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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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He finally tosses Rico back to the floor like a discarded doll, holding his sword out as though on display for Rico's benefit. "Apparently it belonged to my dad. Never really knew the guy, but I guess I got an inheritance out of him anyway." He grins viciously. "And I didn't even have to suffer for it."
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"Fuck you. I know ugly when I see it," Rico snarls, but it comes out raspy. "That's something even I wouldn't take from your corpse."
The gleam of the sword reflects something strange in Rico's eyes. Could it be fear, buried deeply beneath everything? Or perhaps covetousness?
"Well at least he left that. After h-he left you. Years on the street, but you got a shitty slab of metal for it."
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"Trying for the daddy issues, Rico? Really? That's low-hanging fruit, even for you." He doesn't seem wounded at all, just endlessly, derisively entertained. "My dad was long gone by the time I could've even remembered him. He wasn't the one who put me on the street."
It had been his mother's death that had done that. Not something he would have shared with Rico -- or anyone, for that matter, even at his lowest in the dead end. Even now, he doesn't blame her. It was never her fault. Culpability for many other things, however, could be easily placed on Rico's head. Deadlock extends his sword arm out again, pointing it abruptly at Rico's head.
"It might've belonged to my dad, but this sword was a gift to me from Megatron. And really, if I've got anyone to thank for keeping me alive, it's not you -- it's him."
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"I left you water!" Rico rages. "When you were sick, I woke you up! Gave you shoes, clothing, medicine, drugs - what the fuck else do you want?"
So maybe it wasn't necessary to bang on the windows every time he saw him falling asleep that night. And gossip incessantly on his windowsill about his latest escapade to distract him from his withdrawal. But you weren't supposed to let them sleep in case they didn't wake up, right? Hell, he even brought him chicken soup. He never does that.
"So you finally want more. At least I instilled that in you." Rico grins, though there's a decidedly unamused edge to it. He'll take credit for that, even as he's being beaten into the ground for it. "Megatron. Really? That uptight tyrant?"
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"Oh, I've got plenty of freedom under Megatron. You wanted me to want more? Well, I've got more. Just turns out what I wanted more of wasn't money or anything you had."
The point of his sword doesn't waver. His eyes are agleam again, not quite with anger but something equally fierce.
"I was a stray cat to you," he says through his teeth. "You'd like me to call it charity, but let's be honest, Rico -- it was admission to entertainment for you. You tossed me scraps so you'd have something to taunt me with. It was an excuse for you to hang around." He stops, eyes widening briefly, and then his lips curl back in a nasty grin. "Oh, is that it? You want me to admit that I needed you, that I appreciated you -- because otherwise, a demon spending all that time throwing spare change at a homeless kid, that's just kind of pathetic, isn't it?"
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Rico gapes at himself, almost incredulous. He takes half a step back, hand coming up to his working jaw like he'd been physically attacked. His tongue feels clumsy in his mouth, his human mouth filled with blood. He was never tongue-tied. He always had the upper hand, verbally or otherwise. What was going on?
Rico really doesn't have anything else. No. He does. This is a hobby for him. Entertainment. Something he does when he's bored. Is it his fault he gets bored so easily? What's he saying, that he needs him around? He has his fights, his paintings, his penthouse, anything and everything he damn well desires. Who wouldn't want what Rico has? Why wouldn't anyone want what he has? He'ş̖ ͤ̃ͫ̽̔L͉͎̩ͩ͗̄Y̮̓̿I̞ͫ̎̊ͣͤN̳̯͎ͨ͗ͯͮ̌̈́G̗̖̥̺̲ͩ.
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He lifts his sword then, stepping in closer to Rico's personal space. "Does it really hit that hard? Knowing that a homeless junkie still somehow turned out to have more than you?"
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"Come on, sweetheart," he says voice tight with disdain. "Now that's just categorically bullshit."
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"Alright, then," he says, still grinning, because he knows he's won something here, stunning Rico into silence like that. "So you tell me. Why does a demon who has everything feel so stung by a rejection from a sad little junkie?"
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They're almost face to face, and Rico keeps his gaze level. There's something under his skin, itching uncomfortably. "You think I'm stung?" he asks, evenly, though it's visibly taking everything to keep his hands unshaken by his sides. He clenches them into fists, blunt nails biting into his palms. "Faulty premise, buddy boy - I couldn't give less of a damn. You don't know what to do with all that new self-confidence, do you?"
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As fun as all the taunting is, though, he really does just want to keep beating Rico to a pulp -- so he doesn't even swing the sword at Rico this time, just takes a solid crack at Rico's jaw with his fist.
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He likes spending time in this human body, he really does. Some days, when he's drunk enough, it's almost like he never left it. Oh God. This human body with its brain fluids and fragile blood capillaries and bones that break like anything. A pathetic sentiment, he suddenly realises with a burst of clarity, staring at Deadlock's steel-toed boots. What was he holding ever on to? Why, for so long?
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"Oh, come on -- is that really it?" He doesn't do something as stupid as drop into a crouch, but he does lean over Rico, the massive sword still in his hand. "I came here for a fight, Rico, at least make it entertaining."
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"I'll cut up the inside of your mouth, take that fucking tongue out and feed it back to you. I'll beat your body until your organs are bleeding from the inside out. I was being kind, you see? You'll find out what I could have been doing this whole goddamn time."
He's aware that he might just be giving him ideas, or even that he's slightly concussed and babbling, but even now, Rico still entirely believes that he's going to get out of this. And that just so happens to start with spitting on Deadlock's boots.
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His response to Rico spitting on his boots is to give him a solid kick in the jaw. "Fantastic vision, Rico," he snarls, laughing. "If only you knew how to really apply it."