⁜ Almost There; Chapter Nine ⁜

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~[Four Months Later]~

You grunted as you hit your opponent's neck with the blunt of your sword's handle, causing the alien to fall to the floor unconscious. A whole four months had gone by since you had been forced to stop piloting and start fighting, featuring your experience of absolutely nothing in the world of combat. You hated every second of your new purpose, it had changed you.

You weren't deathly afraid of the guards or bots anymore; you had gained a respectable increase in confidence, but you still remained fragile like an old window pane. One little rock could cause a crack large enough to bring down the whole thing. Killing anyone at the end of a fight would be your rock.

Then something weird happened. Something that would inflict bad luck on you more than you would have ever guess. About a week ago, you had been slammed into the arena's surrounding wall just to your left, leaving a dent the size of your head (from your head) and a minor blood stain there from impact. The sight sent chills down your spine, but you couldn't be distracted when strangers were being forced to kill you.

The blow had given you a dangerously serious concussion, erasing a few months worth of memories for your lifetime. They were all recent times, to both your luck and misfortune, so you didn't care much. You were happy to forget some of what happened during the worst times of your life. It would leave more sanity in it's wake, maybe enough to endure this place until you die.

However, Prince Lotor, a man you never recalled meeting, did seem to have a problem with it. He approached you after you woke up, anger written all over him like he had lost a serious bet. According to what you could piece together, he had heard that you lost your memory and didn't believe it.

Lotor stopped you in the corridors after your match, kind and quiet when he asked about some sort of event that had happened in the past week. You obviously had no memory of this and you told him so. That's when the kindness began to run low.

He began threatening you to stop lying or else, but he was dragged out quickly afterward when he nearly became violent. Although he was a Galra of royal stature, Haggar and her druids seem to dislike him more than one would think and did not hesitate to send him away.

There was no getting those memories back unless you had access to the proper technology, and the Galrans definitely didn't have that because it simply wasn't necessary. So now, you're living with a small memory loss and fighting in a gladiator's arena a week later. Exactly the life I planned for myself, you think sarcastically.

Although the arena was your mean purpose onboard, you didn't fight very often. Despite being undefeated, you weren't very popular amping the Galra who regularly watched fights. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't land any 'entertaining hits' on your opponents, (wording [and threats] provided by Sendak). So, in the end, you decided to try knocking them out instead. It was a win-win; You literally won, and your opponent would live to see another day.

Shiro had thankfully, erm, 'removed' most of the blood-thirsty fighters before he was sent away, so you had untrained newbies to spare. Literally to spare; there was never a time you wouldn't spare them.

After a grueling battle with a very driven creature, you began to walk back to your side of the arena. Galran medics slung the blacked-out creature you had just fought onto a broken stretcher and carried it off, no care for the well-being of their fighters. One of them even went as far to drop their lift, causing the patient to roll off and roll their head a bit on the dirt. The craps they gave were in the negative range, somehow...

You were dripping with sweat, arms sore from wielding unnaturally heavy weapons as you walked towards your exit. You had reached the halfway point to the sliding doors when you heard a faint, unexplainable sound increasing in volume from behind. Expecting another opponent, you whipped around with your fists up, but there was no one to fight. Every last Galran with purple fur in the crowd began to scream out in pure fear, causing an instant uprising of cautiousness to wash over you. You cranked your head up to the sky, praying that their applause had been merely delayed or something, but you turned to see something even more startling;

Five robotic multi-colored... things zipped furiously towards the ship, most obviously here to cause damage to the vessel and/or blow up the entire mothership. Either of those, depending on where they would aim, would end up killing you, so naturally you began to grow fearful. You gasped in horror and froze, not knowing what else to do at the moment.

Then they decided to start firing where most of the Galra were; in the arena.

Where you were.

The open arena was not making the chances of you living through their open-shooting seem better. However, as you stared at them with a fine blend of thoughtlessness and fear, a ginormous light-blue laser struck the bleachers. Galra, dead and hardly alive, shot into the air and began falling onto the solid, blood-stained arena grounds near you. It's raining Galra.

Concluding that it wasn't safe to be at your location anymore, you booked it for the fighter exit you were heading for earlier. One very, very life-or-death problem kept you from going in though;

The doors were sealed shut.

The Galra on the other side had left you out to die with the attacking machines. 'Important, aren't I Shiro?' you thought, panic meter breaking its maximum. You began pounding your fists onto the door, screaming and thrashing to prove it was "Y/n, or 'New Champion' for simplicity". You searched around desperately for another chance at life, and came up with only one semi-though-out idea. It was absolutely ridiculous, but it was the best plan you had so far.

You began to carry heavy shields off of the weaponry rack ten yards away and built yourself a weak, short-standing fortress. Your screaming arm muscles were the least of your worries right then, in fact, you were in too much shock to acknowledge the blistering pain at the moment.

The fortress would definitely render utterly useless against the lasers, for iron was a terrible idea for a self-defense weapon, but maybe the intruders would mistake you for the weapon rack if you were to be that lucky.

You hunched down under your fort and watched the horrors of frightened Galrans attempting to move, to survive and pry open the doors without success. They looked so desperate to live, despite the sins and impurities strung to their unforgiving souls.

From the unsafe cracks in between the shields, everything was ten times more surreal. Dirt, blood and.. parts.. flew and landed from the hits being aimed by the attackers. You took a deep breath, trying to de-stress in the only way you knew how; calculation.

Odds of survival: 34.9%.

It's less than fifty, so in your bittersweet acceptance of death and remembrance of the last person who treated you like a human being, it took a lot out of you not to start bawling. You were then suddenly moved with a quake caused from the ground being shot at, causing your shield fort to crumble. You whimpered, then grunted angrily, then began to re-construct the fort when you noticed that the robots were landing. In the arena.

Not far from you.

You waited for the next four inevitable thuds, then began to rebuild your shelter again. You were able to finish the pathetic architectural feat successfully, and, without hesitation, began peeking through the cracks once more for a view of the impressively-armed attackers.

Against your strongest wishes and prayers, the lions slowly brought their heads to the ground and opened their jaws wide, one by one. The anxiety within you began to grow speedily as five well-armored and color-coded beings dropped down from the mouths, and you stared in amazement. Space's technological and architectural feats never ceased to amaze you.

Space was so... advanced. You were marveled by everything you were seeing and had seen, even though you were fearing the warships in front of you within your shivering bones.

Then a thought hit you. However ethical, you pondered: You knew the Galra were an evil, disgusting and merciless race, so maybe these people were... the good guys?

Maybe this was the Voltron you had heard about.

The beings then began to communicate with one another, and you picked up very few words of the conversation from your twenty foot distance;

"Pidge... look around.... Hunk and I... prisoners-" a somewhat familiar voice came from the black-armored one, and you choked on the lump in your throat, turning it into a startled gasp only you could hear. Was that... coykd that even be Shiro?!

The group dispersed and, seeing a chance to test your theories, you speedily began to kick at the shields and bring the iron fort to the ground, quickly- and noisily- clambering out of your metal pile, trying to attract the attention of the people who landed. It was the newest, safest bet.

Once you were out, to your sadness, the black, red and yellow beings had gone. The black one, however, definitely had the same voice as your old cellmate. You were 86.8% sure that that was your older brother figure, you just needed to find him again, take off his helmet and look him right in the face.

However, your attention was caught by the blue and green armored ones. They heard the clings and clangs of the iron and immediately turned your way, but you knew they must be good people if Shiro was on their side. You hoped, actually, but you decided to trust them nonetheless. You would either die, be kidnapped again, or escape. All of those options led you out of your current position, so they were the best ones to be stuck with.

The colored duo ran over to you as you got up, odd-shaped hexagon weapons with handles ready to fire at the potential threat you could have been. You stood in the pile of heavy shields, forcing a polite smile and raising your hands in surrender. English, proper survival techniques and kind manners were your best allies.

"There's no need to draw weaponry, please. My name is Y/n L/n, and I mean you no harm. Are you... are you people the 'Voltron'?" You asked, your voice gravelly from a distinct lack of clean water and sleep. The beings looked at each other, surprise and a small dash of sparkle written onto their features, however hidden by the helmet's visors. They then turned back to you.

"Y/n?!"

"Lance?" You ask, feeling more relief than you thought you would. "Lance McClain flying a giant cat in space? I think I'm high..."

"Nope!"

"How did you end up here?"

"Rescuing now, questions later." The other in green reminds, and Lance gives a sharp nod. "But you're thee
Y/n L/n, wow! The best student to attend the Galaxy Garrison. Thee Y/n that saved the rest of her crew members from the Nix Mission! The one that was supposedly 'abducted by aliens'!" They gaped, questioning you as you walked through the mess of rusty old defense tools.

"Yes, that's... exactly who I am. Your voice is so familiar, I just - wait." You think. "Pidge Gunderson!? I have too many questions for you both. Is your other friend here, the engineer fellow?" You asked eagerly, genuine curiosity about the whereabouts of your old classmates controlling your every new thought for a few seconds.

"You can see Hunk later, we gotta get out of here!" Lance cuts in. You continue to question them as you run, beyond stopping yourself and getting ready to finally escape your home of otherworldly horrors.

"Do you have the occupancy to get me off of this ship? I have a life on Earth to return to, I never graduated." You joke, and the conversation turned into words you had been dying to hear for the longest time.

"We do have the room, it's a rescue, you can stay with me! Let's get you onboard the Green Lion. You can ride with me- I already said that... nice, Pidge." They stated with embarrassment, running alongside you as you made your way back to the green machine across the arena. In the time of temporary peace, she speaks up. "Sorry, we never talked a lot, I used to think you were so cool.. still really do."

You can only think of one word in reply, other than flustered clusters of indecipherable words; "..Why?"

"Let's chat when it's safe. You have a lot to catch up on." She chuckles, making sure you're safe and secure inside of her lion.

"These are so fascinating. How did you come across this sort of technology?! The robotics here must be so complicated, it has to have at least-" you spoke as you clambered into the mouth, but you were interrupted by Pidge gently rushing you into the lion.

"Okay, I have to go, but I can tell we're gonna be great friends!" Pidge told quickly before running off. By some force unknown to you, the lion was on lockdown without her, allowing you to look around inside for an amazing half hour. You nearly drooled on the floor just looking around at the interior, fascinated by everything that surrounded you.

However, the whole time you were in there, you discovered something that confused you greatly; there was no obvious power source. No generator, no engine, no fuel tank, just... the lion. This made your mind begin to expand widely, taking in all of the information, creating infinite and wild possibilities for what resource one might find in space.

Your silence, sadly, was cut off by four other aliens entering the lion, then Pidge. You were huddled into the back with them, even though there wasn't anything to fear inside, necessarily. It was slightly heartbreaking, for they were all breathing heavily. One of them was crying, too. Though, they all (probably not unlike you), had rotten breath.

"Alright passengers, we're headed towards the Castle of Lions! Hold on!" She spoke in a pilot-like manner before pressing a pedal flat to the floor and blasting off. As you were pancaked flat to the back wall of the cockpit, you noticed that you were headed towards a blue and white object within the approaching atmosphere.

When you came into view with the 'Castle of Lions', you gasped in awe and gaped at the spectacular sight. It was a brilliant, beautiful castle... yet also a high-class, high-quality ship? No matter what it was or what was in it, you were excited. If all goes well were going to be starting a fresh, new, exciting life onboard it or you'd be home in no time.

.-~+*°*+~-.

{2566 Words}

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