Chapter 3 peeps! I am ever so slightly sleep deprived and ready to write!
Hahaha
Haha
Ha
Please help me.
ALSO: NOTE- I made some minor tweaks in chapter two to make room for something that happens in this chapter, has to do with our lovely Galra OC. Getting beat up.
In other words, please read, review, follow, and favorite, and most importantly don't forget to enjoy!
Disclaimer: ya know the dealio.
The Shadow in His Eyes
Chapter 3: Third Rock From the Sun
Keith
In other circumstances, Keith would have felt a smug sense of accomplishment wash over him to see a Galra soldier in so much fear met with just the sight of two humans. But right now, all he could feel was a hot rage in the pit of his stomach as he gripped the knife he held tighter, pushing it just slightly harder against the soldier's neck. Even if he didn't have any family left on Earth, he couldn't accept them being here for the sake of his friends, turned family. It was they who had too much to lose.
He could only imagine how Lance felt.
It wasn't like they hadn't prepared for this, of course. Keith and Lance had come up with a loose strategy in the- then unlikely- event that the Galra would show up.
They hadn't actually expected them to.
The plan, or at least the parts they were using at the moment, really just boiled down to one thing: anonymity. If the Galra had gone to them immediately, guns blazing, and caught them off guard, that would have been different. But given the fact that, due to their behavior, they were canvassing the general vicinity of where the paladins had landed, they didn't know where they were. And however well known and feared the Paladins of Voltron were to the Galra ranks, the faces and names of the paladins were kept strictly secret from the enemy, to protect the paladins in moments of downtime, when they had time away from war in a peaceful region they did not want to bring strife to with their mere presence.
Moments like these.
That was why Keith had opted to take the kitchen knives instead of his activating his bayard, which hung in the form of a small clip at his belt. Lance had understood as well when Keith had given him a knife. It was a part of the plan, after all.
Let the Galra think that they were just some brave, stupid, and just ever so slightly scary humans, and pay them little mind.
Even so, Keith kind of wished for the wicked blade of his bayard, or his Marmora blade, but the knives would have to do.
He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder as a the first trickle of blood ran down the soldier's neck, then over the dark grey armor, and then to join the growing pool of blood on the floor, and felt rather than heard what Lance conveyed.
Keep your head level.
Then, as the same hand reached up to pluck the knife from Keith's own hand and held it against the soldier's neck just as Keith had done, Keith heard something else in Lance's actions.
And help me keep mine.
Galra Soldier
"Tell us," the tall, tan man growled. "I won't ask again."
"Y-your measley, pathetic race wouldn't be able to comprehend!" the soldier managed to spit, but he was quaking in his boots, back pressed against the wall. The pain was almost unbearable. Every limb hurt, and the hot blood that matted his fur and ran down his skin in hot rivulets scared him more than he would like to admit. That, and the shame of being rendered immobile by a human who had no grasp of the Galra's might. He wanted to disappear into that wall, to run away, if he could only move his legs. But the Galra way was victory or death, and he would not deny that code.
"Try me," the man leaned in close, close enough for the soldier to feel his breath hot on his face. He cringed away, trying desperately to quell the shaking in his limbs.
What would it hurt if he told him? It wasn't like one native earthling could do anything about what they were doing. He could die here, for the glory of the Galra Empire, and this human would not be able to change a thing.
"We followed two of the Paladins of Voltron to this planet, and then they landed within 5 miles of these premises, so we are searching for the scum to eliminate the threat they pose to the empire, however small," the soldier forced a confident smirk onto his face, pushing down the tremble in his voice. This was only a small pebble that stood in front of him, the knife was barely a grain of sand; they meant nothing. "And perhaps their families too, if that is why they returned to this miserable excuse for a planet. You seem to be awfully calm about the arrival of "extraterrestrials," as you call us, when your society is ignorant our existence. Is it possible you are one such relative?" the soldier dared to taunt.
The man leaned in, dark intent etched into his features, morphing the handsome features into a grotesque, murderous mask. His blue eyes were void of anything but hate.
The soldier realized with a jolt that he had made a very, extremely dire mistake.
"If you lay one filthy claw on my family, you'll know the meaning of pain," he bit out. The knife pressed harder on the soldier's neck; he could feel the cold blade begin to bite his skin, cutting him deeper than when the other man had nicked him last.
"V-victory or death," the soldier challenged, even as he subtly tried to reach for the field communicator at his hip. If he could just press it, he could get backup, and get out of this situation, with knives protruding from every limb, with this deranged human…
The human's eyes flicked down, noticing the slight movement. In an instant, he lifted the knife from the soldiers throat, and flicked it at the wrist of the hand that had been reaching for the communicator. The man severed his tendon, and the Galra soldier's senses were blinded by pain for a second or two. Panicking, when the pain faded he found he could no longer move the hand at all. It hung limply at his side.
The knife remained raised by the man, pointed mercilessly at a vulnerable crack in the soldier's armor (a thin crack between armor plates that was too small for the vast majority of weapons used in combat, and so was though inconsequential), poised directly over the Galra soldier's heart.
"Time's up," the man said. "I've lost my patience." He raised the knife over his head. The soldier was helpless, immobilized by both the knives in his limbs and the fear in his soul, as he watched the blade shimmer in the light. The lights in this ramshackle excuse for a house, coupled with the color of the walls, made it glow with an almost blue light…
Ah.
It all made sense now.
"Vrepit sa, motherfucker."
The Blue Paladin brought the knife down.
The soldier's world went black.
Lance
He aimed the blade, deadly in both accuracy and intent. With a simple twitch of muscle and a hot surge of rage, he cursed and brought the blade down. The soldier slumped to the floor.
But not by Lance's doing.
He glanced down at the hand which held his arm in place, the tip of the knife barely inches from where the soldier's breastplate had been, and traced it back along a pale arm, and finally to his boyfriend's face. Lance felt a strange numbness as he saw the concern underneath the firm objection, saw the loving glint in Keith's steely eyes.
"Don't," Keith murmured, leaning in close so that only Lance could hear him. "Not here, in front of your family. You're different enough after years of war. Don't widen that disconnect between your family." He looked down at the soldier and raised his voice so the other's could hear him. "We're lucky that he passed out before he could signal for help, but whether it was from blood loss or fear, I don't think we'll ever know," he quipped with a nervous chuckle.
Keith crouched down to disable the tracker that Lance knew to be on the inside of the armor's collar, and tugged at Lance's arm as he did so, indicating to Lance to follow suit.
"Look at what you're doing, forcing me to make the jokes to pick up your slack," he whispered, traces of humor fading fast from his voice, rapidly being replaced by seriousness. "I'm going to drag this guy into your basement and dress his wounds, at least to the point where he won't die, so we can interrogate him later, and in the five minutes it takes me to do that, you need to be ready to explain this to your family."
"But-" Lance tried to object.
"Tell them the truth, Lance," Keith spoke louder now. "At this point, there's no going back. They deserve to know why they're now in a warzone."
Lance felt it in the pit of his stomach. He felt the harsh truth of Keith's words, and the subtle instructions in the nuances they carried beneath. And as Keith gave him a quick peck on the cheek and promptly disappeared downstairs, lugging the Galra soldier down with him, the full reality of the situation crashed upon him, heavy and tumultuous as a tsunami.
He turned to face his family, and do something harder than anything during his travels in space. More painful than any of his many war wounds.
He was going to lie to them, again. Just when he might have had his only chance to tell the truth.
Vrepit sa, dudes
I am sorry.
This chap was a bit shorter than the rest, I think? But I promise I'm working on the next one, this chapter just was… timed right, I guess? It felt right, where I ended it. I'm also sorry about the buckets of langst (but come on, dark!lance is pretty metal)... My bad.
BUT ANYWAYS please follow/fav/review, all that great jazz, or just do what I do and cry… whatever you feel like.
Lots of love!
~TheFullmetalSociopath