A/N

Hiya! I know this is relatively short, but I will be updating soon. I decided to give my poor boy a break and focus on my other boy. I hope you enjoy it!

You guys are amazing! Thank you for reading my humble little fanfic!

Keith was angry. That in itself was not unusual, but at the moment, it was not helping anything. He'd already been frustrated by the fact that it had been a month and they had still not found any trace of Lance. His irritation climbed with each black market, resistance base, and random mall kiosk that Coran had dragged him to, both hoping to find answers. When they received none, time after time, Keith had to rein in his fury. He was the leader after all, he needed to set a strong example. But all of his resolve crumbled when this snarky little upstart of a vendor, who sold "Rare Artifacts" that Keith had seen a million times in each market they'd been to, started to spout obvious garbage about Lance being dead. Grabbing the little runt by the stupid collars of his strange tailored suit, Keith slammed the vendor against a nearby wall. "Listen here, you slick little runt, you say one more word about the Red Paladin of Voltron being dead and I'll make sure you don't say anything else ever again," Keith snapped, fury roaring through his veins.

The squat green vendor started sputtering in his native language, and before Keith could do anything more, Coran set a hand on his shoulder.

"That's not going to help our situation, Keith," His crisp, accented voice advised.

Without moving his eyes to Coran, Keith glared and let go of the vendor. After brushing himself off in distaste, the vendor exclaimed, "Look, all that I've heard is that the Red Paladin of Voltron is-" he glanced at Keith quickly "-indisposed."

"Do you have an idea of where he might have last been? Or who might have captured him?" Coran wondered, face revealing none of his desperation.

"I might have heard a name, but I don't think I remember it very well," The sleazy con artist tapped his chin, a greedy glint in his sickly yellow eyes. Keith growled darkly, disgusted that the vendor would try to make money from this. "Do you want me to jog your memory?" Keith snapped, stepping toward the gremlin with every intention to cause harm.

The vendor shrank away, and Coran placed his hand on Keith's arm. Casting Keith a stern look and turning back to the vendor, Coran managed to bribe the guy with an insane amount of money. Keith did not pay much attention to their transaction, since his own boiling rage drowned out most of his surroundings. He couldn't believe that they were paying this runt when Keith could have practically grabbed the information in a couple precise movements. But, in the end, if the information brought them closer to Lance's location, then he really didn't care how they got it. "I don't know much, but I heard Raliore Destra has been bragging about how he'd personally captured a Paladin of Voltron," The vendor spilled, right after Keith tuned back into his surroundings. "Raliore Destra? Who's he?" Keith demanded impatiently, eager to find this Destra guy and deck him.

"A Lieutenant of the Galran Empire. Or what's left of it," the vendor replied, warily watching Keith.

"And where can we find this Raliore Destra?" Coran wondered, offering the vendor several more coins. Accepting the currency with an obvious amount of avarice, the vendor stretched the corners of his mouth into an eerie smile, "He likes to frequent the Kace District."

"That's it?!" Keith snapped, "Is there a specific location in the Kace District that he might be?"

The vendor observed Keith cautiously, most likely calculating how much more money he could milk from the two of them, and if the risk of facing Keith's wrath was worth it. The vicious scar running along Keith's cheek was the deciding factor. "He might be hanging around at the Nebula Nightclub, but I don't know specifics."

That was all Keith needed to hear. Without another word, he pivoted on his feet and started back in the direction they'd come, purpose filling his gait. He stalked past a variety of stalls and kiosks on his way, some advertising tempting objects, others with tantalizing aromas drifting through the air and delicious looking food on display. It was at one of the latter types of stalls that Keith found two of his teammates, both eagerly devouring bowls of steaming red noodles. Coran caught up to him as Keith grabbed the scruff of their collars and began to drag them away from their flavorful meal. "Hey! I was enjoying that!" Hunk pouted at the same time that Pidge struggled out of Keith's grasp.

"C'mon Keith, we can't even have a proper meal now?" She asked, though she instantly checked herself when she noted the expression on his face.

"What's going on? Did you find something out about Lance?" Hunk wondered, concern filling his voice, as all thoughts of food vanished.

"We have a name and a location," Keith told them as they hurried through the open air market, "We'll discuss it more when we're in our Lions." The group cast suspicious looks about their surroundings, well aware that someone could overhear them at any time.

"Do you...do you think we'll find him? Lance, I mean," Hunk stammered, his gentle eyes full of hope.

Keith didn't want to be a pessimist, but he knew he had to be a realist.

"I don't know."