#i swore there was a shot of the squad 3 office that was in exactly this configuration

[recurring-polynya]

if ryuuken hates shinigami so much, what's up with his gotei-13-ass office set-up, huh?

[one-leaf-grimoire]

500 Follower Soulmate AU // Day 10

“Every year, you receive a puzzle piece. The whole picture is your soulmate’s appearance” + Julius Novachrono

This is it, the last day! Thank you for reading these and I will reblog the updated masterlist ASAP. I’ve been looking forward to this one so I accidentally wrote a lot oops <3

You always enjoyed your birthday, but today was going to be special, you just knew it. Every year since you got your Grimoire, a new puzzle piece appeared on your birthday, to be added to an incomplete picutre of the person that was supposed to be your soulmate. You never let anyone see the picture, even though your squadmates always asked. Today was special, because you were pretty sure it would be the last piece. Your puzzle pieces had always been pretty big, and the only spot left was over the face. Even if there were still a few pieces left after today, you could probably deduce who it was.

It happened soon after breakfast. You were cleaning your room when your Grimoire started glowing. “Ah! This is it!” You rushed to open it, your heart dropping a bit when you saw that the piece was smaller than you hoped, only containing a piece of a forehead. “Oh... well, still!” You quickly opened your drawer where you kept the picture, and without a moment to spare, fit it into a spot. You couldn’t see this man’s eyes, nose, or mouth, but you could make out a few of his features. He had messy blonde hair, and a strange symbol just below his hairline. It almost seemed familiar... Well, if you had met this guy before, maybe someone else in your squad would recognize him! So...

“Yami! Yami!”

“What do you want?” Your captain put down his newspaper as you ran over, carefully holding your pulled-out drawer. “This better be important.”

“Er- It is, to me...” You sucked in a breath before turning the drawer so he could see the picture. “I got a new piece today... he seems familiar but I can’t see his face. Any ideas?”

Yami stared down at the picture for a long moment, then his eyebrows suddenly shot halfway up his forehead. “Hahaha!” He suddenly let out a burst of raucous laughter, then pointed right at the picture’s forehead. “That mark there, that’s Julius’s magic mark. I don’t know what it is but I would recognize it anywhere.”

“...Julius?” You blinked, trying to figure out if you were supposed to know who what was. Julius... I only know one Julius... wait! It can’t possibly be-

Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a tidal wave. “h-Huh?!”

Yami laughed again and stood up, clapping his hand on your shoulder once, knowing exactly who you were thinking of. “That’s right... this is hilarious. You should go tell him now, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that.”

You were still in shock, his words not registering right away. “T-There must be a mistake! I can’t be his soulmate, can I? Wait-” You looked back at Yami. “What do you mean, ‘he’ll be happy to hear that’?” You had met the Wizard King a couple of times, and he always seemed to be a perfectly nice man...

Your captain dismissed your question with a wave of his hand. “You’ll see... FINRAL!!!”

Despite your objections, Finral summoned a portal and sent you right to the Castle, ALONE, on top of everything else. You really had no choice but to press on forward. Seriously? Yami, I just found out that the man in my picture is the WIZARD KING, and you’re gonna make me go tell him NOW?! I’m in no state of mind for this kind of thing! Your hands tightened around your box, the picture hidden inside. What am I even supposed to say... this is going to be a disaster...

Well, now this disaster was upon you. Somehow, your feet lead you right to his office. You’d never been in here alone, but suddenly you were standing in front of him.

“Oh, hi, (y/n)!” The cheerful man smiled down at you like he always had, and somehow, a little bit of  your nervousness melted away. “I wasn’t expecting anyone from the Black Bulls today... did you bring something from Yami?” His eyes darted down at the box in your hands curiously.

“No, not from Yami... from me, actually.” You gulped, your heart basically beating into your chest. Oooh... what if I’m wrong, I’m going to look stupid... But you had no choice. You held up the box, displaying the picture for him to see.

Julius’s eyes instantly widened. “That’s... me?”

“Yeah... there’s still a few pieces missing, but Yami was certain...” You couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, but a moment later, you felt a hand land on yours. You were a little startled that he was suddenly so close, but one look at his comforting smile put you at ease.

“I see... my puzzle isn’t done yet, so I had no idea... but-” Julius cleared his throat awkwardly, and you swore you saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I know we don’t know each other very well... but I always kind of hoped it would be you.”

... what?! Your face went red at the sudden confession. “Oh... oh!” Suddenly, you felt yourself smiling. “I’m... relieved you thought that!”

“Good!” Julius let out a laugh and took the box out of your hands, putting it on the desk. “Now, we have an excuse to get to know each other... would you like to stay for lunch?”

His eager expression just made you happier, and you nodded without hesitation. “Of course!”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

[thewhumpstuff]

D.I.S - Organized

Dispersal: Integrated-Squad. Organised and Mobilised

@badthingshappenbingo​​​ [Original Characters and content for -Dislocated Joint] Whumptober Day: No. 3 - My way or the highway - Manhandled, Forced to their knees, held at gunpoint [I couldn’t choose] [Art+Drabble] Ten Trails: Creature Feature (3)-Mob Violence [@yuckwhump​​]

CW/TW: Reference to a futuristic militaristic oligarchy. Dissent that fell into chaos. Power abuse. Art at the end features a man kneeling at gun-point and a woman forced to her knees.  [Please let me know if further warnings are necessary and I missed something.]

Locked arms and buckled knees. The rabble knelt by choice. Locked arms and buckled knees. The defectors knelt by force.

At the first shot and the slump of the blood-slick body - The barricade was broken. Those that craved the executions and those that wanted to see the practice abolished, flew at each other. What started as candle-flames to pay tribute, now raged as flickering fires of rebellion.

‘We need all hands on deck. Remember to stick with your unit.’ 

But Akira and Novara weren’t going to get a chance to stick with their units. They were going to fly solo, dropped into the thick of things to carve their own path. Nova’s voice was barely audible over the order that boomed repeatedly, it bloomed with a gentle concern. And that infallible sense of unwavering faith and hope, “This is a tough one to start off with… But you’re going to be fine.” Akira pursed her lips and looked down from their hovercopter at the chaos that ensued. There were armed folks on both sides. Some with juvenile weapons, others with more. Sticks, stones, knives and guns. She knew which side she’d be on, if the sides were still demarcated. If it still mattered… But it didn’t any more, there were no sides. Just the swell of a crowd. Some scurried into the mob, most scurried out. The streets were strewn with banners, the alleys were a-crawl with Acers, Q.B agents and the dissenting civilians alike. She was just a damn Cadet. Novara and Tariq were just Officers, just a rank higher. None of them were in uniform. She peered over at Tariq who piloted the hovercopter with a lazy finesse. He looked like he belonged there, with or without the uniform. Nova was preparing her tools, she had a little more on her hands, given that she was qualified to help with stabilization. She too, looked like she knew exactly what she needed to do. Would just another year and some experience change me too? Would I look the part as an Officer? Akira couldn’t get lost in thoughts for long, soon, it was her time to descend. The ’danger zone’ had been sectioned into smaller regions and then divided into smaller areas, the Acer’s were assigned their spots.

‘Remember only tag and aid the ones with the G.C sanctioned Pro-Body chips.’ 

Most folks in her assigned area had suffered minimal injuries. Additionally, the data from the Pro-Body Chips made the process fairly easy to manage. All she had to do was sync the information of her physical exam, perform basic first aid and update the code accordingly. The exam itself was difficult to conduct initially, but she soon found her rhythm. Then she came up on her very first problem. A woman lay slumped against the wall of an alley, barely conscious. Blood seeped out of her hairline and she issued soft whimpers with every breath. Next to her, crouched a bruised and beaten man. Like a deer caught in headlights, he looked up at Akira fearfully. She approached with caution, “It’s OK… I’m just going to take a look at you two. I’ll tag her and help will arrive shortly. Do you have any serious injuries too?” The man couldn’t have been much older than Akira, he almost draped himself over the woman as he put himself between her and Akira. The Acer paused, “Is there a problem?” His answer was raspy, “We’re not chipped.” It was her turn to recoil in a semi-conditioned response. They were taught to believe that those who were not chipped, were the enemy. Most dissenters who were not G.C registered civilians - that is, chipped and IDed, had already fled the area. This woman seemed incapable of doing so… And Aki couldn’t help but hold a fire in her heart for the young man who chose to stay behind with her. Technically, she needed to report him and potentially the woman, as soon as possible. However, Akira’s prejudice didn’t run as deep as some of the other Acers. She wasn’t trained as young. She saw those who didn’t comply with G.C protocols as people too. There were several back home in Sector 09.  She believed that she was capable of discerning a threat from… those who needed help. And as she came up on that decision, his words sounded like a challenge. Like a dare. This was her area right? She should have some jurisdiction. Enough to at least call this shot. She stood up straighter, convinced that there there was no one around to stop her either way, “She’s not going to make it if I don’t at least take a look… I’ll try get her to-” But there was. There were people here to stop her.

“Cadet. Step away from the fugitives.” Aki was annoyed that they were already labelled fugitives. Unless the man who had spoken had their faces on some docket somewhere. This person recognized her by rank, even without her uniform or ID. She didn’t know him. So, he was likely to be a fellow Acer, but not a colleague. Which could only mean he was a superior. Aki froze. Then she slowly turned to see who’d spoken. He looked like a civilian, but Akira knew how to recognize the bullet-proof fabric. He was likely to be a Major, or higher. A sneer marked his face. It looked like he was waiting to chance upon such an opportunity. And that became more apparent, when he didn’t wait to give Akira a reasonable chance to follow his directive. It seemed like less than a second had passed, and his hands were on hers. His grip was cruel around her wrists as he pinned her arms behind her back.

Akira knew better than to attempt attacking the man on instinct, mostly because, given the discrepancy in their training, she’d have no chance. But, she couldn’t resist the urge to flail and struggle. He twisted her arm with ease, in an attempt to force her to her knees. Defiance, just ran too thick in her blood. So she tried to reason with him through the gritty pain of her arm being wrangled, “Let go!” Needless to say, it didn’t work. Aki was briefly distracted by a lower ranking woman - she had an actual vest on, not the deceptive bullet-proof clothes - probably a Captain. This woman had a rifle levelled at the bruised man in the alley. The man was ordered to peel away from the wall and kneel too. He knew he was caught, so he did what he was told. Aki swore she saw tears glint in his eyes. They rolled off his cheek when the woman’s whimpers stopped. Feeling defeated and deflated as she shared a look with the alleged fugitive and Aki finally fell to her knees. She felt a sharp shooting pain upon impact with the ground, it ran down her leg and up her thigh. She teetered on the uneven cobbled-stone. Her kneecaps continued to protests, they ached and throbbed dully as the procession continued. The Major didn’t stop there, “You should think twice before being disobedient, don’t you know I could slap an insubordination charge on you?” In a swift motion and a brutish tug, he popped her shoulder. Purely to make a point, it would seem. Akira cried out rather boorishly. The Major let go of her and walked away as if nothing had happened. She folded into herself, stifling her groans. Her eyes were clenched shut as she winced in pain and clutched her dislocated arm with the other. The Captain cuffed the man and then kept him there, kneeling at gunpoint. Akira heard the Major making arrangements for the slumped woman to be bagged, as he left.

[theforestofeden]

Isabella and The Others- Sworn Partners

Word Count: 1709

Summary: A backstory involving James and Dalilah, detective work !!

Warnings!: Reader discretion is advised, descriptions of violence may be upsetting to some readers. 

June 17th, 1979 

"Ted Bundy? Seriously again?" Natasha grinned as she spoke and slid into the chair next to Nick. She poked her head over his shoulder to read the page he was on. He was reading "Ted Bundy, The Killer Next Door." The book was released within the week. Natasha had a feeling Nick camped outside of the local bookstore to get his hands on it.

"You introduced the man to me. How are you going to mock me and then sit down to read with me?" He looked up at her with his eyebrows arched, "As if you haven't read it dozens of times either," he added.

"Oh shut up and scoot over," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.Nick slid over to give his friend space and turned his attention back to the biography. The two friends sat at the back of their drama class, their heads dipped towards Nick's book. They seemed to be so entranced by the book they had blocked out the commotion going on in the class.

December 23, 1996, present day.

The sounds of someone knocking on her office door settled Dalilah back on earth. Times like this she needed to try to see the good people saw in Nick to want to befriend a monster like him. Natasha had rambled about conversations between her and Nick when asked when her friend first took an interest in murder during her own tapes. Dalilah would take those segments of conversations and fill in the gaps. She usually ended up nowhere and being disgusted by the man even more. Admittedly he wasn't the worst person that she's come across in her time, but since everyone else had gotten their justice Nick was the only current monster she was involved with. It was probably something she would need a psychiatrist to check out. Jem came in holding two cups of coffee and passed the sweeter one to his partner. He sat on the edge of the mahogany desk and looked at the piles of files he had inched aside.

"The Kim's asked for all the information about the newest "Golden State Killer"," Dalilah answered the question that she knew was in Jem's head.

"They're just putting themselves through more pain," he shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. He sounded as if he understood why, but couldn't understand how they were able to see more of their daughter's killer. "The mother had to leave the court room when they showed a clip from that tape. No wonder she burst into tears after she watched ninety percent of it."

"Other than the standard 'they want closure' phrase, I can't explain why they would want to watch and read the information we have of him." The detectives shook their heads in sync.

The standard clock on the wall of her office filled the silence with its monotonous ticking. Dalilah watched the hand move around the clock.

Tick... tick... tick...

She stood up when the clock hit twelve. She couldn't stand the silence between them anymore. The sound of her chair being pushed back caught Jem's attention.

"We should head out." Her voice rang out.

The Kim's had asked her to pull every piece of information the town of Brooklyn had on Nick Barnes. She had only picked up the confession tape. Files still needed to be gathered. Jem followed her out of her office and closed the door softly, his drink still in hand.

"Do you think we'll be able to get him to talk about the other possible murders?" Jem asked. He just wanted the silence between them to be little as possible.

"With his narcissistic ass? Probably. But it'll take time. The serial killers we've heard of took their sweet time. Even up till their death." Dalilah answered, a sharpness to her words.

Jem knew she was talking about Ted Bundy. His name was still buzzing around America, despite being dead for seven years. The same silence that fell over the usual chatty partners back in Dalilah's office fell over them again. A few minutes in and Jem was itching to talk to her again.

"We should talk about what happened two weeks ago." His voice was hushed, like he didn't want others to hear.

"Talk about what? Me saving your ass?" She spoke in a normal leveled voice, one that said she didn't care if people heard.

"About you not having any regard for your life." Jem rose his voice when he realized his partner didn't care about the other detectives knowing what happened.

"We swore an oath to protect each other. That is exactly what I did. I jumped infront of you because you weren't paying attention. That bullet would have gone straight through your chest." She stopped walking and stared at him. She watched the expression on his face change from concern to surprise. She raised her eyebrows before stalking off again. Jem followed wordlessly. He wanted to mention that she shouldn't be at work this soon because of the strain on her wound, but he knew she would be stubborn about it.

Dalilah shouldered open the door to the storage room and begin searching for the row marked "B-C". She grabbed the box marked "Nick Barnes" off of the shelf . The box wasn't heavy like everyone expected. There were only five measly folders of information in the one box they had of the suspected "mission" serial killer. After two decades, the killer was just now coming forward about the victims. As of now Nick was only talking about his first— Isabella Kim. Everyone that worked on his case suspected that there were others. A police officer that escorted him to his cell had reported Nick mumbling names. The cop had been able to catch one name; Carina.

"More like shoved me out of the way but whatever." He mumbled. "I just don't know why you have no regard for your safety." Jem said. He needed to talk about the incident. He couldn't stop thinking about that day.

They had been out on a standard questioning when the pair heard shots fire off and then the crackle of their Car radio sounding off, filling their Impala with the voice of the dispatcher. "All available units respond to a 211 in progress at the Wells Fargo bank between Sepúlveda Boulevard and Westchester Parkway. Two suspects, both white males wearing black hoodies and jeans, armed and dangerous. Code three. Multiple shots fired."  

It wasn't every day this pair of detectives were in an active shooting zone, let alone firing off their own guns. Dalilah started the Chevy  Nova as Jem picked up the radio speaker.

"10-4, responding code three to Wells Fargo at Sepúlveda Boulevard and Westchester Parkway."  He placed the speaker on its receiver and switched on the mini siren on top of the dashboard.

Pulling up to the bank was hectic. It wasn't like the two of them knew directly where the suspects were, so Dalilah really only had one option; to pull up to the other two squad cars that were already there. The movements of four cops shooting and dodging filled their senses. The two scrambled out of their car and stuck low to the ground. Or at least until Jem needed to reload his pistol. Going to the trunk of the Nova let him have a moment of security, but he had mixed up the direction he had came from. Instead of going right he went left, slamming the magazine into place. A gut wrenching feeling had told Dalilah to stand up and to shove him and thank the universe she did. She heard the shatter of her car window before she felt the stray bullet. The way they faced each other allowed for Dalilah's right shoulder to catch the bullet instead of Jem's heart.

"That's gonna leave a stain." Dalilah murmured as she doubled over onto the ground.

Jem's hands had already pressed themselves to her shoulder and warm blood already coated his large hands. "You ate a bullet and a stain is what you're worried about." Jem spoke mostly to himself, but he didn't shy his comment away from his partner. Despite the leveled voice he was using Dalilah could see him panicking.

"James, call an ambulance."

Seeing Dalilah bleed like that haunted him. If only he had kept track of which direction he was going in she wouldn't have gotten hit. Little did he know she would do it again and again for him. The only thing that would haunt Dalilah would be if she hadn't moved in front of him.Before walking out of the storage room, Dalilah stopped and looked at him. A little bit longer than necessary. She saw one of her worst fears flash before her mind's eye—her partner in the Intensive Care Unit. It wasn't so much that she had no regard for her life, but rather too much regard for Jem's life.

"And if this was you right now- wait it wouldn't be because you'd be dead or in the hospital. That bullet would be in your chest. I think with it in my shoulder and you alive is a win for both of us." She paused as Jem opened the door for her. "Besides, everyone looks at us like we're gods for escaping death."

The two settled back into Dalilah's office. Jem had pulled up a chair from one of the rookies' desks and was leaning on his partners mahogany desk. His coffee cup sat on top of a file, seemingly unimportant. As soon as Dalilah was back at her desk, she removed the cup and picked up the file. A ring was left in its place and she swatted Jem with it before handing it to him. Opening up the file, Jem realized why she had gotten irritated. The files he had pushed aside earlier and the one in his hand where missing women. More specifically women who looked like Miranda Cahill and were named Carina."Our night shift starts now," Dalilah said. She took a sip of her coffee and began digging into the files of case 243.

Oblivious to both of them was the fact that they both hoped for the silence to disappear. Regardless of being uncomfortable, neither of them tried to break the silence nor leave the other’s side. The monotonous sound of the clock and flipping of papers was better with company. 

Part 3- Carina Romano 

[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand)

I got chapter 5 written! Ao3 link here

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3  Part 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, Part 6

Sneaking onto the ship was the easy part. Pidge landed her undetectable lion on the hull close to the wide-open bay doors of one of the many hangars. The cavernous room was bustling with drones, low-level galra soldiers, and ­­damaged space fighters being repaired, so with all the activity Pidge had little trouble getting past them.

Actually finding the engine room was the hard part. With little knowledge of this particular class of battleship and no way to scan it without the Blue Lion, she was left to take an educated guess of its location. But after half a varga of running around the empty corridors with no results and a handful of close calls almost being discovered, Pidge was about ready to scream in frustration. She hadn’t found any primary access panels, either. The locked doors she hacked easily enough but gave her no access to the central computer. She kicked the wall and was considering risking having her comms intercepted by calling Hunk for help when she heard the steady clanking of a sentry’s footsteps coming toward her from around the corner. She dove for cover in an alcove in the wall and waited, crouching at the ready.

Thankfully, the big metal biped clanked right by without noticing her. Seizing the opportunity, Pidge leapt onto its back and deactivated it with a few swift keystrokes on the control panel below its neck. It slumped to the floor, taking her with it, and she landed painfully on her hip. She bit back a curse then quickly synced her gauntlet to the sentry’s control panel. She uploaded a virus that she’d written based on the data she got from that first sentry she hacked at the Galactic Hub.

If it worked, the virus would hijack the robot’s artificial brain, rerouting the stored and incoming data and the command controls, to her armor. It took several doboshes to complete and Pidge kept a wary eye out for any more patrols coming her way. The robot the way too heavy for her to try and drag it into the alcove she’d hidden herself in before.

The holographic screen from the gauntlet flashed and the sentry’s head-lights glowed red. Yes! I have a minion. It stood up. She pulled up a map of the frigate from her sentry’s data core.

Fucking hell. The engine room was on the other side of the ship.

Pidge followed her robotic minion as it led her to the engine room. She walked backwards at the ready with her bayard out, keeping an eye out on their six while Minion would alert her of anything ahead. It took her in a circuitous route, avoiding the more bustling sectors of the ship. It was a smart precaution but with every tick that passed Pidge cursed her slow progress. She hoped Lance and Hunk had a handle on the situation outside.

Finally, finally Minion stopped at a set of important-looking doors and pressed its palm against the entrance pad to open them. They went inside – and Pidge immediately ducked behind a huge support beam because the engine room was teeming with galra. Sentries, floating drones, soldiers, and even an officer or two milled about the cavernous and noisy chamber. At its center was a glowing engine straight out of a cyberpunk novel that would make Hunk shit his pants.

Quiznaking fucksticks. Okay, Minion. Let’s see how much we can get away with.

Pidge crawled toward a vent at the bottom of the nearest wall, carefully opened it, and slid inside feet first. Her visibility wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing and it would at least help her guide Minion where she needed it. She pulled up a holographic screen that streamed what the robot was “seeing.”

Let’s see if you know the engine schematics. Turns out Minion did. She supposed that made sense – the droids were probably programed to be all-purpose. Pidge studied the mechanisms of the ships energy source.

Oh, holy hell. It uses xanthorium crystals to enhance the power of the weapons and the hyperdrive. Like most of these huge ships, it used a balmeran crystal as it’s primary power source. She was no engineer, but Pidge was sure she found bastardized elements of Altean technology that must have been integrated into Galran designs in the empire’s early decaphoebes.

Minion approached a station (quietly deactivating the sentry manning it) that appeared to direct the current of quintessence-enriched electricity to various parts of the ship. Much of the xanthorium was used in the engine room, but there were also strategically placed chambers of the crystals close to each weapons station. Pidge smirked as she realized she could use this. This whole place was littered with weapons stations. Keeping the explosions at the exact right magnitude required meticulous control over the energy flow throughout the ship’s guts. She had Minion get to work.

The principle behind her plan was simple: blow the ship up using its own power boosters. It was easy to think of each weapon station as a primitive firearm, with the current acting as the spark and the xanthorium as gunpowder. The xanthorium had been cut into uniform sizes that would explode at the brief contact of a tightly-controlled current and direct the resulting energy into the weapons’ mechanisms, giving the galra a nice boost of power behind their attacks. Once a piece had been used and disintegrated, the next one slotted into place to be exploded next. But if the chambers overloaded, all the crystals in the chambers would explode uncontrollable at once. It would completely cripple their weapons and breach the hull in a dozen critical places.

Minion reprogrammed the algorithm that controlled the paths of primary power into secondary channels. She needed at least seventy-five percent of the xanthorium chambers to overload at exactly the same time. It was tedious work, but I thankfully took less time than Pidge had anticipated.

Pidge breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had fifteen doboshes to get back to Green before her DIY bombs went off. She slowly crawled out of the vent to sneak to the door and make a swift, painless escape.

If only.

She wasn’t as annoyed at getting caught so much as that it was a stupid way to get caught. She didn’t epically fuck up, didn’t trip a hidden alarm, didn’t run headfirst into an enemy that popped up out of nowhere. Nope. All those missions when she had perfect timing, only to now just get spotted for being a split second too slow.

Pidge charged at the nearest sentry – which was not-so-coincidentally her own minion. It blocked her attack easily and bent her arms behind her back, metal hands clamping her wrists together. Discreetly, she whispered instructions to her robot through her helmet comms. Her escape wasn’t totally busted yet.

What appeared to be the ranking officer approached her. He was average-sized for a galra, just under seven feet, and the fuzz covering him erred on the blue side of purple. “What is this? Wearing the armor of the Green Paladin?” He gave her a critical once-over. “This tiny thing?”

Pidge growled at him and struggled against the robot holding her. “Tiny, huh? You wanna fucking go, assface?”

She couldn’t tell if the officer rolled his eyes – given the lack of pupils – but his expression grew irritated and just over it. But she swore his tone was smug, though, when he said, “Escort the whelp to General Sendak. From what I’ve heard, he’ll want to deal with this one himself.” He then turned around like he had better things to do than worry about Pidge – good. Meant he wasn’t suspicious of any meddling. The sentry marched her out the door and through the cold corridor. A squad of other sentries followed, much to her chagrin.

They passed right by the hangar outside of which she’d left Green, but the sentries surrounding her meant she couldn’t make a break for it. Pidge suppressed a frustrated growl. Guess we’re going to see Overlord Fur Face after all, she thought. She’d anticipated that; but why couldn’t things go the easy way for her just once?

Pidge and her entourage of robots walked through corridor after corridor, took multiple elevator-lift-things, and she was getting nervous. She counted the ticks in her head: time was running out before everything blew up, and this escort was taking forever.

Finally a set of double doors swooshed open to reveal they’d reached the bridge. It was a spacious room with a raised command podium in the center and floor-to-ceiling windows (no doubt made from space-grade reinforced glass). Apparently the galra were less fond of view screens than humans. Standing on the island, Sendak turned toward Pidge with a sneer.

“How did you get uglier?” Pidge blurted out.

“Petulant child for a Paladin of Voltron.” Ugh, that voice was terrible on her senses. Somehow like oily gravel and sunburn. Sendak walked closer to her. “You’ve been a nuisance, whelp. I will take great pleasure in killing you.”

“I kicked your ass once. I’ll just do it again.” Pidge’s internal clock told her she only had two doboshes left.

Sendak leaned down, his meaty breath stinking too close to her face. Was it possible for something to smell like flies? “As I recall, it took all of the paladins to even trap me. This time, you’re the one on my ship. You’re the one all alone.

Fifty ticks left. Pidge’s heart pounded with anxiety and excitement. She’d have to be quick for any hope of escape. And the dumbass didn’t have his helmet on.

Sendak straightened. “Initiate a full sweep,” he barked. The attention of everyone on the deck snapped onto his orders. “The girl probably brought aboard accomplices; only two lions –”

Twenty ticks. Minion released her hands. Quick as lightning, Pidge summoned her bayard and shot its electrified blade into the exposed spot between his neck and jaw. The shocks arcing through the warlord jerked about his massive body. He hit the floor with all the grace of a boulder falling off a cliff.

Ten ticks. Pidge wrenched her weapon out of the furry carcass. Behind her, loyal Minion started beating up as many enemies as it could. She took advantage of the crew’s moment of paralyzed shock to sprint for the nearest window, activating her energy shield. She heard blows land, metal creak violently, felt shots collide with her shield.

She raised her bayard. Three ticks. Shot straight ahead. Two. Leapt through the nebula of glittering, shattering glass and into empty space. One.

Obviously, she didn’t hear an explosion. Sound can’t travel in a vacuum. But Pidge sure as hell felt a storm of heat and shrapnel shoot her even deeper into space.

She called for Green desperately in her mind. Everything hurt, and made it hard to think. She was quickly recompensed by the sight of her beautiful glowing lion rapidly approaching. She scooped Pidge up in her mouth, and Pidge landed hard on the cockpit’s floor with a sideways roll. Groaning, she hauled herself into the pilot’s chair.

“Mission accomplished, guys.”

Loud whoops and cheers blasted through her helmet’s speakers. She flinched.

“Pidge, you beautiful, miracle Wonder Woman! That was amazing!”

Adrenaline aready had her heartbeat drumming up a storm. But hearing Lance say that made her cheeks feel even hotter and her very blood vessels jitter.

“Captain Olia? Sergeant Bark? How we lookin’?” Lance called out.

“The remainder of the fleet on this side is retreating,” the seargeant reported.

“We’ve picked off a few dozen squads over here,” Matt chimed in. Pidge felt relieved to hear his voice. “Anyone else are also turning tail.”

“We won? We won!” Hunk celebrated. “Great job, Pidge! You really hit them where it hurts!”

“And you thought it was too dangerous. Hey Pidge, high five!”

“We’re in our lions, Lance.”

“Oh, right. High giant mechanical paw!”

Pidge was so high on adrenaline adrenaline that she enthusiastically acquiesced. Red and Green flew at each other and crashed their right paws with an enormous clang. The impact reverberated violently through the cockpit and gave Pidge a throbbing headache.

“My skull is vibrating,” Lance said. “So worth it.”

The chatter radio chatter in Pidge’s ears began to fade to the background, as she slowly exited fight/flight/freeze mode and weariness set into her bones. “Guys, I’m completely beat. I’ve gotta go back to the Castle.”

“See you down there, Pidge. Go take care of yourself,” Hunk replied.

“Yeah, sure.” Pidge deactivated her microphone and shot towards Olkarion’s surface. With every kilometer she grew more and more tired. The adrenaline drained from her body, leaving behind the deep soreness of whatever injuries undoubtedly littered her body. She broke the atmosphere and her hands started shaking. The Castle came into view and a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She landed the Green Lion in her hangar and tried to get up; but her body felt made of molten lead. Pidge gave up struggling against the darkness tugging at her consciousness. She submitted to the respite pulling at her brain and her vision went black.