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The clock ticked down to nothing. That was a rare thing. Usually at least one side managed to bank up enough for a primeval but both of these teams were doing a piss poor job with the motes. Didn’t matter how many times Drifter said to bank ‘em, Guardians were getting shot down and losing them by the handful. One Warlock was actually good, invading and taking out the entire enemy team, but he was paired up with a Hunter who had not, as far as Drifter’d seen, touched a single mote.
That was the disappointing thing, really. A total shitshow was fun to kick back and watch from the Derelict. But he’d expected much better from a Guardian who’d been there for the deaths of Xol and Riven. Godslayer. Curse bringer.
He’d spent months trying to talk him into a match and here was: the worst damn Gambit player Drifter had ever seen.
Maybe the rumours had it backwards and he wasn’t really the silent powerhouse. His Awoken friend tripped over her own feet all the time and looked like she couldn’t be trusted to find her way across the Tower, but when it came down to it, she was raw killing power. This Edwin guy, though… Drifter had to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. And by ‘it’ he meant 'nothing'.
The banks locked down, the Hive disappeared off the field, but Drifter didn’t call the match. That wasn’t how Gambit worked, and these sad excuses for teams weren’t getting out of it that easy.
“It’s time for a primeval!” Drifter announced to both sides at once as the Taken flooded into the arena.
Their appearance seemed to finally bring the Hunter to life. The Ace barked and the Taken fell. His knife flashed as if it was part of his hand. And when he could get a good shot, that strange, Taken-glowing gun of his chewed through the emissaries. Seeing it in action, Drifter felt an even stronger itch to get his hands on that weapon. Maybe it wasn’t quite what he was looking for, but it hummed the same tune.
One of the enemy team crossed through the portal, and he sat up straighter to watch, ready for the Guardian against Guardian showdown. But just like he had before, Edwin just kept moving, avoiding the invader and letting the Warlock deal with her. He saved his shots for the Taken.
“Invader down. Your ally’s a hero,” Drifter said, the stress on ‘ally’ purposeful.
If Edwin was paying attention to his commentary, he didn’t show it. He and the rest of the team had just finished taking out the emissaries, leaving their primeval vulnerable. The Hunter leapt into the air. Blades of solar light flew into the primeval. It reared up in rage, and seconds later it was dead.
Drifter had him pegged as a void light kind of guy--but that was the thing about Gambit, it really was always full of surprises. People tended to show you more than they meant to.
When he brought them back up at the end of the round, Edwin was quiet as his teammates threw taunting or celebratory gestures across the room at their opponents. Even with the helmet on, Drifter could tell the he was staring at him instead of across at the opposing team, and he wondered if he’d just given something away.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one using Gambit as a front. He didn’t know what the Hunter was after, and Drifter didn’t like not having a read on people. But now, he had something more to work with; he just had to figure out what it meant.