FW09: OK, so...I found out who Lance's voice actor was. I can't believe it took me this long to realize it, but...FINN. Yo, it's FINN, from Adventure Time. LOL And it's just so funny because there IS a princess in this show (Allura), but she absolutely despises him. XD
And Pidge?! She's BULLET, from the Killing! Guh, I loved her as Bullet! And to see her play such an innocent role, or at least kid-friendly role, it just makes me grin.
Last but not least, Coran. I watched Neil Patrick Harris' "A Series of Unfortunate Events", and he actually plays a character called Charles in the last act! Charles was just so lovable, I'm glad I got to see him/hear him in another series!
WHO THE HECK PULLED THIS MANY STRINGS FOR SO MANY GOOD VOICE ACTORS?!
I don't care who did it, but Netflix - you're building a nice sizable family of talented actors and actresses, and I like it.
(EDIT: Due to the content in this chapter, I decided to bump this up to M-rating. I should've just made it M-rated from the beginning, but...I was still struggling with character creation at the time. NOW, however, I'm pretty confident that at least the language ought to make it M-rated. If you preferred the T-rating, I suggest stopping here and reading a different fanfiction, because there are going to be some sexual innuendos made.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron: Legendary Defender or its sister series, but I do own this story and the OC.
Chapter 2
"A man's manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(Aboard the Cutting Edge...)
Wormhole. Why, oh why, did it have to be a wormhole?
"Ghhhh!" Tracker 84-2009 grit her teeth against the force of the spatial phenomena, "Hold...together..."
The Altean portal, while stable and well-built, was still a wormhole - a massive compression of space, light, and time that forced any and all who traveled through it into the same compact state. The Cutting Edge, battered and bruised by its lengthy battle, groaned as if in pain, metal squealing on metal as it tried to withstand the pressure. If worse came to worse, the entire ship would fold in on itself, and she'd come out fused to her ship - as a small compact ball of scrap.
"Come...on..." she pleaded with her poor ship, but the vessel had seemingly given its all, and she closed her eyes tight as she felt the cockpit start to crunch inwards on her, "NnngghhhhhHHHHH - COME ON!"
Desperate, the Altean bounty hunter shoved the lever in front of her forward, and she shot forward in the stream through the exit. Unfortunately, the sudden release of pressure caused the ship to explode outwards.
"AAAAGGGHHHH!" Tracker 84-2009 screamed, her cramped cockpit breaking away from the rest of the ship like a fireball.
She only had a few seconds before she saw the asteroid that drifted into her careening path...
(Aboard the Blue Lion...)
When Lance felt the pull of the wormhole lessen considerably, he rocked forward in the pilot's chair, breathless and beaming.
"Whoa...that was - "
"Pull up!" Keith yanked Lance's hoodie back before he could finish, forcing the pilot to boost above the wreckage of the other ship as it flew in their direction. The five teenagers screamed and cried out collectively as Lance maneuvered the alien space lion crazily, ducking and weaving between metal debris. Finally, the cadet found a moderately clear place to breathe, and Hunk threw up immediately, unable to handle all the stress.
"Ughh...so sorry," he managed to moan before returning to his heaving session.
"I'm just surprised it took him this long," Pidge shook his head.
Lance, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the insistent growling that buzzed in his mind. Following its wordless instruction, he turned the lion to look to the right, just in time to see a wrecked cockpit hurtle sideways against a nearby asteroid. Glass and metal crunched against rock in a sickening display, causing the asteroid to move a fraction while the cockpit shattered open, and a small gasp left the pilot when he saw a flailing body tumble out. It flipped head over heels through space at an alarming speed before it too smashed against another nearby rock. Lance winced when the floundering of its limbs stopped almost too suddenly, now floating limply at odd angles.
"Oh no..." Pidge noticed the same thing, drawing the rest of the boys' eyes to the still-unmoving pilot as it started to drifted away.
"I need to save him," Lance started to push on the throttle, but Keith grabbed his shoulder.
"Wait, we don't know anything about him! What if he attacks us when he's on-board?"
"So, what, I do nothing? Just leave him out there to die?"
"He could be dead already, for all we know. Besides, he's not our problem."
"Is that all you ever say, Mullet?"
"I'm thinking about our safety!"
"Enough!" Shiro's voice silenced the two younger teens, "Lance, Keith has a point. Our main priority is finding Voltron." Just as Lance was about to argue with him, however, the eldest of the group raised his hand and continued.
"But Keith, Lance also has a point. We're pilots, not murderers," the white-haired teenager looked back at the floating body, "And I have a feeling that whoever this is, they're not exactly friends with those aliens."
"So...'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" Lance asked, his hand squeezing the throttle gently in anticipation.
"Exactly," Shiro nodded.
...~~~...
Log Entry 8022-015
Whoo...where ta begin this one...
*sound of inhaling smoke*
Hmm. I've got a fair number o' bounties under mah belt. An' more than a few of 'em were tenacious.
This one, tho'...probably had th' biggest pair I ever seen fer a century.
It all started yesterday, out in the middle sectors...
(At "The Ghorinian Gussy" Saloon, edge of Sector 56-X21...)
Ah...the Ghorinian Gussy.
How Tracker 84-2009 loved this saloon. It was hard to find places like this anymore - on account of the Galra Empire's insistence on destroying every single planet in its conquering wake. But somehow, the old girl survived all of it - and still kept its rich history in tact.
To date, the bar had survived approximately 750 years, and used to reside on the aquatic planet Xufara, where bipedal, fish-like Xufarans were its ruling race - before the planet's Quintessence was taken, shattering the once-thriving planet into dry, grey asteroids. The Gussy, luckily enough, was more of a ship rather than an establishment during its conception, and had managed to escape the planet's destruction. But, it didn't stop the Gussy's original owner and one of the surviving Xufarans, Lurina Gax, from trying to return home - settling the Gussy on one of the larger asteroids in a stubborn fit, claiming that "she was born on that planet, and she'd die on that planet".
Equipped with anti-gravity aquatic barriers and a heavy security detail, it served home to the remaining Xufarans and culture - provided they worked for their keep. Floating bodies of water would fly through the smoky air, some containing exotic fish life that swam in glittering, shining schools, while others contained Xufaran waiting staff - handsome, charming males and bewitching, hypnotic females - carrying potent concoctions of the best liquor in the middle sectors. No fruity, lightweight kind - hard liquor, just the way Tracker 84-2009 liked it. True to Xufaran taste, soaring stone columns, marble counters, and coral-like decorations gave the saloon a high-class polish, even though its patrons were not, and made the entire saloon feel as though it was underwater. It was no surprise when it also became a popular spot for other marine-based aliens and various space scum, gaining a reputation as being a safe haven, even from the Galra.
Little did the majority know, however, that the Ghorinian Gussy's safety was all due to monthly "protection" payments, made to a frequenting general of the Galra Empire. He would receive money, free room and board, and even liquor, and in return, the Gussy became a well-known secret among the middle-sector Galra soldiers. It was a tentative solution, but one that kept the Gussy in relative peace for the better part of those 750 years. Tracker 84-2009 kept this in mind when she entered the Gussy that day, holstering her gun and flashing a little identification badge to the group of Galran soldiers by the door, playing cards. They raised their heads, acknowledged her with a smirk or two, then went back to playing their game. She was dressed in casual wear - a navy-blue halter top that ended at her ribs, blue low-rise pants, and a heavy black short-jacket that hugged her figure.
"Phew...quite th' crowd t'day, Mylar," she called to the bartender sarcastically - a young, well-built Xufaran male with aqua scales - and grinned, "Did everybody hear you were bartendin', or did ya run outta liquor?"
"No, actually, I think it was...when they heard you were coming," Mylar raised a ridged eyebrow snarkily, "They went to get their chastity belts and restraining orders."
"Hmm, well thank Alfor's Beard ye're here, darlin'," the Altean woman spoke in a mock-husky voice, batting her eyes comically, "What time ya get off?"
"Oh, about an hour in, and I don't pull out."
The two of them stared at each other before breaking out in wide grins and laughing, enjoying the double entendre and customary, humorous greeting. Tracker 84-2009 had known Mylar for nearly 3 years, and there was no other bartender she trusted more with her drink preferences. Speaking of...
"One Jheri-Sha, no ice," Mylar slid the drink into her hands smoothly, the color bloody and almost sinister-looking, "On the house."
"Mmm, thank ye kindly," she purred as she tilted the glass of strong, biting liquor into her waiting mouth, "Now...seriously. What's with th' empty seats? Even Vlax ain't 'ere, an' he's always here."
"There's a new bounty out," the Xufaran bartender let his water barrier envelop a small group of dirty dishes, letting his filtration system clean them, "And a handsome reward to go with it."
"...I'm listenin'," Tracker 84-2009 paused in her drinking, one nail tapping lightly on the clear glass.
"Rumor has it...that the Galra Military and the Druids are fighting over it," Mylar lowered his voice, his eyes flicking in the soldiers' direction.
"Huh...like a Vombuehl pig waitin' fer slaughter at an auction," she took a bigger swig of her drink, "They both drove th' price o' the bounty up ta get it first."
"Not the first time it's happened," the Xufaran paused in his cleaning, and his large, pitch black eyes gazed at her in unease, "But...it's the first time I've ever seen figures that large."
"Whup - larger than Mama Rhum's figure?" she grinned cheekily, but he didn't share her joke.
"I'm serious, Eighty-Four," he addressed her with her shorthand handle number, a term of endearment, "...There's a lot of money on this one. On both sides."
"Hmmm...and lemme guess," Eighty-Four leaned on the counter, her eyes half-lidded in amusement, "Ye're gonna say 'stay outta this one', right?"
"It's a stupid amount of money. As in, "the kind that turns you, and every other bounty hunter out there into blood-thirsty morons" stupid. I don't want you in the middle of that."
The pale Altean swirled the Jheri-Sha in her hand, watching the red liquor reflect the light back prettily. Truth be told, she didn't have any particular need for money - her last few bounties would last her for at least the next two months - but something about the size of the rewards and the players had piqued her interest. The Galra Military and Druids only fought over one thing - recognition of their glory, in the name of the Galra Empire and Lord Zarkon. Behaving like ill-bred, but loyal dogs, the two factions bit and clawed at one another over their master's attention, and as such, devoted resources and time in trying to out-do the other.
It was a game of strategy that was decided by its pieces. And the better the pieces, the better the advantage one had.
'Hmph. A piece like that...' Eighty-Four tipped her head all the way back, draining the cup, 'Might be worth lookin' inta.' Before she could thank Mylar and be on her way, he grasped her hand, his water barrier tingling along her skin.
"...You could stay," he offered, leaning forward so she could see the subtle glow of his scales defining the toned muscle under his thin shirt, "My shift's almost over...and there's a room open right upstairs."
Eighty-Four blinked. This was the first time since she'd met him that he invited her to his bed, and so brazenly. She'd tried casually flirting with him several times during their first year of friendship, but she took the hint after the fourth try, figuring that he wasn't interested in flings or considered their professional relationship more important. Now, he was using the sex card as a means of distracting her from going head-long into danger.
"Darlin'...if I weren't so offended by th' fact that I'd have ta be in serious danger for ya ta sleep with me, I'd find ya so much sweeter," Eighty-Four used her free hand to pinch Mylar's chin, holding his gaze, "Now, let me go. Or I'll take ya up on yer offer, screw ya silly, steal yer valuables, an' leave ya naked in front o' Mama Rhum's for ya ta explain." He paled considerably at the mention of Mama Rhum, the large-bodied descendant of Lurina Gax and latest owner of the Ghorinian Gussy. She was well known for her voracious appetite, in food, money, and males.
"You wouldn't..."
"Try me. I'm up on ya fer about a hundred an' sixty years o' experience, young'un," the bounty hunter slid the hand holding his chin up to cradle his cheek, repeating her words softly in a purr, "One hundred...an' sixty. Think about it."
The Xufaran male did, and he let go of her wrist reluctantly. Eighty-Four grinned widely and pulled away, but not before she blew him a kiss.
"Too bad, Mylar," she walked away with her hips swinging, the soldiers casting appreciative gazes as she came towards them, "Should've been firmer on tha' deal~. After all, this might be th' las' time ya see me if ye're right!"
Unbeknownst to her, a small part of Mylar did regret it, and he watched her saunter away with eyes glued to her backside.
"This is the prisoner," the Galran soldier downloaded the bare essential details to Eighty-Four's personal computer, "Do not underestimate him. He defeated Myzax."
After her argument with Mylar, she managed to persuade one of the soldiers, Raxx to allow her to pursue the bounty for herself, and he took her outside to discuss the matter privately.
"Myzax? As in...'Champion', Myzax?" she raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"He's not the Champion," Raxx corrected her, then spoke a low voice, "Not anymore."
A chill ran up Eighty-Four's spine. Myzax was a powerful gladiator in the Galra combat arena, one that even she wouldn't be so reckless as to tangle with. He'd ruled over that bloody ring for nearly a decade. What sort of monster could have possibly - no, so decisively - dethroned a Galra gladiator in his prime?
The pale Altean scrolled through the information to find the creature's mugshot...only to see a relatively weak and rather young being. It was smaller than Myzax in nearly everything, from muscle tone to height, even weight and arm length. Strangely enough, its appearance wasn't far from her own, save for the strange, malformed ears and lack of markings. But in spite of that, there was still something interesting about it. With deep, slate-colored eyes, black cropped hair, and light copper skin, she'd even go so far as to label it...'pretty'. Too pretty, in fact, like the house slaves you'd find in a swanky official's home rather than the pits of the Arena. This...was the creature responsible for Myzax's defeat?
"Hmm?" the soldier's voice brought her out of her thoughts when a warning came up on his screen regarding her information, "...I see. How unfortunate." Eighty-Four glanced at what he was looking at, and shrugged.
"It don't hurt none, an' they treated it," the pale bounty hunter shifted her weight to one hip, noting the way his eyes moved over her curves, "But...somethin' tells me that ain't why it's 'unfortunate'." Raxx cleared his throat uncomfortably before finishing the contract.
"Bring the prisoner here alive, and we'll wire the reward to you as per the usual," he nodded to her, and she got her smile back when she saw the long line of digits, eyes wide at the ridiculousness of it. Mylar wasn't exaggerating - it really was a crazy, stupid amount of money.
"Hmm...this jus' gets more interestin' by tha tick," Eighty-Four chuckled, then turned to Raxx, "An' if ya bothered ta read up on it, ya'd realize it ain't contagious, before or after. But...yer loss."
With that, the Altean returned to her space ship, shaking her head at the soldier. Well, none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the hunt, and she'd get that bounty, if only to sate her curiosity.
First, Eighty-Four went to the space craft that held the prisoner - a supply ship that was bound for a nearby mid-sector station for the Combat Arena. She had some of the information from the report, but she needed more if she was going to capture it. And with a bit of sweet-talking and bribing, one of the Galran guards who had been aboard the supply ship talked easily.
Apparently, the escapee had complained of a blunt force injury that would incapacitate it for the next fight, which had panicked the support staff at the Combat Arena who were in charge of keeping a visiting Commander entertained. Unwilling to put their lives at risk, they hurried it onto the supply ship without authorization and tried to have it treated at the station quickly, which was the norm for most injured, but still favored Gladiators, and have it back in time to have its fight.
Which...was a mistake.
Eighty-Four shook her head at the obvious ploy. The prisoner, or "Champion", took advantage of their ignorance regarding its species' health specifics, and chose the right moment to fake an injury - during the entertainment of a high-ranking Commander. With their mental state disturbed, the support staff failed to question the things that should've been strange to a stable mind, and allowed the Champion to escape the Combat Arena. Aboard the supply ship, the prisoner was able to escape the medical bay after a brief tussle with one of the sentries, and figured out how to eject one of the escape pods. Programmed to find the nearest planet, the pod flew and landed on Sharai, a planet still being mined for Quintessence. And now, everybody had a head start on her, and combing Sharai for that bounty.
But that's what she couldn't wrap her head around.
This creature was from the outer sectors, a place not yet touched by the Galran Empire. It was also noted that planet seemed to still be in its adolescent, near primitive state. There was no way the Champion would have been able to understand how to eject the pod manually - at least, not from the inside. The outside was a completely different matter.
During states of emergencies, escape pods were able to be ejected from the outside with just a push of a button.
Eighty-Four looked through the series of events that occurred in the supply ship, as evidenced by the log, and it confirmed her suspicions - one of the sentries had sounded the alarm shortly after the Champion had escaped, throwing the ship into a state of emergency.
So...now that it was given the Champion had not been aboard the pod, there was only one place the creature could've been during its escape - still aboard the supply ship. And it had docked at the station as soon as it could to assess damage.
Following the trail, Eight-Four flew her ship to the mid-sector station as she continued to read the creature's file. This thing took down Myzak. It was smart, adaptive, coordinated. It wouldn't just choose to escape recklessly without having some sort of goal or plan of action.
Just as she pulled into the station's hanger bay, she understood at least one of its base objectives: it needed information. And there were several ways of obtaining. One was looking it up on a secured terminal, but again, she doubted the Champion would understand Galran language. The second was just as ridiculous as the first - taking one of the Galran soldiers hostage and making him talk. Galran psychology forbade sharing secrets with the enemy and would rather die than share. And so far, it didn't seem like anyone had gone missing - patrols were meant to check in every half-hour, and there would've been a lot more vigorous activity if anyone failed to check in. The last, which was her best guess, would be to try and eavesdrop for information. It was risky, with little to no chance of success, but it was the only way the creature could gather information. It should've already received the universal translator chip, so it would be able to understand Galran commands.
Eighty-Four stepped out onto the flight deck, dusting her hands off as she started her search.
'Hmm...why would ya run away when ya ain't got a chance of gettin' off this station?' she wondered, hoping to narrow down her options, 'Ye're here fer info, that I got. But what kinda info are ya lookin' fer?"
The Altean woman stopped when she saw a Galran soldier step off and greet his patrol buddies, his smile wide and his body language relaxed.
'...Comrades...' She remembered seeing in the file that the creature hadn't been alone, not initially. He'd been with two others: an older, weaker one who was sent to the mines, and a tiny one that was sent into the Combat Arena with the Champion. After a small scuffle, however, the tiny one was injured and was also moved to mining duty.
'All right, so ye're lookin' fer friends,' she looked around the hanger bay, suspicious, 'An' the best place ta eavesdrop...is right here. Ain't no betta place ta pick up info on minin' facilities than from th' guards comin' and goin' there.'
Eighty-Four glanced around, found an inconspicuous corner with sparse amount of foot traffic, and moved towards it. She found a small crate for her to sit on, and smoothed crinkles in her casual clothes - which would be essential for the ruse. Finally, she pressed her hand to her ear, as if using her comm device.
"Hey, I finally got a break with tha' minin' business," the bounty hunter spoke loudly as she closed her eyes and focused her ears, trying to pick through the noises of the bustling hanger, "Came by fer a re-supply. By the stars, I gotta tell you 'bout one o' the prisoners I saw t'day. Uh-huh, looked jus' like me, 'cept for these...weird, round ears. I tell ya, I ain't never seen anythin' like 'em!"
Almost on cue, there was an almost imperceptible sound of shuffling just off to her right, muffled behind something.
"...Uh-huh. Yeah, thought th' little thing got its ears bitten off or somethin'," she continued the charade flawlessly, opening her eyes to examine her fingernails as if they were bothering her, "But no, it said it was born tha' way. Can ya believe it? Poor thing..."
Again, something had started to move closer, and she could now pick out the individual footsteps. This creature walked so quietly, it must've had training before.
"Said it was lookin' fer its friend," Eighty-Four paused, as if she were searching for a name, "Don't remember what it called 'em, but I think...it was that new Champion?"
The creature was right behind her. She could hear the soft grind of its boots on the metal floor, and its breathing quicken.
"Yeah. I dunno, maybe I'll put in a request fer its transfer," she leaned back slightly on the crate, bringing one of her legs up while the other dangled, "It sure was cute, like one o' them Trublaxian rabbits. I could keep it like a pet. Or maybe I'll jus' eat it. Haven't decided yet."
Eighty-Four's combat knife was located just near the cuff of her pants, and if that creature made a move, she'd be able to whip it out in time for self-defense. However, the lengthy pause she gave it showed that the Champion wasn't the type to fall for a provocation.
Well then. Why not raise the stakes a little?
"Well, time ta get goin'," the bounty hunter stood up, stretching her back out pleasantly, "They're gonna need me on tha' las' run. An' it'll gimme time ta decide. Let's jus' hope it ain't dead by th' time I get back, it didn't look too good when I left. Yeah, had th' prisoners drillin' down there, an' the foreman said they hit a gas pocket. Not sure what kinda gas, but th' poor thing was coughin' up blood."
Eighty-Four moved towards her ship, using a small remote to open the cargo hatch at the back end of her ship. Then, she turned away from it, leaning on the front and continuing to pretend to talk into her comm device.
"Mhmm. Won't be long now. Listen, I oughta get goin' if I wanna make it back in time. Yeah. Yeah, I got it, see ya later," she finished the bogus conversation and turned to one of the nearby sentries, waving it over, "Hey, sentry. Got any extra crystals fer a 3.96 fusion drive?"
It'd been a short 20 to 25 minutes of haggling prices and quality, but Eighty-Four figured it should've been enough time for the Champion to take the bait. She carried the small crystal canister in her arm, cradling it against her as she walked towards her open cargo door. Truthfully, she really did need that crystal - her own was running low on Quintessence, and she'd be in for a long day if she got stranded in mid-sector space. Especially with the other bounty hunters still running around.
"All right, now what're ya gonna do, Champion?" she asked softly under her breath.
The stealthier move would be to lie low and wait, avoid making a fuss and sneak off the Cutting Edge when she landed at the mining colony - though the creature didn't know that she wasn't telling the truth. The other would be to try and take over her ship, force her to take it to the colony, and act as its hostage. It was riskier, but it'd gain a ship and a pilot.
However, no matter which move he'd make, it would have to happen after she got away from the station.
Eighty-Four's free hand moved to the small remote and pressed a button, which started flooding the cargo hold of her ship with dense, odorless gas. Tough situations in the past had forced her to make many of these like-minded traps around her ship. And it always came in handy when an uninvited guest decided to help themselves to her valuables.
She took a deep breath before heading straight into the hold, making sure not to take a single breath as she walked in calmly. The Altean scanned the space quickly, noting that nothing seemed out of place, and left the crystal against the wall.
'Hmmm...did it go in or not?' Eighty-Four wondered, but a loud thud and groan at the back of the hold resolved her question soon enough, 'Well. That was easy.'
She turned the gas off and the ventilation on, ridding the hold of gas before she released her breath. It wasn't a strong sedative, but it was powerful enough to at least disorient even the toughest of gladiators out for a good hour or two. Enough time to get it into the secure prison cell located behind her cockpit. Eighty-Four's boots clicked against the metal hull in a satisfying way, her walk a bit cocky as she found her bounty: lying on its side, a stolen Galra pulse rifle clutched loosely in its right hand. She kicked it out of the way and it went skittering over to the side, the creature's hand weakly reaching for it.
"Well, well, well," she grinned toothily as she squatted over it, "Lookit what I got 'ere: a stowaway. Mighty fine of ya ta drop in like this."
The Altean raised her hand and snapped her fingers a couple times in front of its face, helping it focus its groggy eyes on her.
"Hey, focus now. Ain't polite ta not look a lady in th' face. Now...lemme take a look at ya," she gave it a once over, trying to see if it needed medical attention or if the gas had messed with anything it shouldn't have. A bounty was only as good as its condition was when it was turned over. It also spoke volumes about how good a bounty hunter was at their job, and she liked to think she was the best of the best.
"Hmm...but my, my, ye're a pretty one, fer sure," she stated as she tilted its head up with a finger, making its eyes widen just a smidge, "Too bad I gotta take ya back ta the Arena. Can't have an Arena without a Champion, after all! An' let's not forget 'bout th' money!"
Eighty-Four looked up as she rose from the floor, opening a hatch that would take her to the upper deck of her ship and the prison cell. Before she could leave and get the cell prepped, however, the creature's hand latched onto her ankle, causing her to look down.
"...Shiro."
"...What?"
"Not...Champion..." the creature, who she was determining to be a male now judging by the deepness of his voice, spoke haltingly, "Shiro...ma'am."
The bounty hunter stared down at this...'Shiro'...with a quirked eyebrow, her mouth parted in disbelief.
"M-Ma'am?" she stuttered, and soon she was laughing, "M-Ma'am?!"
Confused, the Champion looked up at her, eyes narrowed as her laughs echoed and bounced all over the cargo hold.
"Ohh...I didn't know I had a 'genteel-man' on mah ship, bein' proper an' all!" she howled, and his grip slipped on her ankle, "Wha's next? I tell ya mah name, an' ye'll bow while I curtsy?"
The sedative didn't prevent "Shiro" from shooting her a loathing look, and she held her stomach as it started to cramp from the laughter.
"Oh...okay, 'Shiroooo'," she articulated, rolling the name around in her mouth like she was still deciding on its flavor, "Whoooo...never laughed like tha' in...well, jus' 'bout forever. Ye're a funny one, but I don't dislike that."
Eighty-Four dipped back down as she wiped the tears from her eyes, pushing the bounty's shoulder with her foot so he'd flop onto his back. He gave a disapproving grunt, his eyes rebellious and narrowed.
"Hmmm...so serious," she sighed, and she reached up to ruffle the extra black tuft of hair above his forehead, "Well, I guess it can't hurt. After all, it's not every day I get ta meet a Champion."
The bounty hunter reached up and moved her bangs up, letting him see her fully without the light from the access hatch above blinding him. His eyes widened at the red and blue gems twinkling at him, set in a pearl-like face, with a set of four, thin and red arrow-like markings streaked against her cheeks.
"Mah designation is Tracker 84-2009," she grinned, letting him see that her smile had a rather sharp set of teeth, "But everybody calls me Eighty-Four. An' I'll be th' bounty hunter draggin' yer sorry-carcass back ta th' Galrans. Nice ta meet ya, scum!"
FW09: Yes, my OC is a dirty, mean, petty, nosy bird, and yes, I love her for it. I hope you guys do, too! I had to bump up the fic to an M-rating for this, which means...I might be getting less readers, but this was the character I envisioned when I made her, and I wouldn't change her for the world! Also, I am just...ugh, I dunno, I've read a few fics here and there where Shiro is this knight-in-shining-armor and, if it's a ShiroxOC with a female OC, she's the damsel-in-distress. Or a Mary Sue, which in this case, means she has no reason why she'd be participating in an intergalactic war, be perfectly fine with going on missions that deal with death, be perfectly safe and unharmed, and/or somehow manages to win the day despite not having the skill/mental fortitude. (Or is just a magical/all-powerful being...?)
Continuing on, I don't know...I just wanted something different. A female OC that wasn't sunshine and rainbows, with hope and optimism oozing out of her pores, you know? I wanted a character who isn't invincible, who's well-equipped to fight because she's had to do it for a long time, who had been around the Galra Empire for a while and seen that - yeah, they're pretty powerful, they've taken over galaxies, they're the real, villainous deal, and you should join 'em because you ain't beatin' em. At the same time, now that you've committed yourself to this route, why not enjoy it and exploit the loop holes?
No smooth peanut butter here folks, just the crunchy, salty, sticks-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth-uncomfortably kind.
And hell yeah, this is still a romance fic - with the intended pairing between Shiro and Eighty-Four. How's that gonna happen? I still don't know, but I enjoy doing the "opposites attract" route. (Upright, moral paladin with morally-ambiguous, chaotic bounty hunter. Sounds weird and I want this to happen.)
OK, I'm done rambling. I'm more interested in hearing what you guys think. Leave me a review or PM, I love reading your comments and messages! And as always, I'll see you next time!