Takashi &quot;Shiro&quot; Shirogane | Head of Voltron

[It was sheer luck that they were able to take him down, and good thing, too. He'd nearly throttled poor Hunk to death. The scariest thing about it all, Hunk told them, was the lack of anything in Shiro's eyes. In a place where warm smiles and comfortable companionship used to be, there's nothing, just a cold absence.

The worst thing is that the biometrics won't show much. While there's certainly steroids in his blood, not too much of it is really mind-altering. Whatever's happened isn't physical. At least, not entirely.

The Champion wakes with a start, pushing himself up into a sitting position almost as soon as he regains consciousness. There's a brief pause to assess the situation, eyes analyzing the cell. It's a laser wall, nothing that his arm can break through, and instead his gaze falls on Lance.]

From:

the_tailor

...hey.

[What is there to say? What can he say? Lance still can't wrap his mind around this, can't understand how their leader could just become...this. Whatever's in front of him, trapped in the cell.

No, he tells himself. Not a whatever. This is still Shiro, it has to be.]

You, uh... Your hair grows really quickly.

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[There's no rage or anger in his eyes. He can't get out, and he knows it. There's a calm sort of...nothingness about him, like a man about to end his own life. Just calm. Quiet. Blank.

After a moment, however, he responds. His voice is gravely and hoarse, like he's unused to speaking much.]

I hadn't noticed.

From:

the_tailor

It's hanging right in front of your face. How could you not?

[He'd almost rather anger. Lance wants to see something in his expression, something he can work with. This nothingness? It scares him.]

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[He does actually consider that hair for a moment, touching the long shock of white hair like it was the first time he'd seen it.]

It's always been like this.

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the_tailor

It definitely hasn't. You used to maintain that undercut and...bang poof of yours. Don't you remember?

[No. He can't have amnesia on top of it all, can he?]

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[They told him that the paladins would lie, but despite himself, he is vaguely curious in what they have to say.

There's something about that fight, the tone of the blue paladin's voice...it's almost like he cares.]

No. [There's a small bit of emotion in his voice this time, almost defeat?]

From:

the_tailor - Date: 2017-09-21 05:43 am (UTC) - Expand

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Keith stared at the ceiling in his room, recovering from a short stay in one of the cryopods. He'd thrown himself into the fight, mostly to protect the others from Shiro, partially to protect Shiro from them. He kept scolding himself. He shouldn't have held back. Shiro wouldn't have wanted him to. He would have wanted Keith to do what had to be done. But he just hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling his punches.

He'd paid for it, definitely. He put a hand over a spot on his side. That weaponized prosthetic hurt. It didn't bleed much, because the heat almost instantly cauterized the wound, but it forced Keith back... even more than getting that sword to the shoulder during the Blade of Marmora Trials. That was when Pidge had been able to get in a good shot, though, and she used the taser function of her bayard to knock Shiro out.

It almost hadn't worked.

Keith had wanted to go beat up some of the training drones to get out his frustrations, but Coran had made it clear that he needed to wait at least a quintant before attempting any major physical activity or he risked the wound opening again. So, he was stuck... waiting... and Keith and waiting didn't gel very well.

He got up, ignoring the slight twinge in his side, and headed down to the brig. Shiro had been difficult when he first reawakened, but they managed to get him into the cell without any further injuries to anyone. Keith stepped into the main area, looking through the thin particle barrier that kept them separated. The door to the corridor closed behind him with an ominous hiss.

"What happened to you?" His tone was a mix of accusations, distrust, pain, and sadness. "Why did you attack us?"

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Keith shouldn't have pulled his punches, because the Champion certainly wasn't. Had Pidge not managed to take him down when she had, Keith would have been dead. The Champion was not here to spar, he was here to kill, and it was sheer luck that all the paladins are still in one piece.

There was a rage boiling under the surface, a bloodlust that the Champion had been so known for in the ring. The Galra had dug deep, pulled out those primal instincts and urges and drowned out Shiro's natural ability to reason and empathize. He was a monster, a weapon, nothing more.

He looked up at the door hissing open, eyes narrowing when he recognized the man approaching. Keith, he knew. Red Paladin, now Black. Target. And disappointingly still breathing.

"You recovered quicker than I anticipated." If Keith sounded accusatory, the Champion sounded annoyed. "You're lucky your friend had your back."

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That rankled Keith's temper. He narrowed his eyes. Shiro would know better... Should know better. Keith was pretty durable and could push himself hard when he had to. He hadn't been thrilled about it, but their current situation required him to be as healed as possible and as quickly as possible, so he'd tolerated the cryopod out of necessity. The pods and Keith's abilities to push past his pain weren't unknown to Shiro, and the fact that he commented about a fast recovery set off all sorts of weird alarm bells in the back of Keith's mind.

"That's what we are. A team," he said, almost snappish. "You were part of that once, you know." Keith's brow furrowed deeply. "Or did you forget that?"

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What the Champion knew was that he could get Voltron on edge. He could push them until they messed up, and once that happened, they were his.

"Your lies won't work on me." His eyes narrowed in response to that. "I'm a soldier, not a babysitter."

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Keith bared his teeth a little, gritting them in anger. No... he didn't want to be angry at Shiro. That wasn't right. This whole thing wasn't right.

"We're Paladins," he said sharply. "You, me, the others... all of us. A team." He came up to the forcefield now. "You have to remember that."

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Interesting. Keith seemed very committed to this lie.

"I can't remember something that never happened." His response was short and snippy. "Whatever your technique is here, it's not working."

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"It did happen!" Keith clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to punch the forcefield. "This isn't a technique. Shiro... that's your name. You're Takashi Shirogane. You were the top pilot for the Galaxy Garrison. You're the Black Paladin of Voltron!" He seemed to deflate a little bit.

"You're like my brother, Shiro," he said. "Why can't you remember that?"

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None of that was familiar to him. Why would it be? Interesting though that he should claim that the Champion was one of them. Just because they're the same race...that doesn't mean anything.

"I don't know you, okay?"

(no subject)

From:

tempredmental - Date: 2017-09-23 04:26 am (UTC) - Expand

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There's a forest moon, about halfway past nowhere, behind a gas giant planet, home, not to small fuzzy teddy bears or giant walking carpets, but some almost bird-like creatures with beaks who made their homes in tree houses with bridges connecting them.

On the ground, however, buried in underbrush is an old space base. Throughout the years, it has changed hands multiple times, and then, about a thousand years ago, it was forgotten. However, it had been found by some rebels fleeing a Galra patrol and taken over as one of their bases of operation.

Currently the commander (very much in spite of his objections) is one Galaxy-Garrison-trained Matthew Holt, of a species that none of his fighters really know. He's known to be private, ruthless, and searching for something or someone that he's never admitted to. Possibly, as some of his closest companions muse, because he is worried about their safety.

Commander Matt is in the central room, taking some communications from patrols that he's sent out, mostly lost in his daily routine.

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The Champion doesn't know how the Galra spies found this rebel base, and frankly, he doesn't care. He's fresh from his training, given an extra boost of quintessence and ready for his first solo mission. Eliminate the rebels. Destroy the base.

Originally the plan had been to bomb them from orbit, but it's too risky with all the underbrush and trees. It's entirely possible that he'd simply blow the trees out of the way and leave the base untouched, but now very aware they were under attack. If it came to a rebel fleet against one Champion, the odds weren't good, even with his skills, and he wasn't willing to risk that.

Instead, it's an old fashioned stealth mission. The Champion's hair is tied back out of the way, and he keeps to the shadows. If he has to assassinate every single one of these rebels, he'll do it. Their numbers are unknown, which is part of his mission, but the Galra don't anticipate a very large gathering.

He starts from the outside and works his way in, quietly and effectively taking out the rebel patrols and using their keycodes to get inside the building. He has to move fast. No doubt some sort of commander will soon work out that his men are not responding.

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Matt knows it immediately when his soldiers start falling. He knows that he is in a war, but he knows each of his people personally, knows their lives, knows what they're fighting for. He gives an order to pull back, to blockade themselves in some tunnels that run beneath the base, and be ready to take the escape ships if he fails.

He'll take on whoever is out there, and hopefully keep the damage to a minimum. His grip tightens on his staff and he pulls up a map on his wrist cuff to see where the intruder is, and he's off, towards the intruder.

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The Champion isn't stupid. It's obvious when the commander starts pulling his rebels back. Damn, he noticed fast. He was half expecting a group of dumb ragtag rednecks from some backwater world, but clearly this commander knows what he's doing.

It's quiet, too quiet, and he moves slowly and quietly, sticking to the darkest places he can to keep himself mostly hidden. Something's coming, he can feel it.

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Matt knows the tunnels like the back of his hand, and when he sees where the intruder is going, he tries to come at them from behind. Once he's behind the intruder, he calls out in a firm, commanding voice, staff at a ready position to defend himself.

"Stop! Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

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He spins on his heel, surprised that this person actually got the jump on him, and that he's choosing to talk instead of fight.

Strange.

But even stranger is how uncomfortable this person makes him feel. He's human, just like the Champion, and something about him is vitally important, but he can't put his finger on why or how.

But he isn't here to make friends. He doesn't respond, instead charging at Matt with his powered arm glowing.

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Matt doesn't even notice who this intruder is, simply goes into battle mode. Jumping to the side, he swings on his staff, aiming to kick him in the chest.

He's been training for quite a while, and with his natural agility knows his staff quite well. He might not be a match for the Champion in pure power, but he does have a sharp mind, which hopefully will keep him upright at least for a while.

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