It was late evening, and the light from this solar system's sun was beating down on the blue paladin's back. His paladin armor would have been far too eyecatching with both it's gleaming white surfaces The heat of the fading day soaking into the dark fabric of his casual but still alien outfit. Lance was tired from holding his position for so long and felt disgusting under a slick layer of sweat. While the outfit had been chosen for its common designs and dark colors, allowing Lance the ability to blend into the background of both a crowd and the rooftop a bit better, it did nothing to cool him off. The hood had been pulled up over his head at some point during his stakeout to keep the sun from burning his skin and causing him any further discomfort.

Lance was laying on his stomach on a roof across from some sort of alien brothel, the front for a undercover Galra operations base that had been causing quite a bit of trouble for Voltron in this sector of the universe. He had picked out the best vantage point of the entrance days ago and had been waiting for the past several hours for his target to leave. Shifting his weight minutely so that he didn't disrupt his rifle, the blue paladin waited, wishing he could get up and walk to disrupt the numbness settling in his legs.

His bayard had been shoved into the back of his jeans where it pressed against the small of his back. It was always reassuring to have it close, especially when he was sent on these kinds of solo missions. He probably shouldn't have brought it in the first place because if he was captured by the enemy it would damningly peg him as a member of voltron and be his ticket to execution.

Then, when he was silently cursing and overthinking things, his target walked out of the building. Before he pulled the trigger he froze, a Galarn child skipped up to the commander and handed him some sort of exotic flower. The two stood there interacting with one another before the child's mother called them away. Before he could doubt himself and before he lost his target, Lance inhaled, counted to one, two, three and took the shot on his silent exhalation, the recoil barely shifting his lithe frame as he watched.

Screams and shouts echoed in the streets below as the body of the Galaran commander hit the now blood splattered ground, he felt distinctly sick when a childish wail of terror hit his ears. Lance scooted back away from the edge of the building so that he wouldn't be seen. He picked up the bullet casing and stood it up on ledge of the building next to the blue Voltron symbol he had painted earlier, it was a calling card designed so that the enemy would know who assassinated their people long after he had disappeared from the scene of the crime. Slipping the long sniper rifle into its disguised case and over his shoulder, Lance beat a hasty retreat. definitely not wanting to be found by the men who served under the man had just killed.

He was the only one who really got missions like this. His skill set was suited for assassinations, but more than that Lance understood war wasn't fought on just one front. Sometimes you had to take out a couple of the enemies so that could get somewhere you needed to be, burn down a couple fields so the enemy couldn't eat. Classic war strategies on earth seemed to be considered barbaric

Lance had grown up in Cuba. He was raised on the stories of dictators and revolution. He had seen the worst of humanity, had seen soldiers pull families from their homes because they didn't agree with the government. So Lance took Coran's more covert missions, took out big names on the other side of the war doing his best to chip away at the Galran forces as Voltron inspired hope in the general populace.

Lance casually made his way back to his lion, careful not to walk too quickly away from the scene. He was still deep in thought pondering why he didn't feel worse about taking another life. He told himself it was just another notch on his belt, another person that needed to be put down so innocent civilians wouldn't suffer.

Shiro knew about the missions Coran gave him. His hero generally didn't approve, saying that Lance was much too young to be killing for the sake of the war they were all stuck fighting to win. Shiro didn't bother arguing with them anymore, but he did comfort Lance when he got back from a job and was a bit out of it.

Maybe if he got the chance he would be able to snipe someone in front of the rest of the Paladins and Allura, they would know how much he was doing for the war. Did the princess even know about the missions Coran handed out? Doubtful. She probably considered herself too honorable to resort to such "underhanded" tactics. If Allura did consider herself such, she probably didn't consider that assassinations during wars had been going on for thousands of years. In the end it was a tried-and-true method of winning and finishing wars.

After a few more minutes of walking and dodging around buildings, Lance entered a thick forest and sped up a bit, determined to get to his beautiful blue lady so that he could get them to the safety of the castle. When he finally got to Blue, he could feel her purring in the back of his mind, pleased that he was back safe. He climbed into the cockpit and walked her to the other end of the forest before taking off and breaking the atmosphere.

When the blue paladin got to the castle a little while later and docked his lion, he spent a few minutes petting a large metal paw. He knew he was stalling a bit, but Lance didn't feel like dealing with the others. Eventually he ended up making his way to Coran and Shiro to give his report. Going into a bit too much detail what the child looked like struck with terror as the Commander hit the ground. He got sympathetic looks from both older men but continued on that he had gotten away easily enough before he finished up the oral report and turned away to leave.

Shiro clasped his shoulder as he made his way out of their little conference room intended on heading to his bedroom. It was supposed to be either a gesture of congratulations or of comfort, but Lance was far too tired to be interacting with his hero. The sharpshooter had spent hours on that roof just waiting for his target to appear and the echo of the child screaming in terror still filled his ears.

Slipping into his room and bed he sighed and closed his eyes, doing his best to clear his mind Lance relaxed his body. It was a technique he had learned from his mother when he was little, "A relaxed body could soothe a tense mind". Eventually he drifted into sleep, craving his mother's hugs and his abuela's stories of revolution.

FIN

AN

I originally had this huge idea that hinged in the premise that Lance would have to be a bit more ruthless or calculating than in the actual show since he's such a good sniper. It was going to be a lot longer but I lost most of my notes when my phone crashed and then (like an absolute idiot) I forgot to save my doc cause I was going on days without sleep. Eventually I'll make myself expand on Assassin!Lance cause it is an appealing thought.