The Heart (Langst)

Capture

Chapter 3

Lance began to drive in and out of consciousness in the dark cell. Eventually, after the third attempt his dark eyelashes fluttered open and Lance was greeted with darkness. The cell was adorned with pitch black walls and faint traces of purple lights. The whole ordeal sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Lance's eyes shifted around the room taking in different thoughts. 'How do I escape?' 'Will the team come and get me?' 'What do I do?' 'What are they going to do to me?' 'Is blue okay?' 'Is Keith and the others okay?' 'Oh god what happened to Keith?' His thoughts however were immediately snatched away when a large bang and creak of a cells door opening infiltrated his ears.

Lance's deep, ocean blue eyes were met with two large Galran sentries, who definitely didn't look friendly; and the scorching purple light that took time for Lance's eyes top get used to. A large ball of nerves and fear formed in his throat which he gulped down sharply. Loud footsteps then echoed of the walls and Lance was being grabbed with a bruising grip.

"Get off of me!" Lance hissed as he struggled and turned sharply in an attempt of escape.

However, the Galra were unresponsive to his demand and grabbed him sharply. They then proceeded to shove his hands into handcuffs; which didn't stop Lance from thrashing against the restraints. Lance looked at the handcuffs with a glare before noticing the blue string that connected them. He pulled his hands away from eachother and was presented with the blue line intact and a large shock of unwelcomed electricity that ran through his body. A yelp escaped Lance's mouth at the shock. (pun intended).

'Okay. I need to get out of here" Lance thought in pain as his arms went limp against their hold. Lance death glared the guards as he was shoved down the hallway farther. If looks could kill he would have been out of here.

He had forced himself to remember the route they had been taking despite It being of no use. It would just lead him back to that horrid cell, but it had to better than nothing.

After many twist and turns in the dull, but bright, hallways they eventually made it to a room. The door creaked open as a guard pressed their strong, deathly looking hands against the material and Lance was welcomed with a bone chilling sight The room was decorated by a long table with straps, a cart filled with things that seemed extremely sharp which made Lance cringe. And a large figure in a cloak at the end of the room.

Lance eyes widened in fear before being shoved against the table. Lance shouted in pain as they hastily ripped the handcuffs off of him.

"Hey!" Lance yelled out as he thrashed against the guards but was overpowered by large hands and strapped to the table.

Lance looked around the room in anger, only to mask his fear of course. At the sight of the cloaked figure he froze.

"H-haggar!" Lance bit out in pure disgust at noticing the large red markings that adorned her purple toned skin.

Haggar didn't grant him a response but instead graced there delicate, but deadly, fingers over the assortment of tools. Her clawed fingers stopped at a sharp pointed knife, and a menacing grew on her sharp features. Her fingers grasped the knife and fingered the point of the nice in satisfaction. Eventually, content, they made their way towards the struggling blue paladin strapped on the table. The cloaked figure circled around the table with hungry eyes and a deadly aura as they began to trace the knife gently against the blue paladins thin under suit.

"Now, tell me where Voltron is," The raspy voice demanded.

"F-fuck you," Lance spat, his voice cracking at the increasing pressure of the knife point against his dark, tanned skin.

Haggar snarled angrily at his response and shoved the knife into his chest hard enough to send a blinding white pain scorch through his nerves. The knife ,however, wasn't shoved hard enough into his golden skin to cause fatal damage. What's the point of getting a new toy and destroying it on the first go.

Lance was the youngest. The smallest child. Protected from the cold harsh reality of the cruel grasp of the world. Feeling minimum pain from each of the scrapes and bruises that marked his body during his life. And well Lance could only do one thing. Scream.