The Champion

[herdingspacecats]

The Champion has returned.

He has a mission this time. He isn't merely for sport, fighting for entertainment. He's a soldier now, an assassin, designed to fight and to destroy Voltron. Enhanced further with Galra witchcraft and a hint of quintessence, whatever past the Champion has no longer exists. His life as a human, as a paladin, as a fighter pilot on Earth, it's all gone, replaced by the need to serve and fulfill his existence. He is a weapon and nothing more.

A few well-placed rumors ensure that Voltron will come to him. It's not his plan, of course. The Champion is no general. He is valued for his strength and the appearance that apparently is so tantalizing to Voltron, and nothing more. They will try to trick him, he's told. They will tell him he is one of them, that since he is human he must also be a paladin, but it is a lie. Killing them is his objective.

They are weak when they leave their lions. The Champion waits, watching the paladins foolishly land and exit. How stupid of them. They're defenseless without the Lions, and he knows this fight will go quickly.

He straightens from his hiding place. They come for him, crying out a name that means nothing to him. He does not smile. He does not move.

He waits.

Comments

[the_tailor]

[Lance didn't know what they would find when they entered a base that intelligence had told him might have held Shiro. But it certainly wasn't this. Not this wild man that they'd just barely managed to contain. It was only due to a lucky shot from Pidge's bayard that they'd even been able to knock him down long enough to forcibly restrain him and bring him back aboard the castle. They were all a little banged up; Shiro was stronger than ever, and none of them would have stood a chance alone.

This can't be real. This can't be our Shiro.

Lance stands in front of the cell they'd been forced to put him in for now. What time of the night it is, he doesn't know. Doesn't care. Most of the others are hard at work trying to decipher Shiro's biometrics to figure out what's wrong with him. Keith is probably taking out his anger in the training room. And Lance...

He just stands there. Watching him silently for now.]

[herdingspacecats]

[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.]

[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.

...i'm debating if this is actually shiro or like...a clone they adopt

[herdingspacecats]

[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.

omg either works really!

[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.]

i kind of like the idea of a sad clone shiro

[herdingspacecats]

[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.

:(((( poor thing

[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?]

[herdingspacecats]

[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?]

[the_tailor]

Try to think back, Shiro. I even helped you trim it once. I wouldn't let anyone else touch it, didn't trust 'em to know how to cut hair. Not that I'm a stylist, but...

[He tries to keep the conversation light for now, feeling the situation out. That tiny hint of emotion--he's trying to grab onto it, tug it out, even if it's a sad one. Anything really is better than the blank look he's had.]

[herdingspacecats]

[There's that name again. This boy seems to care about the person associated to that name, but whoever it belongs to, it isn't him. He's the Champion. Project Kuron, occasionally.]

I've never seen you before. You're a target.

[the_tailor]

I'm not a target. I'm Lance. Lance McClain. Your friend, your teammate. C'mon, I'm totally unforgettable.

[He attempts to smile, but it's hard.]

[herdingspacecats]

[Hm. Interesting. Those reactions seem genuine. The Champion looks away, feeling uncomfortable.]

They said you would lie.

[the_tailor]

Who's they? The Galra? Of course they'd say that, they're obviously trying to turn you against us. But you have to remember. We've gone through so much as a team! And between us, I'm a terrible liar.

this is like Grunt finding his meaning for life in ME2

[herdingspacecats]

[That uncomfortable feeling remains, and his gaze moves instead to the floor. This time he does not respond.

He knows he shouldn't listen, but a part of him is curious. He wants to know why Lance cares so much. The Champion can't remember caring about anything.]

ahhhhh

[the_tailor]

Shiro. Talk to me. Tell me what happened to you.

[Because there's brainwashed, and then there's...this. Whatever this is.]

[herdingspacecats]

Why do you keep calling me that? [He shouldn't ask questions. It shows interest. But he's a captive here, and gaining intelligence on Voltron may explain how they managed to subdue him in the first place.]

[the_tailor]

Because that's your name. Takashi Shirogane. Shiro, for short. ...Did they make you forget us? To get you to try to....to try to...

[Kill them.]

[herdingspacecats]

[That isn't familiar at all. A frown crinkles his forehead, more emotion than he's shown this whole time.]

They call me the Champion. Not...Shiro.

[the_tailor]

What did you hear when you were back there?

[Something's off about this. This man looks like their Shiro, hair and blank expressions aside, his voice is the same if not rather expressionless, but that seems to be where it ends.]

You're still...our Shiro, right? That they turned against us?

[herdingspacecats]

[He just looks rather confused at the questions.]

I don't think I can give you the answers you want. I'm not sure what you're asking.

[the_tailor]

Neither am I! I don't understand what the heck is going on.

[Because there's more to this than he'd initially thought, but he isn't sure what.]

[tempredmental]

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?"

[herdingspacecats]

[He lifts his shoulders in a small shrug and leans back against the wall. The quintessence boost he was given before the mission is wearing off, but from the looks of things, he isn't getting out of here while that boost is still lasting.

Perhaps he can use Voltron's emotions against them. Trick them into letting him out.]

[the_tailor]

You're Shiro. There's no way you can't be Shiro. And...I'll help you get your memories back. We all will.

[It'd be a start, even if only vague ones.]

[tookashirototheknee]

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.