tiredarts-main - Tired’s Hall Of Bullshit
Tired’s Hall Of Bullshit

Tired: Transmasc (he/him), 21Commissions Open- details on art pageCheck out my art at @tiredarts-sketchbook

382 posts

Almost Got It ... One More Bolt, And This Babys Mine!

Almost got it ... one more bolt, and this baby’s mine!

THUNK. “Uh oh, someone’s busted.”

BJ turned to face the voice behind him. Looming above him was his fellow Fireteam member and only Titan, Rithsis. Even through the ventilation mask, he could tell Rithsis wasn’t happy.

He was never forgiving when it came to BJ’s odd…. hobbies.

Whether it be sniping fellow Dusk Fallen from Devrim’s post; rifling through trash for old exotics and engrams to sell behind Banshee’s back; or this incident- tampering with Drifter’s massive Taken Generator- Rithsis was always there to give him a lecture.

“Knew I’d find you down here,” Rithsis snarled, crossing his four arms over his broad chest. “You just can’t stay out of the garbage, can you?”

“Hey!” Drifter lightly tapped Rithsis’ shoulder, then backed away. “That thing ain’t garbage! Gift from the Emissary themself. You have a problem with it, go talk to them!”

Rithsis laughed and grabbed Drifter’s fuzzy pauldrons. “Speaking of talking, you should really bite your tongue, Dredgen. Don’t want Big Blue to come down here, now, do we?”

Drifter rapidly shook his head to the contrary, but Rithsis continued: “Or, Traveller forbid, we alert Shaxx of your illicit acts…”

“I get it! I’m in trouble! Now please, let go before you dislocate my damn shoulder!”

BJ rose to his feet, being careful to not trip over his own cloak or the bundle of cables beneath him. The generator whined pitifully, and the Taken soul within slammed against the bulletproof glass. It craved BJ’s Light, and the Light in every Guardian in the Tower, and if he let those wires get unplugged, all hell would break loose.

BJ started rambling, still facing the tank. “Relax, Riz. Drifter isn’t a Dredgen anymore. He’s only cooperating with the Nine for money and power. I’ve seen the Emissary myself. Wonderful, dangerous person, the Emissary. I’d fight them in a match any day. I’d get shredded, and Optic’d be good as gone, but I’d still love to see what they could do with the power of the Nine…”

“Get to the point,” Rithsis grunted, shoving Drifter away into a nearby locker. “And get away from that tank.”

“No need to get physical. I was just charging my guns. Taken juice works better than any Arc energy I could ask for.” He stretched and grabbed his guns from under a book, side-eyeing Rithsis and Drifter cautiously.

“Speaking of Arc energy, where’s Zav? He and Ekira still out surveying Hellmouth? I thought I told her to stay away from the strikes until the Vanguard had a BoA reestablished on the Moon.”

Rithsis nodded no. He pulled up his Ghost, Trinsi, and displayed a holographic map of a lush, red forest. Nessus, the Unstable Centaur.

“Last time Shadow sent a ping, they were near the Waterfall, headed towards the Spire. Something tells me they’re looking for relics. Ikora has all her Warlocks runnin’ about like headless chickens, researching that Eye they pulled from the Gate Lord.”

“Nessus, eh? Why is she at that bucket of bolts? Everyone knows she and Ikora haven’t been talking since Ikora started that damn portal in the Bazaar.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Rithsis sighed. “As long as that Kinderguardian doesn’t get her Ghost killed like Sundance, we ain’t got a problem.”

BJ spun on his heels to face the door, tossing a flaming knife over his shoulder to spook Drifter. Seeing a grown-ass man scurry like a scared cat was hilarious to BJ, for reasons nobody could really figure out. Probably a Hunter’s signature dark humor.

“Optic? Prep for a city trip. Annex Hangar staff’s about to have another freak-out session.”

“Right away, you dramatic asshole,” Optic chimed from BJ’s hood. “You do know that I can just grab you here though?”

BJ saluted Drifter and Rithsis as he hopped down the stairs. “Where’d the fun in that be?!” he cried as he channeled Light into his thighs.

In a flash of fire, his Golden Gun manifested in his hands. Six shots, one needed.

“Say hi to Zav on your way out,” he yelled to a fuming Rithsis. “Tell him I said ‘fuck off!’ about that Vanguard position too!”

And with that, he backflipped off the nets and fired a blazing round into his skull.

As he appeared in the cockpit of his ship, there was only one thought on his mind: “Next stop, Nessus.”

  • neonthecrazy
    neonthecrazy liked this · 5 years ago

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