"Sometimes the difference between survival and eradication is just pure, simple stubbornness." —The Drifter
Drifter had a problem.
He had figured this was a train guarded by Redjacks. He had killed two of them out in the back of this car.
He could see the supply crates he was looking for just past the shoulders of two massive Titans. Their armor was branded with Crucible insignias, which meant Drifter would have to be careful in his negotiations. They raised their rifles at him. Jiangshi AR4s. Nice pieces.
"Whoa. Hey," Drifter began, and raised his arms to the roof. "Not lookin' for trouble."
They looked at each other. Then considered him a second.
"What the hell are you doing here, Drifter?" said the one on the left.
Drifter chuckled. "Joxer. How you livin'?"
"Don't let him charm you," whispered the one on the right.
"Redrix?" Drifter had found himself a couple of Gambit regulars. "Listen. Brothers. I gotta get to those supply crates back there. You know how hard it is for me to come across certain pieces. I'm a scavenger. Live a hard life. Cut me some slack."
"Zavala wouldn't like that, Drifter," said Joxer.
Drifter raised an eyebrow. "You tellin' me the Vanguard actually has power over you?"
They didn't respond.
Drifter leaned in. "Listen. You do this for me, and I'll make sure you get paid. Just show up for Gambit next week. Double rate for Motes."
The Titans looked at each other again.