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.

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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."

A gang has been operating in a forgotten part of town. Hardly anything out of the norm, but they've been expanding suspiciously fast, swallowing up their territorial rivals. What makes this truly strange are the tithes they demand from shopkeepers, residents, and victims in alleyways.

Not just gold objects - which they do take. Strange, arbitrary laws passed down with harsh punishments if they're not adhered to. Wear red on weekends. Hop on one leg down a particular street. Complete silence from 10 to 11. And then a body surfaces, torn to shreds by what looks like fingernails. All together, fairly suspicious.

Rico isn't a difficult demon to track. Handprints of gold splashed against alleyway walls in the moonlight if you know how to look for them, followed by bootprints of blood. And there he sits perched on the edge of a rooftop, looking over his little slice of the city, and smiling.

Gangs are an inevitability in a big city, demons or no, and it's really not Drift's territory. He doesn't interfere with human affairs for the most part -- this city has enough of an otherworldly pest problem that he generally has his hands full. But when local gangs are exhibiting distinctly demon-y activity? That's where Drift starts worrying.

The gold is a big enough giveaway, and the boot prints are familiar enough to Drift's eye that he's pretty sure he knows what -- and who -- he's dealing with. This demon hasn't done enough to outrank the bigger threats on Drift's radar, but he knows enough to know that this is Rico.

He lands on the rooftop behind Rico with a surprisingly light foot, his jacket fluttering in the breeze. His sword is strapped to his back, still sheathed, but he can move fast enough if he has to.

"You're working with gangs now, Rico? I didn't realize you were getting so ambitious these days."

At the sound of Drift's voice, Rico stands up slowly and turns around to face him, and it's hard to disprove his guilt when it's evident he's wearing every single one of those ill-gotten gains. Necklaces, bangles and rings positively drip from his neck and wrists, delicate against the giant clanking chain attached to the collar around his throat and threading through his heart.

"Who said I was working with gangs? You know me. Humble to a fault." Rico grins, just a little too wide to pass for human. And he spreads his arms to match, in an innocent who, me? gesture. "It's so nice to see you, Deadlock. It's been an age."

"It's Drift now."

His voice rings a little flat, but he watches Rico turn around -- aside from a few new trappings, he's the same Rico that Drift remembers. Always with the gold, and always willing to go a little too far to get it. Honestly, Drift doesn't really get it, but it does make Rico dangerous enough to be reckoned with.

"Let's not insult each other by playing stupid, Rico." His voice is calm, his hands still empty for now. "A gang as esoteric as this one sweeping through town at this rate? I tend to notice that kind of thing. And I tend to get a little suspicious when I find you right smack in the middle of their territory. Mind telling me just who sold you those fancy trinkets?"

Rico throws his head back and laughs.

"Sold?" he asks, mockingly. "When do I ever need to buy things? These are mine."

Well. Mine now, is the unspoken answer.

"And it's Drift now, but for how long?" Rico asks, slyly. He twists a ring on his finger, holding out his hand in front of him and admiring the way it gleams in the moonlight, speaking absent-mindedly. "You can call yourself that all you want, but I remember. And we're all waiting."

Then he cocks his head to the side, a hidden laugh in his words. "But who says I'm involved? You can't underestimate human ingenuity. They could have managed this all by themselves."

Edited 2017-11-28 05:45 (UTC)

"For good," Drift says fiercely, taking a step closer to Rico. Maybe it's time this demon was properly dealt with. "I remember too, and that's why I'm never going back -- not to Megatron, not to any of it. I'm finished with Deadlock."

The sad thing is that he's right about humans. They might have souls, but they seem equally capable of horrible things. At least Drift's always had his demon side to privately blame for all the bad he's put into the world. He sighs, shaking his head, and locks his gaze on Rico's face.

"The blood, Rico. Whose is it?" And can I still save them, Drift thinks, rolling one shoulder, then the other. "If you really want me to believe that you have nothing to do with this, then convince me. Tell me what you know, and I might even let you walk away in one piece."

Rico smirks at Drift's question, taking a broad step forwards and rolling his shoulders languidly.

"A woman. Two blocks and ten minutes ago. She wasn't wearing red, and that was reason enough. It was her necklace that caught my eye, but she had this sentiment in her heart that I just couldn't resist." Rico says, wistfully. "I wanted it. So I took it."

Rico pauses.

"Well she sure as hell is wearing it now." And this time, there's no pretending that there are too many teeth in his mouth. "Definitely too late to help her, though. And you caught me." He gives up the charade with a blithe attitude. "A prince must have his tithes. And order in the streets, at that."

Edited 2017-11-28 06:14 (UTC)

Definitely too late to save her. That gets a reaction out of Drift, a flicker of expression, more than he'd like. He feels inexplicably guilty for the death of a woman he's never even seen, would never even have known about if he hadn't decided to take a shortcut through this neighborhood instead of taking the train home.

"This isn't order, this is a power play. And a really bizarre one at that."

Human affairs aren't usually his wheelhouse, he usually lets the actual human authorities handle those, but this is just a little too much. He's not sure the local gang task force is ready for anything like this.

"I could take you out here and now, Rico, and there'd be one less thug on the streets preying on human emotion and...their jewelry." Alright, the threatening tone of that line might have been undermined by how lame it sounded. "But the truth is, guys like you are small fish in a city like this, and if whoever's running this neighborhood is letting you walk around, I'm betting you aren't their only patron. So here's the deal."

Drift's hand lashes out to close around the thick gold chain attached to Rico's collar, his eyes flashing, a hint of the good old demon side that he's been working so hard to keep in check.

"You start giving me names, and I don't rip this thing out of your chest right now."

That had to be cool enough to make up for the lame lines. The cool factor is important. Does he need to start practicing his lines at home again? He can just hear Rodimus's critique on how just important one-liners are to demon hunting.

"What's the difference, really?" Rico starts with a low drawl, about to wax poetic about how the lines between power and order aren't so clear cut, when his hand closes around the chain. And in the center of Rico's black, black pupils, a little white spark responds to the look in Drift's eyes, and flashes back.

Rico's voice drops two octaves lower, just barely a contemptuous rumbling in his chest. "Work on your one-liners, Deadlock. All that's going to do is tear the seams on my human suit. And then we'll have that fight you're spoiling for. We'll see if I can't paint half this town red before you stop me."

Is it a bluff? It's possible. The chain almost seems to reverbate under Drift's fingers, but whether that's his imagination...

"Though I gotta wonder why you're so convinced there's somebody else behind this. It's been a long time, after all. I've been eating, and eating. Who says I don't run this neighborhood? What do you want me to say?" Suddenly, Rico widens his eyes and puts his hands up defensively. "Don't hurt me, it's Megatron! Your old master is behind all this, and I'll take you right to him!"

Unable to keep a straight face for too long, he bursts into a fit of laughter. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I'll bet it is."

Drift is starting to feel like he may have misassessed the situation.

His fist closes tighter around the heavy chain even as he feels it vibrate in his hand, his gaze staying locked on Rico's face. Rico's right -- it has been a long time, and Drift had had Megatron behind him then, and he'd felt invincible. It would be easier if Megatron was behind all this, if Drift could pin it on him. It would be simple. He's been trying to step back and see the bigger picture, but apparently not far enough.

"What I want to hear is the truth," Drift says levelly, "but I guess I've let my memory slip, because I forgot what a complete waste of time that is with you. Because right now, it doesn't matter who's running this neighborhood. I should've taken care of you a long time ago."

He doesn't know if Rico's bluffing or not, but the demon has power, and this conversation is leading to a fight one way or another. So hey, what the hell.

"I think it's time to correct an oversight."

Feeling much better about his one-liners, Drift gives Rico's chain a good, hard pull.

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

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