[ … right now is not the time to be racking his brain for a memory he’s certain won’t be there. the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu gives way soon enough and then shiro is left with the shock of the situation, standing that bit of space away to blink wide at keith. when this hiking excursion was put together this morning over bowls of cereal, shiro did not envision it including an intermission of keith taking a naked woman as a hostage. fuck, he can feel a headache coming on. though, that may have less to do with keith’s battle plan and more to do with the woman morphing right in front of him.
so -- not human. gotcha.
the tables turn quickly from there. keith’s up on a wider, bulkier shoulder and dangling, neck attracting a mouthful of savage-looking teeth. this is shiro’s cue: he’s meant to run his mind on scenario after scenario in the span of two, three seconds, to look for holes and openings, to incapacitate the enemy and save his teammate. perhaps this monster thing thinks he’ll bargain, afterall, she’s gained one from each of them thus far and now, she has the upper-hand. but that’s just it. shiro already tried appeasing to reason and now, everything is deteriorating rapidly, so quickly in fact that shiro isn’t actually thinking about this in any other way than violence.
she clips her teeth together inches from keith’s neck, says his name and all of a sudden, neutralize the threat becomes kill it, kill it. it’s instinctual in a way he wishes it wasn’t: she barely finishes saying friend and shiro’s galra arm lights up. the distance is short and shiro is quick. all it takes is a lurch forward, his left hand grabbling for a fistful of hair to force her still, to keep her away from keith and then he ramps up the heat of his other fist just before he sucker punches her gut. into her gut. his hand can melt metal when he needs it to; the force and the heat sheer through skin and… it’s sickening.
then there’s the sound. it would almost be better if she were shrieking. but what comes out of her is low and gurgling; she flinches back, leaving shiro with a a fistful of loose hair and as she throws herself back, knocking keith off her shoulder in the process, shiro has a split moment to splay his fingers wide and then draw them in tight, entrails ripping out of her as she staggers into a collapsed heap.
five seconds and it’s over, with a body bleeding out on the ground and as shiro watches that life begin to blink out, there’s one distinct moment when he thinks it’s too quiet. where’s the applause? he’s never wanted to go back. the only time he unwillingly revisits those memories is when he’s shaking awake from a nightmare. this feels familiar though. this is the arena and standing here, looming over the corpse of his opponent like some sick trophy, he’s every bit the champion he once was. shiro never pulls punches in battle and he’s efficient in neutralizing enemies, but this was… different. personal. he’d been part savage and blind on brutality with the singular purpose of ensuring she -- whatever the fuck this thing is -- wouldn’t harm either of them. distantly, he thinks he should feel remorse. or at the very least, concern for his inability to feel it. but honestly? all he can think right now?
good riddance.
it’s dark. it’s not him. he tells himself he’s better than cheap shots and sneers over the fallen but it does little to soften his regard. instead, there’s only cold detachment as shakes off the grime coating his galra hand. the effort amounts to little. see, the sizzling heat coagulates the blood caught between the joints of metal and there’s already a layer caked -- that’ll need tending to later and he grimaces as he flexes his fingers. doesn’t matter now. the only thing that matters is getting keith up and ready to deal with the other two.
he throws a glance keith’s way but abruptly turns to get eyes on the other threat. they’ve slowed in their steps, stopping altogether, as though uncertain whether to go for the offense or defense. that’s fine -- shiro will make the decision for everyone here. ]
You good? [ he doesn’t look at keith as he says it. it’s all formality though; he expects keith to be ready to throw down, which is why he just as quickly moves on with a: ] I’ve got left. [ you take right, is the implied order. ]
shhh you're fine. also this is kinda dark. cw: bodily harm, gore ???
so -- not human. gotcha.
the tables turn quickly from there. keith’s up on a wider, bulkier shoulder and dangling, neck attracting a mouthful of savage-looking teeth. this is shiro’s cue: he’s meant to run his mind on scenario after scenario in the span of two, three seconds, to look for holes and openings, to incapacitate the enemy and save his teammate. perhaps this monster thing thinks he’ll bargain, afterall, she’s gained one from each of them thus far and now, she has the upper-hand. but that’s just it. shiro already tried appeasing to reason and now, everything is deteriorating rapidly, so quickly in fact that shiro isn’t actually thinking about this in any other way than violence.
she clips her teeth together inches from keith’s neck, says his name and all of a sudden, neutralize the threat becomes kill it, kill it. it’s instinctual in a way he wishes it wasn’t: she barely finishes saying friend and shiro’s galra arm lights up. the distance is short and shiro is quick. all it takes is a lurch forward, his left hand grabbling for a fistful of hair to force her still, to keep her away from keith and then he ramps up the heat of his other fist just before he sucker punches her gut. into her gut. his hand can melt metal when he needs it to; the force and the heat sheer through skin and… it’s sickening.
then there’s the sound. it would almost be better if she were shrieking. but what comes out of her is low and gurgling; she flinches back, leaving shiro with a a fistful of loose hair and as she throws herself back, knocking keith off her shoulder in the process, shiro has a split moment to splay his fingers wide and then draw them in tight, entrails ripping out of her as she staggers into a collapsed heap.
five seconds and it’s over, with a body bleeding out on the ground and as shiro watches that life begin to blink out, there’s one distinct moment when he thinks it’s too quiet. where’s the applause? he’s never wanted to go back. the only time he unwillingly revisits those memories is when he’s shaking awake from a nightmare. this feels familiar though. this is the arena and standing here, looming over the corpse of his opponent like some sick trophy, he’s every bit the champion he once was. shiro never pulls punches in battle and he’s efficient in neutralizing enemies, but this was… different. personal. he’d been part savage and blind on brutality with the singular purpose of ensuring she -- whatever the fuck this thing is -- wouldn’t harm either of them. distantly, he thinks he should feel remorse. or at the very least, concern for his inability to feel it. but honestly? all he can think right now?
good riddance.
it’s dark. it’s not him. he tells himself he’s better than cheap shots and sneers over the fallen but it does little to soften his regard. instead, there’s only cold detachment as shakes off the grime coating his galra hand. the effort amounts to little. see, the sizzling heat coagulates the blood caught between the joints of metal and there’s already a layer caked -- that’ll need tending to later and he grimaces as he flexes his fingers. doesn’t matter now. the only thing that matters is getting keith up and ready to deal with the other two.
he throws a glance keith’s way but abruptly turns to get eyes on the other threat. they’ve slowed in their steps, stopping altogether, as though uncertain whether to go for the offense or defense. that’s fine -- shiro will make the decision for everyone here. ]
You good? [ he doesn’t look at keith as he says it. it’s all formality though; he expects keith to be ready to throw down, which is why he just as quickly moves on with a: ] I’ve got left. [ you take right, is the implied order. ]