Difference between revisions of "After the Battle (Catra)"
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She sucks in a breath, and forces herself to let it out slowly. Her bicolored eyes open, and she wipes her cheeks and looks around herself. The fire is growing; it might even consume the whole dojo. Maybe. She could still stop it. | She sucks in a breath, and forces herself to let it out slowly. Her bicolored eyes open, and she wipes her cheeks and looks around herself. The fire is growing; it might even consume the whole dojo. Maybe. She could still stop it. | ||
| − | Instead, she turns and walks back outside. Flames lap at the sides of the building, as she walks without looking back; she straddles her bike, fires up the engine and guns it, and speeds off into the night. | + | Instead, she grabs the hoodie off the floor, then turns and walks back outside. Flames lap at the sides of the building, as she walks without looking back; she stuffs the hoodie into the side container. She straddles her bike, fires up the engine and guns it, and speeds off into the night. |
Latest revision as of 07:21, 1 August 2024
| After the Battle (Catra) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 01 August 2024 |
| Location: | Abandoned Dojo |
| Synopsis: | Catra has some feelings to work out, and as usual the only means she can think of for the task is destruction. |
| Cast of Characters: | Catra |
She was so close.
All that had to happen was the portal needed to stay open, just a little longer, and she could have been off this miserable planet. Back to somewhere... which isn't home, a place that she hates just as much, but at least she could have gone five minutes without having to hide her face in case someone saw her. Not like here. Not this planet, with all its noise and stench and stupid people. And maybe Etheria wasn't that great, and it wasn't, but at least things made sense. It was easy to know who were her friends, and who were her enemies. Never mind that she has a whole lot of the latter, and none of the former.
It didn't matter.
Catra tears up the streets on the Honda Rebel, weaving in and out of traffic, cutting cars off and taking one hand off the handlebars to look behind her and flip people off on multiple occasions. She really has no plan on where she is going. Anywhere, really. It doesn't matter. The entire planet is a horrendous hell hole, so one part of it is more or less as good as another.
But, eventually, her aimless driving takes her past an abandoned dojo. She drives right past it, but turns around to come back, killing the engine on her bike as she looks at the building. She lets the bike rest on its kickstand, as she wanders inside, pushing the doors roughly open before her. Her feet carry her into the middle, where she stands in what still passes for a fighting ring, even if it's an abandoned building. Well, not entirely abandoned; both she and Adora have used this place over the past few months. And there's Adora's hoodie, the one she never gave back; the one she left here for Adora to collect.
Except she didn't.
She never came back to this place, and now it's... a different Adora. Whatever that means. One who plainly doesn't believe in her like she did... a few hours ago. Catra sucks in her breath, and looks off to the side. She picks up the hoodie, turns it over in her hands a few times before dropping it. She balls her hands up, and looks to the other side; here, in the darkness, where she can see just fine.
The feline screams, throwing her head back and letting everything that just happened out in one loud, strained yell; and then the remaining furniture of the dojo pays the price, as she picks up chairs and throws them, kicks bleachers, the remaining railing around the fighting ring, even the walls. And as she staggers forwards to lean against the wall she just kicked and slide down it to her knees, a thought comes to her mind; something she remembered. Something she can use.
She stalks back out to her bike, and opens one of the side cargo containers; and there it is, inside. A can of racing fuel.
It ought to do the trick.
She plucks the lighter from beside the can as well, and her feet carry her back into the dojo, almost without her noticing. The lid comes off the container of gasoline, and she empties it upside down, spreading it out as wide as she can; on the floor, on the walls, the wooden pillars, the furniture. She maintains an almost emotionless demeanor as she lights the lighter and drops the little flame down near a patch of floor damp with gasoline. The flames that erupt almost lick at her toes, but she doesn't move, instead just watching as the fire spreads furiously around the room. One might expect her to run; instead, she stands right where she is, holding her hands at her sides, and watching the dojo burn around her, casting her in an orange glow and making the tears on her cheeks glisten.
Adora. It was all about Adora. It wasn't even the same Adora, they didn't even know her, but they were so enamored with her they couldn't even be bothered to tell her to get lost.
Not that she cares. Why should she care? She doesn't care. She folds her arms, watching the flames develop around her. Burn it all down. Burn everything. Even herself. It doesn't matter. She closes her eyes, and just listens to the flames growing around her. Lets the heat grow around her. Listens to the wood giving way to the infernal corruption.
She sucks in a breath, and forces herself to let it out slowly. Her bicolored eyes open, and she wipes her cheeks and looks around herself. The fire is growing; it might even consume the whole dojo. Maybe. She could still stop it.
Instead, she grabs the hoodie off the floor, then turns and walks back outside. Flames lap at the sides of the building, as she walks without looking back; she stuffs the hoodie into the side container. She straddles her bike, fires up the engine and guns it, and speeds off into the night.
