Disclaimer: Voltron and all related events are property of WEP.
Gone
"KEITH!" The scream ripped across the field, vibrating until it died a slow death. A figure could be seen in the distance, slumped over. A bright crimson spot appeared, growing frighteningly fast over the white of the uniform that also bore the proud red of the pilot of the Black lion. The instigator of the wound stared down at the body of his enemy with mild interest before kicking it. A evil sound boomed around him as he laughed insidiously before he turned towards his prize.
She vainly struggled against the soldiers who kept a tight hold on her arms, trying to run towards her love. But the harder she struggled, the tighter they held. The blue- tinged hands bit into the soft flesh of the pink uniform. She pulled and yanked; screaming out her teammates names, pleading. But no mercy was given.
Horror, fear, and total grief finally took their toll. Her knees went weak and gave way. She sagged into the arms of the soldiers who are holding her captive. The weight of her body proved to much and they let her fall to her knees. The soldiers know that she can't and won't do anything, the situation is hopeless.
Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks as she felt her whole world bleeding away. Not more than a 100 feet in front of her she gazed inconsolable, and the world starts to blur. The only thing that can be made out is a pool of crimson spreading. The people she loved become unrecognizable shapeless contours of bodies and the colors that cover them are : Red, Blue, Green, and Yellow.....
______________________________________________________
I awake with a start. It was the same dream. The same one that repeatedly haunts me in my sleep and in my wake hours. It never changes. But time has eased some grief. I have accepted the deaths of my friends and teammates. I no longer shed tears over their demise because I know it will do no good.
I sit up from the bed and stare at the wall for a few moments, gaining my bearings. I hate it when I have the dream because the faces and memories I have tried to bury come back to haunt me. Pidge, Hunk, Lance.... Keith. They all come roaring back and threaten to overwhelm my senses with grief.
The day they all died is still crystal clear to me. The circumstances still haunt me. It's now that I absolutely wish that Voltron hadn't been so instrumental in liberating other worlds. It was on another one of those routine- go in; kick Zarkon's butt; free world; go home things. But that time, unfortunately, they actually got the best of us.
Maybe it was the false sense of security we had been lulled into. We had become too sure of our own abilities. Our over-confidence was our weakness. Deep down we felt we could not be beaten. And although externally we portrayed the same tight, sharp team; we subconsciously weren't trying as hard. We had let our guard down.
Once we did, Lotor was able to slip in. He used our weakness. And he succeeded.
He had laid a successful trap that resulted in me being captured. Lotor offered my life for the keys to the lions, the same thing he always asked for actually. The rest of the team were instructed to meet Lotor in the field were the Lions were waiting. Most assuredly, a plan had been formed by Keith so that the Voltron Force would get the upper hand. But this time, it was not even able to be put into use.
They gave Lotor the keys to the lions. But something happened that we had not reckoned on.
Lotor had actually learned something.
He learned not to tempt fate.
While my teammates stood there waiting for Lotor to release me, he had them shot. Before my eyes, all four of my friends were shot at point blank. Killed without mercy and under false pretense.
The murders of my friends signaled the end of it all. It created a domino effect that just kept increasing in repercussions. Other worlds quickly fell before the might of the Doom empire without Voltron there to protect them and to provide a sense of security to others. Just yesterday I had learned of the defeat of Arus and the instability the Galaxy Alliance was facing.
There was nothing left to fight for. What little hope, what little reason for living I had, was gone.
Yet I couldn't bring myself to even contemplate suicide. But somehow, I knew suicide was braver than what I felt myself slipping into.
I had resisted him since he had killed my friends. But every morning, regardless, Lotor came to my room to see if I had a change of heart. Every morning, I had greeted him with stony silence and a resolve to always resist him. I never awaited him.
But this morning, I prepared for his arrival and awaited Lotor, Prince of Doom..
________________________________________________
I feel his thin, cold, lips press against mine in wanton lust. To him, it's a kiss of victory; finally being able to claim and conquer what had been alluding him for years. The kiss ends roughly and he pulls away. Looking into my eyes, he imploringly searches for any sliver of love and happiness that I may hold for him.
One sign that he could seed and make grow into something akin to the joke he calls love. I feel dead, beaten, tired of fighting... yet somehow, if I still resisted him, wouldn't it still be showing that I would never submit to him, that he would never win?
But he has already won.... My heart painfully contracts at that submission. There is nothing left for me to fight for. Everyone, everything that I held dear, is dead. Killed by the man who holds me in his arms. Just so tired of fighting....
My heads tilts up to him, offering my lips to his. My eyes close so that he cannot see the true disgust I hold for him, nor the deadness that haunts me.
He is looking for love in the depths of my eyes, so I cannot show him that I have no emotion left. He finally possesses me but all he has is a shell. The Allura that caught his attention has died. If he saw that, it would send him into a rage, so I hide what I don't want him to see.
Lotor has always been gullible in the sense that he never looks beyond the superficial surface. If he thinks I have finally given in to loving him, he will not question it. He cannot be allowed to see the truth in my eyes.
His lips again meet mine and I submit.
Surprisingly, no tears stain my face.
Gone
"KEITH!" The scream ripped across the field, vibrating until it died a slow death. A figure could be seen in the distance, slumped over. A bright crimson spot appeared, growing frighteningly fast over the white of the uniform that also bore the proud red of the pilot of the Black lion. The instigator of the wound stared down at the body of his enemy with mild interest before kicking it. A evil sound boomed around him as he laughed insidiously before he turned towards his prize.
She vainly struggled against the soldiers who kept a tight hold on her arms, trying to run towards her love. But the harder she struggled, the tighter they held. The blue- tinged hands bit into the soft flesh of the pink uniform. She pulled and yanked; screaming out her teammates names, pleading. But no mercy was given.
Horror, fear, and total grief finally took their toll. Her knees went weak and gave way. She sagged into the arms of the soldiers who are holding her captive. The weight of her body proved to much and they let her fall to her knees. The soldiers know that she can't and won't do anything, the situation is hopeless.
Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks as she felt her whole world bleeding away. Not more than a 100 feet in front of her she gazed inconsolable, and the world starts to blur. The only thing that can be made out is a pool of crimson spreading. The people she loved become unrecognizable shapeless contours of bodies and the colors that cover them are : Red, Blue, Green, and Yellow.....
______________________________________________________
I awake with a start. It was the same dream. The same one that repeatedly haunts me in my sleep and in my wake hours. It never changes. But time has eased some grief. I have accepted the deaths of my friends and teammates. I no longer shed tears over their demise because I know it will do no good.
I sit up from the bed and stare at the wall for a few moments, gaining my bearings. I hate it when I have the dream because the faces and memories I have tried to bury come back to haunt me. Pidge, Hunk, Lance.... Keith. They all come roaring back and threaten to overwhelm my senses with grief.
The day they all died is still crystal clear to me. The circumstances still haunt me. It's now that I absolutely wish that Voltron hadn't been so instrumental in liberating other worlds. It was on another one of those routine- go in; kick Zarkon's butt; free world; go home things. But that time, unfortunately, they actually got the best of us.
Maybe it was the false sense of security we had been lulled into. We had become too sure of our own abilities. Our over-confidence was our weakness. Deep down we felt we could not be beaten. And although externally we portrayed the same tight, sharp team; we subconsciously weren't trying as hard. We had let our guard down.
Once we did, Lotor was able to slip in. He used our weakness. And he succeeded.
He had laid a successful trap that resulted in me being captured. Lotor offered my life for the keys to the lions, the same thing he always asked for actually. The rest of the team were instructed to meet Lotor in the field were the Lions were waiting. Most assuredly, a plan had been formed by Keith so that the Voltron Force would get the upper hand. But this time, it was not even able to be put into use.
They gave Lotor the keys to the lions. But something happened that we had not reckoned on.
Lotor had actually learned something.
He learned not to tempt fate.
While my teammates stood there waiting for Lotor to release me, he had them shot. Before my eyes, all four of my friends were shot at point blank. Killed without mercy and under false pretense.
The murders of my friends signaled the end of it all. It created a domino effect that just kept increasing in repercussions. Other worlds quickly fell before the might of the Doom empire without Voltron there to protect them and to provide a sense of security to others. Just yesterday I had learned of the defeat of Arus and the instability the Galaxy Alliance was facing.
There was nothing left to fight for. What little hope, what little reason for living I had, was gone.
Yet I couldn't bring myself to even contemplate suicide. But somehow, I knew suicide was braver than what I felt myself slipping into.
I had resisted him since he had killed my friends. But every morning, regardless, Lotor came to my room to see if I had a change of heart. Every morning, I had greeted him with stony silence and a resolve to always resist him. I never awaited him.
But this morning, I prepared for his arrival and awaited Lotor, Prince of Doom..
________________________________________________
I feel his thin, cold, lips press against mine in wanton lust. To him, it's a kiss of victory; finally being able to claim and conquer what had been alluding him for years. The kiss ends roughly and he pulls away. Looking into my eyes, he imploringly searches for any sliver of love and happiness that I may hold for him.
One sign that he could seed and make grow into something akin to the joke he calls love. I feel dead, beaten, tired of fighting... yet somehow, if I still resisted him, wouldn't it still be showing that I would never submit to him, that he would never win?
But he has already won.... My heart painfully contracts at that submission. There is nothing left for me to fight for. Everyone, everything that I held dear, is dead. Killed by the man who holds me in his arms. Just so tired of fighting....
My heads tilts up to him, offering my lips to his. My eyes close so that he cannot see the true disgust I hold for him, nor the deadness that haunts me.
He is looking for love in the depths of my eyes, so I cannot show him that I have no emotion left. He finally possesses me but all he has is a shell. The Allura that caught his attention has died. If he saw that, it would send him into a rage, so I hide what I don't want him to see.
Lotor has always been gullible in the sense that he never looks beyond the superficial surface. If he thinks I have finally given in to loving him, he will not question it. He cannot be allowed to see the truth in my eyes.
His lips again meet mine and I submit.
Surprisingly, no tears stain my face.