Please note! The art included is NOT mine! Credit to all you lovely artists who made them, I'm sorry I don't know your names to properly credit you!
(Lance)
*5 years later*
The blue-gray alien ahead of Lance snarled, teeth bared and eyes full of rage. He knew Hirej was only pretending, but you could have fooled him. The crowd surrounding them shouted with glee, anticipating the oncoming fight.
"On the red side, we have here a Balmeran-Galra hybrid, former labor slave and favorite here in The Dens! On the blue side is an Earthling, another fan favorite and labor slave who has yet to lose a fight, despite losing a limb. Who will lose this one? 3... 2... 1... KILL!" the announcer proclaimed, and Hirej lunged at Lance full force. Still off balance and adjusting to his new prosthetic, Lance was barely able to slip out of the way. He cursed at himself, remembering the plan. Take a hit, play dead, get thrown in the waste pile, and break out the others. He already failed the first step.
Hirej turned, eyeing Lance with a confused and yet understanding look. He knows it's instinct by now, Lance thought. Lance faked a jab at his friend, which Hirej returned with a VERY real throw across the small ring. He hit a beam with a loud CRACK which Lance knew was a rib or two. But he bit back a shout, hoping they thought it was his neck or spine, and that he was dead.
They believed it.
The crowd screamed with triumphant joy, and Lance heard the familiar *tink* of GAC being passed around. He felt someone grab him under his arms, sitting his limp body up, and he bit back the urge to yelp at the sudden sharp pain. He instead slowed down his breathing, holding it when he felt someone put a testing finger under his nose. At what Lance was sure was a sharp nod, the people erupted, and more GAC was surrendered. Lance then felt he was being dragged now to where he knew was the trash chute. He was lifted, set down, and he felt himself sliding down, landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom.
He groaned softly, and breathed in through his mouth. He knew he wasn't the only "corpse" down there. Despite the pain, he stood, reaching up towards the sloping chute above him. Slowly, but surely, he reached the top. He took a deep breath and leapt out, prepared for a fight. None came, guards nonexistent. Lance figured as such, since guarding the trash chute was a stupid sounding job anyways. He sped to where he knew the prisoners were held, only coming across two guards. He got them out of the way easily, and their keys in his pocket even easier.
He rounded a corner and found his friends all sitting in their cells, waiting for the rescue they had all dreamt of for too long.
"Let's get out, shall we?"
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(Lance)
*One Year Later, Present Day*
"Think fast!" Glarni exclaimed, tossing Lance's fixed weapon at him.
"I think YOU need to think fast, Glarni. I thought everyone knew not to throw guns," he returned to the Olkari girl with a mischievous smirk.
"He is right, you know! It's unsafe!" Kdareon yelled from across the bridge, his latest book laid out in front of him. He scowled, fluffy ears low, but a laughing light was in his eyes. His half-sister glared from the rafters, her katana still out from her now finished training session on the top deck.
"Kdareon, I hope you aren't reading that book again! You said you would make dinner and I'm hungry! It's late, and you haven't even started! It better be ready by the time I'm back!" Boera fired, her galra features now glaring with her frustration.
Lance looked at Hirej behind him at the helm, who only relented a faint grin. More than usual, at least; he was always so quiet.
When he returned his gaze to Glarni, she had her tablet in hand, and was waving it menacingly.
"You know I have the power to shut off your fancy leg in the palm of my hand, right? Mid-battle I might just "accidentally" make your leg lock up. Watching you trip would be SO funny" she deadpanned, lopsided grin betraying her lofty façade.
"Yeah, like you would ever-" he began, cut off by the undeniable feeling of loosing one's balance as Glarni tapped a button on the screen.
Lance, now on the ground, howled in laughter. He remembered a not-so-different memory of him teasing the little green paladin and promptly being electrocuted. It seemed a lifetime ago, and perhaps it was. It certainly was a different life. And Glarni was so like Pidge, with her tech savvy ways, green color scheme, and ultimate sass. The only difference was her race, but even in that there was a similarity: Pidge loved the Olkari. It hurt Lance's heart sometimes, when he looked at Glarni and saw his old space sister.
Glarni tapped another button and helped Lance up. As he regained his balance, Hirej started speaking.
"2 dobashes out, " he grunted.
Lance straightened, all joking aside. Outside, he could see the shipping center not too far away. He looked up at Boera, who had already slipped on her mask. She was Shadow now; the silent killer, the dark spy. It was an information-only mission, and he needed her stealth.
Lance did the same as her, and slipped on his mask. He became Pike: leader of the Deathhawks, deadly sharpshooter.
Pike turned to Shadow, repaired weapon raised in invitation. She nodded, jumped down, and both headed to the pods.
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*Present Day, Earth*
(Shiro)
The black lion swerved, nearly hitting a large canyon wall. He silently cursed, frustrated with how this training was going. The war was over, Zarkon defeated, but he still insisted on being ready for...something. Maybe he was just clinging to how at home he felt when he was with his team. But his team was incomplete, and his lack of focus was due to that. Today was Lance's birthday, and everyone's minds were elsewhere.
He was glad his attention was centered now, though. He saw a bright fiery light in the distance, and turned his lion towards it. It was a ship, he knew that much. And apparently he wasn't the only one who saw it.
He saw a flash of red as the Keith and Red Lion sped forward to catch the ship. Not even a minute later, the pod was safely on the ground, and everyone was crowded around.
"Do we... open it?" Hunk asked, nervously twiddling his fingers.
"It's obviously an escape pod. Someone could be hurt inside," Pidge reasoned, and Allura bobbed her head in agreement.
Before anyone could move, though, a young Nalquodian girl stumbled out.
Allura rushed forward to steady her, and the girl looked up. Relief flooded her face when she saw who was helping her.
"Of all the planets, I end up choosing the only one with Voltron on it! The gods are smiling on me!" she beamed, blue eyes shining.
"What's your name?" Hunk asked the girl.
"My name is Fawna. I was rescued from a slave trading ship in the 4th quadrant by the Deathhawks. They helped me into an escape pod and told me to find the nearest planet. I wanted to go home instead, but I've never piloted before and I'm pretty sure I headed towards the wrong system at some point," she fired off, only taking a breath afterwards.
"Slow down," Shiro began, "who are the Deathhawks?"
"They are the slave liberators of the universe! Every slave goes to bed at night and dreams of a rescue by their hands. They bring the same wonder as an old prison legend, but they are no legend. They are real, and they freed us."
Shiro glanced at Allura. Perhaps she had heard of them before through her diplomatic campaigns, but confusion colored her face just as it did his.
"Let's get you somewhere safe, and you can tell us more about them, alright?" Keith suggested, and nods across the group signaled their departure.
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(Lance)
As Pike and Shadow were flying pack to the ship, Kdareon's voice echoed through the comms.
"Star to Pike, to you hear me?"
"I can hear you, Star. What's up?"
"Birdie found something on the intergalactic forums. It's a request for us to send a communications transmission."
"Does it say to who?" Shadow interjected.
"Yes," Dagger's voice boomed, "the Voltron Coalition."
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Below are pictures of Hirej (Dagger), Glarni (Birdie), Kdareon (Star), and Boera (Shadow). Below them are how I imagine their disguises, in the same order. Lance's disguise is under Boera's. Their names are pronounced: Hee-rej, Glar-nee, Ka-dare-ee-on, and Boor-a.