Azalea threw the rubber ball against the steel wall. It bounced off and ricocheted to a different corner.
"Must you be that difficult?", she asked the ball aloud. She held out her left hand, covered with her special metal glove that descended from the metallic bands attached to her wrists.
The ball floated back towards her, and she grabbed it.
Blowing a strand of grey hair out of her face, Azalea pushed herself into the air from the spot on the ceiling she was sitting on.
She swam towards the floor, crawling towards the door.
It was the only way to get around since she couldn't walk. The soldiers on this ship didn't trust her, so they disabled her only way of controlled traveling: her ankle bands. Without them, she could only use her gloves to help her swim around.
She lifted herself just enough to peer out of the small glass window on the steel door, but quickly ducked back down when sentries walked by.
"Nothing ever happens on this ship."
Or any ship for that matter, she thought bitterly.
Being Azalea didn't mean she was treated like a normal Galra prisoner. Sure, she gets the clothes and the same food, but being Azalea meant that she was Nightmare.
And being Nightmare meant that she was kept in top-notch solitary confinement.
Azalea hadn't spoke to another prisoner in four years. Not since her powers became stronger.
She clutched the red ball (her only source of entertainment) and sent it hurtling at the wall. It bounced at high speed, going from wall to wall at a blinding rate, but never hit her once.
Every time it slowed down, Azalea flicked her wrist and sent it spiraling away once again.
She sighed.
The steel doorway opened, revealing a Galra soldier with his blaster.
Azalea stopped the ball, then put her hands behind her head and floated in midair, eying the guard.
"Where's Padalecki?", she asked the guard. Padalecki was her usual escort. Azalea liked him. At least Padalecki called her by her real name.
Maybe this one will too.
"Nightmare", the soldier started.
Of course not.
"Padalecki and the other soldiers are preparing for attack. We are being boarded this very moment, and I was given orders to transport the hybrid specimen of this ship. I am Wittox.", the soldier stated harshly.
We're being attacked? By who? Only an idiot would do that.
"Um, Mr. Wittox, I honestly would rather prefer to be called a person... or prisoner at least.", Azalea suggested, "Hybrid specimen just doesn't sound right to me, don't you think?"
Wittox glared at her, "You are a bred specimen of the Galra Empire. That is, and will always be, the same."
Azalea shrugged, "Suit yourself."
He held his hand by his oversized fuzzy ear for a moment.
He must be getting a message.
"Lets go!", the Galra soldier suddenly barked, "These Voltron paladins are getting closer!"
He grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the hallway.
Floating beside Wittox, Azalea was ecstatic, but kept a stern face.
She'd heard of the Voltron Paladins. Supposedly they were the "Defenders of the Universe", but the Galra had other names for them too.
Scum.
Fledglings.
And other harsh words that she refused to even think.
Apparently Voltron was lost, but sometime in the past year it had resurfaced.
That had Zarkon on high alert.
And Azalea and the other hybrids on total lockdown.
And they were on her ship.
She didn't think an opportunity like this would ever come.
A chance to finally escape.
A chance to be free.
Azalea snuck a look at her escort.
Wittox kept his eyes forward, yanking her down the hallway.
Okay, she reassured herself, It's only one soldier. It's not like you're taking on a whole army.
Not like she couldn't do that anyways.
When her execution was cancelled and all the quintessence they injected into her activated, her father had taken it upon himself to train the daughter he just tried to kill.
"You are an excellent fighter", Sendak had told her after she demolished an enemy ship, "A brilliant weapon. One day, you will be like me, taking everything you want by force."
"But I don't wish to be like you father", thirteen year-old Azalea plainly told the Galra officer.
That got her a backhand to the face.
She never liked who she was. A weapon, born only to kill.
She wanted to leave. To look back and laugh at her father.
This was her chance.
Possibly her only chance.
I have to take it, Azalea thought defiantly.
With a single yank, she tore free from Wittox's grip.
Control yourself, Azalea thought. She couldn't forget about her temper, or her lack of control in stressful situations like this.
She shot backwards, her bangs flying into her face.
"What the-", Wittox growled. He reached for his blaster and aimed at her chest.
Control yourself Azalea.
And she did.
Right before the laser hit her, she caught it in her hands, molding it into a glowing red ball.
"Catch!", she smirked and threw it at the soldier. It hit him square in the chest.
Wittox crumpled to the floor.
She swam over to his body and placed two fingers on his neck.
He was still alive, just knocked out cold.
Azalea stared.
"I did it...."
Her heart was pounding with excitement.... and fear.
If she was caught now, they would surely kill her.
She was playing with death now.
And she didn't care.
Alarms blared. Time to go.
Azalea closed her eyes. Two soldiers, east of her. But they weren't normal soldiers. There was no mind-numbing rhythm in their steps.
The paladins.
She turned to Wittox, gave him a cheeky smile, and waved.
"Goodbye. Serves you right for being a jerk", she said kindly.
She swam towards the ceiling, flattening her body against it.
Then Azalea slowly began crawling along eastward, to the paladin figures she felt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hunk turned around.
"Pidge?", he called, "Where did you go?"
Pidge's voice came through his helmet speaker.
"I told you to follow me down that hallway in the Third Sector."
Hunk looked down the corridor. There wasn't a hallway to be seen.
"Aw man...", he breathed.
"Hunk you better find a way out of there. Soldiers are coming up to you now", Pidge warned.
Hunk began speed-walking down the steel hallway. But he still couldn't find a way out.
How am I supposed to get out of here?!?, he thought fearfully.
He groaned inwardly.
Then he noticed something.
Where he was standing, he could smell the sudden scent of..... flowers?
"Are you lost?", a quiet feminine voice asked.
Hunk spun around, but there was no one.
"Who's there?", he asked aloud, lifting his bayard a little higher.
"I'm above you", the voice said again.
Hunk looked up, and stared right into a pair of inquisitive black eyes.
Its a girl.
There's a girl.
On.... the ceiling.
It was true.
A young woman with a round, childish face stared down at him. She was pale, pale enough to blend in with a polar bear. Foggy grey hair was tied back in a ponytail that came over the shoulder of her black prisoner rags.
Wide black eyes watched Hunk curiously. Her face was completely unblemished, except for the pale freckles across her nose.
She was smiling a small crooked smile.
Hunk froze as she reached down with a metal hand and poked his nose.
"You're human", she gasped, as if she'd never seen one.
"S-so are y-you", Hunk stuttered.
At least he thought she was.
Normal humans can't float.
Right?