Serve and Protect

Chapter 11

It was cold inside the storage unit the Horde used to house their records. Something about the lack of natural light and concrete walls, coupled with the miserable weather outside, made the place feel like a tomb. Catra huddled deeper into her jacket for warmth and mindlessly thumbed her way through a stack of papers under the lamplight.

She wasn't lying when she told Adora that she hadn't come across anything interesting yet. Most of the files she'd sorted through so far were ancient, sometimes older than she was. Everything was dusty and boring — nothing more than page after page of invoices or accounting documents filled with line items she couldn't decipher. Shadow Weaver had given her vague parameters of things to look for and instructions of what to do from there. Files of a certain date and older went in one pile, and newer files were to be sorted by type. Clearly whoever was responsible for putting everything in this storage unit in the first place didn't give a shit about maintaining any sense of order.

What Catra really wanted to find was a stack of personnel files in among the chaos. She doubted there'd be anything recent in a place like this, but it would make for fun reading. Or maybe she'd find some payroll details that would give her a sense of how much she could make as a Force Captain. If she knew how much others were making, she'd know how much to demand from Shadow Weaver when the time was right. That was information Catra didn't mind sharing with Adora — after all, the more money they were making, the better off they'd be. As for the rest of it, she couldn't imagine Adora would find the details in this mountain of documents any more interesting than she did.

This is what Catra was thinking about when she heard the distinct clicking of high-heels approaching outside. She had just enough time to sit up straight and act like she'd been hard at work before the metal door was rolled up. Shadow Weaver stood, back-lit by the angry fluorescent lighting of the building's hallway. Her silhouette loomed like a ghost, and Catra caught herself shrinking back involuntarily.

A look of surprise flitted across Shadow Weaver's mangled features.

"You're early," she said.

Catra shrugged. "New job, new me, I guess."

With a click of her tongue, Shadow Weaver used the hand that wasn't clutching a coffee cup to pull the door closed. "I highly doubt that."

Before Catra had a chance to feel bad about herself, Shadow Weaver set the cup down on the desk beside her. She then fished a small brown paper-wrapped parcel from her purse and wordlessly set it down next to the cup before breezing away to survey the stacks Catra had sorted the day before.

It took a moment before Catra could think of something to say.

"Are... Are these for me?" she asked cautiously.

Shadow Weaver shot her a withering glance over her shoulder before returning to the stacks.

"No, Catra. I brought breakfast for the roaches." Her words dripped with sarcasm.

Though it still felt like a trap, Catra carefully peeled back the corner of the brown paper. Inside the parcel was a peanut butter sandwich. This was, without question, the nicest thing Shadow Weaver had ever done for her.

"Thanks," she muttered, still flabbergasted by the gesture.

Shadow Weaver ignored her.

"Are these the financial statements from the last five years?" She gestured to a particular stack of documents and files.

Catra nodded. "What I've found so far, anyway."

"How many boxes did you make it through yesterday?"

"Uh..." Catra glanced over at the stack of discarded boxes. "Six?"

"You need to work faster than that," Shadow Weaver replied as she gathered the stack of financial statements. "At this rate, you'll be at this for months. Make it ten boxes today."