I'm On My Way

1

Mission Log 22
I wake to utter darkness, yet the constant pain in my leg seems to have vanished. Is this death? I don't know. If it is, I swear to god I'd find a way out. I'd find a way back to him... to them.

Moments later the lights flicker to life, and with a glance down he sees that his leg is not quite his leg, but something entirely different. The purple lights and the guard standing inside the door all tell the same story. Galra.

No. He couldn't be back here. How had he gotten back here?

Panic rose in his chest so pure and so full the he had no idea of what happened next.

He vaguely recalled being dragged out of his cell and taken to a chair where he was strapped down, fore arm facing up.

"He'll be a champion, Zarkon. Like none you've ever seen." Haggar had said as she pulled out a glowing knife and etched symbols into his skin, the pain tearing through him like it was removing his soul.

He recalled vague screaming, probably his, as she continued on her horrendous work. But it was all a hazy blur.

The first moment of clarity he had, he woke in the cell again. This time, in a skin-tight black suit and a torn purple shirt.

He was tugged out again, this time to a different place, lined up with the rest of those unlucky enough to face the weapon Haggar had created. Different from other champions.

He was cold, ruthless, and with every kill gained power. He didn't have a metallic arm like the rest, just a few simple etchings into his skin that made him the weapon he was. And god it felt good.

The sheer power running through his veins, the ability to absorb pure quintessence on will, with just the raise of his fist. Ever becoming something he didn't know, couldn't recognise, until the thirst consumed him completely, and he was simply a beast. Nothing more than a pawn in the greater plan. For what way easier to kill the Paladins than with a face they trusted?

Mission Log 50
I wait, for another battle for my thirst to be quenched. It is in these quiet moments that I find myself feeling the most sane. I want more. I need more. But something itches at the back of my mind. Who I used to be. What I once was before this power. And a single name, 'Takashi.' I don't know what my mission is anymore. But maybe he can save me from this terrible thirst.

The battles continue to consume him, body and soul, until he is nothing but a unit of pure rage, no memories of past, except for the kill. His name was Champion, for he had no memory of a name before then.

He stepped into battle with a strange confidence that read that he knew he could win.

The frail prey became the predator, and evolved to his name. The once small and defenceless creature's body morphed to match its power, gaining muscle, it even seemed his teeth were sharper. The yellow gleam in his eyes as he fought spoke Galra. And he would only ever always answer to them.

"And our contestants tonight are the champion and the catcher, fight!" Matt launched into battle like a beast, easily dodging blows from the large oafish creature and landing blows of his own. He smiled with pride as the knives that hovered around him plunged into the beasts flesh.

What he did not see coming was the third fist. Flying at him at impossible speeds for such a large creature and coming down on him, pinning him to the ground and leaving him utterly broken. Before he passed out from pain his eyes glowed purple and the monster dissipated in a burst of dust. A tie, they called it.

A tie.

Matt was beyond broken, and spent much too much time in the infirmary as they salvaged what bits of him they could. What they couldn't reconstruct became another part of their experiment, and the torture went on for day, weeks even, with Matt not even trying to cling to sanity. It didn't matter. All that matter was the name, Shiro, but he didn't know what that meant either.

...

"Any luck yet?" A small voice called from the other side of the comms.

"No, but it seems I'm getting closer. I'm coming upon that ship you told me about now, maybe I'll find him there." Shiro looked over his screen, everything was falling into place, now to just get to him.

"Okay, good luck, Shiro, and be safe. I refuse to lose any more brothers." Pidge offered a sad smile then he face disappeared off the screen. Keith's body had been found on Lance's grave which put Pidge down three brothers, permanently down two, and Hunk down a best friend. He still wasn't talking... or eating. Pidge was holding up well though, and Shiro. Shiro wouldn't allow himself to think about the loss of his little brothers. But when he did, it only increased his concentration on the task of hand. They would pay.

...

"Put the decoy in the cell and evacuate, champion one is here, and champion two should soon be ready to replace the decoy." A voice ordered and headed towards an evacuation ship. He would not be there when Shiro got there, much too dangerous. Soon his pod was flying through space and one who looked like Matt was curled in on himself sleeping in the cell.

Shiro arrived on the ship and easily took down several guards who were left as decoys to guard the ships. But the ship's eerie lack of guards made Shiro slightly suspicious of exactly what cargo they were carrying. All suspicion faded when he found Matt. He lifted the sleeping boy up and began to retreat to his lion.

He was supposed to feel relieved, right? Here Matt was, in his arms, and yet a strange twisting in his stomach told him that something about this was very wrong. He pushed the feeling away and laid Matt down in the lion. "Pidge, I've got him." He declared to the screen in front of him.

Pidge beamed happily and sighed in relief. "Thank you Shiro. Bring him home."

"I'm on my way."