Voltron: The Heart of a Tiger (A keithxoc & shiroxoc story)

Chapter 2.2: Betrayal

~Jixtor~

The mask closed around my face as I crouched, waiting on the rooftop. I watched the citizens of the planet I lead walk by, a mixture of emotions rising upon the wind. I knew that the conditions on Refuge wasn't ideal, but I was determined to keep these oppressed peoples safe from Zarkon's hands.

Word had spread that Voltron had defeated Lord Zarkon, but I had a hard time believing it.. I knew that even if Zarkon had truly fallen, that that didn't mean the Empire had. I met Haggar before, and I had ran into the Prince during some of my missions. If either of them have taken over, it wouldn't bode well.

The metal hand that gripped my shoulder was light and gentle, the coolness of its touch seeping through the suit I was wearing.

"You sure you want to do this?" When I ran across my comrade a month ago, he had been worse for wear. He was exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, and it seemed he had been in a long battle. For the first few days, he had been delirious, trapped in some other world that only he could see. When he came to, I had gotten his identity.

Now, it was hard to believe it was the same man. He had this permanent determination about him. This air of survival that his whole being seemed to breathe and depend upon. Sitting there, listening to his stories while he recovered, it was hard to believe that the man was still caring, and seemed to put everyone else before him..

"I have no choice" I stated, looking down at the street once more. "My duty is to my people, and if that means fighting the war myself, then I shall" At the corner of my eye, I saw my comrade nod.

We dropped down into the street. The man, wearing a borrowed Blade uniform made himself blend into the crowd. I followed suit, knowing that not many people would pay attention. The Blade of Marmora were frequent guests on Refuge, seeing them in uniform was an ordinary sight to my people. They usually stopped by for rest and recovery after taking down Galra Fleets. Sometimes, they held meetings in secret, or they had made new lives here and still prefered their garb, ready for battle.

I followed closely behind until we reached a tavern. It looked like any other shelter that lined the market street, but the corroded walls made the roof slant to the right. I brushed back the cloth that made the doorway and allowed my comrade to step through before I did.

The cloth had done wonders to block out the deafening noise that now pushed against me. It was a tiny shelter, but it seemed smaller thanks to the crowded tables that surrounded us. We made our way to the bar, where all the stools seemed somehow empty despite the crowd. We sat down, the bartender plopping two glasses in front of us.

"What 'er havin'?" He said, leaning forward toward us. I eyed the glass in front of me, unable to see through it thanks to the green slime that crusted the inside of it.

"Long Live Lord Zarkon" The bartender's single eye narrowed, suspicion clear upon his face. He seemed to be looking past the mask, trying so hard to see the truth written upon our faces. After a moment, he leaned away, gripping the glass before me, he pounded twice on the counter. I held my breath as the noise that clattered around us seemed to fall away, the pounding of the glass echoing in my ears.

When the pounding had stopped, noise erupted again, but this time it was different. It wasn't drunken slurs, but rather hushes of excitement. The bartender was gone, leaving behind an empty bar of shattered bottles, and I could feel the squeeze of pressure at my spine. There was no doubt that we had stepped into a room made by Druid magic.

My comrade was the first out of his stool. Turning, I could see the crowd anxiously waiting around a podium that was slightly raised. I allowed my friend to lead the way through the cacophony, walking along the path between the benches that I didn't notice from my place at the stool. I looked around the room at the faces, and most were not too surprising if this truly was a rendezvous point for those still following the Galra Empire. I saw many wearing the Blade of Marmora uniforms, but I wasn't sure if they were spies on the same side we were.