.
To their credit, they said nothing as the glasses were set on the bartop in front of Catra, and she downed the first without thinking. The alcohol burned, the warmth chasing away the numbness that was threatening to creep in. She really was an idiot. Stupid, tempermental, possessive Catra. She knew these things about herself, of course. Knew that alcohol only made her worst traits even worse.
“Fuck,” she said again, her forehead slamming into the bar.
She didn’t know how long she spent feeling the cool wood against her skin, but the world started to spin slightly as she reached for the second shot - only to find that it wasn’t there. She looked up, narrowing her eyes as the bartender dumbed it out. “Hey, I was-”
“You’re cut off,” they said simply.
Catra growled, low in her throat, as she looked at the golden nametag clipped to their snazzy blazer. “Look, D.T., I’m not having a great night, as you saw, so could you just-”
“You’re cut off,” they said again. “So either pay your bill, or go find your girlfriend.”
“She is not my-”
“Sure she isn’t, just like I’m not the hottest piece of ass in this place.”
Catra actually had to lift her head and look around at that, and she could practically hear the look D.T. gave her. “Or at least, I am now that blondy left,” they said with a cheeky half-smile that didn’t reach their eyes. “You really gonna let her walk away like that?”
“Fuck you,” Catra said, even as she stood up and staggered toward the door Adora had left through.
The cool night air hit her face first, and dragged some small bit of sobriety back kicking and screaming. It brought with it the ball that had not left her stomach since she’d watched a blonde ponytail walk away. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she was expecting - there was no way Adora stayed to wait for her, she certainly wouldn’t have, if the roles were reversed. And a quick scan of the alley revealed she was right.
Almost.
Catra, for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever, didn’t quite know what she was looking at. A few paces down, half-hidden in the darkness, laying on the road near the wall, was Adora. And above her, looming over her, was a writhing mass of shadows that only vaguely suggested a human shape. What it did have were two piercing, blood-red eyes sunken into a face hidden in darkness, the only other visible features were two blindingly white fangs tipped with red.
Before she knew what she was doing, Catra charged forward. “Get away from her!” she screamed, cocking her fist back and swinging with all her might. When she expected the crack of the hit, she was instead met with nothing, her arm flying through empty air as the shadowy figure seemed to literally melt away around the punch, disappearing into the long shadows cast by the streetlights outside the alley. Wild eyes looking around for her target, Catra could only spare a moment to question what she’d seen before a low groan drew her attention down.
“Adora!” She shouted, kneeling down over her friend. She was pale, so terribly, sickly pale, paper-white with two bleeding holes in her neck and blood dripping from her lips.
“Catra…?” Adora mumbled weakly.
“Oh, gods, oh gods Adora, you’re bleeding,” Catra rambled, placing her hand over the holes in Adora’s neck to stem the flow. She could feel Adora’s heartbeat in the way the blood pulsed rhythmically. Slowly, and weakly, and getting slower and weaker. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what happened!? Gotta, I gotta, oh gods Adora, what do I do!?”
“Catra… I’m cold,” Adora said, her eyes glossy and unfocused.
“Shit, cold, okay, okay, um-” Catra struggled to get her jacket off as quickly as she could, removing her hand from Adora’s neck for only a moment. With her free hand she laid her leather jacket over Adora like a blanket. “How’s that?”
Adora didn’t answer her.
“Shit, no, stay with me. Just, just hold on, I’ll get help, okay? Just stay with me, please,” Catra realised she was practically begging as she fumbled for her phone, struggling to see the keypad through her tears as she dialed 9-1-1, but she was stopped as footsteps came running up behind her.
Thinking quickly, Catra all but threw herself over Adora’s prone form, baring her teeth at the two approaching figures. One, an olive-skinned woman with sparkly pink hair, and the other a man wearing a crop top and pants that showed a slice of his midriff and- and was that a bow?
“Where’d she go!?” The woman demanded, half out-of-breath.
“Did you do this!?” Catra demanded, ignoring the question entirely. “Who the fuck-”
“Glimmer, she’s gone,” the man said sadly, motioning down to Adora, which only made Catra cover more of her. “It’s too late.”
The woman - Glimmer, apparently - let loose a frustrated shout, kicking the nearby dumpster with enough force it had to have hurt. “Damnit, not again…” she trailed off, seemingly realizing the scene before her for the first time. “Oh no.”
The man tucked his bow behind his back, crouching down to Catra’s level and making her growl. “I’m so sorry, but it’s too late. We were too late.”
“No it's not!” Catra yelled, throwing her phone at him. “Call an ambulance, she’s still - sh-she’s still…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it - she could feel it. Could feel the way Adora’s blood was no longer gushing against her hand. Barely trickling now, and the time between those was growing exponentially. “Come on, Adora. Please, please don’t go.”
“Catra,” Adora breathed, so small and fragile in a way Catra had never heard before that made her heart break. Adora’s pale, bone-cold hand reached up to cup Catra’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said.
And then Catra watched as those brilliant, beautiful blue eyes turned dull, and Adora’s hand gently fell away.
“Adora!” Catra screamed, and it echoed around the alley, but she didn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in her ears. The other two were saying something, but she didn’t know what. She gently shook Adora’s shoulders. “No, no please, don’t- don’t go, please just-”
“Please just stay with me.”
Catra was suddenly grounded by a hand on her shoulder, then two, pulling her. Pulling here away, away from Adora. “No! Stop! She’s still- she can still-!”
“I’m sorry,” Glimmer said. “She’s gone. Bow, get her-”
“Let go of me!” Catra scrambled and clawed and bit at the arms that wrapped around her chest to pull her back.
The man’s voice was right next to her ear. “I’m sorry, but we have to go, you’re covered in her blood. There’s nothing we can do for her now.”
Catra threw her elbow back, feeling it connect with and crush his nose. He released her and she dove forward on top of Adora. “Adora, can you hear me? Adora? Adora!?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks in rivers, falling onto Adora’s still, lifeless face. The last thing Catra felt was something hitting her in the back of the head, and she collapsed forward onto Adora’s chest. As the world faded to black, she could have sworn she saw a pair of blood red eyes watching her from a shadow in the distance.
A small part of her knew, then, that she’d never forget those eyes in the darkness.