Wild Starlight

by orphan_account, Sushi_For_Me

Summary:

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk are somewhat (and that's a BIG somewhat) notable bounty hunters, operating out of the "Defender," along with assistance from Pidge's fortune teller gf Allura and Keith's older brother/police captain Shiro. When Keith takes a bounty on a mysterious and intriguing monster/urban legend/whatever the hell it is, he's suddenly forced to share his ship with the people eating near invulnerable possible genetic experiment who's known as Lance.

Chapter 1

Chapter by orphan_account

Silence draped across the land of nearly abandoned desert, blanketing orange hills, rocky valleys, and rusted, steel ruins, the remains of a broken society.

The wind kicked up sand, letting dust fly in the air. The sky seemed like it was splotched with colour, watercolour splashes of purple and pink as the dual suns set on the horizon. 

Suddenly, the sound of a ship’s engine and thrusters extended throughout the calm twilight sky, startling small vermin on the desert ground. The ship, a small, red, modified police cruiser, covered in dents, scratches, and rust, obviously in disrepair, one metal plate even taped to the ship in duct tape, languidly extended its rusty, frail landing gears. The ship hovered on its thrusters, the sleekest part of the ship, four relatively new but well-used engines, before it made a soft landing on the hard dirt.

The ship slowly lowered itself closer to the ground, and opened vents all over the ship’s body to expunge wasted air. The sealed doors slowly opened up, a hissing sound emanating from the interior. 

A man stepped onto the dirt, snappily dressed in brown dress boots, tight jeans, a dark red bomber jacket over a black polo shirt. He wore a red bandana over his face, and large, clunky goggles over his eyes, along with a wide brimmed hat that helped cover his face from dust. 

He yawned, stretching out his back muscles, like this wasn’t anything unusual for him. He crushed a used cigarette butt with his gloved hand, and tossed it aside. 

“How’s it looking, Pidge?” the man said, leisurely strolling through the desert. 

“Be careful, Keith. You’ll never know what’ll happen on these bounties, you know?” a voice said, a male voice, coming from an earpiece Keith was wearing. He was clearly nervous as the anxious tone in his voice indicated.

“Shut up, Hunk.”

“Yeah, shaddup, Hunk!” A female voice chimed in, muffled from a mouthful of food. 

“Look, just be careful,” Hunk said, annoyed with his companions’ laissez-faire attitude with the operation.

“I always am. Like I was saying, what’s the deal?” Keith said, trying to steer the conversation back on topic.

“Eh. I’m kind of nervous, but Allura says it’ll be fine, so it’s probably gonna be fine,” Pidge said.

“If Allura says it’s fine then it’s fine, Pidge,” Keith said, a lighthearted tone in his voice.

“Eh, don’t fuck with fate, man,” Hunk said. “We don’t want you dead.”

“I know. I get that. I’ll be fine.”

“What’s with the bandana, bro? You look dumb,” Pidge said. “If the air was good enough for a fully functioning colony it’s plenty good for your fucking lungs.”

“Look, I get that, this is just so dust doesn’t get into every one of my fucking holes,” Keith retorted. “Besides, the massive, imposing ruins don't exactly bring confidence to the survivability of this planet.”

“Alright, alright, I retract my statement.”

“God, this shit gives me the creeps,” Hunk said. “Not a single soul in any of those buildings.”

“Well, mass annihilation from a destructive meltdown of a perversion of the universe’s basic laws of physics would do that to a society,” Pidge snarked, the sound of food smacking next to the microphone. 

“Oh how the mighty will fall, when their heads become too big for the skies, and they launch for the stars.” Keith said. “Marchall gives me the chills too, man.”

“Hilarious, man,” Hunk said.

“You know, I heard there are still spirits haunting the skeletons of the dead city. The ghosts of the citizens of the dead city of Ares, affected by the endless cosmic energy of the destroyed superhighway,” Keith said, hamming it up in his voice for the effect of his audience.

“Jesus Christ, asshole. You’re creeping me out, man,” Pidge muttered.

“Yeah, just messing with you. Besides, ain’t too different from what we’re about to do,” Keith said.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Hunk exclaimed.

"We'll be haunting the ruins. Duh."

The wind kicked up, howling gales flinging dust around, mini cyclones of dirt, bringing about a dust storm. It battered against Keith, and he folded in his arms for protection.

He could barely see, in the distance, a massive cave on the side of a cliff. Carved onto the rock were massive pillars and statues, masterfully crafted, with almost lifelike detail. Two pillars were built connecting the roof to the ground, while both were flanked by two lifesize statues, of a lifelike man and woman, each in some sort of traditional dress or ancient military uniform. 

Keith wandered over, looking up at the grand entrance to what seemed to be a temple. He took off his goggles and let them hang by his neck on a strap.

“Is this where they said it’ll be?” Keith asked.

“Apparently. It’s an old Reinism temple, built back when Hellenism and it’s traditions still had a say over what they did,” Pidge said. “Looks like it’s gonna be plenty thick, the ground atop. Doubt we’ll be able to keep you patched in.”

“Yeah. It’s underground, all right. If it was a tunnel then it’s a long one,” Keith said.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Hunk asked, incredulously. 

“Going dark, I guess. See you in a bit.” Keith reached up to an earpiece he was wearing, a small black plastic electronic.

“Hey, what are we eating, Hunk?” Pidge asked.

“What the shit- you just decimated the Chinese we had in the fridge,” Hunk complained.

“Yeah, but, like, I’m still hungry, man.”

The line disconnected with a sudden beep as Keith pressed a button on the earpiece. Now that he didn’t have the noise of his friends’ voices in his ear, the sound of slashing wind began to batter his eardrums. He walked towards the ruin, fighting against the wind, his clothes flapping violently.

As Keith took his first steps into the cave, the emptiness of the cave became obvious as a deafening silence enveloped Keith. Nothing but Keith’s footsteps, not even the sound of the wind outside, seemed to be able to penetrate the massive wall of sonic emptiness before him.

Keith carefully pulled down his bandana, eyeing the cave before him. The cave was massive, stretching out above Keith so high that he could barely comprehend it. There were openings in the roof of the cave, showing clear, incredibly dark sky above him, but there was still enough light shining through them that Keith’s eyes could still adjust to the darkness. What he saw before him seemed to be a massive walkway of some kind, flanked by columns and massive statues, much like the entrance, and at the end of it was a massive wall with what seemed to be gates. Massive murals were carved onto the walls, depicting monsters and heroes, looking ancient, like old Earth ruins, but it couldn’t have been built before humans colonized Marchall, yet it still felt like it was always somehow carved into the earth. 

Keith reached for a small cardboard box in his pockets, and opened it up for a small, white cigarette. He placed it between his lips, then rummaged again, and pulled out a metal lighter. 

Lighting his cigarette, he started tentatively walking down the pathway, his fingers feeling the handle of his revolver, his eyes flicking back and forth. After a few nervous moments, Keith relaxed, his hand still on his gun, ready to draw it, but now more casual, and less cautious. He strolled toward the gate.

The gate was large, some sort of metal, incredibly rusted and fragile. It was barely held together by a large, clunky, metal lock, unlike digital locks common in this time. It rattled when Keith grabbed it. Keith noticed the apparent fragility of the gate and started to pull it, hoping to be able to open it with his own strength.

He rattled the gate.

He rattled it again. 

The sound of metal rattling echoed into the empty cave.

Keith, in his frustration, kicked the gate, yet it did not budge. 

He then, letting out a shout of anger, took out his gun and then shot the lock.

The bullet ricocheted off the lock, and barely missed Keith’s leg, causing him to jump and stumble back. 

“Fuck!” Keith shouted, then he sighed. He looked around, then found a large rock, large enough to be a football, and picked it up, carrying it up to the gate. He then slammed the rock against the lock, smashing it to pieces, and the gate slowly creaked open, exposing the vast, dark expanse before him.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. He rifled through his pocket for a small, dinky flashlight, and turned it on, illuminating the hall before him. He took his first steps into the empty cave.

The murals on the walls stopped being carved into the rock, and were now simply painted on the surface. Faded blue skies overlooked the brown armies fighting alongside images of gods and heroes, long forgotten folk stories now immortalized in paint.

A small opening could be seen from the other end of the hall, light shining back into the incredibly dark corridor, making the paint sparkle with moonlight. As he approached the entrance, echoing sounds entered from the cavern opening, making Keith pause in his tracks. Slow, slick licking noises could be heard between pained grunts and muffled words. 

Keith was suddenly hit with a nervous wave of electricity. He had heard about the target, or at least stories and rumours about the bounty, and his nonchalance and lack of worry now seemed foolish. 

Keith breathed in, deep, and silently blew out the air in his lungs. He tensed his shoulders, adjusted the grip on his gun, and took a step into the open cavern.

Much like the first cave room, the room was brightened by moonlight and starlight, a purple and pink painted sky brightening the walls. The room was a theatre, or auditorium of some kind, stone benches and seats carved onto the ground. 

Keith gasped, as quiet as he could, staring at the sight before him. Bodies lined the seats and all throughout the room, husks of men and women, rotten flesh still clinging to their bones. Bugs and insects buzzed around the air, excited about the decayed, awful treasure trove of waste before them.

In the middle of the auditorium was a figure, leering over a body, much less obviously dead than the others. The body was still clothed, some sort of military or policeman’s garb, grey, buttoned uniform accompanied by a small, rimmed hat and brown leather boots. His chest heaved in a shaky rhythm, his mouth agape, desperate for air. Gashes were slashed all across his body, clumps of its flesh carved out of his stomach, his skin pale white, allowing bulging veins to become obvious in the light. 

The figure above him was covered in all black, and squatted next to the body. Its head was tilted next to the head of the nearly-dead body, whispering things during the small moments of silence between the body’s deathly gasps.

The figure perked up, its brown hair ruffling as it turned, before it pivoted towards Keith. He could get a much closer look at the figure, as its dark skin seemed to glow in the dim light and its bright blue eyes pierced through the cavern. It seemed to be wearing all black, an extravagant, shiny cape that would sway with the wind and the figure’s movements. What seemed to be black, leather boots reached up to halfway up its thigh, and black gloves covered its hands, reaching up to its biceps, the cloth seeming to bleed into its skin. It was somewhat immodestly covered by a shiny black leotard, letting the definition of its muscles become obvious.

“Oh, hello, cutie,” the figure said, licking the tips of its pure black nails that seemed to extend from its glove, red liquid seeping out of his lips. It wiped the blood off its chin, leaning towards Keith, one hand on its back. “You lost?”

As much as the strewn about bodies somewhat disturbed him, Keith wasn’t completely rattled. His heart slowly started to steaden, adjusting his gun so that he only gripped it with one hand. He straightened up from his rigid posture and grinned, a small but toothy grin, his face somewhat obscured by his dark hair and the brimmed hat. 

“Nah, at least I don’t think so,” he said, tightening his grip on his gun while letting his other arm hang by the side. His eyes focused his gaze on the target, his breathing starting to slow in preparation. “No, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“Oh, really? Did they really deliver my next meal for me?” it said, baring its teeth in a wide, Cheshire smile, its teeth stained red. “Finally, some room service.”

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle at the bit of banter. “You got a name?” he asked.

“Hmm, who wants to know?” the creature asked, straightening up, taking small steps towards Keith, taking a hold of the body’s hair, dragging it along the ground. “Planning to get intimate before you die?”

“Fuck do you mean?” Keith asked. 

“Oh, you’re so pretty, though, I know you’ll taste delicious,” it said. “Besides, I’ve been needing a new body to feed on, this one’s kind of… out of juice, know what I mean.” The figure’s nails slowly extend outward, growing into a sharp claw. It slashed right across the body’s neck, weak spurts of blood dripping onto the cave ground. The black clad creature then scooped into the gash, a small handful of flesh in its hand. It bit into it, chewing furiously at the sinew. 

“Is this supposed to be fucking seductive?” Keith asked, getting frustrated. He took a small step towards the edge of the auditorium, the sound of his step cutting through his words.

“Oh, I’m not trying to be, I can do that easy on my own,” the creature said, swallowing the flesh of the dead man. “The name’s Lance, pretty thing. How about you be a good boy and kneel in front of me so I can drain you.”

“What happens if I say no?” Keith asked, holstering his gun in preparation for a quick draw, his hands adjusting his grip on the gun ever so slightly. “Lance?”

“Well,” Lance said, giving soft kitten licks to his palm and fingers. “Then I’ll have to do it myself.”

Suddenly, Lance dashed forward, causing Keith’s senses to go into overdrive. His hand drew his gun out of the holster, quickly taking aim, lining up the barrel with Lance’s chest. He fired, the recoil only slightly impacting his trained firing arm, but the surprise of Lance’s movement clearly rattled him, as he suddenly started to go off balance. 

Lance swiftly dodged the bullet, in a movement that was almost certainly superhuman, his hair and cape a blur as he lunged to the left, then he slashed at Keith, outstretched claws slicing through the air.

Keith, already unbalanced, stumbled to the right, narrowly avoiding the claw. He landed on his ass, the impact rattling Keith’s body, becoming disoriented in the scramble. Lance lunged towards Keith, batting away Keith's gun as he tried to readjust his aim. Lance slashed erratically, as Keith scrambled to get back on his feet. 

As he stumbled upright, Lance made an attack towards Keith’s neck, but he dodged to the left and gave a hard cross with his left fist, making Lance’s head fling backwards. Keith then scrambled after the gun.

Lance recovered faster than Keith could react, and kicked the gun away. Keith hopped backwards, his legs flailing about, looking for a steady foundation, as Lance made strong but imprecise attacks, aiming for non-lethal areas that wouldn't kill Keith. He made a lucky attack on Keith’s left thigh, lining his pants with three streaks of blood and causing him to scream out in pain. 

“Oh, I love your voice when you’re in pain,” Lance said, readying up for the final strike, letting his claws slowly shorten for a blunt final blow. 

Keith’s brain flew into overdrive, noticing a large rock, presumably a seat for the theatre. He picked it up with both hands, then, pushing all his weight onto his uninjured right leg, swung the rock onto Lance’s jaw. His head twisted in an awful fashion, knocking him out cold and his body slammed onto the cave rock.

Nothing could be heard except for Keith’s heavy breathing, his chest heaving as adrenaline slowly seeped from his body. Keith, impeded by his injury, slowly limped over to his gun and picked it up, holstering it silently, solemnly. 

Keith kneeled next to Lance, the creature limp on the ground. Slightly worried, Keith layed two fingers on Lance’s neck, feeling for his pulse. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Normal. Alive.

“Oh, great,” Keith said, relieved. He straightened up, stretching his spine, feeling as his vertebrae crack along his back. Suddenly, Keith had a realization. “Oh. He has a pulse. Blood. Okay.”

Keith realized that he now had to drag Lance’s limp body with an injured leg.

“Fuck me.”

.

The computer chirped as the video call connected, a grainy, low quality image projected onto the screen, a visual representation of the distance between the callers.

A view of Keith’s brother, Shiro, appeared on the screen. Clad in a police captain’s uniform, his tie undone, collar ruffled and jacket draped on the back of his chair. His desk was impressively cluttered, case files strewn about, stationary randomly thrown around the desk, and his gun casually sat on the desk, without a holster, and probably still locked and loaded.

Similarly, Keith’s office workspace was also generally messy, a cramped and small space closed off from the rest of the ship, with walls lined in bookcases filled with books, guns, a pair of safes and strewn about cash, along with a computer, a large but technologically weak brick, and a tape player connected to a pair of weak, tinny speakers. 

The two were mirroring each other in what was certainly a familial habit, as they had both shoved the clutter on their respective desks to make room for an empty space for their food. Keith’s desk held a bowl of rice, a plate of grilled salmon, and grilled green peppers and beef. Shiro, meanwhile, had a plastic reusable container of pasta and meatballs, paired with a thermos of soup and a pair of chopsticks.

“Hey, Keith, buddy, how are you?” Shiro exclaimed, his mouth half full, mid bite, his chopsticks mid air, noodles slowly sliding back down onto the pasta pile in the tupperware. “Did it go well, man?”

“Eh, kind of,” Keith said, staring down at his bare legs, now bandaged, a red stain over the bandaged area. “Got a good slash in. For some reason it like, still really hurts, its starting to affect my movement.”

“Really? Fucks sake, that sucks,” Shiro said. “I got shot in the arm once.”

“You’ve told me,” Keith said, picking up his bowl and piling some of the other dishes onto the rice. “Practically hundreds of times, dude.”

“Ha, ha,” Shiro muttered, reflexively stretching his right arm. He popped a meatball into his mouth. “You’re careful with it, right? Disinfected it, bandaged, careful with it, you know?”

Keith rolled his eyes, and pulled his leg up to the chair’s seat, slapping his bandaged thigh. 

A sudden, sharp, pain slammed through Keith’s body, causing him to double over and hiss. He clenched his teeth and pounded his fist on the table to distract from it. 

“That hurt, didn’t it?” Shiro said, a smirk plastered on his face. “Dumbass.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Keith said, annoyed and still flared up with pain. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t slap any injured wounds,” Shiro suggested.

Keith lets his foot fall back to the ground. “I get it, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What about you? What’s going on in the 5-9-9?” 

“God, this week was a fucking mess,” Shiro said, rubbing his forehead, a pained look on his face. “Stray space debris smashed the power plant near the precinct and caused a blackout for like three days, and when it ended there was a fucking sniper or shooter and there was a massive manhunt and it was just painful.”

“Who got shot?” Keith asked, taking a bite out of his food.

“That big shot politician, Sendak- what’s his name,” Shiro said.

“No, really? Fuckin’ hate that guy. Whole elitist fucking rich get richer removed from reality motherfucker.”

“Yeah, well at least his one kid is gay.”

A small moment of silence came between the two brothers, as they chewed the food in their mouths. Then, the two of them burst into laughter, both of them doubling over in their chairs at the ridiculousness of what they just said.

“Ah, the Galaxy Alliance is doomed,” Shiro said, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, a small black lion emblazoned on it. 

“So how’s Adam?” Keith asked, somewhat preoccupied by his mission of extracting every last grain of rice from his bowl.

“Adam’s fine. There was a scare, actually, at his research station,” Shiro said.

“Oh really? What happened?” Keith asked, rummaging for a can he put somewhere on his desk.

“Some space debris or other, they’re not sure right now. But it’s fine, nothing too worrisome, at least they don’t think.”

“Well, people should trust the scientists,” Keith said. “Alright, Shiro, uh, I bet you have to go to work now, huh?”

“I don’t have to go to- oh, nope, you’re right.”

“Yeah. Hey, while you’re there do you mind updating the bounty? Saves me some trouble,” Keith said, grabbing spare napkins from his desk and wiping his face with them. 

“Yeah, actually, Keith, there’s been an update to the bounty,” Shiro said. “You’re not dropping… it off at the station.”

Keith paused and turned to the screen. “What?”

“Yeah. When you get to the station a police escort’s gonna bring you along to some transport facility or other, ok?”

“Why can’t I have an escort right now?” Keith asked, somewhat jokingly.

Shiro just shrugs. “Alright, kid, stay safe, alright? I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” Keith said, watching as Shiro reached behind the screen and shut it off, disconnecting the feed.

Keith sat down, sighed, and grabbed a cigarette from a carton on his desk. He placed it between his lips, and painfully stood back up, resting all of his weight on his right leg. He looked around for a lighter, realizing that there wasn’t one in the room and there wasn’t one either in his pants. Keith groaned in frustration, then slowly shuffled over to the thick, steel door and pressed the button to open the door to his office.

The door slammed open with a loud thunk. Red lights shined in the darkness, giving the hall before Keith a blood red glow. An alarm sounded periodically, cutting through the silence. The darkened lights and blaring alarm worried Keith, and he knew that something was wrong.

Keith took a hold of his revolver, checking to see if it was loaded, then set off down the hall.

He slowly snuck forward, worried, his mind slowly inching towards believing the worst. He knew that what went wrong was probably the thing he had let onto his ship, and that could mean plenty of terrible things. His friends weren’t the kind of skilled fighters that Keith was, and that meant if they were attacked they might as well be dead.

His ears perked up to an almost subsonic noise, silent whispering from the inside of his ship’s storage closet. Keith could recognize the voices with the little information he gained, and he knew that he should probably open the closet door.

But first, he wanted to fuck with the occupants.

He knocked on the door, once, twice.

Nothing but silence and the blare of the alarms.

He knocked on the door again.

“Hello, room service,” Ketih said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Unoccupied,” a female voice responded.

Keith opened the storage room, letting the door rise up and open fully. He found Pidge and Hunk huddled together between the shelves of cleaning supplies and repair tools, Pidge’s hair ruffled and her glasses broken and taped together, Hunk’s clothes stained with what appeared to be soup, their faces peppered with bruises.

“Fuck are you two doing?” Keith asked, leaning on the frame of the metal door. 

“Shut up,” Pidge retorted, her pale skin paler than usual. 

“The fuck happened?”

“Your fucking bounty went nuts, alright?” Hunk shouted. “Jumped me in the kitchen, roughed us up and bolted for somewhere, god knows.”

Keith took a moment to think, spinning around his revolver, chewing on the end of his cigarette. 

“Alright,” Keith said. “Pidge, scan with your scanner thing- look for anything weird with the ship, alright? And both of you, get up, we’ve got to get a move on.”

“Really? What, are we hunting for that- thing?” Pidge asked. “That weird oddly sexual whatever-the-fuck?”

“He has a name, you know,” Keith said. “It’s Lance. Look, I need to move, Pidge needs to be able to tell me where he is, and neither of you will survive alone if he finds you and decides to kill you. Let’s get going, guys.” He tapped the doorframe, like he was spurring on a horse.

Keith was about halfway down the rest of the hallway when the sound of scurrying feet made him turn around. 

“Alright, goddammit, we’re coming,” Pidge whispered, sneaking up towards Keith along with Hunk. “But only because we know where he is,”

“Where?” Keith asked.

“One of the docks for the cruisers. I think it's the same one you used to get down to the planet.” Pidge swiped on a small tablet in her hands. “Sensors show some damage to the wall of the room, he might be gunning to get out.”

“Well, then let’s go.” Keith hobbled back the way he was going, adjusting his grip on his gun slightly as he went along. 

“This fucking sucks,” Pidge complained. “He fucking spilled my goddamn leftover takeout.”

“Pidge, would you shut the fuck up? You’re gonna get us killed,” Hunk said, brandishing a wrench. 

“Jesus Christ, you two, shut up, we’re here,” Keith whispered, tapping his gun on the massive metal door that led to the hangar. The door had been slashed open, the metal petaling like a massive, sharp metal flower. 

“Holy shit,” Pidge exclaimed, running her fingers over the damaged metal. “Why the fuck didn’t I pick this up on the-”

“Oh, who cares,” Keith said, slamming the button to open the door. 

The door doesn’t budge, presumably because the door had been damaged.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith swore. “Fuck, ok, I can probably fit through there, just, just stay put.” Keith awkwardly stepped into the hole, wriggling his body around to try and slide through the opening, groaning in pain as he went along.

“God, that sounds bad,” Hunk said, a worried tone in his voice, watching as Keith painfully squeezed out of the hole. 

“Shut up. Quiet.”

Keith straightened up, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness so he could see all of his surroundings. The hanger seemed mostly unchanged by the rampaging supernatural monster, Keith’s small red cruiser was undamaged, and nothing seemed to be out of order.

A pounding sound emanated from the other side of the room, solid mass against metal, echoing into the darkness. Keith checked if the gun was loaded, reflexively, and made his way towards the noise.

He could see the cloaked figure slamming his fist into the wall, occasionally slashing at it with a claw. His frustrated growls worried Keith, sending waves of nervous energy down his spine.

Keith cocked the gun, pointing it at Lance with one hand. The sound of the weapon made Lance stiffen up, alert.

“Hey, buddy,” Keith said, warily.

Lance slammed the wall with his fist again.

“You can’t stop me for shit, cowboy hat,” he said, a distinctive growl in his voice.

“Funny, I’m not wearing it right now,” Keith said, instinctively running a hand through his fluffy black hair. 

“Fuck you,” Lance said.

Keith adjusted his stance. “There’s nothing but space out there, alright? If you break through something bad’s gonna happen.”

Lance slashed at the metal with his claw, creating a narrow hole into the hull, slowly sucking the air out of the dock. Lance’s cape, along with Keith’s long, unruly hair, flapped in the air currents. 

Lance growled and lunged at Keith, causing Keith to stumble back and hiss in pain, putting a bit too much weight onto his bad leg. Keith fired a shot, narrowly missing Lance’s head. 

Lance shot forward, tackled Keith and slammed him onto the side of his ship, and pulled his arm back to ready for a slash. Keith used the weight of the slam to shoot forward, hurtling into Lance, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming his head against the wing of Keith’s ship.

Both of them tumbled onto the ground, Lance going limp and Keith slamming his palms onto the ground. 

Keith slowly got himself back onto his feet, his leg aching in a way that it shouldn't. He looked down to see a crushed, unused cigarette on the floor, folded in half and the white of the wrapping paper speckled with the brown of dirt.

"Fuck," Keith said, quietly mourning his lost cigarette. He watched as it was sucked into the vacuum of space.

The current of the air had become stronger, the hole in the hull slowly but steadily widening. Keith picked up Lance, bridal style, and lumbered his way towards the door.

“You alright?” Hunk asked, leaning over to see into the hole in the door. “We heard gunshots”

“It’s ok, alright?” Keith leaned onto the wall next to the door, out of breath. “For a bullet-dodging vampire thing, he’s really susceptible to blunt force head trauma.”

“Well. Maybe he’s a bullet dodger, not a bullet taker,” Pidge suggested.

“Maybe,” Keith said. “Y’all mind helping me shimmy this fucker into the hallway? Then we should seal off this door and find somewhere to fix the ship up.”

 

Chapter 2

Keith slowly opened his eyes to the ceiling of his bedroom, with a small single unlit light bulb set in the middle. He slowly sat up, fighting against the searing pain in his leg and the pain from his pounding headache- the general soreness you get from brawling with and then lugging around a big, aggressive bounty.

Keith’s bedroom wasn’t actually that small, but it felt cramped, stuffed to the brim with belongings he had yet to throw out. Various cardboard boxes held most of his clothing, along with bookshelves filled with atlases of both galaxies and various worlds and various colourful language books. While Keith did tend to toss his weaponry all over his room, with his pistol sitting half-loaded on his bedside and a small, automatic weapon almost dangling off of his bed, his actual armory replaced his wardrobe inside of his closet.

He groaned in aching pain as he got to his feet, stumbling and dragging his injured leg behind him, lugging himself forward and out of his room. 

“Goddammit, shit, maybe I should get a fucking cane or something,” Keith muttered to himself, using the wall of the hallway for balance, as he shuffled down towards the staircase. 

The communal living space of Keith’s ship, the Defender, was a pretty large room, with metal panes covering the walls and a large roof light was bolted to the middle of the roof, a bright fluorescent light shining over the entire room. The room, however, still felt mighty cramped because of all the things laying around in the room. A large, felt, olive green couch sat in the middle, rough from overuse. Cardboard boxes filled with various knick knacks and personal items were stacked all around, and everything from litter to crusty, old, cobbled together gadgets were scattered all around the ground.

“Hey, Keith,” Pidge almost growled from the living room, as Keith almost crawled his way down the stairs. She sat on the couch, her green spray painted double barrel shotgun in her hands, her frizzy blonde hair over her eyes. She was gnawing her teeth in anger, her fingers twitching as they held the gun, her breathing heavy in frustration. “You okay? How’s the leg?” 

“I’ll be fine, alright? God, I’m tired from just dragging my ass here,” Keith complained, collapsing onto the couch next to Pidge, his weight displacing the cushions on the couch. “I’m just very sore and the pain is giving me a headache, which seems ironic because pain is giving me pain and- actually, no it’s not, that was stupid, ignore what just came out of my mouth.”

“You, want, like, some tea, or something?” Pidge asked, holding up a warm thermos. 

“I, maybe, is that some Allura brand herbal shit?” Keith said, only about half joking. 

“I dunno.” Pidge took a sip of the tea. “Eh. It’s not bad.”

Keith warily took the thermos, cupping his hands on the thermos. He took a gulp of the tea, the warm liquid starting to warm up his system. “Hm. You’re right.”

Suddenly, his throat, and by proxy, his mouth, was filled with a bitter aftertaste, coating every part of his mouth, down to even his teeth and gums. He groaned in disgust, spitting out and scraping his tongue with his teeth. “Oh, Jesus, what the fuck is that aftertaste?”

“Yep, got there,” Pidge forced out through gritted teeth, face distorting in disgust and pain. She took the thermos from Keith’s hands, then chucked it behind the couch. “How am I in love with this woman? Nope, doesn’t matter, I do.” 

Keith chuckled, a comfortable silence setting between the two friends. Slowly, his gaze wanders towards the corner of the room, his head turning towards the limp body of his presumably supernatural bounty.

Lance laid on the ground, almost serenely, his head awkwardly placed on top of a crumpled cardboard box. His hands and legs were tied with black leather straps, clearly damaged from wear and tear, which heavily limited his movement. 

“He looks so calm. Like a baby,” Keith murmured. 

Pidge turned to look at Keith, eyebrows raised and the corners of her lips tugging into a smirk. “What the fuck?”

“I dunno. He’s serene. Sleeping so nice and silently.”

“Like, as a cute thing?” Pidge rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Lance’s asleep body. “How the fuck would you find something so loathsome physically charming?”

“Well, he’s asleep, so. Not many opportunities to be loathsome.”

“Well, when he’s awake he’s an asshole,” Pidge mumbled, glaring at Lance’s unconscious face. “He fucking spilled my lunch.”

“Oh, come on, dude,” Keith exclaimed. “Calm down, why are you so caught up with that shit?”

Suddenly, Lance shot up, screaming, almost like in pain, making Keith jump and almost tumble off of the couch. He grasped the couch armrests in panic, legs flinging upward, fingers clawing at the cloth of the couch. 

Lance’s stiff body slowly relaxed, and then sagged, his head tilted down and his hair covering his face. His breathing was heavy, face was ruddy, his body twitching in almost unnatural ways. 

Keith slowly pulled himself up back onto the couch, turning his body towards Lance, lethargically dragging himself onto the cushions. Pidge shifted so she sat at the edge of the couch cushions, staring daggers into Lance, her jaw stiffening in anger. Her lip and eyelid was subtly twitching, and her brows were furrowed, tiny folds appearing on her forehead. 

Lance’s eyes met Pidge’s, and he froze, his eyes widening slightly, his shoulders tensing up and small claws appearing on the ends of his fingers.

Pidge, however, didn’t seem quite as shook. In fact, her eyes only narrowed in fury. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers fidgeting on the barrel of her shotgun.

“Hi there, monster-boy,” Pidge snarled, leaning forward. “How’re you feeling? Does every part of your body hurt? Do you feel nothing but utter pain and agony?”

Lance did nothing but stare back, his face blank, his breathing starting to steady and slow into a gentle rhythm. His entire body was still tensed up, ready to attack if needed, even if his hands were tied together.

“Jesus Christ, Pidge, relax, would you?” Keith muttered, pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket, taking a sip and grimacing at the taste. “Why so mad, man? Come on.”

“Shut up, Keith,” she sharply said back.

“What the fuck do you want, Tiny?” Lance growled, smirking as he watched the reaction to the nickname on Pidge’s face. 

“The fuck did you just call me?” Pidge shouted, suddenly leaping to her feet. She went to step towards Lance when suddenly the debacle was interrupted by the sounds of soft, padding footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Pidge, like, chill, babe,” a soft, female voice said from the stairwell. Pidge sighs, her shoulders relaxing, before sitting back down, her leg bobbing up and down in frustration.

Allura, a slender, young, dark skinned woman, made her way down the stairs. Her bright white, almost glowing hair and sky blue eyes made her seem striking from any distance. She was dressed simply in a large, graphic t-shirt with various small animal designs on it, which billowed out at her knees much like a skirt, and a pair of shorts. Her bare feet barely made footstep noises on the stairs, and she held herself with a relaxed, laissez faire attitude.

She slowly stepped down to the living room floor, her hand brushing against the handrail, the tips of her long, painted white nails sliding on the metal rail. 

“What’s with all the racket?” Allura asked, lethargically, as she slowly sidled up to the couch.

“The alien dude called your girlfriend short,” Keith said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at Lance.

“And spilled my lunch!” Pidge grumbled. 

“And spilled her lunch, I guess.”

Allura maneuvered her way behind the couch, brushing her hand on the felt of the couch, before gently wrapping her arms around Pidge’s chest, leaning in and letting her head rest on her shoulder. “Hey babe,” she whispered to Pidge, before planting a peck on her cheek. A small grin tugged at the edges of her mouth, and she tilted her head towards Allura, who nuzzled against her cheek. 

“What’s with her and her lunch?” she asked Keith, who simply gave a nonchalant shrug in response. 

“It was those green peppers and beef Hunk made, like, a couple days ago, man. It was so fucking good, man.” Pidge’s anger had gone from a stable fury to a sort of childish contemptment, and her eyes were still focused on Lance, but were now grieving her lost food. 

“Oh, what’s with you and food, baby, you’re being so whiny,” Allura teased.

“Shut up!” 

Allura smiled warmly, before turning her attention towards Lance in the corner. He sat, staring, his eyebrows slanting downwards and his eyes narrowing. He shifted himself just barely backwards, bending his knees to pull his legs closer to himself.

“Hello there,” Allura took a few tentative steps towards Lance, her hands brushing the felt of the couch. Lightly, she slowly and methodically approached him, as if he was a scared kitten on the side of the road. Lance responded by curling up even tighter and shifting himself backwards. “You must be that Lance everyone’s been talking about,” Allura said, using her honey sweet voice to try and approach the creature.

“I don’t like you,” Lance muttered, slinging venom from his throat. 

Allura squatted down next to Lance, cautiously reaching out with her hand. “It’s okay. Can I touch you?”

Before anyone could react, Allura cried out, as she suddenly tumbled with Lance pouncing on top of her, as much as he could with his arms and legs tied up. Pidge’s eyes widened before she yelled out and shoulder-checked Lance, and he tumbled backwards back into the corner. Pidge leaned down next to Allura, putting herself in front of her protectively.

Keith yawned, thinking to himself that his headache was getting really annoying. 

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Pidge growled, protectively kneeling in front of Allura, grip tightening on her rifle.

Lance glared back, curling against the wall. His sharp extend-o nails slowly receded back into his hand. His left eye twitched subtly, his breathing slowing as the intensity of the situation calmed down. 

“Oh, I bumped my head pretty hard there,” Allura murmured, slowly pulling herself back up from the ground. She rubbed the back of her head with her palm, hissing in pain as she pressed down on her bruise. 

Pidge helped pull her back up to her feet, the two stumbling for balance. Her shirt was slashed, claw marks from where they weren’t before, but she didn’t look like she got cut, with no sign of blood on her skin, the fabric or the floor. 

“What a beautiful, mysterious beast you are,” Allura wonders, half to herself, half to the air. “But not as fearsome as you like to project.” 

Allura tilted her head towards Lance, who had a bemused expression, staring at her as if she was dancing mad. 

“But deep down, you’re just a scared little thing fighting for your life,” Allura continued. “What a little conundrum you are, even now.”

Allura, having seemed to have lost her train of thought, sighed, before she seemingly slammed back down into reality as her gaze flitted left and right, her mouth opening in nervous shock. “Oh, boy, heh, I think I may have a concussion,” she quickly murmured, before she slowly backed away and went up the stairs, her steps light so as to not make much noise.

“What the fuck?” Keith muttered to himself. He slowly tried to pull himself up from his lying down position on the couch, the sharp but insistent stinging pain from his wound still bothering him.

“What the fuck was that for?” Pidge said through clenched teeth, her voice quiet but lit with fury.

“Pidge,” Keith started, still pulling his legs off of the armrests of the couch.

“The FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?” Pidge yelled, the anger now so potent it almost burned up the air around her.

“Jesus Christ, Pidge, no yelling!” Keith exclaimed, bringing himself back to a seated position. “God, my fucking head is already killing me.”

Pidge took a deep breath before she sighed heavily. “I’m sorry for yelling, ok? But this asshole is getting on my last damn nerve!”

“Yeah, maybe you oughta stop with the violent outbreaks, man,” Keith mumbled, rubbing his forehead, watching as Lance rolled his eyes. “Damage to the ship, making a mess…”

“My lunch,” Pidge said, pointedly.

“Yes, your barely consequential meal, Pidge.” Keith sighed. “How about we make a deal, huh, Lance? What’s gonna keep you docile?”

“You’re just leading me back to those assholes, you know?” Lance growled. “You’re bounty hunters, aren’t you? I’ve never met one, but I’ve heard they can be real assholes, you know?”

“Like, yeah, okay, we get that, but can you at least be civil?” Keith said, still pinching at his forehead. “Like, how about we do you a favour? Tit for tat, or whatever. Say it. Make the bus ride more comfortable.”

Lance’s gaze flicked between the two bounty hunters in front of him, his eyes twitching and narrowing in suspicion. He then groaned, and slumped into the wall. A slight bit of worry overcame Keith, as he knew that if he didn’t bring Lance into Altea alive the bounty would be moot.

“I’m hungry,” Lance muttered, interrupting Keith’s train of thought.

Pidge turned towards him, lowering her rifle until the end of the barrel hit the floor. “You’re what?”

“I haven’t gotten shit to eat since I got on this damn ship, alright?” Lance groaned. 

Pidge turned back to look at Keith, who shrugged. “I mean, I guess it isn’t unreasonable.”

“Yeah, but what the fuck would that,” Pidge said, waving vaguely at Lance, “eat?”

“Well, there were plenty of half eaten human bodies in the coliseum thing we found him in,” Keith started.

“That’s disgusting,” Pidge interrupted.

“But given that kidnapping people for food is illegal, we can either wait until we accidentally kill another bounty or maybe find a marketplace for some red meat or something.” Keith turned to look at Lance, trying to seem supportive and reassuring. 

“Red meat is fine,” Lance says.

“Do you… do you, like, cook your meat? Because, because those humans looked pretty raw,” Keith asked.

Lance looked back at Keith, a poet’s most expressive and complex mockery expressed within a single eyebrow. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Raw is fine,” Lance mumbled.

“Cool.” Keith picked up Pidge’s tablet from the floor. 

“Where the fuck are we going to get meat, anyways? The next shipdock won’t be here for astro-units!” Pidge complained.

Keith tapped on the tablet, swiping his fingers on it until a map appeared on the screen. “There’s a somewhat inhabited desert planet not far from here,” he said. He looked up to Pidge. “Maybe we can find something there.”

“What’s the planet called?”

“Taujeer, it says.”

“Ugh. I’ve heard of that place. Bunch of weird backwater skeeze jobs hanging around selling guns and drugs and sex and death because it’s too dirtfuck poor of a planet for the Alliance to give a shit about,” Pidge complained. “Do we have to stop there? If he gets hungry I can feed your leg to him.”

“You do that and I’m feeding you to him. And then your girlfriend,” Keith snarked.

“Bullshit. You’re bullshiting. You won’t feed shit into shit. I, on the other hand, am completely serious about your broken leg.”

“It’s not broken, it’s just slashed.”

“Yeah, but it looks like it’ll fall off.”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Hunk complained, plodding down the stairs. “No one’s feeding anybody to anything.”

“We’re trying to figure out what to feed the alien guy,” Pidge explained.

“What does he eat?” Hunk asked.

“Raw meat is the consensus for now. We asked him and everything,” Keith said, pointing over at Lance, who nodded slightly. “Do we have anything in the fridge?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Hunk said, his voice slightly strained and his eyes flicking to look at the wall. His mouth twisted up slightly in a crooked, tense smile. 

“Wait,” Pidge said, snapping her fingers. “We’ve got that big beef carcass in the fridge unit, right?”

“Oh yeah. Big hunk of meat on a hook there, right?” Keith said. “We could give him that.”

“W-wait a minute,” Hunk began.

“Right,” Pidge said, already moving towards the storage rooms. “That should keep him placated, right?”

“Guys, please.” Hunk rubbed his hands together nervously.

“It should.” Keith lifted himself off of the couch, wincing as he put his weight down on his legs. He grabbed the cane laying on the couch and started hobbling his way out of the room, into the corridor leading to storage.

“Wait! Guys!” Plodding footsteps could be heard behind Keith and Pidge as Hunk ran up next to them. “You guys aren’t serious, right?”

“What, about feeding our bounty raw meat?” Pidge asked.

“Yes, somehow,” Keith said to himself.

“No, I mean, feeding him the carcass in our fridge! You do realise what it is, right?”

“What, is it some previously unknown alien creature?” Pidge snarked.

“No, it’s Kobe! Expensive as fuck authentic Kobe beef!” Hunk said, angrily. “Do you understand how much it cost to buy the damn carcass, much less export it from Earth to Altea!”

“There are still cows on Earth?” Keith wondered, aloud.

“Yes, Keith, there are still cows on Earth, far as I’ve heard.” Hunk said. “Look, I was saving it for a special occasion, all right? Please don’t use it on some random cannibal alien bounty.”

The three of them slowed to a stop in front of the door for the refrigeration unit, a large metal door sealing off the room 

“You do realise that if Lance was an alien he, by definition, is not a cannibal, right?” Keith said, as Pidge pressed a button next to the metal doors, opening them up. The doors hissed as they opened, the cold air within the fridge visibly billowed out at foggy clouds. The fridge was relatively bare, a few boxes of assorted frozen fruits and vegetables alongside a pile of prepackaged frozen steamed buns and a few ribs strewn about, but in the middle was a hook which hung from the ceiling, and on the hook was a large meat carcass which seemed untouched. 

“This could probably feed him for the whole trip,” Keith muttered, slightly amazed.

“No, no. Absolutely not. Veto. I veto,” Hunk said, crossing his arms. “We are not wasting that.”

“We’re not wasting it, we are feeding it to someone,” Pidge said. “Literally the opposite.”

“Can’t we just buy something off a planet or something?” Hunk asked.

“Pidge doesn’t want to go,” Keith said.

Suddenly, the device in Pidge’s pocket bleeped to life. With a scowl, she pulled it out of her pocket and stared at the screen of the brick-like personal device coloured a puke brown that barely fit in her small hands. 

“Ah, shit.”

“What’s wrong, Pidge?” Keith asked.

“Fuck, we’re low on fuel,” Pidge hissed. “We’re going to have to land to refuel.”

“Ah, which means Taujeer,” Keith said, smugly. “We can refuel and get some meat so Hunk doesn’t try to cause a triple homicide.”

“Ugh, that place fucking blows, though,” Pidge groaned. “Fucking fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Pidge angrily stomped her way down the hallway.

Keith turned to Hunk. “How long have you had this giant hunk of meat?” he said, pointing at the carcass. 

“Only since the last time we left Altea, I think,” Hunk said.

“Oh. I was half worried that, like, it’d be rotten when we got here or something.”

“Ah, no worries, with this magnificent freezer nothing is going sour in here,” Hunk said, slapping on the side of the freezer room. 

“Fascinating.” Keith started to hobble his way out of the freezer. “It is fucking butt cold in here.”