Chapter Text
Catra wouldn’t necessarily call herself cold, but she certainly didn’t suffer fools. Journalism as a magicat required nerves of steel and a real fucking backbone. Catra had those, along with a nose for drama and a gift for journalistic prose.
Truth was, Catra liked her job. She could get information from just about anyone, ask the right questions and she could spin a story for the masses. She was a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, at the peak of her career.
And yet her editor thought it would be to the paper’s benefit that she take the new hire under her wing. Catra didn’t do socializing. She didn’t do teamwork. She chose her profession knowing it would be self-directed and greatly independent. Catra could manage her own contacts and keep a large professional network and never let anyone know anything important about her.
She liked her independence and she really did not like having to explain obvious things to oblivious, narrow-minded, fresh-out interns. Whoever this newcomer was, they were going to find that it was sink or swim in this business and Catra was fresh out of life vests.
She stewed at her desk, waiting for her personal moron to arrive. She did her best not to let her tail thrash behind her in frustration, but she knew she wasn’t doing a great job at it. Scorpia had already come by that morning to drop off the mail, sure to stop by and chat excitedly at Catra about whatever new thing that was going on in her life. Even Scorpia’s information dumps couldn’t bring Catra’s mood up.
Catra didn’t look up when a figure rushed past her and she didn’t look up at the sound of introductions and laughter around her. She typed away at her laptop, not even sure what she was putting on the page. She just didn’t want to do this today, or any day.
Eventually though, Hordak sidled up to her desk, another person in tow. Catra did her best to tune him out as he spoke, introducing her to the new hire. She didn’t particularly care what he had to say, and he couldn’t exactly fire his hardest hitting reporter.
He did eventually stalk away, likely to bother someone else about their shitty performance. But unfortunately, he left his shadow behind.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting, but get it out of your head now.” Catra drawled, not even bothering to look up from her screen. “I’m not your mentor nor your-” Catra turned in her chair to glare up at the stranger. She found herself struggling to remember the rest of her sentence. This new hire, she was, she was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes that couldn’t be hidden even behind her trendy glasses, and her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail only accentuated her jawline. Without even noticing, Catra’s eyes raked down her form, her broad shoulders were toned and muscular thighs strained against her slacks. Her button up, perhaps tailored to her form, left little to the imagination regarding her arms. Her hands, fuck, her hands held a laptop sleeve and a notepad. “- babysitter.” She finished lamely.
The girl didn’t seem to notice Catra’s staring, instead taking her words at exactly face value. Her lips pulled down into a little frown and her eyebrows scrunched together. She looked down to her feet, already bashful and unsure of herself. Catra held in her exasperated sigh. If this girl’s feelings were already hurt, she wouldn’t make it long at all.
“Um, okay.” She said quietly.
The girl shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, and Catra would absolutely not notice her calves or the flexing of her thighs. Absolutely not. But she would love it if the girl would look her in the eye. Show some backbone.
Catra rolled her eyes. “Alright, first thing’s first. Make eye contact with people when you talk to them. Did they not teach you that in school?”
The girl looked up, a flash of annoyance crossing her face before she was able to school her features. Catra could maybe work with that. “Um, yeah.”
Catra stood with a sigh. “Look, you’re going to need to figure whatever confidence issues you’ve got going on, quick, or you won’t make it very long here.”
The girl glared at her, frown deepening. “Anyone ever told you that you’re not very nice?”
Catra cackled at that. “Plenty,” She wheezed out. “Not that that’s ever stopped me. Now, come on, there’s a big vote on the infrastructure legislation today and we need to be down at city hall asap so we can get statements.”
Catra gathered her reporting bag, it held a tablet as well as notepads and pens. She carried it everywhere she went, especially on the job. Her phone tucked into her pocket, and Catra was ready to go. Her shadow waited eagerly to head off.
In the elevator towards the ground Catra felt the awkwardness in the air. “Do you know anything about this bill going to vote today?” Catra quizzed.
“Uh,” Her shadow hesitated. “I’ve heard it’s an infrastructure bill.”
“And what does it provide funding for?”
“Bridges and roads right?”
“And?”
“And?” This girl was easy to fluster. Catra would never admit that she enjoyed flustering her.
“What else?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
Catra scoffed. “You should know. If you plan on working through as a political reporter you need to be up to date on everything going on. Congress.gov is going to be your best friend.”
“I can’t possibly keep up with everything.”
“No,” Catra conceded. “But that’s why you pick out what’s most contentious, most impactful to the public. Big fight over it on the floor? Cover it.” The elevator dinged and Catra paced out, fully expecting her intern to keep up at her pace. “Anything to do with the Culture Wars, that’s always a big ticket for views. The public likes to know what’s going on with their taxes, but they don’t like actually knowing how taxes work.”
“So how does this particular bill fit into that?”
“It’s a bipartisan infrastructure deal that’s highlighting the divide between and within both parties. It’s also insanely expensive, meaning that the public will be invested in it without knowing much about it. Our job is to tell them the basics, get them up to speed, get them talking about it. The more outrage the better. We want the people who support it to support it with their whole hearts, and the people who don’t to be vehemently against it.”
The girl nodded. “I thought you weren’t going to mentor me?”
Catra grunted. “Yeah well, if we’re going to be attached at the hip then you better be able to pull your own fucking weight. Focus.”
She nodded. “Isn’t the goal to inform?”
“Oh shit, you’re one of those starry-eyed ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ kind of people aren’t you?” Catra mocked. “Please, give me a break. Grow up. Journalism changed from that to sensationalism with the rise of yellow journalism in the late 1800’s.” Catra paused to flag down a taxi. “Fact is, we’re bound by ethics, but only serve the paper itself. The goal of the paper is not to inform, it’s to make money. They do that by selling advertisements. Which means our job is to get eyes on the page. You can do that with hard-hitting investigative journalism. I’ve done it to great success. But you don’t just fall into that. You start at the bottom and move to the top by learning the ropes and building a powerful network.”
It didn’t take long to reach City Hall, and by then Catra was pretty tired of talking to this over-eager, idealistic journalist-to-be. She never bothered to ask her name. With any luck, she’d catch on fast, get out of her probationary period, and be off to make her own career. This girl needed to stay out of her way.
“Just stay quiet, watch their body language, take notes. Take notes . Whatever you notice, but be observant.”
The girl nodded, and they walked up the steps to City Hall. “Adora!” Someone called from the side, and Catra’s shadow turned.
For fuck’s sake, Glimmer herself was approaching them. Approaching, Adora . Catra hated her, she was stuck up and always a pain in the ass. Gave her great sound bits but she railed against the paper regularly. This would be a problem.
“Oh, hey Glimmer.” Catra’s shadow waved, smiling brightly.
“Catra,” Glimmer noticed the magicat at her side, and Catra wanted to grin herself. She loved it when people spit her name like a curse. Made her feel at home.
“Glimmer, perfect.” Catra took a step forward, in front of Adora. “We have quite a few questions regarding the vote planned for the infrastructure bill going to the floor today.”
“I didn’t come over here to talk to you .” Glimmer rolled her eyes. “But I’ll talk to Adora.”
Adora grinned nervously, looking between the senator and effectively her boss. Catra cut in before she could say anything. “Adora is in a probationary period, her job is to listen and learn, you’ll be talking to me.”
Glimmer looked at her, and a sly grin spread across her face. “How about no? I won’t talk to you . If you want a statement from me officially I’ll be giving it to Adora.”
Catra had quite a few choice words for Glimmer, none of which she could say. Catra desperately wanted to snarl something rude and unprofessional at Glimmer, but she knew better than to start a fight with someone so politically powerful, who already disliked her at that. “Fine,” She shrugged. “Adora, do you have your questions ready? Take point.”
If only Catra were a photographer, she’d love to have wall to wall prints of the look on Adora’s face as she realized that not only had her friend gotten her into this situation, but that she was wholly unprepared to handle it. “Uh,”
Catra sat back and watched. She would take notes, absolutely, she couldn’t afford to allow the intern fuck up her story. But Adora was not in any way ready to handle an interview entirely by herself.
But to get what they wanted, they needed to give Glimmer what she wanted. And apparently that meant completely humiliating Adora in front of her boss. Catra could get behind that. A little professional hazing. Nothing too heinous since her name was going on the story with Adora as a contributor.
Adora fumbled through a few, clearly made up, questions to guide Glimmer into giving a statement. But Glimmer let her guard down with Adora in a way she never did with Catra. Whenever Catra had to interview Glimmer, it was like pulling teeth. Catra relied on her interrogation skills to get her to slip. But Adora was doing all of that with charm and a smile.
Maybe this girl could be someone.
Catra took careful notes, writing down as many exact quotes as possible and being sure to underline the clumsiest lines. Overall, Adora didn’t do so bad. Once Glimmer finished her statement and sauntered off with a sarcastic smile for Catra, Adora turned nervously to Catra. “Uh sorry, she’s-”
“I’m impressed, Princess.” Catra smirked. “Leveraging personal friendships with political figures to do your job. Now that’s what I call journalism.”
Adora seemed to perk up at that. She was tall, and Catra had to look up slightly to look her directly in the eye. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Catra looked down at her notes. “She said, and I quote, ‘you know how I hate that jackoff senator from Metropolis, he’s a human roadblock for this bill and I hope he doesn’t get reelected.’”
Adora blanched. “We can’t publish that.”
“And why not?”
“Because-” Adora shifted awkwardly. “She didn’t mean any of that literally.”
“I think you’re deluding yourself.” Catra raised her eyebrows. “She said that, to a reporter for the Horde Daily . If she didn’t mean that literally she shouldn’t have fucking said it. It’s gold. You’ll find yourself making a name for yourself in no time if you keep up the charm.”
A blush colored Adora’s cheeks and she looked away. “Um, we should probably talk to a few more people, right?”
“Honestly I have half a mind to just let you loose in City Hall and see what people tell you. You’ve got a gift.” Catra smirked.
“Please don’t,”
“Alright, Princess, let’s go then.”
The rest of the interviews were pretty simple and easy to get through. Catra was a professional and a familiar face in City Hall. Though Catra did dread going through Adora’s notes to see what she thought would be useful. Based on her reaction to handling Glimmer, there may be more arguments in the future.
They huddled together off to the side near security to compare notes and discuss the article. Adora was smart, at least. She clearly did well in school. She knew the basics. All it took was Catra’s experienced flair and they’d have a pretty decent article for the title page.
Someone screamed from behind them. “Gu-” Shots rang out, deafening Catra as they echoed down the hall. She didn’t have much time to react, Adora pushed her down behind the security desk and disappeared.
The shooting continued and people scattered. Security guards returned fire, but whoever was firing held their own.
“Everyone get down!” A voice rang out, clear and confident above the gun fire. Catra turned to the side to see golden boots standing beside her. She stood in a stereotypical hero’s power pose. She was tall, and her blonde hair billowed out behind her. Emblazoned across her chest was a golden star atop a white background. She had a red cape that rippled in a non-existent breeze and golden forearm plates that shined in the fluorescent lighting.
The security guards paused their firing for just a second to gape at this absolute idiot . Catra grabbed her phone and set about recording this moron in a cape as she approached a surprised gunman. He only hesitated a moment before he fired again, this time aimed directly at the woman’s chest.
Bullets fucking ricocheted off her chest and Catra jumped as they buried themselves in the wall beside her. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever reported while under fire, but it certainly was the first time she’d ever seen someone walking through the fucking bullets.
The gunman did eventually run out of bullets and the woman reached him easily. He reloaded his gun as fast as his shaking hands could handle, but the woman grabbed the barrel of the gun and bent it upwards. The man didn’t dare fire, it would’ve likely hurt him more than anything. The woman ripped the gun out of his hands and tossed it to the side. She grabbed his collar and lifted him clean off his feet.
“I think you’re done here.” She said, a smirk on her face.
The gunmen wouldn’t give up so easily. He moved quickly, pulling a knife from his belt and aiming for her throat. The blade itself broke off, as if he had tried to stab a diamond with a toothpick.
“That’s not very nice.” She frowned. Not unlike a football, she threw the gunman into the wall. He bounced off and landed with a pathetic thud on the ground.
It was only a few seconds before police came rushing in, guns blazing. But by then, the woman had literally flown off into the sky outside. Catra, unsure if anything she had seen was true, pressed the end record button and shakily tucked her phone safely back in her pocket.
Catra started the writing as soon as she could stand, typing away at her phone, she wrote out the basics, breaking news: shooting at city hall, suspect down, unknown fatalities and injuries. But she would save the video of their rescuer for herself. She would make headlines by the nightly news later that night.
What a fucking morning . It wasn’t even lunchtime!
She typed quickly and incessantly as police and EMTs rushed around her, she took the opportunity to write down absolutely anything and everything she saw before they pushed her out.
Adora found her not long after they’d escorted her out of the building and away from the carnage. She was completely unscathed. “Are you okay?” She asked carefully, looking Catra up and down as she typed away.
“Yeah, I’m fine, we’ve got the story of a fucking lifetime, call a taxi, I don’t have time. We have maybe half an hour before news gets out and we have to be the ones breaking this story.” Catra ordered barely looking up to make sure Adora was, in fact, unscathed.
“Okay, yeah, uh.” She shifted from foot to foot, she seemed ready to say something, but at Catra’s glare she acquiesced and called a taxi.
Years of war correspondence and Catra was grateful she’d gotten over her motion sickness. She sat in the taxi and never once looked up as she wrote. Adora only fidgeted beside her.
“Would you sit still?” Catra snapped.
“Sorry,”
“You saw what fucking happened, didn’t you?”
“Uh,” Adora stuttered.
“Where the fuck were you?” Catra did look up at that. Where had Adora gone? “You disappeared right as the shooting started.”
“I uh, hid in an office?”
Catra’s brows furrowed. “Well I guess political correspondents wouldn’t be used to gunfire.” Catra shook her head and returned her attention to her phone. “You’re going to have to get used to running towards danger, you’re a reporter now. Even the weather boys have to be made of steel.”