I keep waiting for a song to come and sing you back to me...
        I never felt so free as when I had you...

    Hands stuffed in her pockets, Catra leaves the Afterlife bar, shoulders up, sulking. "Friends..." she says, word spoken more like a curse than with fondness. "...all gone and always will be gone..." she bites back tears as she clenches her eyes shut. A low 'prrl?' at her side, as she walks down a quiet back street in Night City signals the arrival of Melog. "...not you..." Catra says quickly. "The others. From /home/. /Adora's/ friends. They all got busy and forgot about me. And then /she/ left, too..." she says bitterly. "...so who knows if these are going to do the same. Everyone has their own 'thing' going on."

        Our rhythm was the best that's touched the likes of me...
        I was really me when I had you...

    "...except that one... maybe..." she pulls her mobile out of her pocket--and her Rhodes Island comm bead. She shakes her head and suddenly stops, hearing the sound of scraping metal. Then flesh hitting flesh with a mechanical tinge. "LOOKIE WHAT WE GOT HERE, BOYS!" a tinny voice with smoker's lung sounds out. "Got that gonk of an Exotic that ripped up our club! And look at ya, all alone! You gonna cry, kitty?!" he laughs. Maelstrom. There's a half dozen of them at least. Catra's ears lay flat and she pulls back her poker face even with hints of tears in the pits of her eyes. "Psh, no. Eyes are watering from the strench you guys put off. Could smell you from a mile away!" she folds her arms, looking indignant. Still, she's surrounded, and in an alley. She can fight. She can run. She can--what was that flash of gold past the hulking brute in front of her, down the alley? "Hey, no... no way..." she stares, wide-eyed.

        Give me back that old familiar feeling that left me feeling like I was someone...
        Give me back that song we sang in harmony just you and me singing together...

    ZZZAP! Melog yowls and hits the pavement, an electrified net shot at it it from behind. Catra whirls around, "HEY! WHAT GIVES!?" she has her claws out, ready to swipe. The sound of a shotgun blast makes her ears furl up and a blunt impact round slams right into her chest, sending her tumbling across the perpetually-wet Night City ground. The wind is knocked out of her and the gangoons are laughing, "HOW MUCH YA THINK WE CAN GET FOR HER EARS?" -- "I want her tail!" -- "Shaddup! We're gonna stuff her full of chems and chrome and turn her on her 'friends'!" -- "Hey. HEY. Who are you? I'M TALKING TO YOU! Scrawny-ass sword-carrying..." Sword... carrying? Catra struggles to open her eyes. Blonde. Blue. Red. Sword.

        My radio still plays the songs you like to hear. I wish you were here. Oh I need you...
        I'll take the time and tune the station in real clear as if you were here. Oh I love you...

    She scrabbles weakly at the concrete, struggling to breathe. Before her eyes can take in everything, the approaching figure half-blocked by heavily augmented gangsters, a familar voice cries out and a blinding light fills the alleyway. "FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL!" Catra clenches her eyes shut, the tears finally coming after holding them in. The sounds of a fight starting begin to fade as she loses consciousness.

        Give me back that old familiar feeling...