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Catra growled as she circled the training yard, watching her robotic opponent match her movements. Most people worked out with running or weight training. Catra on the other hand preferred combat. It was up close and personal and much more fitting for a woman like her.
The training droid leapt at her, but the General of Brightmoon ducked under it, smirking as she dodged the machine. Her feline agility was as sharp as it always had been, but Catra had known not to underestimate her training droid. After all, it could fight as well as, probably better than she could.
The robot turned, its upper and lower bodies rotating around its midsection, its flat triangular head pointing directly at Catra. Then it bent down, unsheathing the sharp energy claws on its wrist. Normally it merely fought Catra using hand-to-hand techniques or with quarter-staffs, but today Catra had adjusted the difficulty to a higher setting.
Smirking, Catra pulled out her own claws, strafing around the robot, the mechanical being matching her movements precisely. “Now this is how the fun begins,” Catra with a smirk on her face before charging towards the robot, leaping through the air towards it.
It swiped at her with its metal claws, but she quickly ducked under them, sliding across the ground before swiping at the machine’s midsection. Wasting no time, Catra flipped away from the robot hat as it tried to kick at her. Landing squarely on her feet, Catra straightened her posture out before extending her arms. She smirked, and gave the robot before her an antagonising “come here” hand wave, taunting it.
Catra was having a blast fighting the robot, whom she nicknamed Striker. Of course, she just enjoyed fighting in general. It was possibly the only thing she missed from her days in the Horde. But, worth the war over and peace reigning across all of Etheria, Catra was starting to feel listless.
She tried all kinds of different hobbies and acts to try and feel something, but she knew that the only thing that really brought her any sort of motivation was a good old-fashioned scuffle. Hence her occasional trips to the Crimson Waste to “catch up” with some “friends” (which she hoped Adora would never find out the truth for those visits).
Striker was the perfect training partner for her. Entrapta had built it as a gift for her for one of her birthdays. It had a humanoid shape, its dark blue metal body and angular shapes reminiscent of it being derived from Horde Prime’s Battle Droids and various pieces of old First One’s tech.
An endless variety of weapons were installed in it, a cloaking device, a short-range teleporter, and even a holographic disguise feature that could make Striker look like anyone. People had wondered why these robots hadn’t replaced the regular militaries across Etheria, but Catra knew she didn’t want to deprive the soldiers under her command out of a job. Besides, Entrapta had convinced her that robots and organic beings deserved to live in harmony with each other, a truly noble vision if there ever was one.
In fights like this, she’d had Striker disable most of its advanced systems. She’d rarely been able to beat Striker at its maximum setting, something that she didn’t mind. It gave her a challenge to work towards. One day, she’d fully conquer the machine, to prove she was the greatest fighter on Etheria… and she didn’t need magic or technology to accomplish it.
Striker slashed at Catra with its claws again, the felid dodging them once again. She slashed back at the machine, scratching its torso armour and knocking it back with a powerful kick. She panted, watching as Striker’s nano-machine-based armour healed all of its dents and scratches. Another handy feature of the droid.
“Okay, you know what, let’s go up a few levels,” Catra stated. “Striker, upgrade to level six.”
The machine nodded, Catra watching as more of the machine’s armour emerged from its body, upgrading it in moments into a slightly more bulkier form, its head shifting shape to appear more draconic in nature, spikes emerging from its shoulder pads. It took a fighting stance, quickly turning invisible.
Catra then closed her eyes, trying to guess Striker’s whereabouts. Striker’s cloaking device was loosely based on Melog’s invisibility powers, only greatly enhanced. Its movements were completely silenced, right down to its footsteps. Catra tried to guess where the machine was… only for Striker to sock her in the jaw.
Grunting, Catra was knocked back, her hair knocked out of its long wild ponytail. She snarled, claws bare as she charged at Striker again. The machine pulled up its energy barriers attached to its arms, absorbing Catra’s attacks with ease. Catra grunted, quickly then grabbing the machine and climbed up onto its back.
Roaring, she slashed her claws into the back of Striker’s neck, sending it crashing down to the ground and her leaping off it. She panted as she landed on the ground, still worn out… yet she was still worked up. Truthfully, she wouldn’t be pushing Striker this hard during their morning workouts but things had been bothering her.
Her old nightmares about what Horde Prime had done to her and her abuse as a child by Shadow Weaver had begun to recur frequently of late, as well as her own insecurities over being a mother to hers and Adora’s child, Finn. Catra did plan to see Perfuma about them at some point, but right now, she figured that the best way to push through her issues was to literally fight them out.
“Striker, level nine,” Catra stated.
Striker whirred and began to transform again. It’s armour grew bulkier, veins of blue energy formed on its body and its draconic head shifted into a significantly more humanoid shape, the unarmoured parts of its form taking on a shape that resembled organic musculature. This was one of Striker’s most advanced modes.
Then, the veins on Striker’s body glowed and a hard-light hologram was projected over its mechanical form, a hologram… of Horde Prime. Of course, Catra knew he wasn’t real, but the sight of him… still sent shivers down her spine. She never had been able to be the one to take him down for real, but now, she was going to get her payback.
“You disappoint me, little sister,” the machine spoke in a facsimile of Prime’s charismatic voice. “You must be punished for your failures!”
“Fat chance, you fascist bastard!” Catra rasped, before she charged at the machine. Striker-Prime lunged at her, grabbing her by the wrist and hoisting her up. Catra tried to break free, but the machine then pinned her down to the ground. Se grunted, feeling the machine’s fingers tug her hair.
“All shall become one with Prime,” the machine repeated, the holographic eyes of Prime glowing menacingly.
“Not me, not again!” Catra roared, summoning all of her strength and kicking the machine in the stomach. The droid skidded back and then Catra took the opportunity to absolutely wail on the machine, punching and slashing the image it projected of the man who had tortured her and Glimmer, violated her mind and body and haunted her nightmares.
Was this healthy? Probably not, but it was helping Catra. She roared as she slashed at the hologram’s face, hoping she’d win… only for the shape of the image to change again and blasts of red energy knocked her into the holographic shield that surrounded the training yard.
Stumbling back up, Catra saw that the machine had now taken the shape of Shadow Weaver. Since the machine was augmented with First One’s tech, it could also partially duplicate the magical abilities of the beings it holographically transformed into. In Catra’s eyes, it added to the realism.
“You pathetic runt,” Shadow Weaver scowled. “I kept you around because Adora was fond of you… but she has no use for you anymore. So what’s the point of keeping you around!”
“Fuck you!” Catra snarled, tears streaming down her face. “Adora loves me!”
“Does she? Or is she just guilty? She’s honestly much better off with Glimmer. They deserve each other and Adora doesn’t deserve a wretched, abusive animal like you. She deserves better.”
Catra steeled herself. She knew the words hurt, and oh god did they hurt, but that’s all they were, words. Striker’s mind had been based on a neural map of her own brain and as such, knew exactly what buttons to push, what unconscious thoughts to bring to the surface. It fought her on a psychological level as much as a physical one.
But she could fight through it. She could fight this pain, these dark thoughts that she never, ever let take control of her. She was a survivor and she was not going to be beaten by any of her demons. She was mistress of them, not the other way around. With a mighty roar, she charged at the hologram.
The hologram of Shadow Weaver kept blasting Catra with bolts of magical energy, the felid ducking and zipping around them. She’d been blasted by them enough as a child, so she was more than an expert at dodging them now. However, as she lunged at the hologram, the machine teleported to the other side of the room.
“You hurt Adora! You hurt everyone! You’re a monster and why anyone would ever forgive you, I don’t know!”
“Because I’m not that woman anymore and I’ll never be that woman again as long as I live!” Catra shouted. “And you’re dead! I watched you die myself! You can’t hurt me or anyone else ever again!... Also, I forgot how much you were in love with the sound of your voice.”
The Hologram glared, shifting shape again… this time, it took on Scorpia’s form, the facsimile of the arachnid then blasted Catra with electricity. Catra ducked and kept charging, not wanting to give up. But the hologram of Scorpia then blasted the ground, sending arcs of energy beneath Catra.
“I loved you Catra!” the voice of Scorpia argued. “But all you did was treat me like dirt! You’re a horrible person, you're a monster!"
“And I'm sorry!” Catra rasped, before she slashed the machine in the face. The hologram faded as Striker fell to the ground, hitting the floor of the training yard with a thud. Catra panted, looking down at the disabled machine, tears still streaming down her face as she processed the raw emotional pain.
“I’m sorry… for everything,” she whispered. She looked down, knowing she still wasn’t done yet. “Striker… dial it back. Level three.”
Transforming again, Striker’s body slimmed down to a state similar to when it was before, with less armour and synthetic muscle and a more slender frame and thin mechanical limbs. It then rose to its feet, pulling out a pair of energy swords from its back and preparing to face Catra again, who was baring her claws.
“Much more manageable,” Catra remarked, before she began to battle the robot again, her claws slashing against its blades of plasma. Unbeknownst to her, Adora was watching her from the sidelines, leaning against a nearby column. She knew Catra was in pain and this was her way of working through her issues these days… yet she still did worry about her.
Fortunately, Catra seemed to have things more or less in hand. She skidded along the dirt, claws slashing into Striker’s armour and a smirk on her face. She was enjoying herself, Adora could just see the glow in Catra’s mismatched eyes. Adora continued to watch in awe as Catra continued brawling with the droid.
Suddenly, right as Catra knocked the robot's energy swords out of its hands, Striker’s chest opened up and shifted into a large cannon. Catra’s eyes widened, as Striker then fired a powerful laser blast that knocked Catra back against the holographic wall, the felid grunting as she hit the energy net.
"Right, forgot you were programmed to fight dirty,” Catra snarked, knowing that was a move meant for level 5 instead of level 3. But Catra just smirked and prepared to battle again, knowing she would still win. “Okay, Striker, two can play that game.”
She charged at Striker again, who had switched back to using the energy claws from before. As she dipped down, she kicked up some dust into the machine’s optics, blinding it for just a moment. The machine stumbled, Catra knowing she had the upper hand. Victory was in her grasp.
Adora chuckled at Catra’s tactic. Even after all these years, Catra was still fighting dirty, ever since they were cadets in the Horde.
Finally, Catra was able to deliver the finishing blow. As Striker was blinded by the dirt covering its sensors, she slashed it with the claws on her feet, kicking its head clean off with a flying kick. The decapitated head soared through the air, crashing through the energy barrier... before it was then caught in Adora's arms.
"You should really take better care of your toys, darling," Adora said teasingly.
"Ehhh, Striker will heal itself. I’ve done much worse to it," Catra stated, pushing her hair back and tying it up again in a wild ponytail before smirking at Adora, knowing she was gazing at her muscular arms. "I take it you were watching that?"
"Maybe," Adora smirked at her wife, before placing Striker’s head down beside its headless body, the nanomachines quickly reattaching it. "Even after all these years, you're still a hell of a fighter."
Catra just smirked. "You know... you could join in if you want. I don’t think I’m tapped out just yet.”
"Well... it's not like I've got anything going on right now. " Adora replied, taking off her long red jacket, revealing the white and gold, She-Ra-inspired jumpsuit underneath that hugged her muscular frame. She summoned her sword and transformed it into a staff like the ones she and Catra trained with as cadets. "Best of three?”
Catra picked up a staff from the edge of the training yard, smirking at Adora. "Sure thing, but don't expect me to go easy on you, princess."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Adora replied, before the two then began to spar.