Leaves crunched underfoot as Drifter walked through the Emerald Forest. He whistled a gentle tune, but his careful eyes scanned the surrounding brush. His Ghost hovered by his head, helping keep watch.
Ahead, red eyes shined from the shadows of a bush. He grinned and raised a hand, pulling out a Mote. This one would do nicely.
"Come on out, boy, I got a treat for you," he called out.
Branches rustled and snapped as the snarling Beowolf emerged. Its black, bony body tensed and its eyes promised malice. It did not move, perhaps waiting for its pack mates, or perhaps waiting for an opening.
Drifter slowly approached it. He held out the Mote, feeling its power and channeling it within him. His arm trembled—this was something he'd never dared try back home. Despite the risk, he knew the potential was worth it. This weak Grimm would make a perfect subject.
"Nasty forest, isn't it? Let me Take you away from here," Drifter called out to it.
Wisps of energy stretched out to the Beowolf. It snarled and stumbled backwards. He was almost there.
"Damn!" Drifter swore as the connection snapped.
The Grimm regained its senses and leapt at him. Thorn was out in an instant and it fired once. The Beowolf jerked back, already evaporating before it hit the ground.
Drifter walked past the body and went deeper into the forest, in search of another test subject. He would have to be more careful with the second. With the first he had used too much force, and snapped the fragile threads connecting the Mote to the Grimm.
It wasn't long before he encountered a small pack of snarling Beowolves. Without hesitation, Drifter shot down all but one of the creatures.
As the remaining Beowolf charged him, he once again held out a Mote and released its power.
The monster halted its approach, unsure. It tilted its head at the strange object.
"Don't be shy, o Grimm mine," Drifter said with a knowing laugh. "Take it."
The Mote evaporated into mist and its energy coalesced around the Grimm. The threads of Darkness wove themselves around the creature. Then an inky darkness coated the Beowolf. It stood stock still, and the coating peeled away to reveal its changed form. Its black body was now a gradient—glowing white at the bottom to black at the top. A single bright white orb replaced its former red eyes.
Drifter sat down with a heavy sigh. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, and he took a moment to catch his breath. He started at the thing in front of him, listening to its warbled growls and watching it twitch.
He gave an amused snort that evolved into full-blown laughter. Drifter clutched his stomach and laughed, watching the birds overhead fly away at the loud noise.
"Haha! It worked, woo!"
His Ghost gave him a look.
"No, I haven't lost it. Not yet, anyway." He pointed to the Taken Beowolf. "Look at this! You believe it? I don't."
Drifter pressed his palms into the ground and leaned back on them. "Grimm are nothing but instinct, I guess that's why I could Take it. No willpower to overcome."
Taking required dominating the will of the subject, bending their mind and corrupting their body with the Darkness. Taking the Beowolf was an exhausting experience, even though it was a weak-minded beast. Still, his success meant there was more power to exploit in the Motes.
Taken Grimm could be useful, however Drifter recognized he could not Take them on any meaningful scale. He would have to continue using his personal Taken stash for the future.
All the Taken Drifter had were not his own, but rather stragglers he collected after the god-king of the Hive, Oryx, had perished. Oryx had communed with the Darkness itself to gain the power to Take, and it had been most formidable. Even veteran warriors and fanatical cyborgs had their will dominated by the late Hive king.
Using Motes was a cheap imitation of that power. And, it lead to some difficulties, as sometimes the Taken could become unruly, and he would struggle to control them. While he had willpower, it lacked the proper magnitude.
Drifter's willpower could get him through a tough situation. Oryx's willpower could rewrite reality.
He walked up to the Taken Beowolf, giving it an experimental poke.
"What to do first," he muttered. "Think we should make him fight another Grimm? Or maybe shoot it a bit and see how tough it is?" he asked his Ghost.
Drifter rubbed his chin in thought as he studied the Taken.
His eyes lit up. "I know just what to do with you."
In his long life, Drifter had accumulated many regrets. This was one of them.
He retched, trying not to vomit. Leaning down, he scooped water from the stream and drank greedily. His Ghost hovered to the side, quiet as always.
"Tasted like rotting tar," Drifter explained to the Ghost before taking another drink. "Don't even think I can digest it."
His Ghost looked back at the Beowolf, which was still standing idly, but now with a large chunk missing from its arm.
"Nah, I'm gonna save the rest. Could be like Vex milk—you gotta cook it to make it better. Come on Ghost, let's get us a fire started."
In a dirt clearing by the river, Drifter kicked together some dead wood. Snapping some branches off a dead bush, he assembled a crude campfire. He held out a hand and emitted a puff of Solar Light, and the wood crackled with fire. The Taken Beowolf gave no sign of protest as he cut off the rest of its arm. Holding it over the fire, he grinned as he listened to the sizzle.
"Brings back good memories, huh?" he remarked, turning the arm with care. "The trick is getting it cooked through without burning the outside. Ooh, it's browning nicely—hope I got some salt leftover."
Drifter did not notice the crow high above, flying away as fast as its little wings could carry it.
The crow, Qrow, shivered. "What the f—"
BREAK
"Ah, back already, anything to report?" Ozpin asked.
Qrow pulled out his flask and took a long drink. "You sure know how to pick 'em," he said.
Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "Something bad?"
"No, no. He wasn't in contact with our enemy or anything. When you told me he was researching Grimm, what did that entail?"
"A broad scope, really. Mr. Hope has many novel ideas on how to fight the Grimm—"
"Yeah, it was novel all right," Qrow muttered.
"—if successful, we would have a major asset against Salem."
"He's eating the damn Grimm, Oz."
"I see…" Ozpin trailed off. He took a sip from his mug and scratched his ear. "Are you sure about that?"
"Had a fire going and everything. Saw him take a chunk out of a live Beowolf."
"Most interesting. I hope it doesn't kill him, I'm curious about the results."
Qrow gave him a disbelieving look.
"Desperate times," Ozpin offered. "I do not believe we need to continue our surveillance on Mr. Hope. Other than his frequent trips to the more questionable nightclubs Vale, there has been no cause for concern."
"Right," Qrow said. "What am I doing, then?"
"Remain here and help us with security. The trail of Amber's attackers has gone cold, meanwhile Vale suffers from a lack of Dust and an increasing White Fang presence."
"Hm. Could be a connection."
"Indeed, and in the chaos of a White Fang attack, Beacon would be most vulnerable."
"And they might find Amber," Qrow finished. "Understood. I'll try to find out what's happening in town."
The shadows lengthened with the sunset as Drifter walked across Beacon. There was more energy in his step than usual, and his face wore a look of genuine elation. Few things were as satisfying as a meal made from the flesh of enemies. While the Beowolf wasn't as good as Hive, once cooked, the Grimm had a tangy flavor and an exotic texture. Being Taken prevented it from evaporating and kept it docile, allowing Drifter to eat as much of it as he wanted.
Most people couldn't stomach such a meal, especially with the taint of the Darkness ingrained in the food, but it was nothing Drifter's ironclad stomach couldn't handle.
A flash of golden hair and a muttered greeting caught his attention. Looking up, he saw Yang on the same path as him.
"Hey hotshot, how'd you like Gambit the other day?" he asked.
"It was fun," Yang answered, her tone reserved.
"You did a good job with that invasion, practically won the game for your team."
"Yeah."
Drifter rolled a coin between his fingers. "Felt strange, didn't it? Have some strange thoughts during it?"
She looked over at him, wide-eyed. "You know?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I've seen it before. Whatever you were thinking, it wasn't your fault."
"I-I felt like I was in a haze, I just wanted to—" she broke off. "To hurt my friends," Yang finished in a quieter tone.
"But you didn't," he reminded her. "What you felt was a side effect of the extra power given to you during the invasion. Some people get a little hot-headed when it's active."
"I see, guess that's what happened," Yang muttered. "It reminded me of my Semblance, but, I dunno, darker or colder."
Drifter hummed. He looked away, thinking. How much should he tell her? Yang had potential, but he'd scare her off if he told her everything.
"So why'd you come to Beacon, anyway?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I've always liked adventure. I guess it just made sense. Came here to become a Huntress, then I'll just travel and see where life takes me."
"Is that why you were hanging around a place like The Club?" Drifter said with a laugh.
Yang was silent for a moment, turning to look at the distant city. "I wanted information, actually. My mother abandon—" she broke off. "I never knew my mother. She left after I was born."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, well, I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it. I still had a real family growing up, but I always wondered, ya know? Why'd she leave?"
Drifter nodded. "I can understand that. For what it's worth, I never knew my family either."
Yang looked over at him. "Really? I mean, I'm sorry."
He waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't be. Wasn't their choice. You remind me of myself, though. There's a reason I call myself 'Drifter.' I've spent most of my life on the frontier.
"Was it everything you hoped it'd be?"
"More or less," he answered with a shrug. "It's a crazy world out there, but you learn to take the good with the bad. You know, I could use some help with my projects, and I think you'd be a good fit. Interested?"
Yang scrunched her nose. "Like a part-time job?"
Drifter laughed. "Kinda. I work for Ozpin in the Emerald Forest. "Beacon's good and all, but some things you can only learn on the frontier. I could teach you, too.
"What kind of things?" She couldn't help her curious tone.
"Out there you learn real strength. More than what you get fighting Grimm in a classroom and sparring on that fancy stage. That power you felt in Gambit, it could be yours. Didn't it feel so real and alive?"
"Yeah, I guess it did," she agreed. "But I don't know, those feelings—"
"Can be controlled," Drifter stated. "I don't make this offer to everyone; not everyone can handle it. You've got heart and passion. You've got potential. Work with me and I'll make you strong."
Yang looked away, eyes filled with uncertainty.
"Don't have to answer just yet," he added. "Just think on it, sister, and talk to me if you're interested."
She nodded. "I will, thanks."
Drifter watched the girl go. Despite his reputation as a loner, he was not ignorant of the value of allies. If Yang agreed to work with him, she would be a valuable asset. Allies here would make his position concrete and make his work easier. Extra guns made a good safety net in case things went bad.
He realized he might have to work harder to find allies among those at Beacon. The promise of power had always been enough to convince people in the past, but it was useless here if they were ignorant to what true power there was.
Back on Earth he had found allies in many of the older Guardians—those who had seen the terror of the Darkness firsthand and realized their own Light was not enough to win the war. Then again, he thought, the younger Guardians had also been good to him. They were often willing to do dirty work in exchange for a new gun.
Perhaps he should just continue to hand out gear?
He dismissed the idea. What may have worked to get Junior and his men on his side would not work on Huntsmen and Huntresses, for they fancied themselves heroes.
Speaking of such, he soon found himself on the streets of Vale once again. The route to The Club was familiar by now, and he was sure he could navigate it with his eyes closed.
Drifter stuck to the sides as he entered, avoiding the mass of people mingling on the newly reopened dance floor. He made eye contact with Junior, and the man motioned to a side door and went inside. Drifter followed him into the stockroom.
"Wu, good to see you," Junior greeted as Drifter entered.
"Likewise," he replied. A gesture cued his Ghost to transmat several crates into the room. "Here they are, just as promised."
Junior walked over and lifted a lid, peering inside with a nod. "Excellent. Got the Lien as promised—sent half to your account, the rest is here." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a thick envelope, tossing it to Drifter.
Drifter caught it and opened the top, flipping through the cards within. "Thanks brother. Just don't use those all in one place, ya hear?" he added with a grin.
The other man rolled his eyes, jerking his thumb back towards the other room. "We'll try. Those idiots managed to lose half of the first shipment you sent already."
Drifter raised an eyebrow. "Really? How so?"
"Not sure," Junior replied with a shrug. "Someone's been poking around our warehouses. Stole those guns alongside some other stuff. We've increased our presence there since then, haven't had any trouble since."
"Another gang?"
"Maybe. I think it's the Fang, they're the only ones in Vale with the guts to try stealing from me. Got no proof, though."
"Well, if they want a fight, you can sure give it to them with these," Drifter replied.
Junior grunted in agreement and turned to shuffle through the crates. He went through each of them, checking the contents and picking up a few of the weapons. "I can outfit all my guys with these now. First batch did us real good—used them to scare off some rivals. Lot better than what we had been using, these things smash through Aura in seconds."
"Just don't attract too much attention with them," Drifter warned. "Beacon might not like the sound of that."
"Don't worry," Junior said with a dismissive wave. "I've stayed under their radar for years, don't plan on changing that anytime soon. Although," he remarked, looking sideways at Drifter, "I never had a chance to ask what you did to Torchwick. He sure left in a hurry after whatever you did. Should I be worried?"
"Nah brother, I was just convincing Torchwick to help me."
"'Convincing', right."
Drifter laughed. "Well, I had things I wanted to know. You'd probably be interested in this too—Torchwick's got a big bad boss forcing him to work with the Fang."
That got a reaction from Junior, who looked up with wide eyes. "Someone's using Roman? Who the hell could do that?"
"Not sure yet, he said they'd never met," Drifter said with a shrug. "Made him promise to give me a call when he found out, though."
"Hm," Junior grunted, stroking his beard. "If someone's making them work together to steal Dust, I bet they've got something planned for Vale."
"Me too," Drifter agreed. "Can't wait to find out what."
"You going to report it to the authorities?"
"Hah! If they haven't figured what I have already, I think they'd just slow me down."
Junior gave him a knowing smirk. "I understand that. The police are useless, and Beacon only cares about Grimm, not the Fang."
"Seems so, brother. Might be something in this for us, though—I'll keep in touch."
Roman Torchwick paced back and forth in one of his many apartments. He gripped his cane with whitened knuckles and clenched his jaw.
"Damn it all!" he shouted, swinging his cane down at the nearest object. The mirror fractured into a spiderweb and shards of glass flew across the wooden floor.
Roman slumped against the wall. "Too many freaks in Vale these days," he groaned.
Across from him sat his partner, Neopolitan, on a plush chair. She idly played with her parasol while giving the man an inquisitive glance.
"Got Cinder ready to turn me to ash if I screw up," Roman explained, "and that weirdo from The Club ready to shoot me if I don't squeal." He pointed to his blackened eye for emphasis.
Like the mirror, Neo fell to pieces and reappeared at his side.
"Won't work, can't vanish our way out of this one." He looked away. "Not this time."
She tilted her head.
Roman gestured around the room. "Cinder would find us anywhere in Vale. Hell, nowhere in Remnant is safe. Not from her, nor her lapdogs, nor those animals. Not unless we want to live in a cave in the mountains for the rest of our lives."
Neo shivered, and Roman gave a short laugh. "Yeah, didn't think so. Besides, Ozpin and the council can't stop her. Might as well make sure we're on the winning side when everything goes down."
She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Yeah, you're right." Roman pulled out his scroll and looked down at it. "I'll give that guy enough to get him off my back, then we can focus on getting the last of the Dust. As long as Cinder doesn't find out, we'll be fine."
He pushed himself off the wall, brushing off his coat. Neo looked at him expectantly.
"Yes," Roman said, rolling his eyes with a sigh. "We can get ice cream first."
He swung his cane down and made for the door. With a triumphant smile, Neo followed.
ANs:
Once again, thanks to everyone for your support!
Questions & Comments:
1. "Will he explain though how some aspects of being an Invader makes them a bit more aggressive than usual?"
Perhaps, if he feels a need to.
2. Various questions about Gambit rewards.
Drifter will hand out some rewards, but carefully and only to those he trusts. After all, despite lacking mecha-shift functionality, much of his arsenal is still far superior to what's found in Remnant in power.
3. "You refer to the Primeval repeatedly as a "Chimera". Is this one of your own creations?..."
Taken Chimera is a blanket term used in Destiny for the various Taken Servitors encountered (like the one Uldren kissed). I imagine this is because all the ones that have shown up in-game have been unique i.e. "Voice of Riven," "Taken Ascendant Servitor," "Xaras, Greed of Xivu Arath," etc.
4. "I like this story, so good job, but I want to know, does the young wolf (the player) side with drifter in this story?"
The player choice doesn't have much of a direct effect on this story as Drifter has fled the Solar System to avoid the Darkness. It will, however, be alluded to later :)