Power surged and electricity crackled. Lance's jaw clenched. His nose began to bleed. He didn't make a sound, but his eyes slammed shut, and his fingers were white-knuckled on the armrests.
Hunk stood there by the machine, his hands clasped tight in front of his chest, and watched his best friend suffer torturous agony. His heart was pounding; his throat was dry. He hurt all over, his abused skin, his bruised heart, his empty stomach. It ached. It ached. He wanted to turn the machine off. But he stood there, and he watched.
On the other side of the chair, Keith stood wide-eyed, panting. The bandages that wrapped him under his jacket were starting to soak through with lines of red, and his face was frighteningly pale. His eyes were trained on Lance's face, though they occasionally flicked away, looking to Hunk. Begging, pleading. He wanted Hunk to turn off the machine, too.
Tears filled Hunk's eyes. They both wanted it off. They both wanted it to end. They both could barely hold themselves still, standing here and watching Lance go through an impossible amount of pain for their sakes. But they would stand and abide by Lance's wishes for as long as they could.
Then Lance went limp. His hands fell off the armrests, mouth going slack. Something metal clattered on the floor. Hunk had already punched the switch to turn off the machine, while Keith lunged for the headset and ripped it off Lance's head, then threw it as hard as he could. Residual energy crackled over Keith's fingers, and he hissed in pain, but paid no attention. He was reaching for Lance's face, intent on grabbing him and waking him up.
Hunk wanted to, as well, but he was distracted. That buzz of something like a saw at the door was getting louder, the shouts and yells on the other side no longer muffled. He whirled around, saw what looked like a beam of light cutting through the thick metal door, halfway to making a hole. They were coming through.
No. Hunk refused to allow it. He turned back around and grabbed the machine, then began to push it toward the door, a roar building up in the back of his throat. The gigantic piece of equipment was on wheels, making it easier, but it wouldn't have mattered. No matter how heavy or unwieldy this thing was, Hunk intended to use it in defense of his teammates, his friends.
He judged the distance, then shoved the top half of the machine with a yell, hard and loud, and made it topple over. It fell across the door, blocking it completely, and the shouts on the other side rose in pitch but were muffled again by the new bulk of metal. Hunk halted for a moment, heaving for breath, then turned back to Lance and Keith.
Lance had slid out of the chair, or maybe Keith had lifted him. Now Keith knelt on the floor, cradling Lance in his arms again, like he had when they brought Lance back to the cell from this room the first time. He was patting Lance's cheek, speaking to him quickly and urgently. The blood flowed from Lance's nose in an unending stream.
"Wake up, Lance. Come on, buddy. Wake up now. You've been sleeping long enough. Yeah, it's only been a few seconds, but still. Long enough. Wake up now. I need you to look at me, come on. Look at me, Lance, I need to see your eyes, please, please. I really need to see your eyes..."
Hunk knelt on Lance's other side. His hands shook as he reached out and laid them on Lance's chest. He had wanted to do this before, back in the cell, and hadn't been able to. He let out a sigh, eyes closing in relief, when he felt the slow, up and down movement of Lance's chest. "He's breathing."
Keith looked up at him anxiously, half-hunched over Lance's still form. "He needs to wake up."
Hunk nodded gently. "Yeah, but it's okay. He woke up before. He'll wake up this time, too." He wasn't completely sure that he believed this, but he needed to, for Keith's sake. They both needed Lance to be okay.
Keith stared into Lance's face. His entire body was trembling, and his eyes were glazed. Hunk frowned in worry. The blood loss must really be messing with Keith's head.
"Here." Hunk slid his arm under Lance's back, taking the weight from Keith. "I've got him. It's okay."
Keith let go of Lance reluctantly, eyes still fixed on his face. Then he blinked abruptly and pulled back, looking around. Hunk drew Lance to his chest and wrapped a hand around the side of his head, big, square palm covering him from ear to chin. Stop bleeding, he thought at Lance's nose, knowing full well how useless it was. Stop bleeding, stop it, stop it.
Keith shakily climbed to his feet, then moved back to the chair and stooped down. A scrape of metal on the floor, and he stood with something small and gleaming in his hand. The metal tool, the prison shiv all three of them had worked so hard to procure and shape and use. Lance had been carrying it, and when he passed out, he'd dropped it. Now Keith carried it again, clenched in his fist.
"Keith, come and sit down," Hunk said, his own anxiety rising. He couldn't believe Keith was walking around. He should be barely able to move, considering how pale he was. He should be in a hospital bed with like six IVs stuck in his arms.
Keith shook his head, slow and dazed. He was moving toward the door, where their enemies continued to cut their way through. Hunk had hoped that they would hesitate to destroy that huge piece of equipment, probably expensive, possibly experimental, but no. The laser-edged saw continued to buzz, and the loudest voice on the other side... It was Corallis.
She wanted in. She wanted them. She wanted to make them suffer. She wanted to tear and kill and rend and destroy. Hunk could hear it in her voice.
But Keith stood there in the way, watching her force her way in. "Keith," Hunk tried to call, but he choked on his own tongue. His heart was hammering in his chest. He looked back to Lance and shook him in his arms, making Lance flop around, limp and deadweight, eyes pasted shut. Blood pooled on his bare chest in a puddle of gore. "Wake up," Hunk whispered. "C'mon, please. Wake up. Did it work? Did she hear you?"
Corallis cursed, shoving her shoulder against the block of machinery in her way. Keith settled himself, feet spread in a defensive stance, profile to Corallis's entrance. His fists were raised, one at shoulder height, the other lower. Metal glinted in the higher fist. The tool.
Corallis spotted him waiting for her. She paused, taking the time to let a broad, sharp-toothed smile spread over his face. "You," she purred, strangely satisfied. "Are you waiting for me, Red Paladin?"
Keith nodded, confident and smooth despite the tremor in his legs, the sway of his entire body. He needed to be in a hospital, or at least in a bed, but here he stood, facing the person who had tortured him and his comrades without even a hint of fear on his set, pale face. "Come in if you dare," he said quietly. "You won't get past me."
Corallis snarled. She swiped at the boxy edge of the metal blocking her way with the laser saw she held in both hands. Sparks flew, cascading through the air and even striking her face and bare hands, but she didn't flinch. "Oh, I think I will. You will be the first to pay for this act of defiance, and you will regret what you've done."
Keith blinked, slow and sure. "Never."
She kicked the machine blocking her way, and it rocked, already destabilized by the chunks that had been carved out. Another inch of clearance showed between the blockade and the door. Hunk looked back to Lance, dizzy now with terror. His vision was starting to turn gray on the edges. "Lance," he murmured. "Wake up. Please oh please, wake up now."
He didn't know, exactly, what it would accomplish for Lance to be conscious when they were recaptured. If Corallis succeeded in striking Keith down, Hunk would rather Lance miss that than otherwise. But Hunk wanted him awake, even so. He wanted him here, with him, no matter what would come.
"Please wake up." His voice was tight. It hurt his throat. "Please wake up, Lance, I'm begging you."
Movement at the door. Hunk's gaze jerked back there. His breath halted, burning in his throat. Corallis had set her shoulder against the heavy weight of the machine and was pushing as hard as she could. Behind her, Hunk saw other shoulders, too. The Malkordan soldiers were coming in. Nothing would stop them.
Keith stood there, waiting. Corallis yelled in fury and struck at the machine with her saw, and something shifted. She stumbled forward, suddenly free of the pressure, in time for the machine to rock back against the doorway and plug it again. The soldiers on the outside cursed loudly, but Corallis stood on the other side.
Their side. She was inside the room. She was inside the room. Keith did not waver, but Hunk saw his entire body tense. Corallis stood still for a moment, panting, her arms hanging loose from her shoulders. Her snarl faded, replaced with a smile. No, a grin. It grew into a feral thing, wild and satisfied. The saw in her hands roared as she pressed a hidden control, and Keith pulled in a deep breath. She thought she already had him. Keith disagreed.
"Keith," Hunk called, voice a mere squeak. Keith didn't even twitch toward him, just stood where he was, facing the woman who wanted to kill them all. Hunk was genuinely afraid that Keith was about to something foolhardy and noble and stupid, like grab the saw with his bare hand to gain a moment of traction so he could stab that tiny piece of metal into Corallis's neck. Hunk didn't want to watch that. He didn't want it to happen.
Then an earthquake shook the entire building. There was a tremendous thud above their heads, a deep concussive thump like a boulder falling from a height. Hunk caught his breath and cast his eyes nervously heavenward as dust shook loose from the ceiling. Corallis and Keith hesitated, too, looking at the ceiling and walls, wary and tense.
Lance jerked in Hunk's arms, coughing wetly, and Hunk looked back to him. His heart leaped in his chest. "Lance!"
"Hey." Lance's voice was choked, his eyes barely open. He turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood that landed mostly on his shoulder and Hunk's shin, then looked forward to the door. He spotted Corallis standing there, watching him, and regarded her seriously for a moment. Then he smiled, broad, exhausted, and somehow sharp and gleeful at the same time. "She's here."
For a second Hunk thought he meant Corallis, but then that enormous thump sounded again above their heads, shaking the whole room. Keith and Corallis both fell into a half crouch, peering cautiously up at the ceiling with their hands spread for balance. Lance chuckled as if it was hilarious instead of alarming.
Blue. Blue was here.
Corallis stared at Lance now, ignoring Keith. Her eyes were wide, lips curled in hate. "You..."
"I would give you a double-fisted bird salute, but I can't move my arms," Lance said. "Suck on that, you sadistic freak. My best gal is here to save me and my buddies, and if you stick around, I swear she'll tear you apart."
Blue thudded again above them as if in proof. They must have been buried pretty deep underground, or Hunk was completely certain that Blue would already be here, tearing through the walls to get to Lance. Blue did not take kindly to Lance being injured or mistreated. No one did, but Blue was intense about it.
Corallis didn't understand everything Lance was saying, but she knew he was mocking her. Her face morphed from hatred to disgust and back to the promise of death, before his last statement brought her up short for a moment. That, and Blue's continued pounding on the ground above them. Corallis actually looked worried for a bare second, but then she straightened, that feral grin returning. "Nice try, boy. We're ten dekimars below the surface of Malkord. Even your magic robot can't get to you here."
"That's magic robot space lion to you," Lance retorted. "Show some respect."
Hunk looked to Lance's face in concern. Despite the strength of his words, his voice was weakening. Lance's eyelids fluttered, and he looked a breath from fainting again.
Lance's eyes widened, and he threw a worried glance at Hunk, then looked back to the door. "Keith, no!"
Hunk turned to look. Corallis had started to move toward them, eyes fixed on Lance, intent on punishing his insolence. Keith was moving to block her, brandishing the shiv. But if Lance looked like he was close to collapsing, Keith looked even closer. He was swaying on his feet, face almost ghostly pale. More blood had seeped through his bandages. And Corallis stood there with her saw.
"Hunk, stop him," Lance said sharply. "I can't move, so you gotta be my hands."
It was almost funny. A laugh bubbled up in Hunk's chest, though it felt painful rather than humorous. He set Lance down on the floor as quickly and carefully as he could. He stood up so fast that the blood rushed to his head, dizzying him, but he was already moving, running across the metal floor in his bare feet. There was no time to feel dizzy, no time to register the ache and burn of his bruises and cuts, how swollen and hot he felt all over. He had stop Keith from taking on more than he could handle.
But Keith had other plans. "Hunk, stay back," he gasped breathlessly as Hunk drew up beside him, both of them now standing between Corallis and Lance. Corallis halted, glaring at them.
"I got this," Keith said, and again, Hunk almost laughed. It was just so obviously, completely untrue.
Hunk stepped forward, reaching back with one big hand over Keith's chest. He used the lightest pressure he could, but he still heard Keith's breath sharpen, then cut off at the touch. And he felt blood stain his palm, wet and dripping. Still, Hunk did not look away from Corallis. He faced her head on, and he wasn't afraid at all. Keith and Lance were behind him, and that was where they were meant to stay.
"Your fight is with me," he told her, solemn and sincere.
She drew up short, one eye twitching. Corallis had had just about enough with this series of young men constantly interrupting each other's attempts to die at her hands. She looked Hunk up and down with a dismissive eye, taking in his dirty yellow pajama pants, his pudgy figure and shaking hands, the hesitation that must still show on his face despite the truth of his words. The blood that stained him from both Keith and Lance's wounds. The bruises and abrasions and black eyes that were solely his own, bequeathed by her and her comrades.
And she laughed. "My fight is with you, you say? I have no fight with you, Yellow Paladin. It would be nothing but a massacre. And I have no time. The Blue Paladin has offered himself as the first to die, and I intend to honor his request."
She began to brush by him, contemptuous of his ability even to try to stop her. Rage began to build in Hunk's heart, as much on his own behalf as for Lance and Keith. How dare she look down on him? He was a paladin, too, a warrior, a hero. Yellow chose him, and Yellow didn't make mistakes. His hand darted out before he could stop himself. It clamped around her forearm, the one holding the saw. And he held firm.
Keith made a small noise of astonished distress behind him. Hunk stared at Corallis, not daring to look away, but he was peripherally aware that Lance had passed out again, showing his usual penchant for choosing the absolutely most inconvenient time to do pretty much anything. Corallis tried to keep walking at first, acting like Hunk wasn't even there, but then her footsteps halted.
She couldn't move. She tugged on her arm, expecting to break free with no effort, but nothing happened. Hunk stood there. Sometimes...sometimes Lance had astonishing insight. Yes, Hunk was anxious. He was a worrier. He fretted and worked himself up and imagined worst-case scenarios basically every single second of every single day. But when the crisis hit, he stood firm. He was strong as a mountain and brave as a bear. And he was not. Going. To move.
Corallis pulled on her arm again. She hit that control on the saw, making it scream, but Hunk was holding it firmly away from himself. If she switched hands, he would grab that wrist, too. She was not allowed to hurt him. She was not allowed to kill Lance. She was not allowed to run her creepy fingers over Keith's face. Not now, not ever again. They were done with her. All three of them were done with her forever.
Slowly, Corallis turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, her face astonished. "You...what are you doing?"
"I'm standing here," Hunk said, grim as death. "I'm keeping you here until Blue can get to us and break us out. I'm not going to move, and neither are you."
As he expected, she tried to switch the saw to the other hand so she could wield it and swipe at him. Lightning fast, Hunk's free hand darted out and grabbed her other arm, too. Now he was holding her by both wrists, feet spread and planted. He imagined himself as a deep-rooted boulder, entrenched in the earth. Nothing would move him. He was strong as a mountain and brave as a bear, and he would not be moved.
"Hunk, she's gonna kick you," Keith said urgently, and Hunk dodged the attempt. Holding her still like this was keeping her from getting the necessary leverage and torque for a powerful kick, and Hunk was tall and had long arms, too. Corallis ground her teeth in fury and tried again.
The room shook. Keith looked to the door, his breath coming shorter. The soldiers outside were still fighting to get in, a note of fear in their voices now. They had no idea why their entire underground facility was shaking like this, but they still knew they had to get in and recapture the escaped prisoners.
This situation was untenable. Hunk would trap Corallis here for as long as necessary, but if the rest of the Malkordans got in, Keith would not be able to hold them off on his own. Lance was still unconscious, and Hunk had no idea how big a dekimar was, but apparently ten of them were enough to keep Blue at a distance.
They had gotten free for the moment, and they were holding their own, but if something didn't change soon they were going to go right back in that cell. Hunk shuddered at the thought. He couldn't. He couldn't go back, and he couldn't let Keith or Lance go back, either.
The shaking stopped. Hunk looked up at the ceiling, his heart in his throat. Had Blue given up? Or was she looking for another way? Keith's hand landed on his arm, holding tight, and Hunk felt the tremble in his body. Corallis started to smile again. The soldiers on the other side of the blocked door redoubled their efforts.
"No." That was Lance's voice, but there was something strange underneath it. A resonance, a power. Goosebumps rose on Hunk's exposed flesh, and he looked away from Corallis despite every nerve screaming at him to watch her without blinking.
"No more." Lance was sitting up. His nose had stopped bleeding. He looked calm and steady and completely in control of himself. His eyes were open, and they were glowing a sharp, piercing electric blue, pupil and iris and white all swallowed up in the strange energy. Hunk's breath halted for a moment, though his grip on Corallis did not slacken. Keith's fingernails began to bite into his arm, and his shaking intensified.
Lance laid his palm against the floor, and ice spread out from his fingertips in beautiful fractal patterns, the sound of its formation cracking in the air. A line of ice began to cross the metal surface, thick and white, spawning spirals of frost along the path. The ice reached Corallis's feet, then began to climb.
Corallis's breath caught, and then she screamed. Mostly in surprise, Hunk thought, but the smile was gone now, the arrogance, the creepy pleasure she took in her power over them. The ice encased her feet now, thick and bluish-white, and it was still climbing her legs. It reminded Hunk of the Balmera, of the crystals that grew through the Robeast and trapped it in stasis. The ice seemed to accelerate as it spread, and Hunk released Corallis's arms and stepped back in time to watch it wrap up her entire body.
Lance...or was it Blue...had the mercy to leave Corallis's face free so she could breathe. As soon as his hands were free, Hunk whirled to face him, shaking now almost as hard as Keith was. Lance rose deliberately to his feet and began to cross the floor to meet them. His bare feet trailed over the ice and frost without a flinch, as if he didn't feel it, as if it meant nothing to him. His eyes continued to glow, and his face was fierce and still, almost blank.
"Lance?" Hunk murmured when he was close enough. He hesitated, then asked again. "Blue Lion?"
Lance smiled, a strangely stiff gesture, as if he wasn't used to it. "Yes, Yellow Paladin."
Which wasn't really an answer, but okay. Hunk could read between the lines. Lance didn't act like this, so this was either Blue or both of them together. Which was...worrying. But also very, very cool.
Lance turned away from him and faced Corallis. The blank mask cracked, and he bared his teeth with a hiss of hate and fury. Corallis opened her mouth to say something, but Lance waved his hand sharply, and ice grew to cover her lips. She went still, eyes wide.
"You," Lance/Blue said. "Woman. Do not talk. You will do no more harm to the Paladins of Voltron, and you will not speak."
Corallis breathed through her nose, sharp with terror. Hunk came very close to feeling sorry for her.
Lance turned away, dismissing her as irrelevant now. He moved to the middle of the room and stood facing the blocked door, his fists clenched at his sides. He stomped his foot, and ice grew from his toes. It raced across the floor, then built rapidly beneath the machine blocking the door and shoved it aside in a shriek of rending, tearing metal.
Two soldiers had been leaning against the machine, and now they stumbled into the room. The ice that would have blocked the way had been dismissed to water in the fraction of a second before they fell, and they splashed through the huge puddle, off-balance and almost falling. They caught their feet under themselves and spotted Lance standing there, waiting for them. Malkordan soldiers made split-second decisions. Without taking in the other details of the room, the ice, the pillar of their commanding officer, they set themselves, yelled in fury, and rushed at Lance.
He let them get three paces closer to him. Then he raised both hands, palms up, in a quick, sharp gesture, and ice burst from the floor and captured them both. One had an arm hanging outside the ice, the other a leg and the opposite foot. Again, Lance left their faces free, but the growth of the ice had been so rapid and explosive that they were suspended off the floor. It looked disturbingly like the two soldiers had been impaled on blue-white stalagmites, and the sight made Hunk shudder in disbelief.
"What is happening," Keith whispered, low and fervent. "Quiznak, quiznak, what is happening here..."
Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, and he felt Keith waver on his feet. He was still bleeding, too. This was bad.
Hunk looked to Lance, who was still focused on the door. The rest of the soldiers who had been on the other side had fled, probably to get guns or reinforcements. Or both. "Ah...buddy?" Hunk called hesitantly. "Blue? Lance? We need to get out of here."
Blue/Lance tilted their head and acknowledged him with a nod, then began to walk toward the door. Hunk followed, pulling Keith along with him. Keith faltered, and Hunk scooped him up in his arms like a baby, ignoring Keith's gasp of alarm. "I got you, buddy," he murmured. "We're getting out of here. Just relax."
Keith's body softened against him, marginally, but he still held the shiv clenched in his trembling fist. Hunk wouldn't take that away from him even if he could. Whether or not Keith was able to use it right now, at least it seemed to afford him some sense of security.
Lance led the way, striding determinedly down the hallway as if he knew where to go now. Maybe he did. Keith blinked ahead at him, slow, his head limp on Hunk's shoulder. "They shouldn't...shouldn't have super-charged the bond," he said.
Hunk nodded. That was a decent summation of events, yes. "Everything's gonna be okay."
It really did seem like it would be. Hunk looked nervously around for an alarm or a guard or something, but the hall seemed to be empty. Ahead was the wall of bars, blocking their way. About twenty feet beyond that barrier was what looked like an elevator. Maybe they could take that to the surface.
Lance raised his hands, and ice sped from his feet and climbed up the bars, covering them in a fragmented coating of opaque white. He spread his fingers, and the bars flew apart in myriad splinters of metal that clattered to the floor. Ice grew over the splinters to protect his feet, and he stepped through, Hunk and Keith close behind him. Hunk took a big step to try to avoid as much of the ice as possible, but the rime of frost on the floor still stung his bare foot.
But the elevator...how would ice make an elevator work for them? The Malkordans could lock them out of the controls with the building's computer, and Blue wouldn't be able to bypass it. Notwithstanding his immense and lasting gratitude for Pidge not being captured with them, Hunk wished she was here.
Blue/Lance had a simpler solution. He stopped at a different door and tried to open it. When that didn't work, Lance laid his hand on the wall beside the door, and ice grew from his palm to the edge of the door, building and expanding until it was forced all the way open. Then the ice dissipated to water and fell to the floor, and Hunk looked inside.
"Stairs," he said, and laughed. "Of course the Malkordans have stairs in case the elevator gets stuck or something. Safety first."
Lance led the way, Hunk at his heels. The stairs were utilitarian, light gray concrete with black rubber friction bars at the edge of each step. They began to climb. Hunk looked up at the way ahead, but the flights were too close together, so he couldn't tell how many they would have to travel to get to the surface. Again, he wondered how big a dekimar was.
Their enemies were going to be waiting for them up ahead. That or they would burst from the doors they passed every couple of flights, certainly. Hunk kept watching, body tensing warily at each door, but then he noticed an edge of white ice along the edge of each one, cementing the door to the frame.
"Blue," he squeaked. "Are you holding every single door shut? And still trapping Corallis and her soldiers back there?"
Lance glanced back at him, eyes glowing electric blue. Hunk had never realized how important pupils were for communication until his buddy didn't have them anymore. He couldn't tell exactly where Lance was looking, and it was strangely disconcerting. "No more harm will be done to the Paladins of Voltron," Lance/Blue said, still with that resonance and power in his voice.
"Okay, but..." Hunk hustled to catch up to him and walk at his side, staring at Lance's face in concern. "Buddy, your nose is bleeding again."
Lance reached up one hand and touched the red that smeared his upper lip, then shrugged. "Creation of ice is simple. Maintenance takes more effort. We will endure."
Keith was pulling on Hunk's shoulder, trying to get his attention, but Hunk ignored him. "Lance..."
Lance waved his hand in dismissal, a much more Lance-like gesture than some of the others he'd been making. Hunk relaxed a little. At least Lance's nose wasn't bleeding as hard as it had earlier. It was a tiny trickle this time instead of a gush. Still, Hunk had to speak up. "As soon as we're safe, you gotta let go, man."
"That is the intention."
Keith kicked his legs against Hunk's arm, and Hunk finally looked to his face. "Yeah?"
Keith scowled at him. "Put me down. I can walk."
Hunk laughed in his face. "Uh, no. You look like a creepy Asian ghost, dude. Like from one of those Japanese horror movies."
"Well, your arms are starting to shake, too," Keith retorted. "Put me down before you drop me."
"I'll be fine. It's just a bunch of stairs."
Keith huffed and made as if to cross his arms over his chest, then changed his mind, since that would have been painful.
Lance smiled, less stiffly than the first time. He gestured with one hand, and ice began to grow beneath their feet. Hunk halted, his heart in his throat, but the ice did not cover his legs or trap him. It just created a platform for him and Lance to stand on, cold and flat but somehow not slippery or insecure. Then it began to move, carrying them all up the stairs with no apparent effort.
Hunk looked behind him, staring at the ice that disappeared in their wake, leaving a film of water on the stairs. Then ahead, where the ice continually built, then disappeared beneath the platform they traveled on. It was like a magic carpet ride. Made of ice. The sounds of its formation and dissolution cracked and snapped in the air, a winter symphony utterly out of place in this gray, institutional environment.
"Lance..." Hunk's feet were starting to hurt from the cold, but more importantly, how long could Lance and Blue possibly keep this up? He tried to watch Lance's face, tried to gauge if the nosebleed was getting worse, but he really couldn't tell.
Lance did that hand-wave dismissal again, which was really starting to irritate him. Then Keith squirmed to be put down again, and honestly, was Hunk the only smart one here? Why were his friends such self-sacrificing idiots? Hunk was the one who was supposed to specialize in defense, and he was getting tired of them stepping on his toes. But he put Keith down, since he would just have to stay on his feet, not move or anything.
As soon as his shoes touched down on the platform, Keith shrugged out of his jacket and put it on the ice. Then he pointed at it, glaring at Hunk, until Hunk stepped on it. Ah, that was more comfortable. Lance, of course, did not seem at all bothered by the cold. His toes wiggled against the blue and white, pinkish-brown and completely free of any hint of frostbite or anything.
Magic, huh. Weird stuff.
Ten dekimars seemed to go by a lot quicker when you didn't have to climb up every inch of the way. At the top of the stairwell, Keith retrieved his jacket from under Hunk's feet. The ice moved them to the middle of the landing, in front of a door, then rushed away to water. The door was a different color than most of the ones they had passed, and though Hunk couldn't read Malkordan, he was really hoping that the sign on it said "Ground Floor" or something like that.
Lance/Blue's hand was raised, holding the door shut for the moment with ice lined around every edge. He walked forward, gait smooth and confident despite the blood that continued to drip down his face. He lifted his other hand slowly, palm up, and a wall of ice grew in front of them, thick and smooth and transparent as glass. A shield.
Lance spread the fingers of his raised hand, and the ice on the edges of the door burst like a firecracker. The door fell outward, away from them, and Hunk drew in a deep breath of relief. Out. They were getting out.
Lance walked forward, his wall of ice moving in front, Hunk and Keith with him. They walked side by side, three abreast, dirty and torn and bloodied but alive, survivors of everything they'd been through, everything they'd suffered. They walked out of the stairwell and left behind that cold prison cell, the torture rooms, the people who had treated them worse than animals.
They walked into a firefight.