Quicksand

Catra stands over a map on the table in the command room. It depicts the whole of the Crimson Waste - most of which she controls. She had ordered the building of multiple hideouts throughout her territory for quick getaways and added storage space, but the added territory has made it harder to keep her gang a secret.

It’s also forced her to put more trust in the members, because she has many talents, but being in multiple places at once is not all of them. Catra is used to holding large areas from her days in the Horde, but the soldiers there had been brainwashed as children, so they were easy to control. These ruffians are less trusting, and they’ve pretty much all come from one side of the war or another - thus proving that any one of them are willing to leave at any given time. The secrecy of the waste protects them all, and it was the reason anyone came here - to disappear.

She paces the room, huffing to herself in frustration. It had been a hell of a day. Her scouts informed her that morning that the Horde is now occupying the towns surrounding the Waste to the east, which, prior to the arrival of more troops, were the easiest to raid. In-house fights were the best and easiest way to train her gang for battle, but any more fights would, as Scorpia put it, “burn them out.” 

Catra stops pacing and plants her hands on the table, consulting her map again.

Theoretically, they could go after the towns further to the west, but those were in princess territory and then word would spread that the Waste is habited and they would be a known threat and therefore a target. 

At least with the Horde, Catra knew that Hordak would never admit to being wrong, so he would only send minimal defenses to keep the knowledge of his slipping grip on those towns between fewer people. He would also never attack because he had groomed his soldiers to be afraid of the waste; for example sending his Force General there when he finds out she lied to him. Yeah, that one still stings a little. The princesses though? They would tell all of Etheria in a heartbeat. She would also end up helping the Horde by distracting them, so for now she let the princess towns be -- for the most part. 

Scorpia noticed Catra avoiding the west weeks ago, and she suggested that they strike a deal, paying the townsfolk with safe passage through the Crimson Waste and plenty of rowdy customers for their businesses. It was a good idea, but had Catra really gone so soft as to strike deals? She much preferred taking what she needed and leaving her victims in fear. But it would make sense… maybe she could strike a deal and use fear to keep the towns from informing the princesses? But then she would be challenged by her gang members who only stayed in line because of the fear that she had worked so hard to instill in them. She tilts her head up and massages her temples to ease the intensifying headache. 

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Hordak finishes soldering two pieces of metal together, his portal growing in size and accuracy every day. Entrapta is a … sufficient… lab… assistant. Aside from the fact that he had to remind her daily that Catra is not coming back, he doesn’t entirely hate her company. He hears the door whoosh open, and his ear twitches in irritation. Growling he turns around.

“How DARE you enter my sanct--” He cuts off mid sentence, staring surprised at Entrapta who is wearing… less than usual. 

“Entrapta. You don’t usually use the door.” He pulls his eyes away. “Your timing is optimal. I have just finished the edits to the-” She jumps up to sit on his workbench next to the hot metal, staring up at him.

“Hordak, you look like you haven’t slept in ages.” His eyebrows, or rather, where they would be, furrows. 

“I’ve told you before, I do not require--”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” His claw flies to her throat, lifting the small princess up off the bench.

He hears the rustle of hair behind him. “Hordak! I found the driver for the octagdri--” The tool bit clammers to the floor. “H-Hordak?”

He looks back and forth between the two Entraptas. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

“Y-you cloned me?” Entrapta looks both concerned and impressed. “Great! Now we - or I? - can get twice the work done!”

The Entrapta in his grasp lets out a low chuckle. “Not quite, dear.” The form beneath his claw shifts, black and green morphing into someone else entirely. Hordak jumps back. The form sitting on the bench is tall and lean, with green scaled skin, blonde hair and yellow eyes. They bow, tilting up their head to give a smile that reveals pointed teeth. “Double Trouble, at your service - for a price, of course.” Entrapta zooms forward, eyes shining she lets out a squeal. 

“A shape shifter! I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one in person!” Her hair flips down a pair of glasses, and whips out a multitude of tools. “Can I please do some tests?” Double Trouble looks down at the very excited, crazed-looking princess who is looking very closely at their skin.

“I’ve had a lot of reactions to my skills, this is a first though.” They mutter, trying to inch away from Entrapta’s violation of personal space, but Entrapta just moves with them.

Hordak is still unsure what to make of all this. “This--” 

“Great! It’ll only take a bit!” She grabs Double Trouble by the arm and drags them out of the sanctum, leaving a stunned Hordak to stare after them.

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Adora and Swift Wind follow the skiff at a distance until the sun begins to set, then the skiff loops around a canyon braced by a huge skeleton, with the head turned backwards towards the ribs. There’s a light from inside the skull, throwing toothy shadows and glowing out the eyes creepily. “This must be it.” They follow the skiff through twists and turns formed by the huge dunes until it disappears into an opening in the canyon wall. Two guards stand just inside the door, closing it after the skiff passes through. Adora walks up to the door. There’s no keypad or handle or anything, just a sandy, camouflage-painted metal door.

Adora jumps off of Swift Wind and pulls out her sword.

“I don’t think we’re going to get in this way, at least, not quietly. Let’s go back and check out that skull.” Swifty nods, flying them up and around to the base of the huge skull. Adora peers through one of the openings in the tent. A few guards sit on crates at the front of the tent, playing cards. “Can you distract them while I go in?”

“You bet! Call if you need my mighty assistance!” And with that he takes off running, jeering at the guards while he goes. They jump up, one of them calling to another group and they take off after Swifty, leaving just the one guard. Adora takes him out with a kick to the back of his head from behind. It was easy without his helmet or stun baton. 

Wait, what?