sunchime | [ DEMON HUNTER DRIFT AU: PART II (SFW) ]

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[ DEMON HUNTER DRIFT AU: PART II (SFW) ]

DEMON HUNTER DRIFT AU: PART II
Part I (extremely NSFW) (it's very gross) (I'm sorry about everything)
Part II (NSFW post)

IT'S BACK, BABY

Imagine, if you will, that Drift is not a robot, but a gratuitously tropey half-demon hunter roaming around Boston killing demons in order to atone for his as a, well, killer for the demons. For all intents and purposes you can just assume this takes place in the same universe as Buffy (or something like it) for the sake of using a conveniently existing lore that I already really like. Maybe with an extra side of Kabbalah. whatever

HERE ARE SOME FACTS ABOUT DEMON HUNTER AU DRIFT:

Drift is half-demon on his father's side. He never really knew his dad, idk he like fucked off or got slayed at some point when Drift was young and he was mostly raised by his mother, who died of cancer when he was a teenager. It was real sad and Drift had no money and got pretty promptly kicked out of his mom's apartment shortly after her death. This made Drift a TRAGIC TEEN ORPHAN who was homeless on the streets for a while, and given his ~UNIQUE HALF-DEMON AURA~ it wasn't really very long before he fell in with a bad crowd. A demon crowd
Tragic teen orphan Drift got into drugs, specifically orihalcon, a potent substance derived from the refined blood of certain types of demons, because regular human drugs don't quite cut it for him. He was pretty knee-deep in the local demon community, partly because he didn't fit in anywhere else, partly because some of them knew his dad.
Drift spent a while as a homeless addict, barely scraping by, until he was recruited by Megatron, a powerful demon lord who saw much more potential in Drift and his untamed demon powers. He offered Drift a place in his ranks even though he was half-human, and helped him hone his terrifyingly natural talent for violence. For a while Drift mostly did it to feed his habit, but he began to enjoy the rush of violence and of releasing his DEMON SIDE way more than the drugs and eventually got clean.
He also inherited this sweet demon sword from his dad that Megatron apparently had handy. It is powered by his DEMON SIDE
Eventually though Drift's taste for violence got a little out of control and after pissing off some of his superiors for wildly disobeying orders in favor of MORE VIOLENCE, he fucked off and went into hiding. It was at this time that he met a witch named Wing from a smug hippie witch cult based in San Francisco. Wing offered him sanctuary and to teach him to better control his demon side by being ~~more in tune with the spirits~~. Drift took the sanctuary because he had nowhere else to hide, but wound up begrudgingly coming around to Wing's way of seeing things, at least enough to grow to care about him. Unfortunately for the both of them Drift's UNIQUE HALF-DEMON AURA led Megatron's forces right to the Wing's door and he got horribly murdered. Drift managed to get away but he was so tragically torn by the untimely death of his spiritual sensei that he swore off working for Megatron and decided to USE HIS POWERS FOR GOOD
Since then he's discarded the name Megatron gave him and returned to Boston as the newly-reformed demon hunter Drift. He lives in a tiny, shitty apartment in Southie and fights demons by moonlight in order to help people out and atone for his murder-filled past. He has fully embraced his former mentor's spirituality with a level of enthusiasm that, tbh, should probably be worrying. He believes (or hopes, at least) that what Wing taught him will not only help him keep his demon side in check (he is pretty much always concerned he will LOSE CONTROL), but also lead to his eventual redemption. Unfortunately Drift is still learning how exactly to have real faith in something because he is the world's biggest faker
He is Jewish because I know what I like and oh boy does he ever dabble in Kabbalah and a lot of other magical spirituality bullshit that mostly drives other people up the wall
Being half-demon has a lot of perks, SUCH AS: super strength/reflexes/stamina, accelerated healing, and being able to jump way higher than any human. He's obviously not as powerful as a full-blooded demon, but plenty powerful enough to be able to take them head on. He's also really good at fighting shit. Drift's swordsmanship is pretty solid, having been trained in Megatron's demon army, but also he has studied very seriously from a lot of kung fu and action films
He literally owns fourteen swords

PREVIOUSLY ON DEMON HUNTER DRIFT AU:

Rodimus is this AU's equivalent of the Slayer, and Ultra Magnus is her Watcher. She and Drift are best buds who also make out a lot. Ultra Magnus STRONGLY DISAPPROVES of Rodimus spending time with someone with Drift's substantial murder past but Rodimus believes wholeheartedly in Drift's turning a new leaf.
Perceptor (Percy) is a talented witch and physicist who also serves as Drift's go-to for information about demon lore and magic. They go back a long, long ways, and is one of a handful of people Drift trusts implicitly.
Dealer was, predictably, Drift's orihalcon dealer when he was living on the streets. There were some bad (good) (bad) times that Drift would really love to never talk about, and Dealer loves to hold over his head.
Ratchet is a trauma surgeon whose family was killed by demons around the time Deadlock was active. After patching up Drift a couple of times, they fell into an undefined sort-of relationship that nearly came to an end when Ratchet found out just who Drift used to be. After taking some time and talking to just about everyone else Drift knows, Ratchet decided he still wanted to know Drift as he is now, though things between them are still uncertain.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Drift just wanted to do something nice for Ratchet.

It seems like the very least he could do, after everything that’s happened lately. Ratchet has explicitly forgiven Drift — for not telling him about being Deadlock, anyway — but somehow it doesn’t feel all right again. Things between them still feel weird and tentative, and Ratchet’s given him so much and Drift so little in return. It seems so much more selfish than he wants to be. He’s ready to try giving something back.

Which is why he’s invited Ratchet to meet him once the surgeon is off shift. Drift doesn’t exactly have a ton of money, but he does odd jobs and makes rent, and last week he dusted a vampire who’d apparently just left an ATM, so he’s set for dinner for two. He waits for Ratchet outside the restaurant, a dingy little hole-in-the-wall Chinese place lighting up the dark sidewalk with neon signs, hands deep in the pockets of his long jacket. His sword is strapped to his back, because he apparently never goes anywhere without it.

Ratchet is punctual, like always, shaking his head as he catches sight of Drift and the huge bladed weapon on full display.

"I have no idea how you haven't been arrested yet," he says, but his voice is strangely warm as he stops very close to Drift, his eyes intent on Drift's face. "Not that I'm complaining. I guess I'm at the right place."

"I expand my aura to deflect attention away from it," Drift says, completely straightfaced, and his eyes light up in a smile as Ratchet steps in close. A little apprehensive, maybe -- is he nervous? Does this count as a first date? Does he even get first date nerves? "It seems to work on most humans, as long as nothing's directly drawing their attention to it."

He reaches for Ratchet, hand hovering uncertainly for just a second before he opts to squeeze Ratchet's arm and then open the door for him. The sign on the awning reads GOLDEN BOWL II over a line of Chinese characters, hovering over a short flight of steps to the sub-basement-level restaurant. It's dim and half-crowded inside, the decor esoteric and cheap, but the air is thick with the smell of really, really good cheap Chinese food.

"Uh-huh," Ratchet says, watching Drift hesitate at him and shivering, feeling the warmth of Drift's hand on his arm through his sleeve.

He follows Drift down, his eyebrows climbing as they settle into a table and he leans back. "How did you even find this place?"

"Find it? I've been coming here for years." Drift grins as he slings his sword over the back of his chair -- and no one around them seems to notice -- and sits back, picking up one of the grease-spotted paper menus. "Don't really remember how I came across it, though. I think I was just passing by one day and decided to grab a bite."

It helps that he's lived in or around this area for well over a decade, but he hasn't exactly given Ratchet his home address yet. Not that that's the world's biggest secret, but it's something Drift feels he has to work his way up to. He rakes a hand back through his hair as he gives the menu a cursory glance before looking over at Ratchet with a shrug. "They're open late, too. Turned out to be a pretty good place to get dinner after a long night of demon hunting, so I kept coming back. The folks who run it are good people."

Ratchet sits calmly in the booth across from Drift and listens to him talk about demon hunting with a huge sword hung against his chair.

"And they don't mind you talking about demon hunting in the middle of their restaurant?" he asks with remarkable calm, still managing not to fiddle with the napkin or the chopsticks or his own hands despite his own unaccountable nervousness. "I'd've thought most places would take issue."

Drift puffs out a laugh as one of the patrons looks up from a corner table out of curiosity, apparently having caught a snatch of their conversation, and at more than a cursory glance they are most certainly not human. They only raise an eyebrow at Ratchet before returning to their menu and their own personal little bubble.

"Like I said, the owners are good people," Drift says as a couple of vampires come down the stairs and through the entrance. "You know, there are a lot of demons around here that aren't out to hurt people. A lot of them are just trying to live their lives. The owners know I only hunt demons who prey on others, and they don't want any troublesome customers. Apparently I scare off the bad ones."

He chuckles, as though this is a cute little joke between him and the owners and not an actual, tangible effect of someone like Drift hanging around in a demon-frequented establishment.

"I see," Ratchet says, but he looks fascinated rather than alarmed, settling a little in his seat. His eyes flick to Drift and he arches an eyebrow.

"Do you often clear establishments of certain clientele when you frequent them enough, or is it just this place?"

Drift coughs, looking a mix of embarrassed and faintly indignant. "I don't really have any other regular haunts," he says, fiddling with a loose chopstick wrapper. "Not run by demons, anyway, so -- "

He is saved from further embarrassment, temporarily anyway, by the broad man in a stain-spotted apron making his way over to their table, so tall that he has to duck to avoid walking into the hanging lanterns. He looks human enough at a glance, and he gives Drift a wide, friendly smile.

"Drift! Haven't seen you lately. I was starting to wonder if someone started putting food out for you." He grins, clearly some kind of running joke, but Drift just coughs again, clearing his throat.

"Bra'ad, this is my good friend Ratchet -- Ratchet, this is Bra'ad. He owns the place." It sounds a lot like 'Brad'.

"Something like that," Ratchet says, his eyes brightening, clearly delighted to watch somebody else giving Drift shit.

"Nice to meet you," he says, extending a hand. "I'm guessing you're where Drift picked up his taste for stir fry."

The hand that envelops Ratchet's is rough and calloused and surprisingly warm, not unlike Drift's, and his lips pull back to reveal a smile full of jagged teeth only really distinguishable in the light.

"Just stir fry? I don't think there's a thing out of my kitchen he doesn't have a taste for," Bra'ad chuckles. "Nice to meet you too, Ratchet."

"Actually, I'm not really a big fan of asparagus," Drift pipes up.

"I'm gonna attribute that to your human side," Bra'ad says, rolling his eyes, and then lowers his voice as he leans in toward Drift. "Glad to see you brought a regular human this time. I know you're friends with the Slayer, but I'm telling you, pal, she's bad for business around here."

Ratchet is close enough that he hears this and he snorts a laugh, his eyes widening.

"What, did she finally break enough ceramic and glassware that it outstripped whatever profit you were making on what she ate, or is it just that it's her?"

Bra'ad snorts and straightens up, apparently not bothered at being overheard. "If I barred people for petty property damage, I'd lose half my clientele. But she makes people nervous. A half-demon hunter like Drift's one thing, but the Slayer? She walks into a room, and every demon is on edge. They're not historically known for being friendly with demons."

"You know she's alright, Bra'ad," Drift objects, sitting up. "She's never once started a fight in -- I mean, that one time it was the vampire's fault, you were there."

"Well, not all of us are on a first-name basis with the Slayer," Bra'ad says pointedly, and Drift huffs out a breath and drops it. This is evidently not a new argument. He turns back to Ratchet, order pad at the ready. "So, what'll it be?"

"She sets perfectly regular human people on edge too, for the record," Ratchet says, before he looks down at the menu, then back up at Drift.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Drift gives Ratchet a come on, really? look but seems to have the unexpected wisdom of not pushing it any further. Two against one just isn't fair. Bra'ad, tapping a pencil to his order pad, nods at Ratchet.

"You ask him, he'll just list the entire menu. Which is about what he orders every time." A gross exaggeration, but Bra'ad is still grinning. He is, apparently, one of the few demons allowed to just relentlessly give Drift shit. "We've got a special on curried lamb tonight, I make a mean pork shumai, and we've got the best moon dumplings in the city. Don't believe the ogre running China House in JP, he uses sherry instead of shao hsing wine."

This demon clearly takes his Chinese food very seriously.

"And what'll you have, stabby?" Bra'ad says to Drift, but doesn't actually wait for him to answer. "Potstickers, nime chow, chicken pad see ew, basil fried rice?"

Drift raises a hand. "And a tom yum soup."

"Tom yum soup, got it." Bra'ad scrawls it all down in illegible shorthand and then glances back at Ratchet. "Need a minute? I can grab you some drinks."

Drift gets a hell yes, really look right back but he grins up at Bra'ad, his eyes bright.

"Curry and moon dumplings and a water would be great, thanks."

"You got it, pal."

Bra'ad salutes them both with his pencil, tucks it behind his ear, and trundles off toward the kitchen, horned tail swaying behind him. Drift watches him go for only a second, discreetly rubbing his palms on the legs of his jeans. Does he usually get sweaty palms? He and Ratchet have had weirder and more awkward things happen between them than a cheap dinner, it's incredibly stupid to be a little nervous about this, and yet here he is, trying not to fidget in his chair like he's seventeen.

"So, ah -- what do you think?" Drift tries to keep the earnest note out of his voice, but the truth is, while he doesn't expect Ratchet to be impressed by this place, he is really hoping he's at least pleased. "I know it's not anything fancy, but..."

"I think I need to get Chinese more often," Ratchet says, watching after Bra'ad in a sort of pleased, open fascination that has nothing to do with the tail he apparently has. He tears his attention away and back to Drift after a moment before catching the look on his face, his eyes widening a little before his expression softens, just the slightest bit.

"Fancy's not really my thing," he says, his voice warm. "It's nice to see one of your regular places. I'm glad you brought me here."

Drift is starting to see the unwisdom in introducing Ratchet to Bra'ad, but he's sealed his fate. This is just going to be his life now.

He brightens, though, with a sightly idiotic smile that he doesn't bother trying to hide, although he still feels distinctly seventeen. "Oh, well -- good. I just figured, you know, if you wanted to keep doing this, then maybe we should try an actual date."

He doesn't really know what this means, exactly, and he feels a little stupid about having introduced Ratchet as his good friend, but up until that point he hadn't considered how exactly to quantify his relationship with Ratchet. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, feeling a little awkward still but not wanting to let that stop him.

"I know it's always your place, or something else yours, and it's not like you've ever pressured me or anything, I just -- I don't know, I thought I should share something of mine, too."

He's trying, Ratchet. He's just terrible at this.

"Agreed," Ratchet says, watching Drift's face and folding his own hands on the tabletop. He hesitates for a moment, biting at the inside of his lip, before he inclines his head slightly.

"You're a private person, Drift," he says carefully. "For what I can imagine is extremely good reason. I don't mind you coming over or going to places I know, but don't mistake that for me not being curious, or not wanting to know more about you. I'm just not interested in hassling you about it." He looks down at his own hands, feeling stupid about the warmth expanding slowly in his chest but unable to help it.

"It means something to me that you brought me here. I appreciate it, and not just for the food."

"I appreciate it." Drift's never once thought Ratchet displayed any lack of interest, but there has been some handling with care between the two of them. Despite himself, a little bit of color rises to his cheeks, and that dumb smile gets a little dumber. "And I'm glad. It means something to me too. And I thought it'd be nice to talk and get to know each other when you're not stitching me up or dousing me in peroxide. Like -- you've never told me why you decided to become a doctor."

"Yeah. It is nice," Ratchet says before he frowns, looking thoughtful.

"I always wanted to. Both my parents worked in medicine but they didn't push me into it, I just--I don't know. I never really thought about it, I guess."

"You never really thought about medical school?" Drift raises an eyebrow, looking a little amused, and he smiles. "That's kind of a big undertaking. Most people do think about it. But I guess that means you're doing what you were really meant to be doing."

"I mean, I thought about what I wanted to do in medical school, but whether or not I was going... not really."

Ratchet looks at Drift curiously for a moment.

"What do you think you were meant to do then? Besides this, obviously--what did you study?"

Drift blinks, not having expected the conversation to turn around back on him so quickly. Well -- he did say he wanted to share more with Ratchet. The second question is, at least, a lot easier to answer than the first.

"Oh, uh -- I didn't."

ratchet

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