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

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"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?"
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"I'm open to suggestions."
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"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."
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"Curry and moon dumplings and a water would be great, thanks."
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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..."
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"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."
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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.
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"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."
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"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."
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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?"
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"Oh, uh -- I didn't."
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He gestures to the huge sword propped delicately against the back of Drift's chair, tilting his head.
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It's a painfully honest answer, not just because Drift wants to be honest, but because he couldn't have given any other answer if he tried. He's thought about it from time to time -- what he'd be doing if he hadn't strayed from the path, if he hadn't wound up on the streets, if he'd somehow managed to pull himself together before Megatron had dragged him out of the gutter -- but he's never been able to answer it for himself. What he's doing now is what he's supposed to be doing, he's sure. But that doesn't mean it's what he was meant to do. On that, he's always felt lost. He lets out a half-laugh for levity, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I really don't know. I liked school when I was a kid, I guess, but I wasn't really...focused on it. For a while, I was mostly focused on just getting by. And then...you know." Deadlock. Murder. That whole thing. You know. #halfdemonthings. He shrugs. "Maybe if I'd finished high school I'd have given it more serious thought, but it wasn't a thing I ever really thought about."
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"If you liked school, is there a reason you haven't gone back to it? Went and tested for your GED, I mean, you won't be able to cram that sword into one of those little lockers."
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"I mean...I haven't really needed it. I looked into it a little while ago, but it's kind of pricey, and it hasn't really come up since." He shrugs again, folding his hands behind his head. "I stopped going to school when I was sixteen. I do kind of wish I'd been able to finish, but I don't think getting my GED now would change much."
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Yes, he considers running around Boston and stabbing demons to be more of a job than manning a cash register at the Star Market. One of these things is spiritually rewarding and leads to self-actualization. The other bags groceries.
He is momentarily rescued from the topic at hand when Bra'ad comes by with a serving tray positively stacked with dishes. "Curry and moon dumplings for you," Bra'ad says, placing two dishes in front of Ratchet, and then two glasses of water, "and the rest of the menu for you, kid. Flag me down if you need anything, yeah?"
The small table is now completely covered in various plates of food, most of them Drift's, and he looks positively pleased at the sight of it. It has been a while. "Sure thing, Bra'ad. Thanks!"
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"That good, huh? Or is it comfort food?"
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"Both?" he tries, with his mouth mostly full, then thinks the better of trying to keep talking like that and washes it down with a few gulps of water. "I mean, I wouldn't keep coming here if it wasn't good, but it is kind of comfort food, I guess. I was mostly on a steady diet of takeout when I was still in school."
That has obviously not changed much.
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Ratchet bites into a dumpling and sighs, his eyes half-lidded for a moment before he swallows, looking deeply content.
"It is good, though."
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His smile settles, though, and he rests his chin on one hand. "Yeah? You wouldn't mind coming back here sometime? Assuming I get a second date, of course."
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"Yeah. I'd like that, on both counts."
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"So," he says when he pauses for breath again, taking a sip from his cup, "another thing I never asked you -- where are you from? Are you local, or did you move here?"
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