Terminal Velocity • Voltron x Terminal List

V

When they reached the car, Lance hopped in the driver seat and felt around in the car door until he came upon the pill bottle. He shook out three and popped them into his mouth before dry-swallowing and tossing the bottle back where he'd found it.

Keith looked over at him with furrowed brows. "You okay, man?"

"Just another headache," Lance said, staring straight ahead. "Let's get out of here."

--

"So, Matthew Scopek," Lance said, and Pidge hummed. She'd sent his name earlier but had requested more time to put some information together on him, and Lance called once he and Keith had gotten back to the motel they'd be staying at for the night. They'd gotten separate rooms this time as Keith said he had to catch up on a few things with the Blade, and Lance appreciated the opportunity to be alone for a few hours.

"Right," Pidge said. "Matthew Scopek. He's worked for Nubellum Pharmaceuticals for over twenty years. It turns out that Nubellum is actually owned by Capstone Industries. I think I had that wrong earlier. Anyway, the interesting bit is that Capstone is trying to sell Nubellum to..." She waited, giving Lance time to guess, but he wasn't in the mood for games. Not after the day's activities. "Okay okay, I'll just tell you then. Capstone wants to sell Nubellum to our military."

"Why?" Lance asked, leaning forward and holding his phone out in front of him on speaker.

"That part I need more time on. All I know right now is that the deal revolves around something called Project RD-4895. Ring a bell?"

"Never heard of it. But the military wants to buy the entire company just for that one thing?"

"That's what it sounds like. I need more time to verify and to figure out what RD-4895 is really about. All the records I can find are sealed. Someone really doesn't want anyone finding out about this."

"Then we're digging in the right place," Lance responded.

"Where are you off to next?" Pidge asked. "And I know, I know, you can't tell me exactly but...roundabouts?"

"Mexico," Lance said. He felt his hands clench at the thought. Emilio hadn't been able to tell him much, but he had a rough idea of where to start. Right beneath Emilio's crossed-off name was a new one: EL NAVAJAS

"Mexico? What's in Mexico?"

"The sicario who murdered my family."

Pidge was quiet for a long time after that. "Lance...I think there's something...you should know."

"All right then, Pidge. Spit it out."

She waited another beat. "Is Keith listening in?"

Lance's eyes rose to the wall separating his room from Keith's. He wasn't sure just how good Galra hearing was, but he'd be willing to bet that the walls were thin even by human standards. Still, Lance had nothing to hide from him, although it was weird of Pidge to ask. "No, just me here. What's up?"

"There's...well..."

"C'mon Pidge, just tell me. If you want out, then you're out. I respect that."

"No, Lance, it's not that," she rushed to say. "I just...have bad news."

"Par for the course these days," Lance said, raising his eyes to the ceiling and letting himself lean back until his torso was lying flat on the bed, his legs dangling off the end. "Tell me."

"I...pulled your medical records from the clinic, and...I found your brain scans," Pidge said, slowing down as she went on. Lance set the phone on the duvet and rested his arms behind his head. "This was yesterday, but I had to do a little research and consult with a friend of mine in the neurological industry on how to read it, exactly, and...Keith mentioned something about your memories seeming a bit jumbled, and he said you've been having these headaches–"