intermission

by KivaEmber

Summary:

#4 Jan: Go, my roomba - Drifter puts the domestik drone to work

or;

A collection of random scenes that don't make it into please, a one-way ticket to heaven.

Chapter 1: Jan: Arthur vs Cube Rations

Summary:

#1 Jan: Arthur vs Cube Rations - Arthur's noticed that Drifter isn't eating the food the Hex are, so he follows that up.

It'd been less than two weeks since the Hex were hauled by the scruff into this unwilling time loop of theirs, and some sort of uneasy balance was settling over the mall. It helped that Drifter and Umbra still kept mostly to themselves, only really coming out of the backrooms to help them with missions or necessary day-to-day chores to maintain their base of operations. It let the Hex acclimatise slowly to the new additions to their group without forcing them in prolonged contact.

Still, Arthur couldn't help but worry a little bit about their new, and suspicious, comrades. Food supplies were always a little tight, but Arthur always ensured everyone had their share and they could always get more (even if it meant an extra midnight mission raiding a Scaldra supply depot for their rations). He'd adjusted the rationing to account for Drifter and Umbra but...

...not once had they accepted any of it.

Drifter said that they didn't need it, they had their own rations it's all fine, but Arthur hadn't once seen either of them eat, and while he was certain Drifter and Umbra weren't, like, starving themselves or anything, he was twitchy at not knowing how regularly they were eating. He didn't want their performance suffering because they were, what, trying to be noble and stretch the Hex's food supplies?

Ever since becoming protoframes, the Hex could handle long stretches without food. It wasn't pleasant, but they could do it with little issue. Drifter, however, was one hundred per cent human (allegedly), and Arthur had taken the trouble to ensure they would have three solid square meals a day from their food stores if they wanted. Which they didn't, apparently, and that was a Problem.

So one early morning, Arthur decided to confront Drifter directly about it. The moment they stepped foot out of the backrooms, Arthur had been ready and waiting, swooping in to scruff them by the back of that ridiculous cloak and frogmarch them to the mall's food court.

"Um, good morning?" Drifter said in mild confusion, surprisingly unconcerned at the sudden manhandling. Arthur wasn't sure if he should be concerned at how easily they let people grab them and haul them off without expanation.

"Good morning," Arthur returned, because he had manners. He didn't pause his determined stride to the food court. "We're having breakfast."

"Uh."

"We're having breakfast," Arthur repeated. "Me and you."

"Um???"

"And we're going to have a chat," he finished.

"Oh, I just remembered!" Drifter chirped as they dug in their heels. Arthur didn't break stride. He just dragged them along, their boots making loud squeaking noises against the linoleum. "I, uh, I have, um, something to be doing, uh, like, um, h-helping Umbra wash his- his scarf-!"

"He's a grown man. He can wash it himself," Arthur said. They stepped into the food court where breakfast was already set out on the table, albeit lukewarm at this point.

"Yeah, but-! Uh!"

"Sit." Arthur pushed them down into the chair. "Stay."

Drifter obeyed, though they looked a bit belligerent about it.

Arthur hovered over them, making sure they weren't going to make a wild dash for it, before moving to sit across them. Breakfast was a simple affair: Quincy had managed to trade with the locals for a few boxes of fresh chicken eggs (a luxury in Hollvania nowadays), so Arthur made some simple scrambled eggs on toast, thinking he'll try something fairly plain and inoffensive.

Drifter was still eyeing their plate with uncertain suspicion. They didn't touch their knife and fork.

"It's going to get cold," Arthur said pointedly.

Drifter made a face and picked up their cutlery (plastic sort looted from the food courts cutlery dispenser). They warily prodded the scrambled eggs.

"What... what is it?" they asked.

From anyone else, he'd think they were pulling his leg. This was Drifter, though, who didn't know what a dog was and had been confused by the simple concept of a washing machine (their space ship used a 'sanitiser' instead which used UV light or something to clean, sounded really unsanitary to Arthur. How could you clean without soap and water?). It was plausible that in the far flung future there was no such thing as... scrambled eggs, apparently.

"It's scrambled eggs," Arthur said, "from a chicken. You know what a chicken is?"

"Uh, no."

"It's a livestock bird bred for its meat and eggs." Arthur kept his tone neutral, like he didn't personally think this was a completely insane thing to explain. "The eggs aren't fertilised, in case that's something you're worried about."

"I see..." Drifter still lookd uncertain and kept poking the scrambled eggs. "I'm guessing it's safe, then?"

"Mate, I'm from Britannia. They raise their kids on eggs and toast," Arthur said dryly. "I haven't died yet from it."

He decided to keep to himself that depending on the country, you could get food poisoning from undercooked eggs - and simply tucked in. He pretended to ignore Drifter, all while keeping a close eye on them in his periphery. He felt like he was starting to understand why Drifter wasn't accepting their food now.

After a very long pause, Drifter started cutting the scrambled eggs into very wonky looking cubes.

Arthur didn't comment on it. He'd finished his own meal by the time Drifter carefully took a bite of one of the egg cubes, chewing it very slowly. They had a very intense look of concentration. It would've been funny if it also wasn't extremely sad.

"Good?" Arthur asked.

"Mn... kinda weird texture..." Drifter mumbled after swallowing. "I've never tasted anything like it before."

But 'weird texture' or unfamiliar taste aside, Drifter ate the entire plate. Very slowly, and thankfully they were far less cautious with toast - guess they were familiar with the concept of bread. Arthur felt a tension in him ease up once Drifter finished, relieved that the problem wasn't Drifter just simply refusing food.

"Good?" he asked again.

"...yeah," Drifter admitted. "It was okay."

Right, that's why they practically licked the plate clean. Arthur kept that to himself.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" Drifter asked as they set their cutlery down - neatly crossed over each other in a very precise way that seemed deliberate (and unconscious). "Unless you just wanted to, uh, feed me."

"I wanted to know why you weren't eating our food," Arthur said, deciding to be blunt. "You're not a protoframe like us or Umbra, so you need three solid square meals a day like a normal human, right?"

"Well... I can go a few days without food okay," Drifter said, scratching the back of their neck. "I've had to do it a few times back in the Zariman and Duviri..."

Arthur briefly closed his eyes. Every time he was reminded of the shitshow that was Drifter's past...

"Right, but you don't have to do it here," Arthur explained patiently. "Look, I don't know if it's because you don't want to take our supplies, or because you're unsure about our food, but I need to know that you're eating regularly."

Drifter blinked at him owlishly. "Why?"

"Because I like to know that my squadmates are all well fed and healthy." Arthur stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "I can't know that with you if you keep hiding away in your rooms and refusing to accept our food. For all I know you're just chewing on the furniture in there."

Drifter laughed. "Oh... uh, I'm not doing that. I'm eating. I'm eating rations."

"Rations."

"From the future. My future rations." Drifter briefly looked embarrassed. "They're familiar? In that, I know how they taste and they give me all the nutrients and calories I need. Also..."

"Yeah?"

Drifter's cheeks were turning a faint shade of red. "They're cubes."

Arthur waited, but Drifter didn't elaborate. They just looked embarrassed. "Okay. Why's that important?"

"The rations from the Zariman were all cubes, and... that carried over into Duviri. Everything was cubes there too." Drifter started to play with their fork, gently tapping the edge of their plate. "Most standardised rations in the Origin system come in a cube format, because they just continue how the Orokin did it, which is actually really efficient and cheap. And, ah, so, that's what I'm used to, but your food here is..."

"Not cubes," Arthur finished. "I understand."

"It's stupid, I know," Drifter continued, trying to laugh it off. "But it makes your food look... weird? Not that I'm trying to say you guys eat weird things, my food probably looks weird to you, but it's not-"

"Familiar." Arthur shook his head. "I said I understand, Marty, and I meant it. I get it."

"Uh, really?"

"Yeah."

"You don't think it's stupid?"

"No." Arthur leaned back in his seat slightly, content that he already had a solution in mind. "If it's what you're used to, it's what you're used to. Like you said, I'd find it bloody weird eating cubes all the time if I ended up in your time, so can't really throw stones here."

"Oh."

"This is what we'll do, then," Arthur said. "You can bring your cubes here and eat - I just want to know you're getting fed, alright? Or, if you want to keep trying our food, I'll try and make it into cube style. Maybe I'll start off with a cube omelette or something..."

"A om- let? What's that?"

"Also made from eggs. It's like..." Shit, how did you describe an omelette? "Like... a... an egg pancake...?"

"Pancake?"

Sol, Drifter didn't even know what a pancake was. "Okay, change of plans. I'm making you a cube pancake first."

They parted ways not long after that, Drifter seemingly bemused but cautiously optimistic about trying '1999 food', now that it didn't seem like such an alien thing to them. Arthur patted himself on the back for navigating that with little problem.

Drifter was odd, but Arthur felt like he understood them a little better now. They had their quirks just like any other Hex member, and this one was harmless and with an easy solution.

Now, time to figure out how to make a cube pancake in a normal frying pan...

Notes:

since i keep getting ideas for scenes for please, a one-way ticket to heaven but with no place to easily put them... this fic is just the catch all for random scenes set in that fic's universe. they won't be chronological and will be random in what each chapter will be on but i have to get these ideas outta my head man instead of sticking them only on tumblr lmao

Chapter 2: March: Aoi Attempts Girl Gossip

Summary:

#2 March: Aoi Attempts Girl Gossip - she gets disturbing Zariman facts instead because she forgot she's trying to gossip with Drifter of all people

"So. Space ship."

Drifter did not look up from where they were diligently oiling their sword as they repeated: "Space ship."

Aoi pursed her lips when nothing else was forthcoming. "Sooooo...? What was it like?"

Drifter finally looked up. They seemed amused yet puzzled. "What? Living on a space ship?"

"Yeah!"

"...like living here, I guess?" Drifter leaned back on the sofa (a coffee-stained veteran of what seemed like several plague wars that they had dragged into what had been a staff room), and rested their sword across their lap. "It's not all that different to planet-side, really."

"It has to be. What about, y'know, night and day? Or- ohh, water? It must be like living on a ship, right? Uh, I mean, a sea ship. Lots of recycling and rationing?"

"I don't really know all the logistical stuff like that..." Drifter admitted. They looked sheepish. "But they enforced a night and day cycle that we all stuck to. Humans are at their healthiest when adhering to a set circadian rhythm after all."

"Oh, that makes sense," Aoi muttered, a bit put out by such a reasonable yet dull answer. "All the lights must've had UV in it."

"Something like that." Drifter smiled. "You guys are always so fascinated about the space stuff."

"Well, duh, we haven't left our planet yet. Of course it's fascinating!" Aoi flicked a bit of lint at them. "The only frame of reference we have are movies, but you've actually lived it."

"Mn, well, reality is a lot more boring, I'm afraid," Drifter said. "Once you seen one asteroid belt, you've seen them all. Space is just a whole bunch of empty and rocks, and sometimes icy or flaming rocks. Not much else."

"Boo. Stop puncturing my childish wonder."

"Ha..." Drifter rubbed the back of their neck. "Sorry."

A companionable silence lapsed where Drifter returned to maintaining their sword, while Aoi's mind idled over the thought of living on a space ship. Not much different to planet-side, huh? Just one thing...

"Hey, tell me if this is a bit of a weird question or what, but..." Aoi paused, trying to think on how to word it. "...you said the Zariman was a colony ship, right?"

"Yeah. We were to colonise Tau and get it all prepped for the Orokin to arrive after us."

"Right, right. So..." Aoi wobbled her hand in a vague gesture. "So, y'know, there were probably only so many people on the ship, right? And, there weren't going to be any others following you. Just you guys, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Drifter said slowly. They clearly had no idea where Aoi was going with this. "It was meant to be just us. Why?"

"I was just thinking, uh, colonising would take a long time. And I guess connecting Tau with here would take a long time too, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So..." Aoi dawdled, then decided to just say it outright. "You were kinda stuck with the dating scene you were given, huh?"

Drifter blinked very slowly.

"......wait, do you mean our breeding program?" they finally asked. "They already paired people up before Zariman left port, so they kinda had that all figured out about three generations ahead, I think."

Aoi mouthed 'breeding program' to herself, feeling all kinds of disturbed and revulsed at the thought of applying that to actual living human beings. Urgh. Made them sound like livestock or pedigree dogs or something.

"Er, well, I mean, not breeding exactly. I meant, y'know, dating," Aoi emphasised. "As in, hooking up with someone you like? If there's only so many of you, then, you're kinda stuck if no one really catches your interest-"

She paused when what Drifter actually said finally processed.

"Wait. You said, 'they already paired people up'...?"

"Yeah. To avoid inbreeding and to ensure maximan genetic diversity with our limited population," Drifter said very matter-of-factedly. "I already knew who my studs were gonna be once I was old enough, but you didn't really have to be all like, married with them, so the concept didn't bother me that much."

Aoi opened her mouth. Closed it.

"...studs," she finally said, without any kind of emotion.

"Oh, is that an unfamiliar term? It means a breeding male who-"

"I know what stud means," Aoi said, her voice mildly strained. "It's just, uh... you're very, um, candid about it?"

"Well, it ended up not happening, y'know? So why be all, like, retroactively weirded out by it?" Drifter said with a shrug. "And at the time... ugh, I dunno how to explain it. You don't understand how, uh, indoctrinated everyone was when it came to the Orokin. If they told you to jump off a bridge, you just did it without thought. 'Our Golden Masters know best', and all that. So them telling you who you're gonna have kids with to populate Tau? Not out of the ordinary, really."

Aoi mentally chewed over that for a moment. She finally settled on: this is yet another disturbing facet of Drifter's very fucked up past and she did not have the mental energy to fully process all... that right now.

Where did she even start. Good lord.

So, she shifted topics slightly.

"Okay, fair enough. But, hopping back a few verbal steps," Aoi said blithely. "You said you weren't gonna be married so you could still date, yeah?"

"So long as you didn't have any unsanctioned kids with them, you could do whatever you wanted, really." Drifter scratched their jaw thoughtfully. "I think? I was still a kid when the Zariman turned into a shitshow but... I remember some of the adults all kinda crawling over each other like a box of horny pobblers, and it seemed to be okay for them to do that? Maybe."

Aoi groaned and flopped back in her seat.

"...are you trying to angle for something in specific or...?" Drifter finally asked.

"Yes!" Aoi threw up her hands. "I was trying to be all subtle to ask you what your type is, but then you had to talk about weird breeding programs and shit."

"Uh, sorry."

"It's not your fault," Aoi sighed. It really wasn't, so she couldn't even be mad at them. "I'm just learning I should be direct when I want to ask you something. I'll keep stepping on disturbing landmines, otherwise."

Drifter ducked their head slightly.

"So, okay," Aoi said bracingly. "I'll just ask: hey, Drifter, what's your type?"

"To date?"

"No, to play Komi with- yes, to date!"

"Um, I've... never really thought about it," Drifter admitted. They stared at the sword across their lap, their brow slightly furrowed as they deeply pondered the difficult question of: what was the type of person they'd be willing to date?

Aoi had just been idly curious before, but now she was desperate to hear like, the lowest possible bar of 'they are nice' or something. Drifter was right, they had been a kid when all of this was going down, so who knew what kind of weird and fucked up lessons they internalised about human relationships, both romantic and sexual????? Did Drifter even get given a proper birds and the bees talk or was it all coached in terms like "breeding" and "genetic diversity" or Lua knows what else?????? Did Aoi need to go and get Lettie???? Sex ed with the future Void magic trauma bomb????

"I guess my type is... reliable, broad shoulders - you know, in the kind of, muscular but not super big kind of way, just, you know, strong but also good in combat, and, um, I'd also like them to listen to me and care about me, like, you know, do stuff they know I like without me having to ask?" Drifter's voice lilted uncertainly at the end, and they scratched their head with a self-conscious laugh. "But, also, uh, they're not afraid to talk to me about stuff, even if it's heavy... or... ahah, I guess, you know, something like that..."

bitch, you just described UMBRA, Aoi mentally wailed, you told me he's like your DAD before!

"Oh," Aoi said aloud with forced cheer. "That's a lot more detailed than I was expecting! It almost... describes someone!"

"You think?" Drifter tilted their head. "Like who?"

Aoi steepled her fingers and stared at them silently for three long seconds. Drifter... the densest person known to man, and Aoi had dated Arthur for fuck's sake.

"............who knows," she said stoically. "But, maybe you should think on it."

Drifter thought on it.

"Hmmm, I don't think I know anyone who fits that description," they sighed with a sad shake of their head. "Not someone I'd date, anyways."

Aoi sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead.

"I wouldn't know what to do even if I wanted to date them, anyways," Drifter added. "I mean, I kinda missed that development milestone."

"..." Aoi braced herself. Oh boy, here it comes. "Which development milestone."

"The whole dating thing." Drifter waved their hand dismissively. "Y'know, a primer on how to kiss or have sex, or how to flirt and stuff. We hadn't reached the Sex Ed module on the Zariman before everything went to shit, and everyone had doll anatomy in Duviri so... yeah. Y'know."

There's a pause, a lengthy one. Then Aoi slaps her hands against her thighs and stands up with a quiet 'welp'.

"Looks like it's time for Lettie to tag in," Aoi declared to no one in particular. "You stay there. I'll be back."

"Um, okay?"

Aoi walked to Lettie's territory in the mall, and moments later, Lettie could be heard yelling in absolute disbelief: "WHO NEEDS A BIRDS AND THE BEES TALK????"

Notes:

aoi will wake up in the middle of the night later and be like IT WASNT UMBRA THEY WERE DESCRIBING ARTHUR!!!!!!

then she will lie there in despair imagining the psychic damage trying to hook up two intensely dense people together would cause and then rolls over like ok that aint my problem quincy can stick his hand in that woodchipper if he wants

Chapter 3: April: Reflection

Summary:

#3 April: Reflection - it's that time where Drifter needs to cut their hair back, but they don't really like staring at their reflection all that much...

Notes:

this oneshot references the fic remember me for centuries, which is about Drifter's experiences on the Zariman during the failed Void Jump. You can read this chapter as a standalone, but the linked fic does give some context.

Armed with a pair of scissors, Drifter glared at their reflection with grim determination.

If was that time again, where Drifter's hair was threatening to grow out into an ugly mop and they needed to cut it back to something a little more manageable. It wasn't really a difficult task - they literally just hacked it back without really caring about the end result, because who were they trying to impress? Thrax on their 100000000th execution? Please. No one cared.

Well... no one used to care.

Now, Drifter was suddenly gripped by the realisation that they were interacting with a bunch of people on a daily basis who would care if they accidentally shaved themselves almost bald (again). It wasn't that they cared about looking like an idiot or whatever, but... they cared that the Hex would care? Or something?

Ugh. Having friends was hard, sometimes.

"Right," they muttered, narrowing their eyes in concentration as made the first snip.

Drifter had been cutting their own hair for a literal eon, so they could kinda go on autopilot as they very carefully cut their hair to an acceptable short length. Their gaze drifted slightly over their features in the mirror: pale, baggy-eyed, tired, and couldn't help but think about...

...

You know, it had been probably centuries or something, but Drifter still remembered their sibling's face with crystal clear clarity. In comparison their parents' faces were an indistinct smear and Drifter genuinely couldn't even remember their names. Their sibling, though? Him? Drifter remembered everything.

Remembered that he was their twin, identical in almost every way except for the hair. Where Drifter had been golden-haired, their sibling had been as dark as dusk. Where Drifter's hair had been bouncy and curly (and even turned into ringlets when long enough), their sibling's hair had been uncompromisingly straight. He had grown it out once, only once, and Drifter remembered how it had slid between their fingers like silk, it had been so straight and nice.

(Meanwhile Drifter's hair was at constant risk of being turned into a bird's nest unless kept too short to tangle or regularly brushed out with a comb, it was so thick and wild)

Their faces had been near identical, though. Same eyes, same face shape, same high cheekbones and mouth and- everything, really. Drifter had once floated the idea of them switching places once, but hair dye was difficult to get their hands on so... it ended up never happening. Their sibling hadn't even been keen on the idea - he'd always been a bit of a shy one, compared to Drifter's more confident personality.

Drifter sighed quietly, setting the scissors down. They'd cut back the worst of it, but they weren't really motivated to start evening out the length. It looked kind of dumb, but they just stared at their face with an air of tired apathy.

Would Vesper look like this if he had grown up?

It was a pointless thought, designed solely to torture themselves, but Drifter could never stop themselves from prodding that particular wound. They scrutinised every inch of their face, trying to imagine... Vesper all grown up. Vesper as an adult. Vesper who got to survive the Zariman...

Theoretically, a timeline of that had to exist somewhere amidst the infinite multitudes. There were probably a few where Drifter had died and Vesper lived. Probably many where both of them died. Drifter had no idea what happened in Operator's timeline - they didn't say a word about Vesper and Drifter was too scared to ask, really.

They didn't know if it would've been better, if Vesper died on the Zariman for Operator too, or if he became a Tenno as well, piloting a Warframe, and suffering all that bullshit before dying in some horrible way like most of the Tenno did. Drifter didn't want to think about the far too many timelines where Vesper died because of Drifter's powerlessness.

"Stupid," they muttered under their breath. They picked up the scissors and started chopping at their hair aggressively. "What a pointless thing to think about."

Vesper was dead, in this timeline and in Operator's and in a bajillion others. Drifter had made their peace with that years ago, or so they thought, but it was still a thorn embedded right under their fingernail that they could never get out. It wasn't helped by Arthur and Eleanor either. Where those two-

Drifter bit the inside of their cheek, deftly corraling that venomous burst of envy. When they found out twins were not viewed as portents of doom in 1999, Drifter had felt both relieved for Arthur and Eleanor (they'd been labouring under the belief that, wow, the Hex were very open-minded about this!) and also incredibly and horrifically jealous. Actually, they were jealous about them in general about the whole twin thing, still both being alive, both being close, relying on each other, even if they were in a terrible situation, Arthur hadn't died and Eleanor didn't accidentally kill her brother, so they were already doing leagues better than Drifter did, who fucked everything up like the stupid idiot that they were and had Vesper pay the price for it.

Worked up into a foul mood, Drifter grumpily finished chopping at their hair. The end result was... passable, and a quick ruffle to make it artfully dishevelled concealed the worst of the uneven lengths. Eh, good enough. Better than shaving their hair completely bald, they supposed.

"Right. No thinking about that for another few weeks," they muttered, grabbing the top of the small vanity mirror they'd been using and easing it down, taking away the reflection that Drifter had so many mixed feelings over.

Movement in their periphery had them turning. Umbra, standing in the doorway in a way many would probably find creepy but which didn't faze Drifter in the slightest. Umbra liked hovering in doorways. Drifter was desensitised to the ominous vibe it generated by now.

"Oh hey," Drifter said. They started sweeping the locks of hair on the desk into their palm. "I was just cutting my hair."

Umbra didn't say anything as usual, but Drifter did get a vague sense of concern from him. As the frequent Transferece let Drifter get a sort of 'backdoor' to Umbra's feelings, the reverse was true. He probably came up here sensing Drifter's bad mood wondering what was up.

"Just bad memories," they said. They leaned back in their seat, idly rubbing strands of hair between their forefinger and thumb. "About..."

They didn't finish. Umbra was the only one who knew all the sordid details, hilariously. The Zariman was a topic Operator and Drifter never discussed ever, by wordless agreement, and Drifter wasn't going to talk about this to Teshin because they felt a little weird about it. Umbra, however, knew everything because again, Transference was two-way in more ways than one, and if Drifter kept getting clobbered over the head by Umbra's memories of gruesomely murdering his son, then Umbra got equally bombarded by Drifter's regrets and grief over indirectly murdering their brother.

They were like two traumatised peas in a pod... that never spoke about their trauma ever to each other. They just kinda... danced around it wordlessly, with silent nods of acknowledgements. Like, yup yup, we're both deranged and mentally broken people here, now let's never process this grief ever.

Drifter looked up when Umbra moved away from the doorway. The Warframe picked up the wastepaper bin and walked towards them.

"Oh, thanks." Drifter brushed the loose hair into the bin, and Umbra moved it away. "Hey, you ever cut hair before, Umbra?"

Umbra hesitated slightly before shaking his head. A lie, Drifter sensed, but only because the truth was painfully tangled up with memories of his son, no doubt.

"Shame," Drifter said, letting what went unsaid remain unsaid. "I guess I could ask one of the Hex. I'm sure one of 'em knows how to cut hair, maybe."

They all certainly had very styled hair, and if they'd spent a year here then, well, someone had to be cutting and styling it for them! Unless the Infestation stopped their hair from growing for some reason. Was that a thing? Drifter was unsure. Warframes tended to be bald for obvious reasons.

"Better than getting all glum staring at my reflection," Drifter sighed, turning to look at the downturned mirror. "You'd think it'd stop hurting after a few centuries."

Umbra said nothing. He was peering into the wastepaper bin in his hands like it held all the world's answers.

"Arthur keeps implying I can talk to him about my various traumas... all while sounding absolutely terrified about the concept," Drifter continued wryly. Arthur's heart was in the right place, but it was plain to see that he was daunted by all the skeleton mountains in Drifter's closet. "But I don't think he'd understand the Zariman stuff."

Umbra tilted his head.

"Y'know." Drifter didn't elaborate. Umbra knew. "The Hex've only just started to trust me. Admitting I, er..."

They rubbed the back of their neck. Even just coming close to verbally admitting it had them feeling kind of clammy and queasy. Ugh, this was why they hated cutting their hair.

"...well, it'd be hard to understand, them about us," Drifter finished. It was why they skirted well clear of any questions about Umbra's past, since the man couldn't answer them himself. They very much doubted the Hex would understand that either.

Both of them killing the ones they loved most, all because of sick individuals manipulating events to cause that for their own amusement. How do you even begin understanding that? Accepting that? Drifter had centuries and wasn't even close.

Umbra moved away abruptly, and Drifter watched as the Warframe set the wastepaper bin down to pick up a shawazin instead.

"Oh? Going to play?" Drifter asked rhetorically. "Smiles of Juran?"

Umbra shook his head and sat down on the armchair. He strummed a few chords, clearly pondering something, before plucking the strings in a melody that sounded vaguely familiar. It took Drifter a moment to recognise it as one of the songs Aoi listened to.

Drifter settled back in their seat, letting the music wash over them. They didn't say anything more about the Zariman or their shared trauma. They just looked at the ceiling, letting their thoughts drift to somewhere flat and unthinking, and wondered if they would ever be able to look at their reflection without feeling that gutpunch of guilt slugging them every time.

That'd be nice, but Drifter was resigned to feeling this until the day they permanently died. Arthur, and a whole bunch of books Entrati left behind, said talking about past experiences helped with emotional healing and whatnot but, like.

The Hex were good people. From what Drifter had observed, they had done things they had regretted, but they weren't unforgiveable. They had clear morals and lines in the sand they refused to cross... could Drifter really trust them to understand their past and not judge or condemn them for it?

Could they really tell Arthur about Duviri and the Zariman? They weren't so sure. He meant well, and he genuinely cared about them, Drifter knew that, but...

...

...what if it disgusted him?

Wouldn't be the first time Drifter let someone down so terribly they ended up despising them, and probably wouldn't be the last. Drifter almost laughed. Of course they couldn't depend on the Hex to really stick with them after learning everything... Drifter could never really depend on anyone truly, after all. No one ever cared about Drifter, and no one ever helped without wanting something in return. That's how their relationship worked with Operator and the Lotus. They were only tolerated because they saved the Lotus, and had a use to save Operator. That was it.

Their gaze drifted over to Umbra.

Even Umbra was only here on Operator's orders. No. Drifter just had to shoulder this by themselves, as they did everything. It'll work out. Drifter was pretty good at compartmentalising painful memories and pushing things aside endlessly. Even if it never stopped hurting, they can just endure it. They were good at enduring things.

Drifter's mouth quirked into a smile that lacked all mirth.

keep moving forwards, that was their promise they had to fulfil. Keep moving forwards, always, endlessly... forever. Forever.

Still...

How exhausting.

Chapter 4: Jan: Go, my roomba

Summary:

#4 Jan: Go, my roomba - Drifter puts the domestik drone to work

"Only you can do this," Drifter said solemnly, staring deeply into the glassy, vacant optical sensors of the domestik drone. "I'm counting on you, Trash Baby."

The domestik drone, aka Trash Baby, made a buzzing humming noise, eager to get put to work and saving the day. Drifter very gently set down the hot pink domestik drone in the very centre of the mall, and watched it race off with respectful salute.

"Godspeed, soldier," they murmured. "Godspeed..."

"Aren't you being a little overdramatic," Arthur said beside them.

"You have a cockroach problem."

"It's a large, derelict mall. Of course there are going to be a few unwanted pests here and there."

Drifter slowly turned to Arthur, their expression full of Judgement. "A few."

"A few," Arthur confirmed stubbornly.

"There was a swarm of them eating a half-finished pizza yesterday," Drifter said. They did not bother hiding the utter disgust in their voice. "And there were another ten in the public toilets when I went in there this morning-"

"Well-"

"You have mould growing in the food court kitchens."

"That's-"

"And the floor is covered in dried up techrot fluids from when you guys stomp back after a mission without hosing yourselves down first."

"Alright, I admit that's-"

"And!" Drifter interrupted loudly, "Related to the last, you have a techrot infestation overtaking the potted plants near the rear fire doors!"

"...nothing a bit of fire won't fix," Arthur said a bit weakly.

"Oh, it'll be fixed, alright," Drifter swore solemnly. "Trash Baby will deal with all of it. You guys better kneel before his almighty cleaning skills and express your gratitude when he's done!"

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

Really, Drifter may be a bit melodramatic, but that was just a sign of how utterly dire the situation had been. Initially, Drifter had thought, oh hey, they just rocked up at this mall! No wonder it's so dirty! Clearly they will scrub it down while establishing their headquarters!

No.

Drifter didn't know if it was because their protoframe bodies were far more robust against disease or some subconscious influence from the Infestation making them a bit less hygenic than usual to encourage infection vectors (the Infestation was surprisingly cunning in very bizarre ways), but these guys were more focused on doing missions or fucking around than actually picking up a mop or broom or at least a Sol-damn flamethrower to burn out the techrot invasion currently underway on the mall's poor peace lilies.

Weren't these guys soldiers at one point???? They made Grineer look germphobic in comparison!

"Look, you guys might be immune to things like e.coli or salmonella or black mould," Drifter said curtly. "But I am not. And while I've had many embarrassing deaths in my time, I don't want one of them to be 'shat themselves to death on the fucking toilet'. Alright?"

This actually got through Arthur's head, and he had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

"Alright, I get it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. "It's always just been something we pushed on the backburner in favour of fighting Scaldra or the techrot but... you're right. We can't be living in filth."

"Damn straight. Not even I was this slovenly when I was on the run."

Arthur gave them a very pointed once over. "Your cloak looks like a potato sack."

"A clean potato sack!" Drifter snapped, and pulled the very worn and stained but clean fabric taut. "See? Look! These are old stains, not fresh ones! As if I'd run around in dirty clothing all the time, that's so disgusting!"

"Huh. Never would've pegged you as a clean freak."

"You have to be one when living on a colony ship," Drifter huffed, letting their cloak go. "Every day we have to sanitise the living quarters and the bathroom, because the moment any kind of infectious pathogen hit the ship's oxygen distribution system? Bam. That airborne disease would rip right through the entire population within the hour."

Arthur frowned slightly. "I would've thought your, er, 'oxygen distribution system' would have... UV sterilisers or something. Wouldn't that stop it?"

"You think UV sterilisers would stop a techrot spore?" Drifter deadpanned. "There are so many weird diseases in the future, you don't even wanna know."

"...point," Arthur conceded.

"Also Ordis says that those UV sterilisers do nothing. I mean, it's why Helminth keeps spreading from its room and into the Orbiter's bathroom. Something about poorly placed ventilaton pipes?"

"Helminth..." Arthur blinked. "As in, the techrot monster in the backroom's closet?"

"Yeah, they exist on the Orbiter too. Have their own room but, uh, it isn't quarantined. I guess I'd take ten cockroaches over a Helminth tentacle sticking out of the toilet..."

Arthur cleared his throat abruptly. "You know, I think... I think I'll go deal with the, ah, techrot issue infiltrating our indoor plants. You know, to be, ah, thorough."

"Yeah, you go do that," Drifter drawled as Arthur hurried off. "Typical. Only cares when being told about a potential toilet tentacle."

Well, whatever got the Hex to clean up their act - literally. Trash Baby could only do so much.

"Hmm, maybe I could get Umbra to get them on task," Drifter mused. "Now there's a clean freak if I've ever seen one."

It might actually get him to stop trying to set the Helminth room on fire. Focus his attention on the mall instead... and maybe bond with the Hex? Nothing was more bonding than a shared cleaning session, right?

Notes:

drifter at the hex when finding half-eaten pizza and shit everywhere:

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Drifter, the sentient Warframe Umbra, and their Infested Dog in 1999