#i am so unwell about the lore of this game but im also severely insane

[orbdotexe]

They were supposed to be– No. Something’s wrong. 

They’re supposed to be the last hope. The Light’s last argument against the Darkness.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. 

In other words, a Shin Malphur in denial over his "end to last rites and final words" drags Drifter down with him. Drifter really really doesn't want to be here nor interact with the Young Wolf, rather fresh into their exile. Shin says Win-Win, Drifter says Lose-Lose.

Important lore bits (ik its weird to have important Canon Lore to an AU but. well im not sane so): Drifter's hallucinations from the Nine, Shin's lorebook to the Young Wolf. Set a bit before Season of the Drifter.

[ao3]

-

“So… What’s all this about?” The Drifter eyes the Hunter across from him, leaning against the decrepit wall and shielded from the dull light overhead. The air is stale and suffocating, and his usually laid-back tone is tense. “Thought you were retiring.”

“You know what this is about,” came the response from a dead voice, though the Drifter couldn’t place if the tone was irritation or some kind of sorrow. “The Guardian. You know the one.”

He braces as he watches Shin Malphur stalk away from the wall, helmeted head still shadowed by his hood. “Still doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” the Drifter says, terse, keeping his ground as the man stares him down through the solid visor. 

Maybe Shin wasn’t here on any of that business, but there was, nonetheless, an air around the man. Different from the one he was once so familiar with, but overshadowing all the same.

“Something isn’t right.” There’s a finality to the Dredgen Hunter’s voice that forces his eyes away. Even without looking, he knew Shin had not let up, and wouldn’t until he had whatever answer he wanted.

Drifter sighs, realizing where the conversation must’ve been going. “Ain’t the first to tell me that… And what do you want me to do about it? I doubt they’ll have any interest in this operation.”

From everything he’s… overheard, the Guardian had come off as impulsive to him, yes—But if Shin was right, then any assumptions made from their stunt in the Prison couldn’t be trusted. Even without those, though, they were still dangerous and unpredictable. Especially now—

“Talk to them. Tell me what you think. Disguise it as a helping hand—We both know your games; it wouldn’t be a hard sell.” Shin states, almost nonchalantly. He bristles.

“Do you know what yer asking me? If you’re wrong–” 

“I’m not.” The Hunter’s certainty almost forces him to do a double take, and he clenches his jaw.

“–But if you are,” he grits out, “I’m sure you know better than me what they’re capable of. You’ve obviously been watching them, and I’ve only seen what reports I can get my hands on.” Which, in fairness, was a good amount—but there's a difference between watching a video or reading a few paragraphs, and having been there.

He wasn’t going to risk his life for a hunch, least of all one from the Man With The Golden Gun. Drifter trusted that he’d keep his word, and that the man was more than physically capable, but he knew enough unpredictable exiles already to figure it a bad idea.

“Then take some time to watch,” the Hunter insists. Drifter didn’t know what to make of his tone anymore. “You’ll see what I mean when I say there’s something wrong. I thought you’d recognize… some things.”

He opens his mouth to question what that meant, but is cut off by Shin pulling out a data tablet and holding it out to him. Drifter stares at it for a few moments, before gingerly taking it. 

“What games you playing at?” He questions, suspicious, switching between eyeing the man and the video. He recognizes the armor of the Young Wolf, and their dead, exhausted movements. Still, nothing out of the usual, aside from the discarded helmet.

“I don’t play games, Hope.” He doesn’t have the chance to object to the name before Shin continues, stiff. “Look closer.”

“What, finally found something to… to…” Drifter begins to sneer, intending to mock his business partner’s caution, before he registers the Guardian’s face. Something about their expression rings a bell in his mind.

“Fear? Not quite.”

It dawns on him that the tone he couldn’t place earlier was… veiled worry, snapping his eyes up from the video.

Shin fucking Malphur, worried he was wrong about someone. That was already strange enough, but he had decided to put his faith in them, without so much as meeting them. Drifter isn’t sure if he should laugh or try to knock some sense into the man, regardless of the harm that would come to himself in doing so.

“We’ve known each for how long, without any more trust than in shared interests?” He pauses, searching Shin’s visor, speechless. The Hunter does not speak, and only gives a tilt of his head. Drifter can imagine him raising a brow at him.

“You’ve suddenly decided you could trust someone, an’ you–” Despite himself, a single, disbelieving laugh escapes him as he struggles over his words. “–You want me to… play therapist? Is that what this is?”

 “It’s in your interest, too.” If Shin was bothered by his reaction, it doesn’t show, and Drifter throws his hand up at the simplicity of the statement. What the hell is this?

“If you’re right, sure! But you–” 

“You saw their face. I saw the recognition cross yours.” 

His jaw slams shut at the interruption and Drifter grits his teeth, before taking a breath and continuing a bit more painstakingly. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t try to kill him, just means they’ve got… other problems. I can only do so much, and only for one of those.” 

“That’s enough for me,” Shin states, ever level. Insane, were Drifter asked.

“And who’s to say either of us are right?” He throws his hand out in a sweeping motion, vaguely referring to the whole of the problem. “If we’re both wrong about their state, what then?”

Shin doesn’t respond, helmet tilted towards the long-abandoned bar behind the Drifter. Even unable to see his eyes, not being pinned on the spot by that hidden glare was almost relieving—And would’ve been, if not for the reason.

Drifter can’t help the disbelieving, bordering on manic chuckle that escapes him. “You’re too set on this.” 

“Meet them, at least. Tell me what you think after.” 

He glares a moment before, “I’m only agreeing to this because you have a good eye. Don’t expect this to be common.”

“You’ll be making a new friend, you’ll live.” 

“Better hope so,” he grumbles.

Shin only hums in response, apparently satisfied.

Prick.