Lance opened his eyes and blinked. Were the castle lights always so bright? And damn, why does his head hurt like a bitch? He sat up and looked around. Wait a minute...this isn't the castle! He looked around to see him and the rest of the paladins in a vaguely familiar shooting range.
The rest of the paladins woke up and looked around. "Where the hell are we?" Keith asked.
"Paladins?" Coran asked. Lance looked around but he couldn't see Coran. "Paladins can you hear me?"
"We hear you Coran," Shiro answered.
"Oh good, the comms still work," Coran breathed.
"Uh, we're not wearing comms." Keith said. And he was right, none of the paladin's were in their training armor.
"Your bodies are," Coran said. "Paladins do you remember the mind-melding exercise you were doing? Well it appears you all left your bodies and transferred all your consciousness into one mind. Where you are now is their core room."
"How the hell did that happen?" Keith shouted.
"It appears Sendak's quintessence gunked up the mind-melding helmets. Don't worry. All you have to do to get out is face the person's greatest fear, and to do that you must travel through their memories."
"Well whose mind are we in?" Pidge asked.
"Lance's."
Lance's POV
My heart stopped. No. "Coran! You need to get them out of my head right now! I don't want you here! You can't see my memories, okay? There are things..." I called out frantically. I was trying the find a way to get rid of them, I pushed Pidge into a wall which resulted in her slapping me.
"Sorry number two," Coran said. "But the only way out is for them to travel through your memories."
"No no no no no no," I chanted to myself, starting to hyperventilate. "This can't be happening. There could be literally nothing worse than this. I would rather face Zarkon alone than this.."
"Please, Lance, surely nothing in here is that bad," Keith rolled his eyes. "Stop exaggerating."
I pounced on him. "Really? You have no idea what I've been through. What I've had to do...oh god the things I've done..." I clenched my teeth just thinking about it.
Suddenly a sound of a gun firing and a shell landing to the floor was heard. We all jumped and turned to see a middle aged man standing there, wearing a three piece suit and holding an m16. Papa. He glared at me menacingly and I flinched back.
"Yeah, all the things you've done," Papa said with a snarl. His voice sent shivers down my spine. "I have another mission for you, Alejandro."
"NO!" I shouted, causing the team to look at me in shock. "This isn't real! You're back on Earth! You can't use me anymore."
"Maybe so," Papa said with an evil grin. "But you can't escape me. Not even all the way out in space." and with that Papa had disappeared. My hands shook.
"Lance who was that?" Pidge asked. I huffed and closed my eyes.
"That, Pigeon, was a very evil man." I said. "And since it appears there's no way out of this, you're going to know all about him soon."
"Lance--" Hunk said soothingly. I cut him off.
"Before we go I just want you to know one thing," I said staring at them deeply. I meant every word that I said. "Everything that I did, it was to keep my family alive and safe. I never did any of this willingly. I just....you have to know this...before...I don't want you to think of me differently and I--"
"It's okay, Lance," Shiro said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "We trust you."
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Let's get this barbeque started then."
=======
The memory I stepped into was the first time I learned how to shoot a gun. I was seven. Papa handed the gun to seven-year-old me and grinned a toothy smile.
"Alright Alejandro, first you have to take the gun off safety." he said. The team watched in surprise as a seven-year-old was taught how to handle such a dangerous weapon. They were even more shocked when I hit the target dead-center in the chest. Papa smiled at me. "You're a natural! You might be useful after all.."
The next memory was of the first time Papa hit me. Papa glared at eight-and-a-half-year-old me and pointed to target. I had hit the spot between the eyebrows twice but most of the shots were off.
"That is unacceptable Alejandro," he barked. "Your job is to take out people that needs to die. How are you supposed to do that if you can't hit a damn target?" he then back handed me so hard I flew across the floor and hit my head against the wall.
The team gasped and stared at me in shock. I kept my eyes downcast.
"I'm sorry Papa," eight-year-old me said. I picked myself up and picked up the gun. "I'll do better."
"Good." Papa sneered. "Because you've got another mission this weekend. No sleep until you can hit that spot with your eyes closed!" he said before storming out the room, probably to get a drink.
The team watched as my younger self practiced for ages until I was able to the hit that mark indefinitely. Then Papa came back and told me to put my gun in the violin case. I obeyed and followed him into the car. He drove me to a warehouse where a tall man smoking a cigar stood.
"Mr. Crowley," Papa said.
"Mcclain," Mr. Crowley nodded in acknowledgement. He stared at younger me. "You sure he can get the job done?"
Papa nodded. "Absolutely. Trained him myself. He couldn't miss even if he tried. And no one would suspect and eight-year-old."
Mr. Crowley nodded and handed a wad of cash to Papa. "Make sure he doesn't miss." he said before walking away, leaving a large puff of smoke in the air. Papa turned to face me and grabbed my shoulders roughly.
"You know what to do, right Alejandro?" he asked. I nodded. "Good."
I followed him up the stairs where I set up the gun and took my position. I saw my target approach the building. I aimed. And shot a bullet through his head.
=====
"Holy fuck!" Pidge cried. Hunk threw up.
"Hey! No puking in my mind, Hunk!" I cried.
"You just killed someone!" Hunk yelled. I flinched. I knew this would happen. "You were eight-years-old and you're a highly trained assassin?"
I shrugged.
"How come I didn't know about it?" Hunk asked.
"It's not something I'm proud of, Hunk," I said. "I kill people! I never did it willingly. But I still did it! Do you know how much blood is on my hands, Hunk? It's not something you can just casually bring up in a conversation."
"But I mean....I've known you for like ever...and I never knew.." Hunk whispered.
"It was better that way." I said. "That way when they threatened you I didn't have to worry about you reporting it."
"What do you mean, 'threatened me'?" Hunk asked.
"Hunk you're friends with an assassin. And on top of that, a rebellious one. They had leverage over me," I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "They used my friends and family against me when they assigned me a mission I didn't want to do."
"I'm sorry," Hunk said. "That sounds rough."
"Biggest understatement of the year." I said dryly.
"But wait, was that your first kill?" Keith asked. I nodded. "So how many people have you killed?"
I took in a deep breath before shrugging out of my shirt. On my lower back, staring at the back dimples and going down to the top of my butt, were hundreds of tiny tick marks. The team stared.
"Each of these lines represents a person I've killed."
