#covert Counter-Terrorism au

[wftc141]

Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 14: Search for White Tiger

28/04/2018

Colombia

Another fist landed on his face as Halliday’s vision flashed to what was left of the room’s light. Tasting metal in his mouth, Halliday held his tongue. Torture wasn’t new to him and he had his fair share of being tied to a chair before some paranoid terrorists during his service. The pain was part of the package and so is a swollen eye and the loss of two of his fingers from yesterday. 

Halliday looked up at the man giving him a thrashing, a muscular and tatted-up lieutenant sporting a mustache and a nasty look in his eye. There wasn’t much he could do, considering he was tied to a chair. The lieutenant reached for the tools on the table, settling on a blowtorch. His blood-covered hands lit up the blowtorch, a light yet scorching flame coming out of the barrel.

“You know how this works.” the lieutenant snarled. “You’ll be having another bad day if you keep up this game of yours.”

“I already told you, ya muppet.” Halliday growled, spitting blood at the lieutenant’s feet. “I ain’t telling you a bloody thing.” 

“Enough.”

The voice was enough to catch the lieutenant’s attention. A bloody miracle, to Halliday’s surprise. A figure stood by the door in the shadows. Halliday couldn’t make him out through the light. As the figure approached the lieutenant, he became much clearer. The light-skinned man looked like he came out of a fundraiser for an election, sporting a three-piece suit without a blazer, sleeves neatly rolled up and a tight bun.

“Enough?” The lieutenant curled his lips. “Why? This pinche cabrón killed my men and he won’t spill as much as a breath!”

The man ignored the lieutenant, brushing past him as he approached Halliday.

“Like I told your mate here. I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” Halliday hissed.

The well-dressed man smirked. “There’s no need for that, Lieutenant Damon Halliday.” The British accent caught his attention. “I’m well aware of who you are. Former SAS and now, a Voltron operative that handles off-the-books operations for NATO.”

Halliday went quiet. He couldn’t find the words. This man knew more than he had anticipated and if anything, he may know about his team as well. The man then turned around and glared at the lieutenant.

“You really thought it was wise to bring him here?” He asked.

The lieutenant scoffed. “Relax. We left without a trace.” 

The man then turned back to Halliday with skepticism glowing in his eyes.

“I doubt that.”

________________________________________

29/04/2018

0750 Hours

Colombia

Upon landing in the forest, Shiro and Lance scan the area as they slowly move through the jungle. 

“Zero, this is Blue Lion, how far am I from Red’s position, over?” Lance asked on the radio. 

“Blue Lion, you should be right on top of him, over.” Allura answered from the comms.

“Found him.” Shiro said from behind.

Lance turned towards Shiro who was looking up. Lance followed his eye direction. Above them, Keith was hanging on a tree with his parachute stuck among the branches. Lance began to chuckle.

“That is rich.” Lance said in between his laughs. “Yo, Keith! How’s it hanging?”

“Ha, ha. Fuck you.” Keith flipped Lance the bird, which only made him laugh further in response.

“You need help, Keith?” Shiro asked.

“No, sir.” Keith shook his head as he reached for his knife. “I got it.” 

Eventually, Keith managed to break free from his suit, falling to the ground with a loud thud. 

“Thought the Rangers are supposed to be good at this.” Lance said.

“Fuck off.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, you two.” Shiro cut in, grabbing Keith and Lance’s attention. “We gotta move. We’re meeting up with the Ground Branch team. Keith, get geared up. You got five.”

“Rog.”

As Keith went through his gear up from his pack, Shiro reached for the radio.

“Zero, this is Black Lion. We have found Red Lion and are about to proceed to Hunter’s position, out.”

________________________________________

Allura, Coran, Jeb and Stacy observe the footage from the drone video cam tracking Shiro, Keith and Lance’s positions. Allura notices Coran’s troubled expression, knowing how close he and Lieutenant Halliday are, hoping his friend is still okay. Allura thought about assuring him until Kolivan approached her.

“Your team’s on the ground?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes, Kolivan. They’re on their way to Hunter’s position.” Allura answered.

Kolivan nodded, although Allura noticed his expression was telling a different story.

“Is everything alright?”

He let out a sigh. “There’s something that you should know about Hunter 1 and I… I already told Sergeant Holt about him.”

Allura looks at Kolivan, confused. “Told her about what?”

________________________________________

Later, Keith and Lance continue to make their way to their designation through the jungle as the sun is slowly rising. The three move cautiously to avoid any possible traps or avoid patrols. 

“So uh, these Ground Branch dudes,” Lance whispered, earning a turn from Shiro as a response. “Are they gonna be cool working with us or are they just a bunch of smartass shitstains?” 

“They’re under Kolivan’s command so they should be fine.” Shiro replied.

“I don’t know, man. Spooks are usually buncha arrogant assholes with fat egos and don’t get me started on the SADs.”

“I have to agree with Lance,” Keith steps in. “These guys are black ops. Who knows how they’ll treat us?”

“Well until then, we’re a team.”  

The three continue to walk through the jungle in silence until-

“Don’t move.” 

The group froze as the bushes behind them rustled. Three masked figures emerged from the bushes, surrounding the group though they kept their rifles trained on each other. Keith and Lance, covering the rear, trained their weapons on two of the figures while Shiro had his on the woman. There was a brief but tense pause between the groups before one of the figures behind him spoke.

“Stone… ”

Shiro slightly glanced over. He recognized the code word as one of the many phrases that CIA operatives use to identify each other. However, it was possible that this could be a trap from their attackers who somehow learned their language. But the possibility was less likely since the voice was somewhat familiar to him.

“Stone…” The figure repeated.  

“...Mountain.” Shiro finally said.

The woman in front of him lowered her rifle, as well as the figures behind him. “Whoever answered, turn around.” The voice ordered.

Once Shiro complied and turned around to face the figures, one of the figures in woodland gear scoffed in disbelief before pulling his mask down. Shiro’s mouth dropped as he recognized him as someone whom he thought he’d never seen again.

“Matt?” Shiro said.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Matt cocked his head sideways. “If it ain’t the Great Shiro.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you. I thought you left Voltron behind. Didn’t expect you to come back.” 

“Things have changed.”

Matt takes a thought and then starts to put the pieces together as to why Shiro is back in Voltron.

“You came back for her, didn’t you?”

Shiro didn’t answer as he knew Matt was right, especially with how he reacted to Allura being taken hostage in Pakistan a few months ago.

“Thought so,” Matt scoffed. “Come on. Let's go save your guy.”  

Matt and his ground branch team start to walk off while Keith, Lance and Shiro are hesitant at first before following. Shiro felt guilty when he saw Matt again but as a Voltron operative. Keith and Lance were confused when they saw Matt as they knew a semblance of a certain person from their group. 

“Is it me or does that guy look a lot like Pidge?” Lance said.

“That’s because Matt is Pidge’s brother.” Shiro explained. 

Keith and Lance were left speechless when they realized that Matt is Pidge’s brother. Keith remembered Pidge talked about her brother being Shiro’s comrade from the SEALs but never thought that he would look a bit like Pidge and never thought that he was in Voltron. 

“Come on.” Shiro ordered. “We gotta move.”

________________________________________

Back at the hideout, Pidge is in the hallway laying her back on the wall with a doubtful look on her face as she has a lot on her mind.

“Pidge?”

Turning to her right, she noticed Hunk standing there with a worried look on his face.

“You good?” He asked.

Pidge looked away. “Not really.” 

“What’s wrong?”

Pidge let out a deep sigh.

“Kolivan told me that my brother Matt is there in Colombia leading Team Hunter.” 

Hunk’s mouth opened in surprise. “Your brother’s CIA?”

“News to me too.” Pidge replied. “Kinda explains why I’ve never heard from him for years. Now I don’t know how he’ll feel about me working for Voltron.”

“Maybe he's proud of you.”

“Doubt that.”

Hunk then starts to piece it together as he knows what Pidge is going through.

“Problems back home?”

Pidge silently nodded. Hunk sighed as he approached Pidge and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen,” Hunk said. “Even if we cross paths with him, just know that you’re still the same Pidge I know. The one who can fight and protect her team. Hell, you were the one who carried my ass outta danger when I got shot.”

“I wouldn’t say that counted since you got captured by the Galra anyway.”

“Kinda thankful for that. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have met Shay and she and those women wouldn't have gotten saved.” 

Pidge gives out a nod with a haft smile as Hunk did make a good point if Hunk wasn’t captured by the Galra. 

“So how are things with Shay?” Pidge asked.

A small blush crept up to his face as Hunk gave a knowing smirk. “Oh, we are going strong, alright. If you know what I mean.”

A chuckle slipped out of Pidge’s mouth as she bumped his arm, prompting a laugh from Hunk. “Okay, I get your point.”

Hunk took a moment to calm himself. “In all seriousness, Shay’s wonderful and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That’s great to hear, Hunk. Wish you all the best.”

“Thanks…and I hope things work out between you and your brother.”

________________________________________

The team reached the cartel’s hideout where they may be keeping Halliday. Matt and Shiro looked through their binoculars to scope out any guards in the area but found nothing.

“Something’s not right.” Matt stated.

“No guards, no patrol…” Shiro stated. “I hope we didn’t tip them off.”

“And there better not be another mole inside us.”

Shiro gives out a sigh.

“So you know about Brazil?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah.” Matt answered. “Special Activities would’ve long figured out that Sanda was under Galra’s hand but my boss handed it to Voltron, now look how that turned out.”

“At least we stopped them from killing the Triple Frontier government.” Lance said. 

“But this should’ve been stopped sooner.”

Shiro sighed. “Yes but we should focus on our mission. Lance, stay here and provide overwatch.” 

“You too, Hunter 3.” Matt ordered.

“Copy.” Both Lance and Hunter 3 responded.

Shiro and Keith made their way to the hideout along with the rest of Matt’s team while Lance and Hunter 3 got into position. Once the team got close to the house, they noticed two dead guards on the ground. They even noticed that they were shot from inside of the house.

“Black Lion to Zero, Lion and Hunter team are at target compound and ready to make entry.” Shiro reported to his radio. 

Hunter 2, taking point, opened the door and the team stormed the hideout. As the team were clearing the rooms, they noticed the lack of shooting or voices from either room or even in this building. No voices were being heard as the team found more dead sicarios as they were sweeping the house. 

“Fucking hell.” Hunter 2 muttered as she noticed a sicario with two holes in the head.

The team were finding themselves with more questions than answers as they investigated further, finding  more evidence of dead cartel members. Whatever happened here, the team must’ve missed a gunfight. The corpses’ trail led to a room up ahead. The team entered the room and froze upon seeing what was inside.

“Shit.” Shiro swore under his breath.

The team found what they’ve been looking for but not what they were hoping to find as their fears turned true. 

“Call it in.” Shiro said to Keith.

Keith tapped into his comms. “This is Red Lion to Zero. We have visual on White Tiger. Status KIA. Repeat, White Tiger is KIA.”

[khyann]

Shallura Anti-terrorist Army AU request for @wftc141 for his fanfic  Voltron: Global Military Intellegence and Counter-Terrorisim Unit. which I recommend you to read. It’s pretty cool.

[wftc141]

Commission art by @yumirei

"Help us...please."

[imagine-sterek]

True lies AU?

(Nice choice!)

Derek Hale leads a double life: one with his husband, Stiles,and their son, Isaac, where he is a business man who is often away on business trips,and the other as a covert operative for a counter-terrorism task force. Derekdiscovers a terrorist group lead by a man named Deucalion, but they escapebefore he can catch them. He comes back late one night and misses the birthdayparty Stiles and Isaac had arranged for him.

The next day, he heads to Stiles’ office to surprise her forlunch, but overhears him talking to a guy called Jackson. Worried Stiles ishaving an affair, Derek uses the agency’s resources and discovers that Jacksonis a car salesman who’s pretending to be a covert agent to flirt with Stiles.

That night, Jackson invites Stiles over to his place to tryand get with him, but Derek and his fellow agent, Boyd – disguised – kidnap Stilesand frighten Jackson into staying away from him. Meanwhile, Derek masks hisvoice and interrogates Stiles, finding out that his constant absence has leftStiles feeling lonely—he swears he’d never have and affair, he just wants anadventure.

So, Boyd and Derek ‘recruit’ Stiles for a staged spy missionwhere he is to seduce a mysterious figure (Derek sitting in the shadows) and planta bug in his hotel room, but Deucalion’s men burst into the room and kidnap thetwo of them, taking them to an isolated island.

Deucalion reveals that he’s smuggled stolen nuclear warheadsinto the country inside antique statues and threatens to detonate them in majorU.S. cities. He then orders Derek and Stiles be tortured. Under the effect oftruth serum, Derek confesses his double life to Stiles, but while Derek isunder the influences, Stiles gets them out. 

They escape and return to themainland only to find out that Deucalion and his men have taken control of the skyscraperdowntown and are threatening to detonate the last bomb they have. What’s worse,they have a hostage: Isaac.

Derek commandeers one of the jets to rescue his son as anotheragent sneaks into the tower under the cover of a news team that Deucaliondemanded. He provides a distraction and Isaac steals the ignition key and runsout of the room. Deucalion chases after him, following him out onto a crane.Isaac shouts at him to stay away, threatening to drop the ignition key if hecomes any closer. But Isaac loses his footing and slips. He grabs the metalframe, but he can’t hold on for long.

Derek arrives in time to save his son, struggling to fightoff Deucalion and keep Isaac safe. Derek beats Deucalion and lands the jet, helpingIsaac down and holding him tight as Stiles runs over to them.

A year later, the family is closer than they’ve ever been,and Stiles has become an agent—Derek’s partner.

[wftc141]

Thanks @paladinspride

Recently, I drew @wftc141 some art for their story Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter Terrorism Unit and this is the result. :) Hope you like it. 

[theclaravoyant]

She... plays softball. Plays for the other team, as it were.

a Skimmons Coffee Shop AU, ft. happily platonic FitzSimmons, and ever-helpful gayngel & captain shipper Bobbi Morse

taking a leaf from the wonderful @the-nerdy-stjarna’s book to re-release an old fic with a new banner for @aosadvent2017 prompt “food”. I love Coffee Shop AUs, I have one for every occasion, but this one seemed especially fitting as I wrote the fic itself for last year’s @skimmonssecretsanta.

Rated G/T. ~3600wd. the original fic post is here, you can read it on AO3 here, or below. Enjoy!

-

Swinging my way, Baby?

It was a Tuesday afternoon, when it had first happened.

A Tuesday, around 3:30 in the afternoon. When recounting later, she was unable to consistently say what month, let alone what date, because it had begun just like every other Tuesday, and had continued much the same, save for a moment of lightning in the middle.

Jemma Simmons, aspiring PhD, was meeting up with Fitz for Chem study, just like every other Tuesday afternoon. She wasn’t running late, because she never did, but surprisingly, Fitz was already there, and talking to another girl. A girl whose face Jemma had memorised from across the classroom, but had never seen up close like this before. A girl whose name she probably knew, but couldn’t pick out of a lineup, for all the face was familiar to her. A girl with sharp black eyes, a quick smile, and a tank top bearing shoulders that made Jemma’s knees quake.

With considerably less smoothness and dignity than she might have liked, Jemma feigned indifference to Fitz’ visitor. She took her usual seat at the large library table and began separating out her books and notes with precision. Still, she couldn’t help peeking every now and then, up at where Fitz and his friend were talking. Her hair was short, about shoulder length, and flared about her face, bouncing as she spoke or animatedly responded. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and one of Jemma’s covert glances caught her hitching the bag up, causing the muscles of her shoulder to ripple. Jemma’s face flushed at that, and she buried her nose in her books until Fitz and the girl parted ways and he came to sit down.

“Sorry I’m late,” he greeted, scooting his chair in and scrabbling to pull his notes and books out of his bag to catch up with Jemma.

“It’s no problem.” It was a nice view. Jemma bit her lip, and instead tried, with a casualness that was on second thoughts, too forced to have been worth the pretence, asked, “who was that?”

“Who?” Fitz glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Daisy. Yeah. Daisy Johnson, you know, she’s in Computing with me. She was just after some help with a Physics assignment.”

“Oh. So. She’s not – I mean…You don’t…like her?”

Fitz laughed.

“I used to have a crush on her, actually,” he explained, amused by the memory. “We almost went to the middle-school dance together. ‘Cept turns out she, you know, plays softball.”

“Softball! Of course!” Just in time, she stopped herself from commenting on how those arms would be wasted on anything else. But still, Fitz shook his head.

“No, I mean – well, yes, she does play softball. And football, actually. But I mean she, you know. Plays softball. Plays for the other team, as it were.“

“Oh. Right. Right. Yes. I’m with you now. I follow. I – yes.”

Smooth, Jemma. She stuck her nose into the nearest book and hoped she wasn’t sweating as profusely as it was starting to feel like she was.

And then it happened. The bolt of lightning. The realisation that she might, in all honesty, have an iota of a chance. It was like flicking a switch, turning a fleeting fantasy into a blooming, consuming desire in the blink of an eye. Situational affection? A mind-boggling if temporary crush? Or cupid’s arrow through her heart, turning everything Daisy into diamonds in an effort to lure Jemma into a love story for the ages? Not knowing was half the fun of it. And more than half the terror.

“Why do you ask?” Fitz wondered after a moment. “Do you like her?”

Jemma fidgeted in her seat.

“I was just thinking about trying out myself,” she said, as smooth a derailment as she could hope for under the circumstances. “For softball, I mean.”

Fitz snorted. “I’d like to see that.”

Jemma slapped her pen onto the desk.

“I totally could!”

“I’m sure you could! I just don’t think it’s your style. Hideous uniforms, pointless running around in circles, lots of sweating and effort for no discernable reason –“

“Except fitness! And – and fun! And teamwork! And competition, you know I love competition –“

Soon enough the argument shifted away from Daisy, and even from softball, and onto the two of them challenging each other’s sporting abilities and willingness to suffer hard work and dirt. Jemma’s crush didn’t fade though. It only took a back seat. For a few hours, she even had herself convinced that she should indeed pick up a bat and try out.

Eventually, of course – and for which Jemma was eternally grateful - the heady optimism of inspiration faded and she realised that she had neither the skill, nor the money, nor even the desire to try out for softball, or any other kind of sport really. She would never be able to maintain it, if nothing else. Plus, her running around getting sweaty and failing at everything was, to say the least, not nearly as alluring as she would like to come across. Instead, after a few days of denial and indecision, she picked herself up and sought out Carter’s, the café where most of the campus’s sports and arts – and queer – communities were reputed to hang out. Being a hard science student who spent most of her time across campus these days, Jemma had not been to Carter’s for some time. It was not as she remembered it, and as she walked in, a combination of nerves, surprise and marvel took her breath away.

Only a few steps through the door, Jemma’s purposeful stride faded into a slow turn, like a young woman in a film arriving in The Big City. She stared so wide and for so long she felt like a freshman. She probably looked like one too, but she couldn’t help it. The place was decked out like a 1950s milkshake bar or diner, right down to the stools at the lunch bar, juke box in the corner, and musk-candy colour scheme of pink and green. Not to mention, the pillbox hats and matching collared uniforms that the feminist in Jemma was a little ashamed to admit, made her heart flutter. It felt like she had stepped back in time, or at least into one of those handcrafted, overly perfect horror-movie villages in Florida where nothing was ever as it seemed.

A chill ran down her spine at the sudden expectation that something might jump out at her. Nothing did, but she was unceremoniously dropped out of her timeless bubble and into a world where she should, by all accounts, order something or sit down. One look at the tall, muscled blonde behind the counter, making fiercely cheerful eye contact with her latest customer and smiling that familiar smile, told Jemma she was not up for that yet. So she sat, simply grabbing for the nearest empty table and pulling out her notebook and anatomy textbook. She’d come in here to eat – or at least, that’s what she had been planning to tell anyone who asked – but there was always work to be done.

Soon enough, in fact, she was so absorbed in her readings that she didn’t even notice the true reason for her presence there slip in through the door.

Daisy Johnson.

-

Carter’s had been a staple of Daisy’s college life. Situated between the gym and the theatre, it was where some of the most interesting people gathered, and where many of the girls on her team – both literally, and euphemistically – worked and hung out. Being near the theatre as it was, and relatively near the food and design schools, Carter’s tended to go through renovations a lot. Its latest incarnation resembled a 1950s diner and aside from its renewal of her love for Back to the Future, Daisy didn’t care for it all that much. She was hoping for something more outrageous next, like a Wild West saloon, or some kind of situation in which everybody wore rollerblades. But for now, at least the food was good and the milkshakes – and the uniforms, of course – were widely celebrated.

“Lookin’ good, Bobbi,” Daisy greeted, as she dropped into the stool nearest the cash register. Barbara was today’s resident supervisor’s intensely loathed full name, and in the spirit of the vintage theme under which she currently worked, she had easily heard it more times in the past three months than in the three years before that. Even so, Daisy had to bite her lip to stop herself bringing it up for a laugh. Bobbi glared, and Daisy beamed innocently and ducked her head below the counter for a moment, trying to reach simultaneously for her purse, and for the pastries under the cover beside the register.

Bobbi rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and lifted the cover for Daisy’s blindly reaching hand.

“Pink or sprinkles?” Bobbi asked.

“Surprise me.”

Bobbi handed Daisy a pink one with rainbow sprinkles, just as Daisy’s head reappeared over the counter. Her eyes widened at Bobbi’s selection and she took a large bite, humming in satisfaction through the mouthful of donut.

“Ah, you know just how I like it.”

Bobbi eyed her with an exaggerated expression of disgust as Daisy fished out coins from her purse, the donut now dangling from her mouth where she had sunk her teeth into it in order to free up her hands.

“Not if you like it like that, I don’t,” Bobbi remarked.

“Shut up.”

Daisy took the donut out of her mouth and added a coffee to her order, but as she did so, looked over her shoulder. It had just now clicked in her brain that she had recognised somebody when she’d come in. Somebody who didn’t usually come here, and who fit in a little too well, with her A-line skirt and pastel colours, and the way she kept twirling her fingers in her stray lock of hair.

“Oh my god.”

Daisy swung back around to the counter and ducked, wishing she had a menu or something to cover her face, though that hardly would have been less conspicuous. Blushing furiously, Daisy tried to recover by taking a sip of her coffee, and burnt her tongue instead. She cursed herself as Bobbi asked, inevitably,

“Who’s that?”

“A girl. Just a girl. No biggie.” Coffee, coffee. Ouch! Damn it.

“No biggie because she barely reaches my elbow?” Bobbi speculated. “Or no biggie in the lesser known, ‘if I hide behind this menu and she never sees me I’ll never have to confront my feelings,’ sense of ‘no biggie.’”

Daisy sighed.

“Ah, I really hope you become a fully fledged bartender one day,” she said, resignation in her tone. “Your talents are wasted here.”

Bobbi pouted, and reached for a towel just so that she could brush it across the counter and lean on it dramatically.

“So this girl, huh?” she inquired.

Daisy sighed again. Feelings confrontation time. “Her name is Jemma, she’s in my Physics class.“

“You take Physics?”

“Yes. What did you think I was taking?”

“The Science of Harry Potter?” Bobbi suggested. Daisy glared.

“Don’t even joke about that. I would kill.”

Bobbi smiled, and prompted: “So, Physics.”

“So Physics. Anyway. She’s there and she’s pretty and, well, I thought that was the end of the story…“

“Buuuuut…“

“Iiiiiiif you’d let me finish….but see, I’d thought she was with Fitz. I’d just assumed. Only, I mentioned something about it - y’know, them – to him today and I’m pretty sure he’ll still be laughing at graduation. They’re just friends! So totally friends! Kinda weirdly close friends, but still!”

“So why the long face?”

“I got my hopes up for a bit. But then I remembered. Jemma’s had certified boyfriends. Milton, Will. So I’m back where I started. At least I was. Til just now. And she’s here. I mean…do you think she knows? About this place?”

Daisy raked her hands through her hair, anxious, only to find Bobbi smirking, a mischievous glint of victory in her eyes.

“Oh, sweetie, she knows,” Bobbi assured Daisy. “And as for that ‘certified boyfriends’ thing…she’s had certified girlfriends too.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed.

“Me!” Bobbi confirmed, with a flourish. “She’s a bit of a Bambi but don’t be fooled. That girl can go.”

“So what happened with you two?” Daisy wondered. Bobbi shrugged, her expression softening.

“We were both high achievers,” she explained, “and both in the same field. Competing for attention, grants, grades… Neither of us wanted to compromise and well, too much competition stops being fun. It put a strain on us and luckily, we stepped out before we snapped. No hard feelings. Some that suck, of course, but we don’t hate each other, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmph.” Daisy’s shoulders slumped, and she resumed picking at her donut, pensive and somewhat put out.

“Hmph?” Bobbi repeated, curious.

“Well, Jemma’s still a high achiever. She probably wouldn’t have time for me anyway. It’s just going to collapse, it’s not – Never mind, I’ll just get over it.”

Bobbi shook her head, made a note on a cup, and passed it to the coffee girl without taking her eyes off Daisy for more than a moment.

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” she insisted. Daisy moped, but Bobbi slapped down an apricot danish in a napkin and drew her attention.

“Ask. The girl. Out,” Bobbi commanded. “Bring her something, make her laugh, get a conversation going. Come on, Daisy, I don’t have to coach you.”

“I don’t even know what she likes!” Daisy whined, though her defenses were falling left right and centre. “I could get her an Americano, that’s what I have- but then, what does that say about what I think about her? Or me? Cheap, basic, unoriginal. Great. But then if I get her something else, something fancier, she might not like it, or she could be allergic. Or tea? Maybe she likes tea. I mean she’s English, they must like tea right? No, that’s ridiculous. Not all English people like tea. So what then?”

Daisy met Bobbi’s eyes, desperate.

“As the ex, it is my duty to let you work all this out on your own, young Padawan,” Bobbi informed her sagely. But before Daisy could give up, Bobbi received her secret order from the coffee girl and pushed it across the counter to Daisy, alongside the apricot danish. Bobbi met her confused glance with a wink, and added: “As your best friend, it’s my duty to wingman you to the best of my ability. It’s a fine line.”

“You’re fantastic. I love you.”

“Ah, save it for Bambi!” Bobbi shooed Daisy away from the counter and Daisy went, gleefully, singing in her head, over to Jemma’s table. She had a moment to take in the dusky pinks and browns of Jemma’s outfit, and the way the light seemed to fall softer on her, and then Jemma looked up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “can I help you?”

And just like that, the moment was gone, evaporated by the sudden grip of panic.

-

Jemma looked up, and she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Here was Daisy, so close her eyes were sparkling, and with an absent smile on her face like she didn’t have to think about it. And with an apricot danish in one hand, and what appeared to be a chai latte – though the label was partially covered – in the other. Jemma’s stomach rumbled. It was like a vision from the gods.

“I – I’m sorry,” she stammered, snapping herself out of her distraction. “Ah, can I help you?”

“Um. Yes. Maybe.” Don’t look at Bobbi, don’t look at Bobbi. It had been far too long since she’d had a proper date, especially with someone like Jemma. And even though Bobbi had promised, Daisy still wasn’t sure…

“I was wondering…”

Make her laugh.

“Did you swallow a magnet?”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

“Did you swallow a magnet?” Daisy repeated, her mouth bone-dry all of a sudden. “Because…you’re attractive.”

Jemma snorted. “That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Daisy groaned.

“No, I love it!”

“Really? Because I’ve got plenty more.” Daisy cleared her throat and leaned into the cheese, listing off pick-up lines in a variety of voices as she slid into the seat next to Jemma’s. “’Baby, I’ve got my ion you.’ ‘What’s your sine?’ ‘Are you full of berillium, gold and titanium? Because you are B-E-A-U-Ti-ful.’”

Jemma snorted again and curled up, giggling.

“Ten points for delivery,” she awarded.

“Oh! Speaking of delivery, these are for you.” Daisy pushed the gifts across the table, and Jemma bet into the danish with relish.

“Thank you, my favourite!”

“I had help,” Daisy confessed with a smirk. “A little birdie told me.” Jemma raised an eyebrow over Daisy’s shoulder at Bobbi, who shrugged innocently and went about wiping down and rearranging the counter.

“Well, are you having anything? I don’t have my little birdie on me today, but I’d be happy to return the favour.”

“Not a favour,” Daisy insisted. “A gift. A…hm, a –“

“A date?” Jemma grinned broadly. “With me? Really?”

“Wait, did you not get that?” Daisy frowned.

“No,” Jemma replied sarcastically, “the string of pick-up lines was completely lost on me. Yes, of course I got it! I just thought it was sweet how you got all flustered. I’ve been too intimidated to speak to you all year.”

“Intimidated?” Daisy laughed. “Why?”

“Because…” Jemma blushed. “You’ve swallowed a magnet.”

“Aw! That’s terrible!” Daisy crooned, flattered, as if the word terrible was sweet.

“I know!” Jemma moaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I couldn’t even remember your name until the other day, I’ve just been sitting in class pining all year!”

“You should’ve asked Fitz to hook us up! Does he know? About you?”

“Yes! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I guess it still feels a little weird to talk to people about it. It’s strange being bi, I feel like I’m faking it half the time. Plus, I mean, I didn’t even know that you were – that you could even be interested until he told me. Oh, I hope you don’t mind about that, by the way.”

Daisy shrugged. “I’ve already told him I’m cool with it. I’m pretty out.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Obviously not out enough, though, if you didn’t pick up on it. I should start wearing rainbow flags to school…or plaid, at least. I could rock some plaid, don’t you think?”

“You already play softball!”

“I do roller-derby too, actually,” Daisy added. Jemma’s eyes widened.

“I have always wanted to try that!”

“It’s a load of fun. You will get the crap beaten out of you though.”

Jemma’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Any gruesome injury stories?”

“Ew! We’re eating!”

“Well, I’m eating,” Jemma corrected. “And I’m a bio student. I’m used to it.”

“You fascinate me,” Daisy said, more sincere than she had been expecting. Belatedly, she realised Jemma was right and that she still did not have her food with her. She glanced over her shoulder at it, and saw the coffee and donut and her bag still by the counter.

“Um. I’ll be right back.“

Bobbi met her eyes pointedly, and pushed the coffee and donut across the counter with a salacious sparkle.

“I’ll bring you guys a lunch menu later.”

“Shut up,” Daisy scoffed, blushing.

She returned to Jemma’s table, to find Jemma eagerly awaiting her arrival.

“We don’t have to talk about gory injuries if you don’t want to,” Jemma clarified. “I can be a bit gross. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I have some killer stories! I just like to keep my blood and bones separate from my icing and sprinkles.”

“Fair enough. We’ll just have to find something different to talk about, then.”

Jemma pulled her anatomy notebook toward her and Daisy frowned, confused. Shouldn’t they be heading away from blood and bones? But as she watched, Jemma turned to a blank page, tore off a corner and started writing on it. A phone number.

“Just in case you wanted to tell me those stories some other time,” she explained as she slid it over to Daisy.

“Can’t wait!”

“But for now, blood-free, hm?” Jemma mused. “Well, okay, let’s start at the beginning.”

She held out her hand for a shake.

“Jemma Simmons. Biochemistry.”

“Daisy Johnson. Counterterrorism.”

From there, they launched into a lively conversation, swinging from favourite foods and seasons of the year to mockeries of dating advertisements, anecdotes, relatives and ancestors, life goals and hobbies and home and everything in between. They had lunch, and then Jemma walked Daisy to class, and grinned at nothing and rocked on her heels and shivered with delight after Daisy went inside. Daisy had given Jemma her number too, and Jemma rolled and flipped the paper between her fingers gleefully. It had been a long time since she’d had a date with someone special, lost track of time, kept them on her mind. It had been a long time since she’d felt this sort of chemistry with anyone, or had it reciprocated so enthusiastically or with a warmth and vibrancy that reminded her this is real.

Jemma ambled toward home without a rush, floating on the high of her blissfully, unexpectedly successful day. She sat on the train, barely but contentedly containing the urge to introduce herself to everyone that walked on with, “hi, I’m Jemma Simmons, I have a girlfriend. She’s amazing.” Then, as they pulled away from the station at last, her phone buzzed. A message from Daisy.

Remind me to show you a proper bat grip tomorrow. McLean Field, 9am.

Jemma smiled so wide she had to bite her lip to contain it, and proceeded to spend most of the rest of the trip home entering their next date, with care and flourish, into her diary.

[sl-walker]

I only hesitate because I'm not super familiar with your AUs yet! Sometime I really will read All of It, I just don't know where to start!! Anyway, um, that said ... is Savage in any of them? Because I'd like to see two of him and Savage: gift exchange and baking Christmas cookies. Probably Savage is baking them and Maul is helping, for whatever value of "help" inspires you, LOL

I always recommend Witness me first because it’s sort of my ‘prime’ verse, and really, you can read it in order.  If you prefer lighter fare, sort of fluffy and sweet you can also read Taking Flight in order.  ( @shadowmaat and @doorsclosingslowly are also authors in that series.)  And while GoT:A doesn’t have nearly the audience, it’s pretty dear to my heart because I love how comparatively stable and such that he is in that one.  It’s more scattered, but it’s here.  Really, though, if you’re serious about wanting to read, just start at the beginning of Witness me and see where the mood takes you. XD

That being said, in the future after Gambit, Savage is around in Taking Flight (there’s quite some time before he makes it into Witness me), so!  Without further ado, have some brotherly fluff and a lot of Maul introspection.

Apparently, Nightbrothers on Dathomir had holidays.

Maul hadn’t known that; he wasn’t raised there and had no memory of the place, but he had two brothers and with every day that passed since they had come into his life, he grew closer to them.  Slowly, he got used to the mere concept of having blood family; it was such a foreign thing at first that he had a hard time figuring out how to relate to it, but as time went on, he was getting-- better at it, he thought.

It wasn’t easy; Savage had known nothing but Dathomir from birth.  He had no real understanding of the wider world than that, and it often showed.  More than once, Maul caught him trying so very hard to catch up and grasp such a wide galaxy, so much wider than one village and the surrounding areas on one back-water world, and it was-- it was hard watching Savage struggle with it.  He was intelligent enough, it wasn’t that; he just wasn’t raised like Maul was.  He was grown when he left Dathomir to try to save his little brother; even if Maul had spent his first seven years (or six) on Mustafar, isolated and alone, he was educated in how big the universe was, at least.

For Savage, though, it was gods and goddesses; it was Nightsisters and disappearing males and the quiet terror of the day he was chosen.  It was hunting and raising children.  It was fighting, and weighing his worth on his ability to provide and protect.

 It was a strange thing, for Maul to go between small children in the creche and an older brother, tall and rangy and only now really starting to lose the hollowed-out features of a hard-bitten life in favor of something more filled-out and healthy, because the children and Savage had a common innocence, a lack of sophistication, no matter how bright and clever they were.  But where the children would grow into it, Savage had to go backwards to learn, and it was a struggle for everyone.

Maul did what he could, and in this case, it meant celebrating a Dathomirian holiday; a day set aside for families, be they chosen (as they often had to be for Nightbrothers, shattered down the middle and isolated and stolen) or by blood.  Savage had hesitantly tried to explain it for him, talking of obscure hunts by moonlight and torch-flowers, and about making sweet biscuits from roots which could only be dug up once a year to go with their kills.  Maul couldn’t quite grasp it, but he wanted to be there and do something with it, and maybe if he did, it would give his big brother one more thing to help him feel more at home on Coruscant.

It was likely to end up as much an exchange in cultures as it was a celebration.

Savage had insisted fervently that Maul didn’t need to bring a gift, even though gifts were supposed to be exchanged, but Maul didn’t want to turn up empty handed.  So, he requisitioned a zhaboka; Iridonian in origin, but a weapon zabraks had an affinity for, and when he got the plain double-bladed weapon, he sat for many hours across a few nights carving into the wooden handle, allowing the Force to guide his carving knife.  When it was finished, he rubbed black stain into the abstract, elegant patterns, then a lighter stain over the untouched wood, and finished it the night before with a clearcoat to protect the work.

On one end, under the blade, he tied two coverts he pulled, much to Obi’s concern -- it hurt some, but not terribly, not worse than being stung by a fly -- with leather and hoped the present would be well-received.

(Feral’s gift was much easier; with Issa’s help, he had Bloodclaw Killgore, who was Bloodfang’s little brother and with just as many felt teeth.)

“I wasn’t able to get the same kind of flour and roots,” Savage said, fretting before Maul was even through the door all the way.  On the small counter were supplies and a baking sheet, and it looked like Feral had been helping, given the little prints everywhere.  Then Savage stopped for a moment, looking wide-eyed at the wrapped gifts Maul had brought. “You didn’t have to,” he said, not in accusation, but in apparent anxiety.

“I wanted to,” Maul replied, then oof’d as Feral ran into his legs and hugged them fiercely.  He grinned down at his little brother, reaching around himself with his wing since his arms were full, and brushing it across the tiny Nightbrother’s back. “Can I help bake?”

Savage looked a little worried, though also oddly pleased at the same time. Maul idly wondered (not for the first time) at their genetic differences, because Feral seemed to share some common features with Maul, facially, but Savage’s eyes especially were so different from both of theirs; striking, shifting color in different lighting, and elegantly shaped.  Though, Maul and Savage shared almost identical horn patterns.

“I can try to teach you.  It will be harder with the different ingredients.”  Savage gingerly took the wrapped presents away from Maul to set with the other ones in the corner of the room.  Once he had, Maul picked Feral up and held him against a hip, following Savage over to the counter.

Once they got into the rhythm of it, though, like most things it got easier.  Maul had to work one-handedly, but Feral more than made up for it, helping roll the dough into balls with his small hands.  The results were a sheet full of uneven cookie-like objects, but once they were baking, something in Savage’s face seemed to settle and he looked nearly comfortable, with the smell of food cooking in the air and the lower lighting in the room and the three of them together.

Maybe a little more like he felt at home.

(If @doorsclosingslowly wants to continue this, I am down for it. XD  Since Savage is really more Anton’s muse.  Speaking of, Anton, if I screw anything up, God, let me know.)

[aftersaidat5-blog]

#MESA2017DC Guide of After Said at 5pm

 #MESA17DC Guide of After Said at 5pm

Here is a guide for #fresh scholarship being presented at the 2017 Middle East Studies Association Annual Meeting. We compiled a list of panels on the cultures and representations of the MENA.  We limited our suggestions to two panels per time slot. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram for hourly updates from the Saturday and Sunday sessions of #MESA2017DC. If you think your panel should also be in this list, let us know! If it is not a manel (a panel consisting of only male academics), we will add it up here.   

Anything underlined in this guide is hyperlinked to the MESA Program Website, so feel free to click on the panels, presentations, or presenter profiles for more information.

Any questions, suggestions, remarks? Send us a message on FB or email us at aftersaidat5@gmail.com

Saturday November 18

4pm

Undergraduate Research Poster Session

This session looks promising in terms of #fresh scholarship from up and coming scholars in the field. After Said at 5pm followers will especially like these posters:

Representations of the Middle East and Islam in U.S. Public High School Education by Melissa Levinson

The Art of Exclusion: Selective Immigration Practices and Authoritarian Resilience in Bahrain by Nalini Ramachandran

 Saturday November 18

5.30pm

[P4969] Music and Politics "min al-Mashriq ila al-Maghrib"

▪       A Tale of Two Protectorates: Cultural Hegemony in Colonial Morocco and Its Impact on Indigenous Musics by Chami, Hicham

▪       Echoes of the Maghreb: Modernity, Empire, and the Fez Congress of Moroccan Music by Matsushita, Elizabeth

▪       Political Resistance and Nationalism: Women Singers in Lebanon Defying the Drums of War by Moufarrej, Guilnard

▪       Hearing Pyrrhic Victory in Lebanon’s 2015 Protests by Nickell, Christopher 

▪       The Arab Diaspora and Collaborative Hip-Hop: Globalized and Localized Identity Formation by Shuffield, Garrett

 [P4988] Anxieties, Resistances, and the Clergy in Egyptian and Iranian Film

▪       Maslaha: a Film Sanctioning Apparatus or a Covert Censorship? by Arafa, Heba

▪       “Ode au Monde”: The Emergence of Iranian New Wave Cinema and the Problematic of National Identity by Faridi, Maziyar

▪       News of the Nation: Mohamed Bayoumi’s Newsfilms in the Newly Independent Egypt, 1923-1935 by Ghawanmeh, Mohannad

▪       A Nightmare on Valiasr Street: Persian-Language Diasporic Horror Films and the Cultural Capital of "Iranian" Cinema by Houck, Kelly

▪       Islamic Republic’s Treatment of Confusing Signifiers: The Curious Case of Marmulak by Tabarraee, Babak

Sunday November 19

8am

[P4985] Visual Engagement: Between the Self and the Nation 

▪       Reproducing the Real: Reviving the Discourse of Sacred Defense in "Standing in the Dust" by Khadem, Amir

▪       Religiosity and Emotionality in Iranian Theatre: (Re)presentations and Interventions by Moosavi, Marjan

▪       Contemporary art production and the ambivalence of nation-building in the United Arab Emirates by Sindelar, Melanie Janet

 [P5004] Making the Modern: the Politics of Heritage

▪       Kuwait National Museum: Architectural Historiography and the Changing Ethos of Modernism by El Hayek, Chantal 

▪       Making Islam Modern: Heritage and Worship in 1950s Turkey by Hammond, Timur

▪       An Artist Curating Islamic Heritage: Ali Jabri and the Jordan Museum of Popular Traditions by Rauh, Elizabeth

▪       Tracing Syrian Folk Dance: A Critical Assessment of Ibn Dhurayl’s Anthology of Raqs al-Semah and Dabke by Silverstein, Shayna

Sunday November 19

10am

[P4811] Presenting and Representing Iran in Museum Collections and Exhibitions

▪       Exhibiting Iranian Art in the 21st Century by Canby, Sheila R.

▪       Ninety Years of Presenting Iranian Art at The Textile Museum by Krody, Sumru Belger

▪       The Intersection of Past and Present in Iranian Art by Komaroff, Linda 

▪       The Iranian Exhibition Program at the Aga Khan Museum 2016-2017 by Cakir Phillip, Filiz

 [P4812] Tourism, Heritage, and the Politics of Place in the Middle East

▪       Constructing the "Arab Tourist": Leisure and Mobility through/in/of Lebanon, 1920-1970s by Sbaiti, Nadya J.

▪       Building and Breaking Ties: Political Tourism in Israel/Palestine by Schneider, Emily

▪       Islamic tourism in Jordan: heritage policies, paths and itineraries since the 1980’s by Neveu, Norig

▪       Heritage tourism versus Leisure Tourism in Post- 2011 Egypt: Notes about crisis management, resilience and strategic choices by Gamblin, Sandrine

▪       The Re-formed City: Urban Rehabilitation, Conservation, and Reclamation in Post-Revolution Cairo by Panetta, Claire

Sunday November 19

1pm

[P4959] Implicated Digital Transitions in the MENA Region

▪       Incongruent Collaborations: The Advertising Industry and Politics of Underground Music in Egypt by Abdelmagid, Yakein

▪       The Double Work of Behavioral Advertising in Turkey: Imaging and Branding by Atici, S. Gokce

▪       Transitional Differentiation in Urban and Digital Crowds: Reassessing the Place of Hay Ettadhamon, Tunis by Said, Karem Irene

  [P4962] The Gulf: Visualizing the National Narrative

▪       The “Desert” in Expo Milano: Traditions of Architecture Practices in the Making of a “Legitimate” National-Identity by Alkandari, Amina

▪       Theater as Nation: Nationalism as Promoted by Kuwaiti Theatrical Productions by Almubaraki, Shaikhah

▪       Matams, Ashura, and Muharaam: examining counter national narratives in Bahrain by Williams, Ashleen

   Sunday November 19

3.30pm

[P4832] The Cultural Politics of Violence

▪       Simulating the Contact Zone: Corporate Mediations of Violence in Israel, Palestine and Beyond by Lee, Shimrit

▪       Violence, Deviancy and Police Masculinity in Contemporary Egypt by Farquhar, Michael

▪       Terrors of Translation: Ottoman Crime Fiction and the Politics of Fear by Scott Deuchar, Hannah

▪       Un/Making the Mu’taqal: Towards a Cultural Economy of Political Imprisonment in Egypt by Elsisi, Hannah

 [C5033] Evaluating Digital Scholarship - Proposed guidelines for MESA

▪       As an Ottoman historian with a prior life as a Middle East librarian, I take the long view on the efficacy... by Virginia Aksan

▪       It has never been entirely clear to me why scholarship in the digital humanities should pose challenges... by Elias Muhanna

▪       The growing volume and popularity of digital scholarship have created both challenges and opportunities... by E. Natalie Rothman

▪       Evaluating scholarship that employs digital methodologies and tools of analysis does not pose any great... by Chris Gratien

  Sunday November 19

6pm

[S5054] Special Presidential Panel: MESA, ACLU and the Muslim Ban

Participants: Beth Baron (City University of New York), Asli Bali (UCLA), Cody Wofsy (ACLU)

 On March 10, 2017, MESA joined the ACLU and other partner organizations and individuals in a federal lawsuit challenging President Trump's second Muslim ban executive order (International Refugee Assistance Project v. Trump). The case made its way through the federal courts and was placed onto the U.S. Supreme Court docket, but the appeal was dismissed as moot after the expiration of the partial travel ban the Supreme Court allowed to go into effect over the summer. The Trump administration issued a new presidential proclamation imposing a ban on eight countries (Chad, Iran, Libya, North Korea, Somalia, Syria, and Venezuela) with no expiration date. MESA and its fellow plaintiffs challenged this third version as well, and on October 17 the judge blocked it from going into full effect. The government has now appealed that ruling. Cody Wofsy (Staff Attorney, ACLU Immigrants' Rights Project) joins MESA President Beth Baron (City College and Graduate Center, CUNY) and Asli Bali (UCLA School of Law), for a discussion about the administration’s effort to ban travel from certain countries and its impact on higher education.

  Monday November 20

8am

[P4919] Contemporary Political Art of the Middle East

▪       Iconographic Battle: Visual Responses to Rab’a Massacre by Khalil, Nama

▪       Capitalism and Conservatism: the Transformation of Ramallah in Inass Yassin’s Cinema Waleed Project by Crasnow, Sascha

▪       Chouftouhonna: A Tunisian Feminist Art Festival Making Space for the Queer Imaginary by Butler, Anne Marie

▪       Towards a Local Queer Aesthetics: Nilbar Güres’s Photography and Female Homoerotic Intimacy by Ula, Duygu

 [P4912] Liminal Urbanity: Cities Between Ruin and Prosperity

▪       The Afterlives of Abadan: Spatial and Temporal Disjunctures in an Iranian Oil City by Houshyar, Shima 

▪       Destabilizing Regional Frontiers: Mobility, Cosmopolitanism and Belonging in Karachi by Husain, Zehra

▪       Between nostalgia and futures-otherwise: Performances of memory in Lebanon’s railway ruins by Sajadian, China

▪       Shifting Mobility Regimes and Labor Migration in Post-Communist and Europeanizing Kardzhali by Corak, Hazal

   Monday November 20

10.30am

 [R4921] Material Politics in the Middle East

▪       My contribution will focus on what we can learn from examining various attempts to increase irrigated... by Elizabeth Williams

▪       In my comments, I will offer five observations, extrapolated from the case of Mandate Palestine’s electric... by Fredrik Meiton

▪       In my comments I will discuss the ways in which infrastructure planning and public service provision... by Joanne Nucho 

▪       My comments focus on land reform in Cold War Turkey as a central site of statecraft and modernization.... by Begum Adalet

 [P4834] Narratives of Struggle: Maintaining and Preserving Kurdish Cultural Heritage

 ▪       Is there a “Kurdish” dish?: Exploring the effects of aid and internal displacement on culturally cohesive concepts of food in Iraqi Kurdistan by Tribble, Anna 

▪       Reclaiming Kurdish Dress as Political Struggle by Isik, Ruken

▪       Rebuilding the City or a Museum Left in Ruins? Mapping Heritage in Post-Displacement Reconstruction Plans for Kobani by McGee, Thomas

▪       The City of Kermanshan, the Site of Cultural Rebellion and Rebirth by Sharifi, Amir

▪       The Struggle Within: Documenting the Kurdish Experience in Binghamton by De Rouen, Aynur

  Monday November 20

1pm

 [P4747] Negotiating Gender and Morality in the Ottoman First World War

▪       “Licensed Microbes:” Public Morality, Gender, and Prostitution in Ottoman Istanbul during and after the World War I by Yilmaz, Secil

▪       ‘Karmal Allah Send Me Ten Lira’: Women, Migration, and World War I in Mount Lebanon by Pitts, Graham Auman

▪       Waging Reform: Law and Gender in the Ottoman First World War by Dannies, Kate

▪       “Ever in Need of Safeguarding”: Gender and Violence in Ottoman Anatolia, 1914-1918 by Hock, Stefan

  [C4965] Middle East Feminist and Queer Studies: State of the Field

▪       How is new scholarship from Asia and Africa reshaping women, gender and sexuality studies? During the... by Miriam Cooke

▪       I will discuss some of the newer questions and approaches we find in submitted manuscripts as well as... by Frances S. Hass

▪       My comments will focus on the new trends and directions I see in the essays and research articles we... by Banu Gokariksel

▪       As editor for the reviews section, my contribution will include a brief survey of trends in book publishing... by Amy Kallander

▪       As Managing Editor, I will focus my comments on the themes and methodologies that emerge across disciplines,... by Rachel Greenspan

Monday November 20

3.30pm

 [P4915] Blackness in the Middle East: a Comparative Perspective

▪       Afrocentrism, Orientalism and Other Pitfalls of Studying the Swahili: New Thoughts on an Old Problem by Mathews, Nathaniel

▪       Buying and Selling Blackface: Theatrical Anti-Blackness in Pahlavi Era Iran, 1930-1965 by Baghoolizadeh, Beeta  

▪       Dana Bayrami Festival: Forging Solidarity through Afro-Turkish Identity in Modern Turkey by Wingham, Zavier

▪       The Gender of That Which Might Be Called Blackness: Reading the Arap Baci/Kizi within Turkish Popular Culture by Willoughby, Mayowa

 [P4862] The Beast in Image, Text and Politics

▪       The Ghoul: Mythical Creature, Political Practice, Digital Condition by El-Ariss, Tarek

▪       Zombie Publics and Leviathan Regimes: Literary Figuration and Political Affect in Recent Egyptian Fiction by Koerber, Benjamin

▪       Representing 'al-Fil' [The Elephant] by Malas, Khaled

▪       Animal Reason; Human Compulsion by Miller, Jeannie

 [P4976] Women and Leadership: Past and Present

▪       The Public Presence of Mamluk Princesses by Stephan, Tara

▪       Women and Secular Opposition Parties in Islamist-Dominated Political Systems by Fischer, Sarah

▪       Female Religious Authority and Islamic Feminist “Counterpublic” in Turkey: The Case of Rifai Shaykha Cemalnur Sargut by Burak Adli, Feyza

 Tuesday November 21

8am

 [P4823] Imagery in Jewish Morocco

 ▪       Picturing the Mellah: Joseph Bouhsira and Moroccan Jewish Photography by Goldsworthy, Patricia M.

▪       Captives of the Mellah?: Moroccan Rural Jewry in the Colonial Postcard by Boum, Aomar

▪       Documents of Diaspora: The Boccaras in Ntifa, 1971/2011 by Chubb, Emma

▪       Saints in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction: Religious Icons in Jewish Morocco by Kosansky, Oren

  [R4929] Social Media, Feminist Praxis, and State Power

▪       Feminist approaches to social media visualizations and 3D modeling of Twitter and Internet data from... by VJ Um Amel 

▪       Beginning 2004, the open source movement in Arabic grew rapidly and tremendously. A group of Arabic... by Manal Hassan

▪       Discussions of internet freedom often posit Western principles and practices as ideals, fixate on state... by Lisa Parks

   Tuesday November 21

10.30am

[C5040] Reading Middle Eastern Literatures Comparatively

▪       Literature Inside/Outside --- Reading literature of Iran and Iranian Diaspora in a transnational context.... by Persis Karim

▪       For this conversation, I examine literary histories in various languages, such as Arabic, German, and... by Ceylan Ceyhun Arslan

  [P4933] Art and Mediation: Affective and Socio-political Practices of Revolutionary Challenges

▪       Cynicism and Sorrow in Syrian Art After the Uprising by Farhat, Maymanah

▪       Aesthetics of Crisis in the Arab World – Epistemologies of Connectivity in Documentary Modes of the Real by Gaafar, Rania

▪       The Subjective Turn in Contemporary Egyptian Art by Singh, Surti

▪       Media Sousveillance on its Back by Um Amel, VJ

   Tuesday November 21

1pm

 [P4886] Colonialism and Culinary Cultures in the Middle East and North Africa

▪       Tea, Sugar, and Rural Consumers in Colonial Morocco by Cornwell, Graham 

▪       “Art Couscous”: Chewing on the Colonial Experience by Durmelat, Sylvie

▪       Mother Sauces and Civilizing Processes: Writing Cuisine in Egypt and Morocco by Gaul, Anny

▪       “They do drink tea, just not like us”: Imperial Japan, perceptions of tea drinkers in the Middle East and North Africa, and expanding global markets during WWII by Hammond, Kelly

  [P4895] Practices of Translation in the Ottoman and Safavid Empires

 ▪       The Ottoman Turkish Translation of History of Shah Abbas the Great by Bozgan, Elif

▪       Scholarly Interest or Enemy Studies? Ottoman Turkish Translations of Arabic and Persian Chronicles in the 16th to 18th Centuries by Bockholt, Philip

▪       In Search of Originality: Hamsa of Nevizade Atayi by Akyol, Ercan

▪       The Translation of Non-Shi‘ite Works in Safavid Iran by Unal, Yusuf

[wftc141]

Thanks so much, @lizzy060402 ! I love it!

@wftc141 hope this is what you asked for 😁. I had fun doing this. Please tag me in your fanfic, i am very interested

[wftc141]

Art by @cynthrey

"Wait...Allura are you...?"

[wftc141]

Art by @cynthrey

Mother and Father of Voltron in action

[wftc141]

Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 12: Martyr

2000 Hours

Goiânia, Brazil

The streets of St Central were quiet and empty with nothing but street lights illuminating the road. The Voltron team used this quiet time to race their way past the street shops to the presidents' secret meeting area. Armed and loaded, they brought along some breaching equipment just in case. The SUV they were in reached a short overpass above a freeway in mere seconds before crossing over.

"Lions, this is Zero. The meeting has been hit and security personnel are taking small-arms fire. Local police and military have been notified, over."

"Wait, wasn't they supposed to start tomorrow?" Hunk said as he drove the SUV.

"Seems like the presidents have started their meeting early." Pidge deduced.

"Any casualties?" Keith asked.

"Possible security. Not sure about the presidents but you have to get there fast before it's too late." Allura said.

"Any news on Shiro?"

"Black Lion is alright. He's making his way to the meeting too as we speak."

"Copy, we're five mikes from the destination. Out."

The call ended and everybody fell back in silence as the team drove down the streets.

"We're probably too late." Hunk uneasily said.

"Let's not think about it, yeah?" Lance replied. "We can get there in time and smoke these cabróns. This is where it ends for them."

"Lance's right." Said Keith. "This is the end of the line for the Galra."

Arriving at the street where the safe house is located, the team drove down the dark, narrow road with parked vehicles before noticing some dark vehicles parked near a building. Once they reached the area, they noticed a brightly lit building with the security gate blown open and a breached entrance.

"They're here." Hunk muttered.

"That's bad news but we still gotta complete the mission." Keith said as the SUV came to a stop.

The team got out and geared up with their weaponry and equipment from the SUV.

"Red Lion to Zero. We're on foot and proceeding to the safe house, out." Keith reported as the team approached the gate.

"Should we wait for Shiro?" Pidge asked.

"No time. Presidents would be dead by the time he arrives. Let's move."

With Keith taking point, the team went past the gate and into the entrance leading to the front door which was broken down. There was no sign of Galra soldiers but they could hear gunshots from inside.

"Red Lion to Zero, we're going internal." Keith muttered.

They made their way past the reception and security checkpoint which was already scattered with bodies of security guards. Blood footprints and stains were everywhere throughout. The sight of the bodies were no different from their previous encounters, in fact they saw worse.

Making their way up the emergency staircase, they reached the upper floor with the door left open. Entering the next floor, the team found themselves in a hallway with several offices inside some of the rooms. More blood and bodies filled up the count. Reaching the corner of one of the hallways, Keith noticed two Galra foot soldiers down at the hallway, the same ones from the attack on their hideout with their distinctive all-black uniforms and its purple and red highlights and masks. Keith aimed his rifle and opened fire, taking out the one at the right. The other soldier noticed his partner fall and turned around but Keith put him down before he could react.

The group reached another corner leading to an open area with a staircase leading to the second floor where the main meeting room was. Then, they saw two gunmen on the floor above them who turned around to notice them just in time. One of them was carrying a PK machine gun.

"Take cover!" Pidge yelled, pulling Keith away from the gunfire.

The bullets barraged against them, holding them back as the Galra's firepower suppressed them. The team heard more footsteps as the gunfire ceased. There was more gunmen approaching their position.

"MG gunner on the top floor! How many others are there?" Pidge called out through the gunfire.

"Dunno! Around eight of 'em!" Lance called.

Keith was quick to think of an idea on how to handle the Galra soldiers holding them off. He reached for his comms.

"Green, Yellow, keep that fucker distracted. Blue and I will flank around and take them out."

"Copy." Pidge replied.

Keith got up and headed over to the other side with Lance in tow. The two found a door leading to an emergency stairwell. As they made their way up to the designated floor, Keith heard a door open above and saw a Galra soldier who just noticed him. Keith aimed fast and took him out first. Suddenly, another Galra soldier entered and was about to open fire before getting shot first. Keith glanced at Lance who just took him out for him.

"Thank me later." Lance said as he headed for the door.

The two managed to arrive at the floor where the MG gunner would be. Keith turned a corner and found the MG gunner and his partner on the railing, firing at Pidge and Hunk's position. They were both completely distracted, leaving them open from behind. Keith shot at the MG gunner while Lance aimed for the other soldier.

With them taken out, Keith and Lance used the floor to their advantage with the Galra soldiers below just noticing the ceased gunfire. Keith used the PK and fired upon the remaining Galra soldiers, wiping most of them out instantly with Lance taking care of the rest. Once the gunfire ceased and the soldiers were confirmed dead, Keith reached for his comms.

"Area is clear. Regroup on me."

Pidgin and Hunk came out of cover and made their way up to where Keith and Lance were before heading towards the main meeting room. As they stacked up beside the door, the team heard muffled noises from inside. There's clearly hostages inside and it is likely the presidents are among them, as well as the remaining Galra forces. They were about to consider breaching until Hunk stopped them.

"Wait," Hunk whispered, grabbing the team's attention. "I got an idea."

The last of the Galra were barricaded inside the meeting room with their hostages, including the presidents, as their shield. There was no chance of them leaving alive and it would be a sin to surrender. They waited for the Voltron team to breach so they would eliminate the hostages. The Galra soldiers were already prepared to fight back with their very last breath. However, there was no activity from the front door.

Some time has passed and nothing has happened. One of the soldiers ordered his comrade to check the door. As the Galra soldier approached the door, a sudden blast erupted from the side, catching everybody off-guard. Dust clouded in as the Galra fell over from the explosion. Before they could react, the Voltron team entered through the hole and finished off the rest of the Galra soldiers. One of them tried to aim for the Brazilian President, only to be cut off by Keith with several shots to the body. The sounds of muffled cries followed as the dust settled.

"¡Calmarse! ¡Calmarse! ¡Nosotros estamos con el gobierno!" Lance shouted.

The team began to secure the hostages with Hunk checking for any bombs fitted in their vests. After checking, Hunk turned around.

"No vests!" He called.

"All clear!" Pidge said.

With the crisis settled, the team exchanged approving glances and nodded. The job was a success. They stopped a potential catastrophe. The team finished freeing the hostages and gathered them out to a safer place. Keith reached for his comms.

"Red Lion to Zero, area is secure. All hostiles are KIA. Three-Rulers are alive and intact. Multiple friendlies are wounded and KIA, over."

"Copy, Red Lion." Allura replied on comms. "Friendly forces are enroute to the safe house. Any news on Kingfish?"

Keith hesitated at first but he hadn't seen Sendak anywhere in the safehouse so it was safe to bet he didn't take part.

"Negative, Zero. Kingfish is nowhere in sight."

Sendak watched through his binoculars as local police forces and the military arrived at the scene, now that the gunfire has ceased. He knew this was Voltron's doing and they succeeded. He let out a deep sigh in the midst of the cold breeze. Sendak anticipated the failure. He knew what Voltron was capable of and he let it happen. He'll deal with the punishment later. Then he heard slight footsteps from behind and the sounds of a weapon raising.

"Step away from the gun."

Sendak glanced at the pistol that was on the surface on the balcony which was already in his reach. He chuckled in amusement, recognising the voice.

"I had a feeling you would escape, Shirogane. You really are an untamed animal. I guess I've finally failed."

"You're damn right about that."

Sendak put the binoculars on the surface near the gun and stepped away before turning around to face Shiro who was aiming his pistol at him with his rifle slung in front of him. He slowly raised his hands.

"You might as well kill me now, Commander." Sendak said.

Shiro said nothing as he trained his gun on his head.

"Go on," Sendak demanded, approaching him. "Pull the trigger. I've failed the Galra Empire and I deserve to die. There's no reason for me to live and I know you want to do it. It's the only way you can avenge your fallen."

Shiro then saw flashes of his team fighting for their survival including Sven. His index finger was already slowly pushing the trigger and his grip shook as Shiro's rage began to emerge.

"We're lions, Shirogane. Lions who will do absolutely anything for our country, even if we have to shed some innocent blood."

Sendak was already up at his face by the time he was done. He grabbed the barrel and pressed it against his crown tightly. His annoying smirk still plastered across his mug.

"Go ahead. Do it right now. Avenge your brothers. That's what you wanted, right? Do it!"

Shiro still hesitated to make a decision. He thought of all the terrible things that Sendak has done. It would be best for him to just kill him right now. Sven died in Shiro's arms as he watched him suffer. He could end this right now and it'll be all over. However, nothing good can be gained from killing someone. Shiro took a deep breath.

"I do want to kill you. I wanna kill you so bad for what you've done. I wanna kill you for my team...and my brother. I wanna kill you so fucking bad right here, right now. But I know better."

Shiro holstered his gun away and held Sendak tightly, rounding him up and tying his hands with zip ties.

"I won't give you the chance to be the Galra's martyr." Shiro said before turning to glare at Sendak. "And you're right. I am a lion but a lion doesn't eat his own pack."

Sendak simply smirked before facing forward as Shiro escorted him out of the rooftop.

2450 Hours

Some time has passed after returning to base. The hostages and the presidents have been allocated to the military for special treatment. Allura has been on the phone for a while, talking to her superiors. The Voltron team waited anxiously, concerned about their fate since they just broke the rules. Although they wouldn't be surprised if the superiors were just as corrupt as Sanda.

Shortly, Allura finished her call and turned to her team where they stood up and approached her.

"Well? What happens now?" Keith asked.

"I'm ordered to headquarters for a full debrief along with Commander Shirogane and Lieutenant Smythe. The rest of you have done well for stopping the Galra. After we hand over Sendak to the CIA and bury the fallen, you'll all be allowed three months off-duty. You guys earned it for the hard work."

The team took the news well. They were expecting worse but they can accept this, especially after their grueling battle with Sendak and the Galra. Hunk took the chance to walk away from the team to a private spot. He got out his phone and dialed a number. Shortly, the beeps stopped.

"Shay Bainivalu, Vice News."

"Hi, um, this is Momoa from NATO," Hunk said. "Is this a bad time?"

"Hunk? N-No, not really, I was just finishing my shower. What's up?"

"Yeah, I want you to hear this from me first. We actually got them. We managed to stop the Galra before they could accomplish their goal."

"Really? Oh that's fantastic! I would say it was an impossible task but I always had a feeling you guys would pull it off. Congrats!"

"Thanks. We couldn't have done this without your help. Credit goes to you too. Oh, and there's something else I wanna ask you."

"Shoot."

"Well…"

Elsewhere, Lance caught up with Keith who was walking off and elbowed his arm, grabbing his attention.

"Not bad for a Ranger grunt." Lance said.

Keith chuckled before bumping Lance's arm. "You're not so bad yourself for a jarhead."

"How long do you think you'll last sticking around with me?"

"More than you would."

This time, Lance laughed it off. As the two continued their banter, Pidge watched from a distance. It took them a whole month for them to become comfortable with each other. A smile grew from her face, proud of the progress from them.

"They're actually friends now." Shiro said.

Pidge glanced at the team leader, who appeared beside her, watching Keith and Lance as well.

"Seems like it. Hopefully this will keep up for the next few months." Pidge replied.

The two stared at the boys in silence for a brief period.

"If you don't mind me asking," Shiro said. Pidge looked at him. "How's Matt?"

Shiro knew Matthew Holt back in the military. They used to be on good terms. Shiro hasn't seen him during his service in the SEALs.

"Actually, I haven't seen him since I joined the army," Pidge replied, looking down. "I lost every contact from my parents because they didn't like the idea of me joining the military. They wanted me to be a horticulturist instead of studying in college."

Shiro chuckled before collecting himself.

"Your brother did tell me he wanted you to be a horticulturist. But I get what you mean. My father wanted me and my brother to work for NASA rather than fight proxy wars. Then again, we are what we are because we want to fight for our country and help our allies abroad from terror. That's why we chose being soldiers over a career that won't do much to help others."

Pidge said nothing but she understood Shiro's point.

02/15/2018

0010 Hours

Even though it was midnight, Jem wasn't asleep. He still had the light on. Just then, he heard footsteps from outside and a knock on the door.

"Come in." Jem called.

The door opened and Coran and Stacy entered the room, both seemingly haven't gotten some sleep yet.

"Oh, hey guys. What's going on?" He said.

"Sorry for dropping by this late, Jem but we wanted to bring you the good news." Coran said.

"Oh, that-it's no big deal. Wasn't feeling tired yet. What's up?"

"Voltron has captured Sendak four hours ago after rescuing the presidents from Galra forces during their meeting. He's currently in custody right now." Stacy said.

"Really? Okay, that's good to hear."

Coran nodded. "So how're you doing, right now?"

"Oh I'm recovering pretty damn well. The meds worked wonders and the doctors said I'll be discharged in the morning once they finish up on the paperwork."

"Great. We'll pick you up then. Get some rest for now. You'll need it."

"Same thing could be said to you guys. I feel like you're treating me like a dad, sir."

Coran and Stacy chuckled as they left the room.

"That's nice to hear," Coran said. "We'll be leaving now. Goodnight."

Stacy was the last to say goodnight before leaving with Coran. At some point in time, Jem fell asleep afterwards.

0800 Hours

The team arrived at a private airfield far from the city with a cuffed Sendak, who is set to be handed in to the CIA and transferred to a blacksite. Once they arrived, there was already a plane ready for the CIA. Shiro got out and took Sendak with him, approaching the paramilitary officers of the SAD division.

"We will meet again, Shirogane," Sendak said. "Mark my words. This rivalry will not end until one of us is dead."

"I look forward to it, Sendak," Shiro replied as one of the officers grabbed the terrorist. "I'll be waiting for you."

"I know you will. It will only be between us...neither your allies nor the Galra will stop our battle."

Sendak returned one last smirk before being placed into the watched the plane ride off with nothing left to offer for Sendak. One part of him wished he could just shoot him on the spot and avenge his fallen team. The other, however, felt tired to continue. He just wants to stop. No more killing, no more fighting wars and no more pulling off the same mistakes that got his team killed.

Shiro had been fighting since he was 18, switching from the Marines to the SEALs and Voltron. He fought so long he forgot the last time he found peace. Hawaii was his only escape from the horrors of war. Maybe it's time for Shiro to take a break from the mindless killings and find the peace he lost.

02/28/2018

1200 Hours

Hawaii

Shiro took another swig of his beer as he basked in the sun under the shade. The view from the beach was beautiful. He could see the ocean lushly flow as people play on the shoreline. The beach was mostly filled with a crowd with the umbrellas, towels and such making up most of the beach. Shiro placed himself close to the water and away from the big crowd so he could enjoy the view in peace without interruptions. Letting out a sigh, Shiro finished his beer before reaching for the cooler. As his hands clasped onto a new bottle, Shiro noticed a shadow emerging on the sands.

"I can see why you enjoy Hawaii so much."

Shiro looked up. Standing near him was Allura, sporting a straw hat and wearing a navy blue one piece with a beach skirt. Shiro noticed the middle of her swimsuit was divided, exposing her cleavage. Allura's hand was on her hip as she approached Shiro. He wasn't sure how she found him but he didn't mind her presence.

"The view is beautiful." Allura said as she sat beside Shiro under the shade.

"Sure is," He replied. "Always wanted to have my final moments here. I would like my funeral held here and my ashes spread across the ocean."

Allura hummed. Shiro popped his beer open and took a swig before reminding Allura about the beer, though she wasn't thirsty. The two stared out at the ocean for a brief moment.

"So how'd you find me?" Shiro asked.

"Coran was a bit concerned for your wellbeing so he sent me here to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

'Flattered to hear."

"I'm also going to be staying with you."

Shiro glanced at Allura, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Already got my things packed at that shack of yours. Coran wanted me to keep watch over you for some time until we finish our vacation. Don't want anything bad happening while you're in Hawaii."

"Is that just your way of saying you guys miss me?"

Allura chuckled. "I actually said the same thing to him. He won't admit it."

Shiro let out a laugh. It was nice to hear his teammates care. The two eventually calmed down and went back in silence.

"How long has it been?" Allura asked.

"Hm?" Shiro looked at her.

"How long have you been in touch with home?"

Shiro's smile faded, remembering his call with his parents a few weeks back.

"I've never been home since I told my parents what happened to Sven. My dad doesn't consider me family anymore. Can't say I blame them."

Allura didn't say anything. Shiro let out a sigh and took another swig of his beer while sulking at the sea. He still carried the guilt, yet people remind him he's not in the wrong. Shiro wasn't sure how to comprehend both sides.

"It'll take some time but I know they won't keep blaming you forever." Allura said.

"Yeah…" Shiro muttered.

At some point, Shiro didn't feel like continuing his beer.

"Are you sure you want to stay in Voltron?" Allura asked.

Shiro took some consideration into it. He already joined Voltron for a few weeks and he always had an opportunity to leave. But deep down, as much as it hurts to stay in Voltron and deal with the losses, it was a risk Shiro would rather take than bury himself in guilt. Taking a deep breath, Shiro turned to Allura and smirked.

"I'm positive."

[wftc141]

Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 13: The Crusade

                                                TWO MONTHS LATER

26/04/2018

1723 Hours

Colombia

The clouds cast over the partially empty dirt road, surrounded by the greenery of the countryside. The winds brushed off the fields and the trees outside a village a few kilometers nearby. Perfect place to be isolated from the crowds and perfect to slip by unnoticed. A second Voltron team, dubbed ‘Tigers’ have been deployed in Colombia to intercept a group of terrorists reported to have gotten hold of an unknown cargo, possibly a chemical weapon, from Europe. Coran and his analysts, Gold and Colbert, have been overseeing the mission through a drone watching the team down below amongst the clouds.

The team has been split on different sides of the road, blending in with the greenery among the hillside. Team leader Lieutenant Damon Halliday, former SAS, had been keeping watch on the road waiting for the convoy to arrive. He had his rifle ready, mounted on the grassy hill with two of his other teammates, Montgomery and Yeon. The last two of the five Tigers, Garceau and Okusanya, guarded the other side with Garceau being an experienced sniper for the team. 

“Got visual on the convoy.” Montgomery said.

Halliday took out his binoculars to check and noticed a faint sight of several vehicles from a distance with a truck towing a cargo container as well.

“I see it. Two vehicles and one truck.” Halliday acknowledged.

“Should we call it in?” Montgomery asked.

Halliday nodded and reached for his comms to report. “White Tiger to Zero, we have eyes on the convoy. Ready to strike, over.” 

“Copy, White Tiger. You are clear to engage, over.” Coran responded.

“Copy, Zero. Out.” 

Halliday then looked back at the convoy which was now closing in on their position and readied his rifle. 

“All Tigers engage!” 

The team opened fire on the convoy, hitting the vehicle tires and taking out the drivers. The convoy stopped as the terrorists got out to fire back. Montgomery and Yeon took out some of the terrorists on one side of the convoy while Garceau’s marksmanship picked off the remaining as well as Okusanya’s swift mowdown with his LMG. Shortly, the gunfire ceased and all of the terrorists were on the ground motionless.

“Clear!” Halliday said.

“Clear!” Garceau replied.

“White Tiger to Zero, hostiles are neutralized and the convoy is clear, over.”

“Copy,” Coran said. “Investigate the cargo. We need to identify its contents before deciding on our next move, over.”

Halliday then got his team to approach the convoy stranded in the middle of nowhere, weapons raised in case of anything happening. The team checked the bodies to make sure they’re dead before checking the truck. 

“Montgomery, Okusanya, check the truck.” Halliday ordered.

“Roger.”

The two approached the truck with heightened caution. Montgomery opened the door and dragged the body out to check inside the cockpit. Okusanya approached the rear door and felt for any way to open it. The rest of the team kept their distance while guarding the convoy. Halliday heard the doors open and turned towards the truck where Montgomery and Okusanya were as they stepped into the truck.

“Boss?” Montgomery called shortly. “We got ourselves something worse than just chemicals.”

“What is it?” Halliday asked.

“Uh,” Okusanya replied. “A bunch of mercury and sulfur, lots of toxic shit mixed into the barrels!”

“White Tiger to Zero, we got ourselves some sort of toxic substances, possibly a chemical bomb. Awaiting orders, over.”

A brief pause after Halliday relayed the report. 

“Copy, White Tiger,” Coran replied. “Retrieve a sample and exfil, over.” “Roger. Out.”

Halliday was about to get an order ready before he was suddenly rocked back by a sudden explosion. Shielding himself from the blast, Halliday stumbled away from the truck as the deafening ring echoed in his head. Once he looked back, Halliday noticed the truck engulfed in flames and slowly coated in black ash. He then realized something. “Montgomery, Okusanya! Come in, over!” Halliday shouted through his comms.

There was nothing from the other end. Halliday had no reason to deny that both Montgomery and Okusanya are dead, consumed by the explosion while they were inside the truck. His breathing continued to pace as he looked around, finding both Garceau and Yeon still intact. Halliday quickly rushed over to the two.

“You okay?” He said.

“We’re okay, sir!” Yeon replied.

“I’m good,” Garceau let out a cough. “Putain d’enfer. What happened to Montgomery and Okusanya?”

“They’re dead. They were inside the truck.” Halliday said.

“Merde! What now?”

“White Tiger to Zero, Red Tiger and Grey Tiger are KIA and the cargo is destroyed! Repeat, Red and Grey Tiger are KIA and the cargo is destroyed! We need an evac, over!”

“Negative, White Tiger,” Coran said. “Can’t send in an evac now but we’re noticing toxic substances from the truck heading your way. Get the hell away from it now, over.” Coran said.

Halliday looked over to the truck and noticed a mix of yellow and green clouds emerging from the burning truck. 

“Bollocks!” He cursed before standing up. “Tigers! Get clear from the truck, now!” 

The team wasted no time to get away from the convoy, forced to leave both Montgomery and Okusanya behind, though there was no way to recover what was left of them. Once they got to a safer distance, Halliday was about to reach for his comms.

“Hey, bossman,” Garceau said, grabbing Halliday’s attention. “I think we got company.”

Halliday looked at where Garceau was staring at and noticed a group of cars driving towards their position.

“The hell?” Halliday muttered as the vehicles closed in.

Suddenly, gunshots began to zip towards them. The team ducked down and tried to use the vehicles as cover. Halliday braced as gunshots hit the vehicles behind him.

“White Tiger to Zero, we’re under heavy fire from unknown hostiles! We need that bloody evac right now!” 

He peeked through the corner and noticed several gunmen coming out of their cars.

He couldn’t count the exact amount but there were a lot of gunmen with military-grade body armor over their clothes. Halliday managed to shoot some of them down but more took their places. He noticed his comms didn’t reach out to base and the response was nothing but static. He could hear anything from them. His team were struggling against the gunmen. Halliday noticed the gas slowly emerging further towards them. There was no other choice but to run into the forest.

“All Tigers retreat!” He shouted as he made a break for the forest.

The team ran towards the forest. Halliday looked behind his shoulder and noticed Yeon tripping over and falling onto the ground. Some of the gunmen reached Yeon and fired their rifles at him. Halliday looked away, knowing Yeon sealed his fate. Now it was just him and Garceau. The two stopped by some trees and took cover behind them.

“Where the fuck’s Yeon?!” Garceau shouted.

“Bastards got him!” Halliday replied.

He heard Garceau curse in French before hearing shouts from afar. Halliday noticed more gunmen chasing after them and opened fire. He managed to take out a few before running empty. As Halliday switched to his pistol, he looked at Garceau about to open fire with his rifle, only to get shot in the shoulder and fall over into a pit behind him. 

“Garceau!” Halliday shouted.

Out of newfound determination, Halliday got out of cover and fired across the forest to draw out as many gunmen as he could. He couldn’t see them through the canopies and the bushes shrouded among the trees. Suddenly, a bullet hit his leg and his arm. Halliday let out a shout before falling over onto the dirt, landing on some tree roots. He couldn’t feel his right hand as he struggled to reach for his gun while holding the wound to keep it from bleeding further.

Footsteps rustled and closed in. The rest of the gunmen arrived, approaching him with their weapons aimed at him. Some approached the pit Garceau fell into. Halliday noticed one of them bore a ski mask with sunglasses under his helmet, as well as more kitted out gear than the others. Halliday could assume this was the team leader. 

“¿Qué hacemos con a él, señor?” One of the gunmen asked the leader.

The leader glared at Halliday before turning to his men. “Llévalo a él con nosotros.”

“Sí, señor. ¡Agarrarlo! ¡Vamos!”

The gunmen approached Halliday and grabbed his arms, lifting him up to drag him away.

“Get your bloody hands off me, you bastards!” He cursed as he struggled to wrestle free.

Halliday continued to struggle and kick away fruitlessly while the gunmen held on without breaking a sweat. Suddenly, he heard Garceau shout from the pit before shots were fired. Halliday then noticed one of the gunmen rip off a tracking device from his vest before glancing at him. His comms are already screwed and his team is dead. Halliday has no idea who these people are but they are definitely involved with the terrorists. His impulse rocketed and he continued to rock aggressively as he shouted curses at his attackers. Suddenly, everything went black, not before he noticed a gunman thrust a rifle butt at him.

Coran, Gold and Colbert stared in silence, jaws open. They watched the whole ordeal unwind from their surveillance room in the hideout until they lost sight of Tiger and their leader Halliday. All of this started to go sideways when the truck exploded suddenly and then an unexpected group of hostiles arrived. 

“Bloody hell. What just happened?” Gold asked.

“A lot just happened, son,” Coran said. “We just lost contact with Tiger.”

“And the comms couldn’t reach out to them for some reason. It was working fine a while ago! Something must’ve jammed the signal.” 

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. We need to get Lion recalled.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Colbert asked. “They just took care of the Galra issue a few months back and they’re still off-duty.”

“I’m positive, Colbert. This isn’t just some simple issue. We just lost an important team from NATO and a man I call my friend to a group of unknowns. They’ll understand soon enough. Recall them.” 

Colbert knew it wasn’t her position to debate. She simply nodded and turned towards her computer.

“Yes, sir. We’ll send out the recall.”

________________________________________

27/04/2018

0647 Hours

Macon, USA

A white Ford Escape slowly drove by the side a few blocks away from a suburban house situated outside of Macon. The sun was still rising and the people inside were up and running. Once the SUV stopped, the doors opened and two people got out, both a man and a woman. Both of them wore jackets under their shirts and jeans with gloves. They walked up to the house down the path near the forest, adjusting their sleeves as they focused on the house. 

Once they reached the front door, Hunter 1 simply glanced at the camera from the left corner. These weren’t their average American neighbors. They were agents working under extremists, hiding in the US with plans in motion. The camera itself was way too advanced for a normal neighbor. 

 “Who is it?” A voice asked from the other side, with a good American accent.

“Девять-четыре-восемь-балалайка.” Hunter 2 replied.

The two waited for the response. They already acquired their password earlier on which could fool the agents that they are on their side. As soon as the door unlocked, the two pulled out their suppressed MP7s with Hunter 1 opening fire on the door. Entering the house, Hunter 1 walked over the body and stormed into the surveillance room to his left where he took out the agents trying to reach for their guns. None of them prepared for a surprise like this.

As Hunter 2 continued her sweep on the ground floor, Hunter 1 moved upstairs and heard footsteps from above and in a room and the sound of a window opening.  He knew they were trying to make a run for it. But they weren’t the only ones.

“Hunter 3, you got rabbits coming out of the house from the back.” He said.

Hunter 1 reached the upper floor to check the rooms which most of them were empty. He then heard some faint muffled shots from outside.

“Hunter 1, this is Hunter 3. Rabbits are down.” Hunter 3 replied from the comms.

After searching the entire house, Hunter 2 began gathering the intel from the servers in one of the rooms while Hunter 1 found a fuel canister and started pouring gasoline all across the house, over the bodies and everything else to cover their tracks before ending the trail by the front door. Once Hunter 2 left the house with the intel in tow, Hunter 1 lit a match and tossed it onto the trail. Flames lit up and spread towards the trail like wildfire and by the time it reached the end, the house was burning, smoke levitating to the sky. Shortly, the two met up with Hunter 3, an African-American male, carrying his sniper rifle and bag with the ghillie suit used for the operation.

 “All good?” Hunter 3 asked.

“Hell yeah, brother.”  Hunter 1 answered.

“Russia’s gonna owe us for this one.” Hunter 2 said.

“They should,” Hunter 1 briskly concealed his weapon as he approached the SUV. “We just took out their corrupt FSB team since they don’t want to kill their own.” 

“They would let us do this anyway since they’re in our country.” Hunter 3 said.

“We would’ve done the same thing if we had corrupt agents.”

“Would we?” Hunter 2 asked.

“Maybe.”

Once the team got into their SUV, they drove off and away from the burning house, leaving the rest to the police.

“Hunter 1, hostiles are neutralized and we have secured the intel, over.” Hunter 1 reported through his comms.

“Confirmed,” His supervisor replied. “Be advised, you are now given a new assignment. There will be a plane set for Colombia where you will work with Voltron. We have a situation that is urgent.”

Hunter 1 suddenly froze after hearing the name. He wanted to say no but that would be against his supervisor’s wishes. Hunter 1 scowled and eventually nodded.

“Copy, Hunter 1 out.” He grudgingly said.

Once he got off the comms, he slammed the steering wheel of the car, puzzling his teammates who looked at him confused. 

“Fuck!” Hunter 1 swore.

“Matt?” Hunter 2 asked.

Hunter 1 panted as he glared out at the windscreen facing the freeway. Both Hunter 2 and 3 exchanged glances, waiting for his response.

“The last thing I wanted was to see them again.” Matt growled.

________________________________________

27/04/2018

0745 Hours

Hawaii

Shiro let out a yelp as he jolted upright from a nightmare. As cold sweat ran down his body, his breathing rate was accelerated with his heart racing from the sudden experience from the nightmare. Shiro looked around frantically, finding himself in the bed he was in last night. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Although he noticed apart from the many nightmares he had for his entire life, this one saw him die.

“You alright?”

Shiro turned to his side and noticed his bedside was empty and saw Allura approaching him fully dressed. She must’ve heard him shout from his nightmare. Shiro gave himself a breather to calm himself down.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“What was it this time?” Allura asked.

Shiro then saw a vision of someone familiar standing by his side. He swore he remembered that vision but he just couldn’t make it out.

“Shiro?”

The face was clearer and he realized he was the man from his nightmare.

“It was Adam…”

Allura’s mouth gaped wide as she stared in disbelief, knowing she herself knew Adam before. Shiro couldn’t believe his eyes either. He had never seen Adam in his dreams ever since Lahore.

“How did it-”

“Same as always,” Shiro quickly answered. “I wasn’t able to save him from that explosion.”

Adam was Shiro’s first. They both developed a bond that turned into love during Shiro’s time with the SEAL Team Six. Adam was a CIA agent who was killed in Camp Chapman in 2009. Shiro recalled trying to save him before the explosion consumed him right before his eyes. He had blamed himself ever since then and carried that guilt for his entire life.

“It wasn’t your fault, Shiro.” Allura said.

Shiro doesn’t reply. Suddenly, he heard his phone buzz from his nightstand and he reached over to see the message. As soon as he saw the message, Shiro immediately got out of bed and got dressed with Allura waiting for him. Voltron was calling them back in and surprisingly, it was earlier than usual.

________________________________________

27/04/2018

1146 Hours

Somewhere in Texas, USA

“700 meters moving down the rock side,” Lance reported using his spotter scope. “Got eyes on him?”

“Yeah, Got that son of a bitch.” Keith replied, focusing his sniper scope on the field as he laid on the hill frontside. 

The scope caught sight of a mountain lion sneaking it’s way to a herd of sheeps in the farm’s field. Calculating the distance and controlling his breathing, Keith pulled the trigger. The bullet looked to be heading straight for the mountain lion but it hit the ground below it, scaring it away. The two watch the mountain lion scurry away down the hill.

“Fuck! It’s gone.” Keith cursed, slamming his hand on the mat.

“Well, the good thing is…you scared it away.” Lance assured.

“The bad thing is he’ll come back. Fucking mountain lions.”

“I mean, can you blame ‘em? Circle of life.”

“My cattle aren’t food.”

“Technically, sheeps are food.” 

“I don’t eat sheep.”

Lance slowly glanced at Keith, surprised by his suddenness.

“Really?” He asked.

“Really.” Keith answered.

“What are you, an animal lover?”

“I am, actually.”

“But you were eating burgers.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Fuck you mean it doesn’t count? You’re eating a dead cow, cabrón.”

“It was a mystery burger.”

Lance realized what he was talking about and scrunched up his nose.

“You mean that nasty, tasteless, bootlegged one that vegans eat?” Lance guessed.

Keith nodded. “Yup. You should try it.” 

“Do I look like a fucking cow to you?”

“Oh, so you’re saying vegans are cow eaters, huh?”

“I’m just saying I’ll take meat over plants any day now.”

“Your parents never gave you broccoli since you were a kid?”

“Dude, they had me eating meat so I could grow big and strong. Me and my siblings. Hell, my brother and sister fed the same meat to my niece and nephew.”  

“Uh huh. My dad did way worse than that. I had to hunt.”

“I thought you’re an animal lover?”

“I was hunting predators who were trying to eat my cattle.”

“Huh. Good point.’

The two went into silence, staring down at the field where the cows were, still chewing on the grass. 

“You know, I was wondering,” Lance asked. “How are you paying for all this?”

Keith scratched his face. “After my dad passed away from cancer, guys from his old Force Recon unit managed to take all of the bills and taxes so I can take care of the farm. They never told me how but I’m basically living free…for now.”

Just then, they heard sounds of rotors spinning faintly. The sounds began to get closer until the two saw a Blackhawk from a distance approaching their area. The helicopter lowered itself beside the field, causing the sheeps to scatter away, bleating as they galloped.

“Hey, Keith.”

“Yeah.”

“A fucking Blackhawk just landed on your field...right next to your sheeps.”

“Yup.” 

Leaving their equipment behind, Keith and Lance approached the Blackhawk and once they got close, they noticed Pidge get off the helicopter and approach the two, surprising them both. 

“Pidge?” Keith called.

“You two! Lets go!” Pidge demanded.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked.

“We got a mission, obviously! Get in!”

Keith and Lance exchanged glances and nodded before getting inside the Blackhawk. As the two entered, Keith got out his phone and dialed the number as the helicopter ascended from the ground.

“Hey Alice, I need you to watch over the farm…”

________________________________________

27/04/2018

0800 Hours

Sydney, Australia 

Hunk was just finishing up on the omelettes he was making. He was about finished with the side of the nearly complete piece of omelette. The scent of salt and eggs surrounded the entire apartment as the air passed through the open balcony door. Hunk had already prepared the fillings and the first omelette was just about done with the last one. As he finished up prepping the omelettes, he turned around and noticed Shay wasn’t up. 

After his mission in Brazil, he ended up spending some time with Shay at Sydney during his time off-duty. Flash-forward, the two went into a relationship and Hunk moved into Shay’s apartment in Pyrmont since he can’t really go back to Fort Benning. During his time with Shay, he got to learn a lot about her, both her work and her life outside. Hunk had noticed Shay had been sleeping in a lot more than usual, though he didn’t blame her.

Covering the breakfast to preserve the heat, Hunk headed into their bedroom where he noticed Shay still in bed, covers sprawled all across with one of her bare legs exposed. Her untied hair spread out over the pillow like seaweed. She looked as if she was spooning a pillow. Hunk could hear her light snores as he approached her, even when he was the first to wake up way before her. He even did a morning jog at six and she was still fast asleep. Hunk sat on the bedside and he couldn’t help but take a gander at her beauty even at its unkempt nature. He moved a lock of her hair covering her eye aside before slightly tucking it behind her ear.

The curtains were still closed so maybe that could wake her up. Hunk stood up and went up to the curtains and opened it up, letting the sun into the room. The light brightened the bedroom and Hunk got a clean view of the bay overlooking the city. Then, he heard a moan from behind and turned around, noticing Shay was slowly waking up. Hunk reached her side and checked up on her as her eyes slightly opened. 

“Morning, Hunk…” She lazily said.

“Morning, Shay,” Hunk replied, grinning. “Slept well?”

Shay turned over onto her back as she tried to close her eyes. “Mmm. Five more minutes, please.”

Hunk chuckled. “I already got breakfast ready. Bacon onion omelettes. It’s gonna get cold soon.”

He noticed a smile creep across her face while her eyes were still closed. 

“Okay, you win,” she muttered before sitting herself up. “I’m up. I’m up.”

As Shay stretched her arms, Hunk got off the bed and headed back into the kitchen to get breakfast ready. Shortly, as Hunk placed the plates of omelettes and glasses of orange juice on the table, he looked up to see Shay walking towards him wearing her sweatshirt and shorts from bed. Her hair was still left untied.

“Smells nice.” Shay said as she leaned over to kiss Hunk.

“It’s your favourite.” Hunk replied.

The two sat down and began to eat their breakfast. Shay took a bite of the omelette, sliding the fork into her mouth.

“So good as always.” She said as she ate.

Hunk chuckled. “Glad you still like it. I added something to make it tastier.”

“What’d you add?”

“Parsley.”

“Can’t really taste it but it’s still yummy. You should be my personal chef.”

Hunk chuckled as he watched her eat up. He knew Shay wasn’t the greatest cook surprisingly but he didn’t mind. As long as she likes it, he’s happy. The two continued to eat, talking about work and Shay’s sleeping habit. Then, she got into a different subject.

“You know,” she said. “You never told me why you wanted to be a soldier when you could’ve been a chef.”

“You never asked.” Hunk answered.

“I’m asking now.”

“Well, since you asked nicely, I always wanted to be a cook because my father was a cook back in the Navy. He was really good at it and I wanted to be like him.”

“But why the army?” 

“The attacks on my home gave me the motivation.”

Hunk then took another bite of the omelette before going for the glass of juice.

“You know, you never told me about your family or why you wanted to be a war correspondent for Vice.” Hunk said.

“You never asked.” Shay replied.

“I’m asking now.”

“Since you asked politely,” she paused for a moment. “I was never a huge fan of the military or the war. I only became a war correspondent so I can understand why people go to war...and see the cost of it.”

Hunk then noticed she'd stopped eating. Her expression darkened.

“I saw so many people in the Middle East die in front of my eyes,” Shay continued. “Men, women, children. I even lost close friends of mine. Everytime I sleep, I keep seeing flashes of everything that I’ve seen. I want everyone to see why war is hell and what the cost of it is.”

Hunk had stopped eating too but he was already finished by then. He never thought Shay would end up in a situation like this. Thinking about it makes Hunk feel ashamed for being a soldier, considering how many people he killed. Was he actually the type for Shay?

“I’m sorry you had to go through all this.” Hunk muttered, looking down to his hands on the table.

Shay looked at Hunk in confusion before realizing why.

“Hunk...I didn’t mean-”

Suddenly, Hunk’s phone started buzzing from his pocket. He pulled it out and after noticing the notification, he sighed. 

“Great.” Hunk muttered in disappointment as he stood up.

“Work?” Shay guessed, standing up as well.

Hunk looked at Shay, feeling bad to just leave like this. He really wanted to spend more time with her.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Shay said. “Get out there.”

Hunk was still upset that he had to leave Shay but he knew that there was no other option. Hunk then began to gather his gear from the bedroom and then made his way to the door. He was about to unlock the door.

“Hey.” Shay called.

Hunk stopped and turned around, noticing Shay approaching him. She then leaned forward, kissing him for a while before pulling away.

“Be safe.” Shay whispered.

Hunk smiled and nodded. “Will do.”

Just like that, Hunk walked out of the door and headed off to the elevator. Both Shay and Hunk prayed for the safety of each other and themselves.

________________________________________

28/04/2018

1132 Hours

Colombia

The Lions of Voltron, all dressed in their uniforms, have arrived at the US air base in Colombia. They were directed to a briefing room for a meeting where they will soon meet someone. The only members who were missing were Coran and his analysts. Some time has passed and nothing much has happened, leaving the team in the dark.

“Well, this is weird.” Lance said.

“In what way?” Keith asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? We just landed in Colombia and none of us knows what the hell��s going on.”

“Lance’s got a point,” Pidge said. “Not only that, where’s Lieutenant Smythe and his computer team?”

“I know you guys are concerned,” Shiro butted in. “Me and Major Brooks have no idea what’s going on either. But we were obviously called here for a reason. Why else would NATO go to all the trouble bringing us here?”

“Why not bring NATO’s best counter terrorism unit?”

The team turned around to the sound and noticed Coran standing by the door, accompanied by another person. He looked to be a Native American man in his 50s with long brown hair, a beard and a vertical scar on his right eye. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” Allura said, standing up and approaching the man alongside Shiro with a smile. “So glad to see you again.” 

Allura and the Native American man both hugged. 

“You too, Brooks,” The man said as he and Allura broke the hug. He then went up to Shiro for a hug. “Same goes for you, Shiro.”

“Yeah. Good to see you too, old friend.” 

Allura and Shiro then turned around to their team, who were unfamiliar with the man.

“Team,” Shiro said. “This is Bryce Kolivan, Station Chief of the CIA.” 

“And I’m guessing he’s the spook who handed us the mission to go after the Galra in Brazil.” Lance said.

“Sure was. Had faith that Voltron would get the job done.” Kolivan answered.

“So what’s going on here that you want us to handle?” Allura asked.

Kolivan’s grin faded and he let out a deep, grim sigh.

“Lieutenant Smythe was helping us intercept a terrorist group smuggling in some sort of unknown cargo, possibly a weapon, into Colombia from Europe.”

“Tiger was sent to interrupt the convoy,” Coran added. “They succeeded in eliminating the terrorists but unfortunately…they were ambushed. Four of the team members were killed while their leader Damon Halliday was captured. Colombian Special Forces have already recovered the bodies of Tiger at the scene, although they had to quarantine the truck containing lethal chemicals.”

The news hit particularly Shiro, Coran and Allura, although the others felt neutral since they never heard about another Voltron team other than them. Damon Halliday to Coran was a close friend and a capable soldier with lots to tell. The news that Halliday got taken was hard to get over.

“Who took him?” Shiro asked.

“From what we’ve gathered, we believe Halliday was captured by the Colombian cartel Los Cruzados,” Kolivan answered. “The cartel consists of local triggermen who either used to serve in the army or law enforcement. They’re very ruthless and deadly and have been described as potentially the Medellín Cartel’s successor as they’re already considered to be narcoterrorists. They have murdered numerous government and military officials to the point where the government themselves are afraid to fight back.”

“Do we have a location on where they took Halliday?” Allura asked.

Kolivan shook his head. “No need for that. I already have a Ground Branch team boots on the ground searching for him. Your intel team found Halliday’s last known location. Hopefully he’s still alive by then.”

________________________________________

1300 Hours

Colombia

Matt Holt cut through some vines as he and his team ventured through the Colombian jungle. Their supervisor had already pinpointed the location of their objective at a shack somewhere in the jungle. From the skies, they had two analysts of Voltron watching the team through a stealth drone. Jem and Stacy watched from the feed as the Hunter team moved through the jungle, closing in on the destination.

“Hunter 1 to Zero, we have reached the target building but no signs of any hostiles. Are you positive that this is the building, over?”

“Yes, Hunter 1. Positive.” 

“It better be, out.” 

Just as he got off the comms, Jem sighed as he stared at the screen annoyed before turning to Stacy.

“This is like - the fifth time this Hunter 1 guy kept bugging us on whether the location is right or not. Didn’t his CIA mates make it clear to him?” Jem said.

“He didn’t seem too happy to be working with us.” Stacy replied.

“Yeah. You saw the way he glared at us for most of the time when we first met, right? I mean, what is his problem anyway?”

“Hell if I know, Jem.”

The team stayed at their position for a while, not moving from their spot.

“Matt, are we good to go?” Hunter 3 asked.

Sighing, Matt signaled his team to move. The two watched as Matt and his team approached the building as seen by their heat signatures. The team stacked up by the entrance with Hunter 2 tossing a flashbang through the door gap into the room. After the loud bang, the team stormed in with weapons raised as they prepared to open fire. However, no shots were fired and Jem noticed the building was empty. The team then began to sweep the area for hostiles.

“Clear!” Hunter 2 said.

“Clear on my end!” Hunter 3 followed up.

Jem and Stacy waited for Matt who was still checking the rooms without a word. 

“Hunter 1 to Zero, we’re seeing nothing here, over.” Matt hissed.

“Intel said there would be hostiles there, over.” 

“Well, the intel you got was fucking wrong. Just look how Voltron turned out.”

Jem noticed Matt sounded like he has resentment towards Voltron for whatever reason.

“Hey Matt! You better come look at this!” Hunter 2 called.

Matt and Hunter 3 went up to Hunter 2 who was in one of the rooms. Once they got there, the two noticed blood stains on plastic wrapping alongside chopped fingers on a bloodied table, presumably Halliday’s. 

“Seems like they were here,” Hunter 3 said. “Somehow they knew we were coming.”

Matt didn’t say anything but he simply sighed before turning to his team.

“Lets get the fuck out of here.”

[wftc141]

Art by @cynthrey

Before Allura, Shiro was in a relationship with CIA Case Officer Adam Smith. The two were secretly in love as they do not wish to destroy their career. Adam then suggested that they should leave their job and get married in Japan, though Shiro still unsure he wants that as he wants to continue fighting the endless War on Terror. In December 9, 2009, Shiro gets the news from a friend in the CIA that Adam was one of the victims who were killed by a Suicide Bomber in Camp Chapman. Shiro blames himself that he wish he could've saved him or at least got out of their jobs sooner. Shiro then gets his revenge as he took part of the Raid in Operation Neptune Spear where DEVGRU finally found and killed Osama Bin Laden. It doesn't make Shiro any better as Adam is still gone though he's still with him spiritually.

[wftc141]

Commission art by @eedeesarts

Cover poster for Act 2 of Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit

Based on this

[wftc141]

Art by @cynthrey

"Glad that you're back."