Voltron Legendary Defender (Spy AU) - martinis, girls & guns [4] [Sheith + Allurance]

[scriveyner]

Title: martinis, girls & guns [4]
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
AU: Spyfic
Characters/Pairing: Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, Allura, Shiro
Rating: M
Length: 1613
Summary: There were new vehicles on the street when Hunk turned the corner, a brown bag balanced on his hip.

There were new vehicles on the street when Hunk turned the corner, a brown bag balanced on his hip. The cobblestone street was old, older than the city around it; the last vestiges of an old and great empire and was not particularly made for the carriage of modern transportation. It didn't stop people, of course -- and there had been several cars left parked along the curb that rose alongside the cobblestones. Hunk had made note of those when he passed earlier, the same vehicles that were there the night before, other patrons of the hotel's individual cabanas alongside the stretch of sea.

Now there were new vehicles.

It was a varied mix of cars, both foreign and sleek and worth more than Hunk's entire yearly salary and models that were older and beaters, relics of the last war to be fought in the region. There were two vans along the opposite side of the road. Those were where the trouble lay.

He slid in the door of the cabana and locked it behind him.

Lance was seated on the edge of a couch cushion, awake and dressed despite being before noon; an impressive feat for him. He acknowledged Hunk with a nod and a head tilt, indicating their prisoner, whose head had turned at Hunk's entrance.

Hunk glanced over the scene and put the paper bag on the bar counter that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the cabana, then walked briskly past Lance. "We have trouble," he said briefly, before disappearing into the room he was sharing with Lance.

He heard Lance get to his feet in the main part of the room but ignored it, grabbing the large black bag from under the bed and dropping it atop the mess of covers. "Trouble?" Lance said, hanging in the doorway, both hands on the door's frame and head tilted.

"Two unmarked vans worth," Hunk said as he checked the cartridge on a hand gun and set it aside. "Didn't I tell you it was a bad idea to bring him back here? Now all our covers are blown, not just yours."

Lance stared at him, jaw set as he watched Hunk work. Then he pushed himself out of the door frame and spun on his heel, headed toward the other end of the cabana. "Pidge!" he barked. "Trouble!"

"No shit." She had emerged from her den fully dressed in nondescript clothes, a small backpack of her most important tech on. She looked over at their prisoner. "So they've come for you," she said. "Tracker in your shoe? Or under your skin?"

Keith was twisting in his restraints, tilted forward. "They're not here for me," he said, trying obviously to work something free.

Lance squinted, and cocked his head. "Of course they're here for you," he said, as if he was explaining it to a child.

"Not in the way you're thinking," Keith spat out. "They'll kill me, just like they'll kill you, and everything's gone to shit anyway." He rocked himself forward and almost toppled the chair he was bound to. "Fuck!"

Lance stopped in front of the chair. "You have thirty seconds to explain," he said, leaning in and catching the back of the chair so Keith couldn't rock it forward again.

Keith looked up at him, jaw set. "You maybe have fifteen seconds before they shoot out the windows."

Lance stared hard at Keith, their glares matched and furious. Without a word, Lance shoved the chair back. Keith let out a startled grunt and he went over completely backward and landed flat, and Lance turned and grabbed Pidge by the elbow, pulling her down at the same time he dropped. "Hunk!" Lance bellowed. "Hit the deck!"

The last of his words were cut off by the explosion of shattering glass as an automatic weapon was fired through the front of the cabana.

#

Allura said, emphatically, "shit ."

She scrambled from her stomach onto her knees, the binoculars almost dropped in her haste. The echo of gunfire was loud even from this vantage point; enough so that the door to the dirty white van on the road behind her pulled open without her bidding. "What's going on-" Takashi Shirogane started to say, but Allura threw the binoculars at him and he caught them as they bounced against his chest.

"Out of the way," Allura said, and shoved Shiro back into the back of the van. The interior of the vehicle had been ripped away long ago, converted for use by surveillance teams and other ne'er-do-wells; on one of the monitors was the approximate GPS location of the tracker sewn into the bottom hem of Keith's shorts. "We've got to go, now. "

"What's going on?" Shiro asked as he climbed over into the driver's seat. He had not had time to get changed or sleep since the early morning; his hair was starting to come out of its slicked-back style and the bow tie was mostly undone around his neck.

"They're already here," she said. "Sendak. All of them. They found Keith first."

"Shit ," Shiro said, and threw the van into drive without further question.

#

Keith lay on his back on the cabana's soft floor, and raged against how helpless he was. His arms tied tight behind him, his legs bound to the front legs of the chair and now, like a turtle, on his back and unable to do anything other then rock slightly back and forth.

The first round of gunfire had stopped. Keith couldn't see if anyone was hit, the silence that came after was almost deafening, as his ears rang in protest.

Six months. Six months they'd been playing catch-up, trying to track down Sendak's base of operations, trying to cut off another head of the hydra that was the entire GALRA organization, and now it was all blown to hell. Sendak must have known they were coming here, must have seen Keith get his ass handed to him by two junior agents out on their first big boy mission, and followed them here in the determination to finish him off.

Hey, at least he was enough of a threat that they sent some serious firepower after him. There was that , at least.

Through the silence he could hear the rustle of movement outside the cabana. Keith twisted again, trying his hardest to wrench his hands free, somehow -- when he felt someone grab the leg of the chair. Keith yanked his arms and tilted his head, to see Lance on his hands and knees, staring at Keith. "Your friends must not like you very much," Lance said, dust and debris from the destroyed windows and walls coating his skin and hair.

"They're not my friends," Keith said, his voice quite raw.

"Clearly," Lance said, and pulled out a small switchblade, cutting through the restraints that tied Keith's legs to the chair. "Hunk?" Lance called cautiously as he did so. "You still alive, babe? You hit?"

"Alive, I think," Hunk called from the bedroom. The wall facing the street was similarly shredded; although Hunk was already on his feet and slogging toward the window. He leaned one shoulder against the damaged wall and peered outside, to see half a dozen dark-haired men in identical suits, all holding automatic weapons with fresh cartridges. "For the moment."

"How many?" Pidge called out, sitting up on her knees, typing into the small holographic display her watch projected.

"Half dozen out front," Hunk responded. "Probably the same number headed around the rear, so twelve, thirteen, probably."

"And there's three of us, decent odds," Pidge said mostly to herself as she moved her finger in the air and rearranged things.

"Four of us," Lance said, as he cut the last of Keith's restraints.

"What? No, three," Pidge said, and lifted her head, somehow oblivious to what Lance had been doing up to that point. "Lance, what the hell- "

Keith rolled off the chair and sat up, rubbing his wrists vigorously. "Truce?" Lance asked, extending his hand to Keith.

"For the moment," Keith said, but didn't accept Lance's hand.

"Great, four of us," Pidge muttered. "Go ahead and fudge our pickup plans Lance, it isn't like we haven't been planning for three this entire time." Pidge leaned to the side as a short burst of gunfire echoed from the room Hunk was in.

"I was wrong, there are fourteen," Hunk called, then another burst. "Twelve."

Lance leaned forward and brushed glass out of his hair. "We're presumably surrounded and our enemies have automatic weapons capable of blasting through walls. Any ideas, Keithy-boy?"

Keith shook his head, still attempting to rub feeling back into his wrists.

More gunfire from outside, but it didn't seem to be directed at the cabana itself. Keith tilted his head, then lunged forward, shoving both Lance and Pidge over again, and just in time too as the wall cracked and bowed in, the entire thing buckling as the front half of an ancient, windowless van slammed through the front wall.

Where the dust and detritus hadn't damaged the exterior of the van, there were pitted marks from all the bullets fired at it. "Shielded van?" Lance said as Keith rolled off of him.

The sliding door on the side was yanked open, and Lance's eyebrows went up as the woman from the previous night looked them all over. Her eyes alighted on Keith first, and she was clearly relieved to see him, but she looked over Lance and Pidge with a curious, thoughtful expression that she shook off quickly. "Did someone call for an escape route?"