(3775 words)
I was on my fourteenth cigarette. I hadn't felt this much stress and anger in years and I had to find some way to get it gone. I made sure to stop myself from smoking the rest since I would need them for later, but I was more tempted than I should have been. I already hated the idea of Lance hating me for going back to my old habit, but it was too much for me. Just the idea of him getting hurt in any way was enough for me to finish ten cigarettes.
I was about three minutes away from our apartment and my brain refused to come up with a plan. I figured I could use my old tactics and hope I didn't mess up in any way, knowing if I did it would end bad for the both of us.
I could see the blinds moving, indicating someone was watching me, or the very least looking out for me. I turned back around and went the longer way, adding two minutes but it was better than being seen. I had to keep some level of secrecy if I wanted to get at least a few of the men down, knowing him it shouldn't be that hard.
I opened the back door and heard the light pattering of feet, the thin walls exposing the useless conversations that were being had. I lit a cigarette and took a few drags, making sure to fill the staircase with the smell. I tossed it in the middle of the hallway soon after, this floor not having carpet so there was no concern.
After a few minutes of smoke drifting upstairs, their shoes were finally heard coming down the stairs. It was two men; their guns being held loosely as they looked around confused. I was glad that it had actually worked, knowing the first time I did it was a hit or miss.
They didn't look like they were prepared to fight. They were too relaxed to be of any nuisance so it was easy to discard them without concern. It was an easy knife to the head for each. The knives I have weren't specifically meant to be thrown, but that hadn't stopped me before. I was just slightly surprised I could still do it.
Blood splattered onto the cigarette, the cancer stick no longer useable. I sighed while rubbing at my face, making my way to the bodies so I could retrieve the knives, the blood seeping out faster.
I moved to the next floor, this one consisting of carpet so I had to be careful with where I placed the ciggy. I took my light and started another cigarette, making sure to take a few puffs before leaning it against the wall diligently.
I hid in the staircase for a few minutes before two more men were on their way down, these ones a little more well versed in the business of danger. "Why the fuck are you-" He stopped speaking when he noticed the lonesome cig, his partner looking around like he was the one on a hit list. "Why is it just sitting there? Did they forget it?"
The other one shrugged, his hand tight on his gun while the other took a moment to look around himself, although he wasn't nearly as paranoid. I wasn't sure if the man knew about me or was always this uptight, but it really didn't matter. I was pissed and not afraid of a fight.
I took in a few more breaths before two knives were flying through the air. The paranoid one dodged it while his buddy was struck dead, his body dropping with a bounce. I quickly took the knife from my back pocket and aimed it for his hand, moving closer in case that one missed too.
When it stuck, I ran up to him, removing the knife from my thigh and grabbing his hair. Gurgles were the only sound he could make once my knife left his throat. Blood once again splattered, this time covering me as well as the cigarette, putting it out easily.
I flipped my hair while collecting the knives, my last hair tie broken for at least week. It would be aggravating but nothing I hadn't done before.
I continued with my old trick, the cigarettes leaving one by one and I would be lying if I said I wouldn't miss them. Each floor had an extra person the higher I got, like some type of sick game. Each one got harder to go through, whether that be because of the amount of people or their actual skill level.
After I 'completed' the last level I knew I was almost there. The idiot wasn't dumb but he wasn't particularly smart. He would only bring the amount of people he felt necessary, even if he should bring more. It was a habit he had never seemed to break and I was glad he didn't.
I was tired but fueled with rage, and there was only two people who I wanted my rage to be let out on. Luckily, I was about to say hi to one.
~Lance pov~
I was chained to the bed while a rag filled my mouth. The position brought me to memories I had tried many times to get rid of, my body shaking as much as I allowed it. I knew they could have used ropes but he was trying to torment me without actually injuring me.
I would hear thumps and shuffling from the floors below, each noise bringing more tears to my eyes. I knew it was Keith down there, fighting people only because of me. I had so many opportunities to help him from this situation but was too much of a coward to try anything. Me moving in with him being one of them.
If I had just stayed with my mom he wouldn't be in this situation. I would have been fine there but I was selfish and decided to leave. Now we were both in a situation that could have been easily prevented.
The door knob wiggled and I was sent further into my memories. It was of the days I would try to lock myself away only for him to find a way in anyway. It made me cry harder.
I just wanted the memories gone.
"Lance! Lance, I'm right here!" I tried to focus on the voice, only to see a bloodied Keith. All of his clothes had some type of blood stain while his face was covered in it. A cigarette was placed between his lips and I couldn't stop myself from staring at him with horror.
That couldn't have been him. He said he would quit. He said he wouldn't get himself hurt. This couldn't be my Keith yet I knew it was. Daggers and everything, I knew that this was the Keith I moved in with.
"Get away!" I called out against my will, my voice cracking while his eyes widened.
I swear I want you to come closer.
"St-stay away from me!" I said in attempt to move away, only to be stopped by the sound of the chains.
Don't, please don't leave me alone.
My stomach churned at the sight of the blood as tears streamed down my face, my body shaking more than it ever had. I wanted him to go away but deep down I knew I wanted him to pull me to his chest and tell me everything was going to be fine. But everything was not fine.
He looked at me through tears of his own, his eyes saddened and his grip loosening. That was his mistake. I was his mistake. He had let his guard down due to me and now we were both in more trouble than we should have been.
~Shiro's pov~
My men were armed and ready. Pidge had offered to stay back in case anything else happened and I didn't plan on arguing. Keith and Lance were probably in more danger than they thought they would be in if it was who I think it is. I was already moving on a tight schedule but there was no room for any type of mishap.
The drive would be a good fifteen or twenty minutes, leaving a little extra minute to perfect everything. If Keith had already made it, I would be surprised, but knowing him he knew a quicker way to get there. He was also pissed beyond anything I had seen and had no doubt that also played a role in it. The cigarettes he had stashed in his jacket was a new pack I had gotten and I wondered why he needed it.
He left with half of our knives which left us with more guns than wanted, but I supposed it wasn't that big of a deal. If he was apart of what was tattooed on his lower stomach, I knew he would have some skill in the craft. Although, I wasn't sure how far that skill went. The building he was going to could easily hold more men than a single person could handle.
After we made sure we had what we needed we were rushing to where the two men were. No one cared enough to buckle as we left my house, everyone silent though they never had to be.
Keith had mentioned that he was going to his apartment so there was no doubt that was where Lance was being held. I wondered slightly why they would choose that place but didn't feel the need to dwell into it too much. He had Lance and that was my only concern, even if after this they never want to talk to me again.
The commute was without Keith in my view, though it was filled with others who looked familiar to the streets. Most where wearing hoodies or battered clothing, some giving looks that would freak any normal person out. It simply reminded me of Keith's glares.
When we gained on the apartment, I made sure they went the back way, even if it added a few more minutes. It was better to have a slight amount of surprise rather than being fully exposed.
I went in first, some of my guys following after me for a safety precaution. Blood and cigarette smoke wafted into my senses as the door opened completely, revealing two downed bodies and a ciggy covered in blood. The cigarette in question burning all the way through and somehow not catching the clothes on fire.
They both had identical wounds; a single blow to the head. The knives were collected afterwards, leaving only their impact behind. From the deminer left behind and the way the guns were laid, there was no guessing that they were caught off guard.
I left some men down there as I continued up with the rest, immediately getting met with an almost matching scene to the last. There was a chance of some type of fight but it was clear they were over matched. One was facing towards the stairs while the other faced a wall, the first with two cuts instead of one.
There was no question that one had put up a little fight, but Keith seemed to know what he was doing and not a single bullet casing covered the floor. It was quite impressive how diligent the shorter one was.
I noted the cigarette on both floors and kept it moving, leaving some men behind just in case anything else had happened. The scenes continued to repeat themselves only some had more bodies than others. Blood covered the ground of each and there was still no sign of a gun being fired, all weapons that were used were gone with only their impact left behind.
Keith was someone I could admire. He, unlike I, was trained in this type of mission. I had my fair share of downed bodies but nothing like I was seeing now. It was clear that he was no stranger to a knife, making sure to take no chance in leaving evidence or a live person behind. It seemed like he was one to aim to kill and only do what was necessary, something his group was not known for.
Of course, I was only judging by this one interaction, which didn't have a lot to say. He could easily be a person who was skilled in torture but knew he was on a time crunch, but I'd like to think he wasn't. He may be a douche bag, but he wasn't that much of one.
When I arrived at the door it was already opened, though with no sign of a struggle. I nodded to the single man I had with me, leaving him by the door as I continued into the home.
There wasn't a single dead person in the house, the only sign of some type of struggle being the knocked over lamp. The carpet had light blood stains that led to another opened door, which only made me tighten the hold on my gun.
I barley entered the room before seeing Lance chained to the bed, his body shaking with fear as his eyes looked down. I followed his gaze slowly, connecting it to an unlit cigarette. It had a red stain around where you would put your lips, as though the lips that held it were red themselves.
I was going to ask about it but something in my peripheral caught my attention. I quickly moved out of the way and grabbed onto the arm coming towards me, the arm that held a gun. I dropped my own to get a better hold, pressing my metal arm against the perpetrator's chest.
I quickly brought him to the floor, the gun in his hand falling itself. The edge of the gun hit the dresser while my eyes focused on the stranger's face. The sound was followed by Lance whimpering but it was hard for me to focus on that when a man I had never seen before was looking at me with easy eyes. As though he was unphased by this. "Who are you?"
He had dried blood on his lip and above his eyebrow, showing off a short-lived battle. It was clear he wasn't the strongest, but I wasn't sure if he was strategic. "Why should I tell you, hot stuff?" His voice was smooth and he finished by licking his lips seductively, making my anger grow slightly.
I tightened my grip as I did the same with my jaw, pressing him further into the floor. "Who are you?"
"You know, I like it rough." His face was plastered with a cocky smirk, his eyes shining with something I didn't care to distinguish. "I just prefer to be on top." His voice was tight as he attempted to push me off of him, though he was easily overpowered. I wasn't sure what he was thinking in that moment but it was clear it frustrated him.
I had started to ask him again but was stopped by a voice, "his name is James." The sound was monotone, tired, and even a little ticked off. The sound of Keith.
I glanced his way before I was brought back to the man beneath me, his arms flailing as much as they could while he whined. "Why did you have to spoil it Keithy?"
"Don't call me Keithy." His voice was sharp, a big hint that he was not messing around.
I lifted James up along with me, moving to grab the collar of his shirt before adding a knife to the mix. I fixed my grip once more and looked right at Keith, the raven-haired man covered in blood but only one spot seemed to be his own. He was tied to a wooden chair that sat in the corner of the room, making me question how I hadn't seen him earlier. "You know you like it."
Keith rolled his eyes, the beautiful spheres only looking at James with a glare. "From Lance maybe, not you." His voice cold as he turned the glare towards me, this one seeming to have more malice than James's did. "Why the fuck are you here? And don't you dare kill him, it'll ruin the carpet."
"I came to help get Lance back, and save you apparently." My voice was close to matter-of-factly, causing the angry man to scoff at it. His eyes drifted to Lance and so did mine, the man sitting there quietly but still shaking with fear. His face was stained with tears while eyes were bloodshot. "Are you okay Lance?"
"Does he look fucking okay?!" The outburst put my eyes back on Keith, the pissed man trying to move his arms but the rope prevented it. "Piss off Shiro, just go back to your fucking mansion." His voice was filled with venom and his eyes didn't let up, my chest aching slightly more.
I could feel James chuckling against me, not holding his laughter in for long as the sound escaped into the room. I turned to face him some and he did the same, a smirk playing at his lips. "Someone made Keithy mad."
"Stop fucking calling me that James!" The room was filled with light silence before the sound of rapid gunshots filled the space. Lance's chains instantly followed the sound, drawing the attention of everyone, even if one was irritated.
He was shaking harder than before, his body pressed as far into the bed post as it could go while tears came faster down his face. He was curled into himself slightly, his shoulders attempting to block his ears as he kept his eyes tightly closed.
Keith's chair scrapped against the floor and my attention was brought back to a now frantic Keith, his eyes wide with worry. "Lance. Lance! Just keep your eyes closed and hum a song. Hum a song, Lance!" His voice broke some as he tried to pull himself closer to the Cuban man, finally breaking me from my frozen state.
I took James with me as I went over to Keith, using my knife to cut him free of the ropes. He took no time and was on his way to Lance, almost instantly going to cover his ears. "No, no, no! Keith is supposed to mine. Get away from Lance!" James struggled against me, his voice filled with only anger and jealousy as he glared at them both.
He tried harder against me and I finally put the hilt of my knife to his temple. He was dazed for a moment before he slumped against me, only for me to drop him to the floor completely. There was no longer the sound of bullets, but it didn't sit right with me. It was quiet, but almost in an eerie sense.
I looked at the two before leaving their home, knowing in this moment they would only want each other. The hall was empty and my nerves spiked even more. I looked back for a second before I was making my way down the stairs.
Each floor held a number of my men, all of them bleeding out, as though the culprit wanted them to suffer. My anger grew as I thought of the only sick bastard that would do this, my men looking at me but encouraging me on when I stopped a moment. They knew I wouldn't let them down, and I was glad I could give them that much trust even in moments like this.
When I arrived at the final floor, my anger vanished almost instantly. The large man I might not be able to call my friend standing in the middle with a large machine gun, his features nothing short of fuming.
Lotor sat dead against the opposite wall, his body having more holes than necessary but when Hunk's glare reached my own eyes, I remembered why the kind man went to such extremes in the first place. Lotor had just chosen the wrong time to show up, and I was afraid I would end up in the same state soon after.
He took a step closer, tightening his hold on his gun but not lifting it up for use. "Where the fuck is Lance, Shiro?" His voice was filled with rage as he came closer, making me take my own steps backwards.
My back hit the wall and we were just a few feet away from each other, his breaths rough but his eyes held a mixture of fear and fury. "In his apartment, Keith's with him." My voice was calm and small, my eyes locked to his in a forced manner.
He dropped his gun and rushed up the steps, Lance's name leaving his mouth as my legs lost their strength. I slid down the wall, tears already leaving my eyes as my knees hit my chest.
Lance and Keith were safe. I should be bouncing off the wall happy but I couldn't bring myself to feel that way. It was my fault they were in trouble. Even if it wasn't who I thought it was I still had information of someone watching them and I kept my mouth closed. Even worse, it was my fault they had to leave their own home in the first place. The sad thing is, I didn't even feel bad for taking them.
I had finally had company. I finally had people I could share my time with, be myself around. It was like a breath of fresh air but for them it must have been the complete opposite. They were taken from their home and I was happy I had some fucking company.
They made me leave my comfort zone and they made me work to get to know them, but now that was all going down the drain. Hunk would never allow me to see Lance again as long as he's alive, and Keith went wherever Lance went. I'll be stuck living my boring scheduled life once more and deep down I knew I deserved it.
Hunk should have shot me dead where I stood, I deserved that too. I put his friend's life at risk, that is more than an enough reason to warrant death.
Tears continued to leave my eyes, barley any sound entering the hallway as I sat there in my own self-pity. I just lost two people I could have loved, and I had no one else to blame but myself. At least they still have each other.