"Get down!"

Lance hit the floor, hard, rolling onto his left side. His armor dug into his joint, binding his arm achingly underneath him.

His sword clattered to the ground right beside him. Shaking his head, he grabbed it and maneuvered himself behind a large, metal crate.

He clutched his left shoulder, wincing in pain. He pulled his hand away and looked at his glove, now stained with thick, crimson blood.

Damn it.

The sound of further gunshots turned his attention away from his wound. Still clutching his shoulder, he turned to look around the edge of the crate.

Surrounding him was a tall, cavernous hangar, made entirely out of brightly shined metals that reflected the sensuous violet from the lights. Smothered ships and fizzling control panels dotted the floor, littered with the countless limbs and microprocessors of mindless (dead) drones. Thick, chrome beams supported the room on three sides. The fourth wall was taken over by a gaping hole.

It was shredded and ripped like an old envelope, curling and twisting in a dangerous and malicious fashion. Black char choked the edges of the material, slowly creeping its way further up the walls like the veins of a plague. Smoke curled from the remnants, breathing heavily in the wake of the current destruction. The black sky outside was littered with the broken bones of drones and weapons, resembling the forgotten graveyards of murders and martyrs. The stars shone brightly and maniacally, luring those in who were expecting beauty and trapping them in ice.

It was a good thing that the air seal in the hangar had been activated by one of the drones. Otherwise, every single one of them would be space garbage right now.

Lance's eyebrows burrowed high into his tan forehead. He blinked, surveying the damage that they… okay, not they, he, had done.

Whoops, Lance thought.

A scream radiated from behind him, piercing through the painful fog in his head.

"Aghhhhhhhhh!"

Lance, alarmed, shifted his weight to his right side. Biting his lip, he pushed himself up, quickly throwing his arms up to rest on top of the crate in order to support himself. He wiggled his sword into his right hand, clutching the hilt tightly. In an instant, without intention, the sword disappeared, a cerulean flash blinding Lance for a moment. When his eyes cleared, the sword had turned into a long barreled handgun, sleek and elegant. Big enough to land a decent shot against one of those Galra bastards, but still small enough that he could shoot it with only one hand.

Perfect.

He kept low, observing the scene, waiting for the right moment to shoot

Another scream pierced the air, more with an air of frustration than pain this time.

A tall, lean figure quickly dodged the malevolent blade of the broadsword that had, moments before, been inches away from his neck. He landed crouched on his knees, facing the stranger who had almost beheaded him. Some Galra general, intent on rising up and gaining power within the Empire and being able to, one day, serve the holy Lord Zarkon himself. And the only way to do this, one might ask? Why, killing the Paladins of Voltron and stealing their lions, of course.

The usual bullshit.

The general growled something at the boy, incomprehensible from where Lance was hiding. The boy glared at him, baring his sharp, white teeth. His right arm flew out behind him while his left hand planted itself on the ground, preparing to lunge. The hand behind him held a thin black knife, about two feet long, Glowing symbols curled around the blade and hilt, shifting colour and shape with the movement of the light. It was perfectly balanced in the boy's hand, curling beneath his fingers in a way so intimate it was like he had been born with the blade in his arms.

The boy breathed. His ebony hair fell mischievously into his eyes, but instead of taking a moment to brush it away, he lunged at the general, swinging his blade in a wide, sloping arc. Gunshots rained around him from the remaining drones as he leapt into the air.

He slammed with his full figure into the Galra general's chest. In one quick moment, the boy slammed the flat of the thick, charcoal coloured blade into the general's skull. A crack muttered through the chamber, whispering its pain through the broken fissures in the ceiling and the wall and the floor. The general careened backwards, collapsing to the ground with a large thump.

The boy untangled himself from atop the general's body, bringing himself up to his full height. His violet eyes scanned him, piercing right through his flesh. He bent over, plucking a small, flat disc from the general's belt.

The hard drive, Lance realized, leaning back in admiration. He actually got it.

Silence only lasted for a moment as the drones realized what had happened to their leader. They broke out of their daze, turning their guns onto the boy. Their chromium, faceless masks glowed red with the reflection of his armour. Their skeletal, spindly fingers wrapped around the triggers of their rifles, ready to fire. The boy looked at them indignantly, clenching his sharp jaw and furrowing his dark, angular eyebrows. He raised his blade.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The shots rang out, echoing loudly through the chamber. The drones went rigid for a moment, then fell to the earth, clattering noisily as they went.

Lance exhaled and lowered his arm, smoke still curling off the barrel of the gun. A flash stung the air, and the gun disappeared, letting Lance's bayard return to its normal shape: a crescent moon, perfectly fitted to the gloves that masked Lance's hands whenever he wore his paladin armour.

Lance stood up to his full height, attaching his bayard to his belt as he did so. He winced, bringing his opposite hand to his shoulder again. He removed himself from behind the crate and walked over to where the other boy was standing, sheathing his blade.

"Keith! Well done, man!" Lance said. He cocked his hip to one side, folding inward on himself slightly as to reconstitute to his normal posture. "That was awesome. Total fucking badass."

"Thanks," Keith said. He smirked slightly, sending his gaze up towards Lance. He crossed his arms, and his gaze suddenly became more stern.

"Where were you, though? I had to handle that guy all by myself. Not that I'm complaining. But still. This is supposed to be a team mission, remember?"

Lance blushed, fidgeting nervously. He had a couple inches on the boy, but Keith could still be really fucking scary if he wanted to be.

"Well, um, I, uh, I… knew you could handle it! Yeah, that's right! I thought I would give you a chance to prove your, uh… badassery, or whatever, while I covered you from over there." He tried to gesture towards the crate, but a searing, thick pain shot right through his left shoulder. He winced sharply, then tried to hide it. But Keith had noticed. His expression softened, shifting from serious to concerned.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Keith stepped closer, narrowing his eyes up at Lance.

"Oh, nothing. I'm…" The pain came back, hot and sticky this time, causing Lance to double over. Spots danced in front of his eyes, straining his irises.

"Whoa, there," Keith said. He caught Lance as he fell, grabbing onto his right shoulder. Lance leaned into him, groaning.

"I'm… fine," he muttered, still doubled over. His helmet fogged up with his breath, misty and hot.

"Uh huh. It seems like you broke something. You're in shock," Keith said. "Come here."

He looped his arm around Lance's waist, crossing his other arm across the boy's chest in order to support the other side of his body. Even though Keith was tall, he still had trouble supporting Lance.

Why do you have to be so fucking long and gangly? he thought. I mean, seriously. You can't even stand up without leaning over. You're a fucking beanpole.

"Do you think you have enough strength to call Red?" Keith asked Lance. Lance looked up into his face, his expression blurry through his helmet. He nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes.

Keith heard Red before he saw her. The whirling of the engines, the faint hiss of the thrusters, the deep clicking and twisting of her joints and limbs. She glided gracefully through the giant hole that had been ripped through the side of the hangar, beautifully giant and menacing.

Her crimson armor was scratched and weathered, and her parts were old (10,000 years old, to be precise), but she was not to be underestimated. If someone hurt someone she cared about, she would be a force to be reckoned with.

Keith smiled, looking up at the lion that he had formerly piloted. Since the mission that he and Lance had been assigned with taking care of was so simple (steal the information held at the hanger regarding the Balmeras and where the Galra were specifically mining for crystals), it had been decided that only one lion was needed to take care of business. Although two lions probably would have been helpful (they may have underestimated the number of Galra drones that had been stationed at the hangar), Keith had to admit that it had been nice spending some time with Red. He had missed her.

The robotic lion landed firmly in the hangar. She bent her front legs, sticking her back into the air, and opened her large mechanical maw. Keith readjusted Lance in his arms. The boy was barely coherent by now: the pain must have been pretty severe. Could've been multiple fractures. Jesus Christ, Lance, Keith thought, shaking his head. You can't just bruise or sprain things like normal people, can you?

Dragging Lance along with him, Keith limped along towards the open maw of the lion, stumbling in just as the monstrous teeth snapped together behind them.