Author's Notes: Hey everybody! *looks around at angry followers* Miss me?
It's finally here. Unfortunately, things had happened that prevented me from writing (nothing bad I promise), but it's all good now. I'll say it again as a reminder: I am not abandoning this story.
So as always, enjoy :).
Chapter 7: Down Time
The common room was filled with the quiet sound of the tapping of a keyboard. Pidge sprawled out on the couch while her various gadgets littered the surrounding space. She was currently trying to hack into the Network's database to figure out the cause for the uproar after the team's last mission. Hunk would've been helping, but Lance had dragged him away for some 'bro time'.
She had just broken through the second firewall when Coran meandered through the door. "Ah, there you are Number Five."
Pidge looked up at her nickname. As much as she proclaimed to hate it, she secretly loved it. It was the first nickname she'd received since Matt started calling her Pidge.
"Hey Coran. You need something?"
"Not really. I was just checking on your progress. Anything useful yet?"
She sighed, but continued hacking. "No. The Galra updated their security and I have another firewall to get through."
Coran offered an apologetic smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to do it no prob…"
"Got it." A smirk adorned her features. Pidge wondered why the Galra even tried to update security at all.
However, the smirk quickly faded when she realized what she was looking at.
"Number five?"
Pidge looked up at Coran with wide eyes. "Get the others back here now." She took a breath to calm herself. "Level two."
It was times like these that Pidge wished her family was here for comfort.
Lance pried his eyes open with a groan. The morning light shining through the car window was blinding.
"Hey buddy. Enjoy your nap?"
He turned his head to the driver's seat. Hunk was staring at the road stretching before them. One hand gripped the top of the steering wheel while the other held a coffee cup; steam curling out of the opening of the lid. His head leaned against the head rest in total comfort. If Normalcy was a person, Hunk is what it would look like. If Lance wasn't so groggy, he would've laughed at the thought, especially considering their profession.
Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, Lance sat up and stretched (as much as the confines of the car would allow). "What time is it?"
Hunk huffed and glanced towards his friend. "You'll complain no matter what I tell you."
Lance shot him a glare. "You're lucky I'm too tired to think of a response." He looked at the dashboard clock. It took a minute to decipher the red, blurry numbers. "Seriously, how are you always so happy this early in the morning?"
"It's a gift."
"Illegal is what it should be." Lance's eyes returned to Hunks cup, longing for sip of the hot liquid. "Wait, when did you get coffee?"
The living teddy bear smiled. "I stopped at a gas station about fifteen minutes ago."
"And you didn't get me one?" Lance gasped. He knew how much Lance relied on coffee during early mornings.
Hunk gave him a sideways look as if to say 'Seriously, dude?'. "Do you really think me so cruel?" He gestured to the cupholder sitting in between the two friends. A large, steaming cup sat there, just begging to be consumed.
Lance quickly seized the cup and breathed in the welcoming aroma. "Hunk, you're my hero."
The delicious brew was gone by the time Hunk pulled into the parking lot. Huge white letters spelling 'Centre Shot' reflected the morning light. Lance loved coming here. Sure, he could've used the Training Deck at the warehouse, but it wasn't that big. Besides, it was the only nearby shooting range long enough for his skills to be truly tested.
After retrieving the gear from the trunk, Lance lead the way into the main building to rent a spot on the outdoor range in the back. He smiled at the familiar face sitting behind the counter.
"Rolo," the man jumped in surprise and looked up from his phone. "How's my favorite shop keeper?" Man, coffee never failed to make the sharpshooter happy.
Rolo returned the smile and relaxed from the scare. "Hey Lance. Hey Hunk. Haven't seen you guys in a while."
"Yeah. Both of us have been super busy lately." Hunk set his bags on the floor and eyed the old register sitting on the counter. "You still have that thing?"
The shop keeper laughed. "My dad doesn't want to pay for a new one, so for now we're stuck with old Beezer here." He patted the machine. The drawer immediately opened with a ding, startling all three guys. When the laughter finally ceased, Rolo rung them up for their usual spot and the two boys took off.
Not many people used the outdoor range, so it was no surprise to find only one other lane occupied. The shooter was obviously new to the whole long-range shooting thing. The target was only twenty-five feet away and an older man (a coach, maybe?) was yelling corrections at her. Even with hearing protection Lance easily recognized the frustrated tone. Another man was standing further back observing. Lance immediately pegged him as military.
Hunk claimed the last lane and Lance started to set up the next one over. He's done this so many times, shots began to fly within minutes. Thankfully, the range was upgraded about a year ago. Now shooters didn't have to physically walk out to set a target. Which was totally fine with Lance's lazy ass. After a few minutes of him completely obliterating the center ring of the target, Hunk made his first shot. Lance peeked through his scope at his friend's target. The shot was slightly up and right of the bullseye. Another hole appeared in almost the exact same spot.
Lance put his rifle down on the mat and waved for Hunk's attention. 'Your anticipating the recoil again,' he mouthed. Hunk nodded in understanding and aimed once more. Lance watched as the third attempt pierced the black of the center ring. It wasn't a perfect bullseye, but pride was felt by both nonetheless.
Returning his attention back to his own target, Lance pressed a button on the console next to him to move it back from seventy-five feet to a hundred-ten. He was reloading after the fourth shot when a tap on the shoulder was felt. The man he pegged as military earlier was there, motioning for him to remove his ear plugs.
Lance stood and obliged. The man offered his hand, "The name's Haxus."
"Lance." They shook as he took note of the man's slight British accent. He also noted the other shooter and her coach were standing near a table speaking in hushed tones. Hunk was gathering more ammunition.
"That was some amazing shooting you were doing. Are you in the military?"
Lance absent-mindedly patted the dog tags hiding beneath his shirt and shook his head, cover story already formed. "Not any more. I was in an accident right before my first deployment and was discharged."
Haxus hummed and rubbed his chin in thought. "That's too bad. I bet you would have done remarkable things overseas."
He was about to ask the man for clarification when a massive hand strongly tugged on his shoulder causing him to meet Hunk's extremely serious gaze.
"Lance, we need to go now."
The sniper furrowed his brows in confusion. "Go? But we just go—"
"Lance."
The message was clear. Lance had only seen this expression cross Hunk's face a few times before. This behavior always caused one's heart to race and breath to shorten.
It was times like these that Lance knew something was seriously wrong.
The air was still crisp and cool in the rising sun. Morning dew still clung to the cars crawling by Shiro and Keith as they ran. Shiro loved this time of year. It was the only time he could go out into the city without people giving him weird looks for wearing long sleeves and gloves for his prosthetic and a beanie for his hair.
They'd just finished the two-mile stretch on the beach and were entering the large city park. The route the two have used for years takes roads near the edge of the city to avoid foot traffic while still staying somewhat close to the warehouse. The team might not be active at the moment, but Shiro never took any chances.
That included his teammates. Which was exactly why he decided to take Keith on a run. The guy had seemed distracted since the mission in Tanzania. He was restless. More than usual and that was saying something. Shiro also didn't miss the way he rubbed the newly placed bandage peeking from under his glove.
Keith gave a curious look at the drop in Shiro's pace, but followed suit. He knew what was coming. "I really should know your ambush tactics by now."
Shiro caught his breath. "It's not an ambush."
"Do I need to tell you the definition?"
"Fine. You caught me." The pace finally slowed to a walk. "What's going on?"
Silence was one of Keith's many attributes. Unless he was arguing with Lance, he normally waited until people gave up. But Shiro was a patient person.
Keith finally sighed. "I just… I just have this feeling. Like something big is about to happen."
"Good or bad?"
"Not sure." He started to rub the bandage again. "It feels like we're about to fall off the ledge of a canyon. It's too dark to see the bottom, so it could either be a safety net or filled with spikes. You won't know unless you jump."
Shiro knows that feeling all too well. He experienced it many times during his year of captivity. Sometimes waking in a cold sweat, unable to loosen the knot in his stomach. Paying extra attention to details for anything out of the ordinary. It's not a pleasant experience.
"Talk through it," he suggested. "Like we did back at the Garrison."
"Well," Keith's brows scrunched together in thought, "it's the way the Network acted after the last mission. That's never happened before."
"We don't know that we were the cause."
"Who's to say we weren't? I mean…" He stopped, brushing the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of his pony tail. Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder. It had been a while since Keith had acted like this. "I ripped my glove on the edge of a container. It cut my hand pretty deep."
Shiro frowned. "You didn't say anything about getting cut."
"I didn't think it was that big a deal, until…"
The universe really had the worse timing.
Both of their phones buzzed. Keith didn't bother looking as Shiro fished his out of his pocket. He swiped the screen revealing Coran's Message.
Gorgeous Man: Everyone is needed back home. Level 2.
Oh no. Over the many years of Voltron's existence, never has a Level 2 situation occurred. Sure, they deal with Level 5's all the time, but a Level 2… This was bad.
Shiro started typing his reply when Hunk's response came through.
Mr. Sunshine: Lance and I are thirty minutes out
Gorgeous Man: Understood.
Winter Soldier: Be there in twenty.
He relayed the message as they sprinted out of the park.
It was times like these that Shiro hated when Keith was right.
