Forgotten

Chapter 20: Information

      A thunderous slap echoed around the room. Each person either shouted or growled in protest. And somehow, Shiro's neutral expression didn't falter by the unexpected (and uncalled for) blow. Even as his cheek now sported an angry red welt the shape of a hand. 

      Lotor's grin was more of a baring of his teeth. "So stoic." He paused and lifted his eyes to the ceiling; as if he were thinking. "I don't know why I haven't collected something form you yet." Confusion rippled through the Voltron clans faces as if it were the plague. Each person's face contracted the confusion. Each person with the exception of Keith, who's face drained of color and became painfully aware of his missing scale. 

      "He likes to collect things form us. We're his trophies."

      The merman blinked at the memory that was his, but--anothers. Him, but with a completely different life. He found himself inching away form the platinum haired man. Keith's dry scales scraped against the rough cement making a faint scratching noise. The noises continued until a soft thump halted the merman's movement's. He'd reached the wall.

We're his trophies.

      Lotor switched his attention to Lance, who's mind was still reeling from his awakening. The tan man's eyes flicked around the room; sometimes gazing at his friends and others nothing at all. Lance's sapphire orbs assessed everything they landed on, giving his mind a lengthy report. He had just finished examining Keith when he felt a demanding gaze crushing him with it's weightful presence. 

      Lance's eyes met Lotor's and despite every bone in his body telling him to run and never look back, he sneered at the man holding them captive.

We're his trophies.

      "Speaking of collecting," Lotor purred. "I still need something from you." Keith low growl cut across the room as the demon leaned in close and grabbed Lance's chin. He tried to yank his face out of the others grasp, but Lotor's grip tightened until Lance could taste his own metallic blood. "I must say, this newest form of yours is quite boring."

"Get you hands off him."

      To everyone's surprise it was Hunk who spoke up. . . Shit.

      "Excuse me?" Lotor practically threw Lance's chin from his grasp and prowled closer to Hunk; a wicked glint in his eye.

      As the demon drew closer, Hunk sat as tall and straight as he could and repeated, "Don't. Touch. Him." 

      Their captor grabbed Hunk's collar and wound up for a strike. 

      Everyone moved to stop Lotor, but it was Pidge who stopped him dead. "If you so much as lay a finger on him, you'll find your face shoved so far up your ass you'll have to eat your stomach." His fingers slowly and deliberately released the fabric of the shirt until his hand was empty and chuckled darkly. "I like you."

      "The feeling isn't mutual."

We're his trophies.

      Lotor just huffed and addressed Lance, "Now, I must ask you; have you had any. . ." he paused and flicked a piece of his hair from his face. "--visions lately?" Lance's eyes widened slightly before they slid to the merman across the room from him. Keith gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. He didn't know why he did it; but a gut churning feeling told him to keep the knowledge of Lance's awakening under lock and key.