Lance wasn't sure how long it had been. There was no light in his new cell, yet this one was somewhat of an improvement from his last holding location, mercifully free of his own vomit.

Although he wasn't sure how long he could keep it that way.

The food here could do with some improvement- or better yet, the food here could be something more than a flavourless mush. He sighed as another plate of the blue substance was pushed into his cell.

"Eat up prisoner, before I change my mind." 

Lance bent down and scooped up the disgusting excuse of a meal in his hands, muttering as he did so.

"One star, food is terrible, horrible service. Waiter could do with surgery to remove the stick from his ass." He grumbled.

He really ought to learn to keep his mouth shut. The food was actually terrible, but that didn't mean he didn't want it.

But he guessed mutinous comments were enough to have his meal forcefully taken from him. 

"Didn't provide food, refused refund. Zero out of ten, would not recommend." he said in the sassiest voice he could muster, and even made a half-hearted attempt at snapping his fingers. The guards never understood the references anyway.

God, Lance missed human interaction. 

Lance's stomach grumbled in protest as he watched the food be taken away. He knew that he needed food if he ever wanted to attempt escape from this place, but he couldn't help the words that slipped out.

But then again, he probably shouldn't have gone on a space adventure without properly packing all required equipment, first aid, and medicine first. And perhaps bedding, although he wasn't entirely sure it would fit in his backpack. He wasn't even entirely sure that he'd brought his backpack. 

Lance pondered this for a moment, trying to cast his mildly muddled mind back to the first day of their impromptu-anime-adventure without-required-materials-in-space

Did he bring his backpack?

He stared at the bar of his cell for a moment, trying to remember. He was ninety eight percent sure that he had one hundred percent forgotten. Lance shrugged.

Not much he could do about it now. 

The guard gave him a displeased growl, reminding Lance that he was still there; before exiting through a doorway that Lance had already noted the location of. He might be concussed, but he wasn't an idiot.

Well, he liked to think he wasn't.

His musings were interrupted by the slow grind of his cell being opened, and by a rough hand grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. Lance tried not to yelp.

"Ow, rude?" Lance said monotonously as he was dragged from the cell. The guard said nothing, merely continuing to drag him down the hallway, which was filled with other prisoners, although they were merely being guided. He was one of the few that they deemed worthy of a personal escort. 

Lance wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or not. Although he wasn't really sure that he had the proper brain functioning level to be sure of anything in this very moment. But he was pretty sure that being dragged was degrading. 

He shoved his feet into the floor, grounding himself and stopping his guard momentarily so he could take the time to balance on his own feet. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew where they were going.

And he would like to walk to the arena (and possibly his imminent death) himself, thanks. 

They were lead into a small holding area, where guards arranged them into an orderly line. He supposed this was the order that they would be fighting (read: dying) in.

Of course, Lance was at the front. 

"Ready, paladin?" One of the guards spat, as if the name of the universe's defenders was something nasty on his tongue. Lance was silent. What was there to be said? 

Also, he was a little late in realising that someone was talking to him, if he replied now, it would be weird. Why was he even thinking about this? He was being lead to his death, there was nothing left to do.

"You paladins were never going to beat us." the guard chuckled harshly. "You're too weak." 

Lance felt his fists clench, picturing the others. They might not be the world- wait, universe's- best, but they were doing all they could! How dare this good for nothing guard insult his space family!?

Before he'd even really considered what he was about to say, Lance was yelling.

"Says the guy who's here guarding defenceless prisoners instead of fighting the war!" he snapped, before immediately regretting his decision. It probably wasn't the best idea to snap at your captors when they had your very life in their hands. Something about surviving to see tomorrow, although he was probably gonna die before then anyway. But he had started now, and he would finish what he started. He was no coward.

"We don't even need all the paladins to take you down! For a slimy, pest of a species like yours? I'm sure half the team is enough to deal with you!" He shouted, bring his hands up into the universal sign for 'come at me bro!'. He heard a door creak open from behind him, but ignored it in favour of keeping his eyes on his captor. 

He expected to see anger, or perhaps to be hit across the face. What he didn't expect was an excited grin, a grin that showed all four of the guard's teeth. 

A mass was thrown at him, and quick hands snapped some sort of chain around his and the other person's wrist. The guard grabbed his face between his claws, and Lance winced slightly as dirty claws cut into his cheek.

"Prove it!" He hissed, turning Lance's face to whatever had been chained to him. 

Whatever it was, it was breathing, and also bleeding, and also had a mullet. 

He'd never seen Keith look so bad. He bent down, struggling a little at the awkwardness of the chain. His teammate's eyes were open, yet they didn't seem to see Lance. 

"Keith? buddy? Come on, I need you to look at me!" Lance said, a little panicked. What had they done to him?

To his relief, glassy eyes met his and held his stare for a moment. It looked like the simple task was like climbing a mountain to the red paladin. Lance reached out with his unchained right arm to steady him as he swayed. Keith was alive.

For now.

The arena gates opened, and a sword and some sort of staff were shoved into his chest as he and Keith were pushed out into the open. He caught Keith as he fell, clutching him awkwardly to his side in a rather odd looking sort-of-not-quite-hug. 

Something roared from the other side of the arena, and Lance pulled them behind a pillar.

He needed a plan, and he needed it now.