Hello all! This is my first fanfic. Please note that my first language is French. Any bizarre phrasing of punctuating is probably caused by this fact.

I used the Voltron fandom but I'm not an unconditional fan, in the sense that I only saw a few episodes in the eighties, and I watched part of the 3D version.

I made one reference to another fanfic (that will be in a few chapters), a short story titled "The Spiked Punch Incident" in the Beyond Denubian site. All hails to the authors. I don't own that story, nor do I own anything even remotely associated with Voltron.

I always thought that Lotor was a cool villain because he's handsome, a rare thing among villains back in the eighties, and because I love ambivalent characters. Even nowadays you almost never see good looking villains except in the Japanese anime. In fact the loss of that irresistible face it is what inspired this fic. So this is a V3D story (read on before you go away!), even though I didn't like the show – I worked with 3D software and figured I should at least see what they turned up. While I liked some of the ideas, I thought the 3D looked appalling and didn't bring anything to the show, in fact crushed it. Making it into a good story is the kind of challenge I enjoy, and I wanted to do something different. Hope you'll like it!

Please don't flame me because I spell Arus, Aris. I just think it's looks better, no offense.

1- Broken Tool

He hated it. You could not even term this thing as an arm. Calling it an appendage would still be a compliment. And now, as if its very ugliness wasn't enough, it wouldn't work properly. Two of the digits had glitches and moved constantly. Unfortunately bionic arms didn't come with a warranty, or instruction sheets. He had tried to fix it, but it was impossible with only one hand. Besides he couldn't see anything wrong, the insect like artificial arm had all it's wiring concealed behind black metal. The castle was empty save for his father, his witch, two untrustworthy pirates and Igor. If he wanted to have the thing fixed he'd have to go to a hospital, and of course he'd be arrested on sight.

If only he could remove it. He'd probably be better off with one arm than having to live with this twitching monstrosity. He had shown the arm to Zarkon, but his dear father had qualified that as a minor problem. He said that he was still functional. Well, of course, the Almighty ex-King didn't have to sleep with that cold, ugly, wiggling thing. And the self elevated ex-Minister of Peace had just confirmed without thinking that he thought of his son as a means to get an end. A tool. His comfort or lack thereof didn't even come into play, so long as he was functional.

It had been almost a week now. Lotor was lying on his bed, watching the mechanical device distractedly, turning it this way and that, observing the mad little dance of his artificial hand. Night and day had no meaning here in the middle of the dark space, but they had worked out a kind of schedule and he had a few precious hours to rest. Still, sleep eluded him. He got up from his bed and started pacing again. In the past few days he must have walked kilometres in the small space between his bed and the wall. He felt like breaking something, but then anger had been his constant companion ever since the crash. He had already smashed all the mirrors, some furniture, he had punched holes in the walls, and it didn't help. His room was a mess, the destructive path visible in sharp contrast with those few items still intact and covered in dust. He picked a shard of one of the broken mirrors and looked at himself with disgust. In a pathetic attempt to maintain dignity he smoothed back his hair in an automatic gesture. He should work out this reflex, he thought, since it was such a waste of vanity.

He would never have his angel now...

He saw the change from rage to sadness, saw the subtle interplay of the metal plates of his half mask trying to mimic the expression on his face. He let the shard fall on the floor and carefully worked his anger back in place. Anger energized him, and in sadness, he knew, lay the road to self destruction. He wondered idly if would it be so bad... There were so many quick ways to get rid of oneself.

He pushed that thought away. He had to think of a new plan, yes, that was it, keep his unruly brain occupied. How to trick the V-force and keep his father happy while keeping his angel safe... And while he was at it, a little anaesthetic would be nice. He found a bottle and didn't bother to get a glass. If he was to forget the damned appendage, he needed a strong dose. Something that would really knock him out and give him the coveted few hours of liberation. He took a long drink and sat in his half broken sofa, put his legs up on the armrest, arranged the cushions and began to think of his enemies.

Nevertheless, his fleeting thought inched its way quietly in the background of his mind, to a place where he never went anymore. The same place where he had stashed away other memories, a safe place, so immobile and silent. And the thought settled there, amidst the memory of his mother and of the horrors he had witnessed.

***** ***** *****

"LOTOR, WAKE UP!"

Oww. It must have been at least the tenth call. Why did his father have to put the volume of his messages quite so loud? He knew Zarkon enjoyed screaming at him when he had been drinking. He moved a little and groaned. Damn that twitch! The stupid appendage brought him wide awake. He saw he was sprawled on the sofa and tried to extirpate himself from the heavy cushions. What a hangover. He hadn't had one like this in ages. He felt miserable and wished he could go back to sweet oblivion. He hobbled to the bathroom in hope that the noise of a cold shower would bury Zarkon's incessant calls. What did the fossil want with him anyway?

It had always made Zarkon furious to see him with his hair wet and dripping . Of course he did it on purpose. Drops would fall on the floor of his father's beloved, ugly castle, the last symbol of his lost power. Zarkon would take it as a personal insult, which was exactly what it was. The fossil's face would turn mauve with fury. The prince had let his hair grow again: his father hated long hair. After having it left untouched for half a year, it was already back to his waist. Lotor's last symbol of his lost beauty. Still dazed from his encounter with the sweet bottle, he even had the gall to give his father a wobbly mock salute, in the same fashion his drule subjects used to give homage to their ruler. In a voice dripping with sarcasm he asked :

"How can I be of service to Your Supreme Majesty?"

Surprisingly, Zarkon let it pass. He was up to something, his expression was sharp and triumphant.

"You can begin by wiping that smug look off your face, drunkard. You haven't made yourself exactly useful, these days. I'm beginning to wonder why I bother with you at all."

Lotor smirked.

"You got rid of so many people you thought inadequate that you are left with just four of us, father. Oh sorry, I forgot that celebrated pile of junk, Igor. Well, make that 5 of us. Maybe you're just too damned hard to please... maybe WE should begin to wonder why we bother to stay..."

"Shut up, Lotor. We can fence some other time. Actually, I'm not going to let you spoil my excellent mood."

'I wish,' thought Lotor.

"I can't believe you actually slept through the whole thing," continued his father. "We have two visitors from Aris."

The ex Monarch smiled evilly. He motioned to Hagar and she brought forth the image of the dungeons. Two members of the Voltron force were imprisoned. Hunk was in obvious distress, and Pidge was lying on the floor, bleeding and apparently unconscious.

"We're going to let them simmer for a while," Zarkon said. "Their friends will certainly bite to this perfect bait... We'll leave with Igor to deal with the others. As for you, you may guard the castle. From what I've seen, all of your plans to destroy the Voltron force failed. You should reflect on your continued presence here. Maybe the weakness you show towards the pink princess is affecting what little brains you have... How pathetic. After all these years, still pining like a lovesick adolescent. Why not just take her, you fool? Why is she not already your slave? Marriage. Fah!"

Normally Lotor would have furiously retorted, but all of a sudden he felt very bored. He listened has if in a trance, feeling quite distant from all this. His father was continuing his lesson in morals. He felt he shouldn't have gotten out of his cushions, they were so soft. The capture of the two pilots should have excited him, but strangely, it did not. Hagar licked her lips in joy and the two pirates were watching them with their eyes full of greed. They were probably getting quite a fee for whatever part they had played in this capture. Zarkon was still lecturing; Lotor just turned and left. That made the fossil furious. He could hear his ranting in the dark corridors that would mercifully lead him back to his sofa and his bottle. He smiled a little, and that smile dropped immediately. His father was right after all. He was pretty useless. Maybe he didn't want to be useful anymore. To be used as a tool, a cold tool. He even looked like one, with that thing sprouting out of his shoulder.

Lying again amidst his cushions, he gratefully welcomed the sound of the Revenge leaving. Now, the only persons in the castle were he and the prisoners. He was pretty sure the timeless scenario would replay again: ...captives miraculously escape, Doom ships attack lions, lions form robot, robot destroys ships, robeasts are sent, robot forms F... blazing sword and slices robeast, end of chapter. It made him smile again. Now that was pathetic. Maybe he should pay a visit to the prisoners. See if the small one was badly hurt. Maybe he could send them on their way so that his beloved father could share with him the bitter cup of defeat... He could make it look as if they escaped. And he could name his price...

***** ***** *****

Hunk was quite worried. Pidge wouldn't wake up. His glasses were broken. The yellow lion pilot had spent his time removing Midge's helmet without moving the eyewear. Now that this was done, he gently removed the broken frame from his friend's face and examined the cut it had made. Around it the swollen tissue had turned purple. The pilot realized that if Pidge hadn't worn a helmet, he'd be mourning him by now. Without his glasses his companion looked very fragile. He tried to make him more comfortable, called his name and took his hand.

"What a touching tableau," said a sarcastic voice.

The pilot swirled around. Of course, Lotor would have to come and gloat. The prince had let his hair grow again, and for the first time Hunk saw it uncombed and wild. The sharp, cold light from directly above framed his half-destroyed face in a lacework of luminous white chaos and made his metallic mask gleam. He wore a bizarre looking cloak. Its colors constantly adjusted to blend in its surroundings. A spy cloak. Its sharp shadows cut the prince's figure in a mockery of his old elegance. Hunk turned his back on him. No point in letting an enemy see how worried he was.

"I actually have a proposition for you, lion boy."

"I wouldn't deal with you Lotor. None of us would"

"Tsk. You will deal with anybody if the price is right. Your friend is hurt, isn't he? What a nasty bump. Nice color, too... He could have a fracture. He could lose his precious intelligence and become a vegetable. A brain is so fragile..."

Hunk slowly turned around again.

"What do you want?"

"Ah! That's better. I can help you get out, but you'll have to help me first. Pidge maintains you're the best mechanic in the universe, doesn't he?"

"What would you want from a mechanic?"

For an answer, Lotor took his metallic arm out of his cloak. The two outer digits still twitched.

"Could you repair this?"

"I don't know. I'd have to take it apart."

Lotor sighed.

"You people tend to take the given word quite seriously. If you swear you won't use your freedom to flee, and that you'll look if you can stop this, I'll have a medbot take care of your friend. Once the damned thing is repaired, I'll let both of you go. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?"

"How do I know your medbot won't make him worse then he is?"

"You don't..."

***** ***** *****

Pidge was lying on a narrow bed in an infirmary that looked like a torture chamber. A floating machine hovered around him, taking scans. It assured Hunk that only the flesh had been damaged. The patient wasn't in any danger. The glasses had broken within the helmet, opening this gash. The medbot got busied wrapping a bandage on Pidge's head.

Hunk sighed in relief, and Lotor tapped his foot with impatience. He was seated on another of the narrow cots. He had removed his cloak and extended his bionic arm toward Hunk. The pilot smiled a little. Lotor looked like someone waiting for his dentist to begin. Hunk looked around and took what he thought he'd need. He had to admit that for all its forbidding appearance, this lab was remarkably complete. He wondered if Lotor would let him leave with some of that awesome equipment. He thought, 'I guess the right question would be, will he let us leave at all?'

Hunk approached the prince of Doom and took hold of his arm. As always when confronted with a broken mechanism, he would forget everything and focus on the problem at hand. He didn't waste a single thought on the fact that he was working at the side of one of his worse enemies. Turning the arm around, he found how it was assembled and made sort work of the outer shell. The innards of the arm became exposed.

"What a cheap piece of junk, he exclaimed without thinking."

"I couldn't agree more," Lotor said with tired voice.

It made Hunk look up at him. The prince looked almost... well, defeated. There was a deep sadness in his strangely divided face. It made Hunk uncomfortable. He returned his gaze to what he knew best: machines.

"Well, it's only a minor glitch. I'll have it done in no time..."

An uneasy silence followed. Hunk cut connections and the arm went quite dead. He then proceeded to repair it. He saw a structure that didn't seem to belong; it was Hunk's special talent to understand exactly the role of each individual part. 'Should I tell him that he has an unknown mechanism in there?' He wondered. 'It's really none of my business...'

"What's that thing?" Lotor asked.

"What thing?"

"That bundle, there."

'OK, so he spotted it. He didn't seem to know about it either.'

"I've never seen exactly the like, but I'd bet my boots it's a custom made tracking device."

"A WHAT!?"

Hunk jumped at the unexpected fury of the prince. Lotor got up and paced, mumbling to himself. He was certain it wasn't Garrison's, since they'd have tracked him here. He realized that his father probably kept track of his every move with the thing. Zarkon could monitor him, making sure the wayward prince didn't get where he didn't belong. That was why he could never set foot secretly on Aris, like he had done so often in the past. Zarkon would always catch him at it. The prince was seething with fury. Who had decided he'd get that bionic thing on, anyway? He had always assumed it had been decided at that hospital where he had spent the most horrible time of his life. Did his father already have at that time enough influence in the inner workings of the Galaxy Garrison government? Well, the wily fossil always planned for every contingency. If that was true, that meant he could have sprung him out of the Bastille years before, and that he had kept him on ice, pacing his cold cell and going quite mad. And why wasn't he really surprised?

Hunk watched Lotor pace. With his disheveled hair and wild eyes he looked quite insane. After some time though, the prince seemed to literally deflate. He calmed down and sat, He calmed down and sat, observing his limp arm without a word.

"All right," he said at last. "I'll deal with this. Can you remove it?"

"No. The mechanism is too enmeshed: it would incapacitate the arm."

"What about removing the arm itself, then?"

"The arm?" Hunk exclaimed.

"YES, the ugly, cold, despicable arm! Can you make it so I can remove it and put it back on?"

"Weeell, the arm is repaired; it sort of goes beyond our agreement..."

"You seem to forget I hold the life of your friend here."

"I'm not forgetting," Hunk ventured. "I could do it, but then I'll ask you to let me bring a few of those tools there."

Lotor smiled.

"Ah, an opportunist I see... I don't have to agree you know."

"No, but then you could... out of the kindness of your heart, eh?" Hunk humored him.

"What heart?" Replied Lotor with sudden anger. "Whatever's left of it is in the princess's hands. And that's as unattainable as a quasar. Take whatever junk you want. There's precious little pleasure left in my life, lion boy, and sleep is part of it. I just wish I could go to bed without the cold thing on. Just do it," he asked.

Some time later, Hunk was showing him how to click the arm on and off. Lotor had that defeated look again. He got up and put on his color-shifting spy cloak. He gestured toward Pidge.

"Can you carry him or would you rather I ask a robot?"

"I'll carry him."

"Then come. I'll show you to your lions."

The pilot delicately began to take hold of Pidge, who stirred and asked were he was.

"It's a long story, buddy. How do you feel?"

"What hit me, the Revenge? I can't see much, where..."

"Your glasses were broken. Can you stand?"

"Well, sorry to interrupt your tender reunion", Lotor said, "but we should go..."

"Lotor!" Pidge exclaimed. "What the heck?"

"I told you it's a long story. Let's say we made a deal. He's letting us go, in theory."

"Put me down, Hunk. I can walk, I think..."

But it developed that he couldn't. He took three steps and became dizzy. Hunk picked him up again, looking in longing to the cool stuff that would stay here. He felt in a hurry, and told himself he didn't want anything from Doom after all. Still, that little laser scalpel... He took it. Lotor smiled. Hunk followed the prince in a maze of corridors. Just as they were about to enter the open hangar were the lions were kept, they saw the Revenge swooping by. It was followed meekly by the 3 other lions.

"Dear father must have used you as bait for their surrender. How about you give them a nasty surprise?"

"For once we're in agreement, Lotor. See, it didn't hurt you..."

"It will when father sees you in flight and holds me responsible."

"Tell him we escaped or something."

"That won't change anything much. But that's my problem. Leave before I change my mind and decide to prove dear father I'm as rotten as him and avoid getting smacked as a reward... By the way, give Allura my regards. Now GO!"

And so they went. Lotor smirked when he saw green lion barely miss the wall of the outer bay. The little one truly couldn't see much without his trademark eyeglasses. But then, when they'd form that gigantic robot he wouldn't need to see. The prince went to a monitor to admire the debacle of his father. For once, he thought it was hilarious. He hadn't such fun in a long time.

Later, Lotor smiled as he confronted his father. Yes, they had escaped, and yes, he'd been too drunk too stop them. He had even taken half a bottle to make his lie more convincing. He was quite tipsy. Tsk. What a shame, in front of his dear father... Lotor actually giggled during Zarkon's ranting. He was thinking: ...captives miraculously escape, Doom ships attack lions, lions form robot, robot destroys ships, robeasts are sent, robot forms F... blazing sword and slices robeast, end of chapter.