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Keith

"I'm-"

I glanced down at my walkie-talkie, frowning. Lance? Or just static?

"Lance?" I spoke into the black box.

No reply. I backpedaled down the hallway, eyes still alert, until I reached the elevator. Slamming my fist into the elevator button by the door, I waited anxiously. I had been sure that that had been Lance's voice on the walkie, but he wouldn't just blurt something like that.

The elevators opened with a ding, and I was surprised to see Pidge already standing inside, her arms crossed over her chest, tranquilizer slung over her back.

I stepped inside quickly as the doors shut. "What's going on?" I asked, noticing Rover's absence.

"We're going up. Rover already took the stairs down to secure us some more time. I'd been tuned into Lance's heart rate- it jumped very quickly right after he called to us. Either he's being a little shit and messing around, or the Generals and Lotor are up on that top floor."

I nodded tersely. Just hours earlier, it felt like Lance had been the one saving me. But now, as the elevator whooshed up a level, I felt like I was going to have to be the one saving him. Or, it was what Pidge had said, and the idiot was just caught off guard by something useless.

As I tried to listen in too, hoping that I might catch a hint of Lance's heartbeat, the classical music that played over the speakers in the elevator kept catching me off guard. Pidge seemed to be having a similar problem. I gritted my teeth as the fast-paced cello notes invaded my head.

With a ping, the elevator stopped. Pidge sunk into a crouch, and I followed in suit. As the doors slid open, I kept my finger on the trigger, eyes squinted. But, to my surprise, no one was waiting for us on the other side of the doors. Pidge stayed still for a few moments before rising, still on guard. She exited first.

I realized that the classical music was now playing in the hallway too, and it kept me from being able to use my heightened senses. "Shit, can Bach calm down a little?" I grumbled.

Pidge made a strangled attempt at a chuckle.

The hallway we slowly walked down was unnaturally lavish. On my floor below it, the ground had been rough, scratched wooden boards and pale walls. Up here, though, I felt like I was back at one of the fancy hotels Lance and I had stayed in.

The hallway wasn't very long, with a total of ten doors, five on each side. I glanced at one of the plaques on the door closest to me. 'Conference Room 2'. So these were where the deals were made, I guessed. Rover never told us how large the company had extended, but if it had this kind of grandeur for the meetings, it had to be pretty large.

I almost felt clumsy with the gun in my hands- I was fine with combat, but, especially since Lance kicking my ass in laser tag, I realized that I should probably stick with one-on-one contact fighting.

Pidge signaled for us to keep moving and I saw her eyes focused on the last door on the left in the hallway. It was open just a crack, unlike every other door. I had a feeling that, if the Generals and Lotor were really in here, they'd be in that one.

Pidge flattened herself against the left side of the hallway, so I pressed my back against the right side. Together, we moved forward.

With every step we took, it seemed like the classical music got louder and louder. My head began to throb to the pulse of the beat and I shook my head wildly, as if to dislodge the migraine. I had to stay sharp.

As we approached the doorway, I started to hear snippets of conversation coming from inside the room.

"... our guests."

"They actually..."

"...stand a chance."

A look from Pidge confirmed that she was hearing them too. We were now right next to the door and I noticed that the music was definitely louder in the room. Pidge and I made eye contact. She pointed at the door, then at me, then counted down on her fingers.

Three,

Two,

One.

Pidge kicked the door open with a slam. Immediately, I positioned myself in the doorway, tranquilizer raised.

The conference room wasn't that big, now that I actually saw it. There was a wide, long table that ran down the center of the room that took up most of the floor-space, a row of office chairs along each side, and then a smart board on the right wall.

The wall I faced from the doorway was made completely of glass, letting in the dull moonlight and a bit of light from the streetlights and other buildings nearby. Up above, lights hung from the ceiling with colored blown-glass shades, coating the room in an eerie sheen of red that matched the carpet. To me, it made the whole space look like it was on fire.

And then, the room's occupants. Immediately, I noticed the four figures in the room. First, a tall, muscular woman leaning up against the wall, a shotgun strapped to her chest. Her wild hair had been tamed back into two buns on her head, but many curls still escaped and framed her wide face.

Then, another woman, who, surprisingly, was standing on the table. She was shorter than the other woman by at least a full head, and her eyes were sharp as she stared down at me. I noticed two pistols at her belt.

The third person in the room was standing by the windows, looking down at the street below. It aggravated me that they seemed so calm and collected in the situation, but when they finally turned, I was caught off guard. The 'they' was actually a 'he' and the 'he' had cropped, white hair and dark eyes that felt like they were looking right through me. He wore a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and even from the doorway, I could see the sinews in his muscled forearms. There was no doubt that the man was incredibly strong.

And then, the last person. My eyes immediately flew to the crumpled shape in the corner, slouched over himself, dark brown hair flopped over his forehead. I inhaled sharply. Lance. His halo rotated painfully slowly as he leaned against the wall. I noticed that he was gagged and blindfolded as well.

With newfound rage, I turned back to the man and the two women, eyes dark. The man smiled at me pleasantly in return. He was the first to speak.

"I see you've found us," he purred in an accent that reminded me of my father's. His voice was low and deep, but I could sense the curiosity in his words. "You're the first to have made it this far."

I didn't reply, just kept my tranquilizer steady. The woman who was standing on the table hopped off with a light thud and slowly walked forward to stand next to the man. Her long, pink hair, which was cornrowed and held high in a ponytail, swung back and forth with her every step. She eyed me carefully.

"I will say, you have a pretty pitiful friend, there," the woman said sweetly, nodding her head in Lance's direction. "He went down with a single hit." I bit the tip of my tongue to keep from speaking. I didn't think they were aware of Pidge, still obscured beside the doorway, and I would wreck her element of surprise if I got myself knocked out or injured so quickly.

Lotor nodded at the woman. "And I thought that angels had more stamina than that." My eyes went wide. How could they know? Lance had told me how much care went into protecting the angels' secrets against mortals. The invisibility, the care in Energy use, the consequences of telling a mortal. And yet, this man seemed to know all about the hidden race.

"Oh, you're surprised?" The man asked, eyebrows raised. He laughed humorlessly. "Why do you think that cute little thing over there is blindfolded? Angels can't use their Energy if they can't see." I hadn't known that.

"But I know that you aren't an angel, Keith," the man said slyly, and the woman beside him giggled, her hands on her hips.

Another shock. He knew my name. "No, no, no," he clucked his tongue, "I know all about you, little brother." His words bore into my head like bullets. Brother? It was enough shock to make me lose my balance. I took a step back, but held firm there, trying to regain my sanity.

"What the hell are you on?" I managed to ask, sounding more reckless than I felt.

Again, the man chuckled. "Oh, you don't believe me? Come on, little brother, do you seriously believe that you and the Twins are the only children that our father had? You really think you're that special?"

I hated to admit that I'd never thought about it. My father had never told me about other siblings, let alone an older brother who owned an underground black market where he sold illegal firearms. The Twins had never mentioned anyone like that either.

As if reading my mind, the man spoke again, "Oh, I know the Twins, alright. Back when they came up here, I met up with them. Told them the truth about how weak their little angel guides were. Yes, it took a few white lies, but eventually, the Twins saw what was right- how their little angels weren't anything worth worrying over. I was the one who made them realize that they didn't need their guides. And when they returned to the Underworld, I eliminated another threat to the throne."

Again, with the Twins and their guides. I still didn't know the full story about what happened, but at least now I knew that whatever had split the Twins up with their guides was some fabricated story made up by this asshole. And all for what? The throne? Was he serious?

"Is that what you're after? Ruling over the Underworld? How do I know that this isn't all fake? I think you need to get your head checked," I snapped.

The man glowered at me. There was a flash of dark light and, after blinking several times to clear my vision, the man who had stood before me now floated a few inches off the ground, the whites of his eyes black and with long, bull-like horns protruding from his forehead. Behind him, a leathery, thin tail that ended in a spade, just like mine and the Twins', whipped side to side. "I am Lotor," he said clearly, "and I am next in line for the throne of the Underworld." For a mere second, I felt fear skim over the surface of my skin in a shiver.

But I brought myself to look at Lance, hunched over in the corner, black fabric around his eyes and mouth, and Pidge behind me, probably confused out of her goddamn mind but hidden nonetheless. If I could finish this myself, then I could save both of them.

"So what do you want from me?" I asked, letting my own horns (which were embarrassingly smaller than my supposed brother's, but horns nonetheless) grow from my own forehead.

A slow, evil smile spread across Lotor's face. "I just want to talk."