Chapter Text
The Hex had seen better days. Their base, if it could even be called that, was the ruined husk of the Höllvania Central Mall, a monument to the past before the Void twisted their world. What once held store shelves now cradled scavenged tech, old steel, and flickering makeshift terminals. It wasn’t home, but it was all they had.
Arthur Nightingale, callsign Broadsword, stood near a cracked window overlooking the ruins. His Excalibur-based Protoframe gleamed faintly, his body catching the weak light from outside. Leadership sat heavily on his shoulders, but he carried it as he always did, with discipline, grace, and a deep-seated sense of duty.
Beside him, the Drifter stood in silence, his Nezha Warframe looming in the shadows. His presence was like a weight in the air, quiet and imposing. The Drifter didn’t speak much, but the quiet understanding between him and Arthur had only deepened over time. The faintest nod from the Drifter acknowledged the grim nature of their situation.
Arthur shifted his stance, adjusting the luminous blade strapped to his back. It wasn’t just a weapon; it was a symbol, the last vestige of order in a world that had long abandoned it. The Drifter mirrored the movement, his posture relaxed yet ready, his Warframe a perfect reflection of the quiet chaos within him.
Behind them, Aoi Morohoshi—Chopper—sat on a stack of old crates, idly flipping a wrench in one hand. Her Mag-based armor pulsed slightly as her magnetic gauntlets adjusted the energy lines embedded in her plating.
“We need a better power grid. Half our terminals are barely holding together.” She tilted her head toward Amir Beckett, their resident tech expert. “What do you think, Surge? You’re the one who keeps this junk running.”
Amir was sprawled across the floor, his Volt-based frame crackling with faint arcs of energy. His visor glowed with shifting data readouts as he tinkered with a salvaged terminal.
“Oh yeah, totally, let me just conjure up a fusion core from my ass.” He snorted, his fingers typing at lightning speed. “We’ll have to scavenge deeper into the city if we want to stabilize anything. And I’m not about to run into more Void-twisted nightmares without a plan.”
“Then we should prepare a scouting party,” Arthur said firmly, his voice measured but commanding.
From the other end of the room, Leticia Garcia—Belladonna—let out a quiet breath, running a hand over the smooth, organic plating of her Trinity-based armor.
“If we’re doing this, I want to make sure we don’t come back missing limbs. Or worse.” Her deep red and gold hues gave her a regal air, but the weight in her voice was purely practical. “No heroics. We don’t have the numbers for it.”
Quincy Isaacs, callsign Stepper, leaned against a rusted pillar, his arms crossed over his sniper-rifle-clad frame. His Cyte-09 prototype was an oddity even among them—built for precision, for cold, calculated efficiency. His dark matte green plating absorbed the dim light around him, his sniper giving off a faint green glow.
“Agreed. We should avoid unnecessary fights. A quick in-and-out.” Quincy said, looking over his sniper.
“Where’s Salem?” Arthur asked, glancing around.
Eleanor Nightingale had a habit of vanishing, both physically and in conversation.
A chill ran through the air as Eleanor stepped forward from the shadows, her Nyx-based armor shimmering with an almost spectral quality. Her featureless helmet tilted slightly, the crack-like glowing patterns on its surface shifting as if watching them.
“I was listening,” she said in a voice that bordered on a whisper. “And I have... concerns.”
Arthur sighed, knowing she never spoke without purpose. “Go on.”
Eleanor’s iridescent form flickered, an effect of the Void energy woven into her Protoframe.
“The Void’s influence is growing. I feel it pressing against our minds more than before. Something is changing.”
A heavy silence followed. The Hex had all felt it. It was subtle at first, like static at the edges of their thoughts, but now… it was something more. More intrusive. More familiar.
Arthur’s fingers curled into a fist.
“Then we don’t have time to waste. We move at first light.”
No one argued. They had seen what happened when they hesitated.
As the group dispersed, preparing for the mission, Leticia passed by Quincy, who was silently adjusting his rifle’s optics. She hesitated for a brief moment.
“Hey,” she said, softer than usual. He looked up, wordless but listening. “Be careful out there.”
Quincy gave a small nod, the closest thing to reassurance he could offer. “You too.”
In another corner, Amir nudged Aoi with his elbow.
“Wanna bet who takes down the most hostiles tomorrow?” Amir said, smirking.
Aoi scoffed, flipping her cards again in the air before catching them effortlessly.
“Against you? That’s not even a challenge.” She let out a loud laugh.
Arthur, overhearing, shook his head with an amused exhale. Despite the darkness they lived in, some things never changed.
The Drifter, standing in silence next to him, gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. It was as if the Drifter’s entire presence spoke for him—silent but watchful.
He just hoped they all made it back this time.
The rain fell into torrents, slicking the dirty cobblestones underfoot as the Drifter tightened his grip on his polearm. The dim glow of streetlights barely cut through the haze, leaving shadows deep enough to swallow the unprepared.
Beside him, The Hex moved with a haunting synchronicity—six Protoframes, their forms a testament to both Orokin ingenuity and the haunting cost of lost humanity. Each bore the unmistakable marks of Albrecht Entrati's experimentation.
"Target's close," the Drifter muttered, his voice barely audible over the patter of rain. He glanced at Arthur, whose head turned slightly in acknowledgment.
"Let's make this quick. No unnecessary risks." The Drifter said as he ran, using the void to give him a boost.
Arthur's voice, though modulated by his Protoframe, carried a weight of authority and lingering anger.
"Understood. Hex, prepare for engagement."
Before they could advance, the alley ahead exploded in a flash of light and shrapnel. The bounty—a Scaldra enforcer bristling with void tch enhancements—emerged from a green smoke, flanked by a swarm of scaldras enforcers armed with rifles.
"Engage!" Arthur commanded, his sword slicing through the air as he charged forward. Arthur, fataly ending enemies with just a strike of his sword.
Aoi was a blur of motion, her gun effortly firing attacks disabling automatons with surgical precision.
Amir moved with graceful speed, reappearing behind enemies to deliver fatal strikes.
Quincy appeared in the skies, sniper rifle in hand, providing suppressive cover for his teammates in the skies.
Leticia moved gracefully among them, her healing aura mending wounds and bolstering their resolve.
Eleanor's spectral form phased through attacks, her counterstrikes distorting reality around her foes.
The battlefield was chaos, a cacophony of roaring machines, shattering debris, and clashing energy. The rain streaked in neon hues as it caught the glow of Nezha’s swirling colors. Nezha moved like fire, each step a flash of brilliance. The Drifter spun his polearm, its radiant edges slicing through automatons in a flurry of arcs, leaving trails of searing heat.
The blazing halo circling Nezha’s shoulders flared with each maneuver, casting radiant reflections off the glistening dirty cobblestones. The Drifter, fully synced with his Warframe, felt the familiar surge of adrenaline mix with an unfamiliar hum—a deep, vibrating pulse of Void energy that seemed to thread through the air.
It wasn’t just the bounty that made this target dangerous—it was the strange, pulsing energy field surrounding him, a resonance that felt disturbingly similar to the Void.
"Something’s wrong," the Drifter growled into his comms. "That field… it’s not normal."
"We noticed," Arthur replied, his voice strained as he struggled against the enforcer’s augmented strength. "This thing’s been tampering with Void tech. Drifter, we need your expertise." The Drifter grimaced, his grip tightening on his polearm.
He hated relying on the Void—it was unpredictable, dangerous. But with The Hex holding the line, he had no choice. Closing his eyes, he reached inward, pulling at the thread of energy that coiled deep within his chest. It answered, reluctantly at first, then all at once, flooding him with power.
The air around him shimmered, bending as he stepped forward, his strikes now infused with the raw, unrelenting force of the Void. The Drifter nodded, spinning his polearm with new found energy then hurling it toward a cluster of scaldras enforcers. It blazed through them in a fiery arc before returning to his grasp. But his focus remained on a certain enforcer, the source of the suffocating Void resonance. The energy emanating from the enforcer wasn’t natural—it was corrupted, unstable, and seeping into the environment like a poison.
The Drifter felt it pressing against him, testing the boundaries of his Warframe’s shielding.
With a growl, he launched forward, Nezha’s agility propelling him through the fray. He collided with the enforcer, the impact sending shockwaves across the battlefield. The corrupted field writhed in response, lashing out with tendrils of Void energy. The Drifter staggered, his senses overwhelmed by the Void’s chaotic whispers. He clenched his fists, drawing on Nezha’s power and igniting the Warframe’s halo. The flames expanded, forming a radiant barrier that pushed back the Void’s influence.
“This ends now,” the Drifter growled, spinning his polearm in a blazing vortex.
The Scaldra enforcer roared, its void energy field surging, but the Drifter pressed on. He leapt high, his Warframe spinning like a comet before crashing down with devastating force.
The impact shattered the enforcer’s defenses, the corrupted energy dispersing in a violent cascade. The battlefield fell silent for a moment, save for the hiss of dissipating steam and the distant hum of the storm.
The Drifter stood amidst the wreckage, Nezha’s vibrant aura flickering as the Warframe surged with fire, liquid heat through his Warframes systems. As the rain began to subside, the Drifter stood amidst the wreckage, his breath heavy, the Void’s hum still echoing in his ears.
"Mission accomplished," Arthur said, his tone a mix of relief and lingering melancholy. The Drifter sheathed his blade, his gaze lingering on the remains of the enforcer.
"Let's hope this brings some peace to Höllvania."
Above them, the storm clouds parted slowly to let the moon shine through, just enough to reveal the faint glow of the stars—an ironic reminder of the worlds they fought to protect and the power they had to harness to do it.
Return to the Central Mall
The rain had eased to a light drizzle as the team made their way back through the dimly lit streets of Höllvania. Signs flickered overhead, their glow reflected in the puddles dotting the cracked cobblestones. The towering silhouette of the Central Mall rose before them, its once-grand facade now a blend of ancient architecture and modern retrofitting. The mall served as their headquarters, its sprawling interior repurposed into a blend of tactical hub, living quarters, and a food market.
The Drifter stepped through the underground doors, Nezha’s presence fading as he transferred from the Warframe. His heavy boots clicked on the cracked marble tiles, the echoes swallowed by the low hum of the space.
Arthur led the group to the central hub, a sprawling command center tucked into what used to be a department store. Monitors lined the walls, displaying maps of Höllvania and data from their latest mission.
Quincy headed straight for a console, his heavy frame causing the floor to groan slightly. “Let’s see what we’ve earned,” he muttered, tapping commands until the bounty details appeared on the largest screen.
“Void resonance confirmed,” Arthur noted, his voice grave. “And a hefty payout, at least.”
Eleanor leaned against a nearby column, her spectral form flickering faintly. “The Void’s touch is spreading. This isn’t just another mission—it’s a warning.”
The Drifter set his glaive down beside him, his expression unreadable as he studied the data.
“We’ll deal with it,” he said quietly. “But first, we need to recharge.”
Aoi grinned, her voice sparking with amusement. “Finally, some downtime. I could use something hot and drenched in oil.”
Quincy, ever the gourmand, had a soggy pizza in his hand, the grease dribbling.
Leticia smiled faintly as she took a bit out of the hot pizza in her hand. Her healing aura was dim, but it still radiated a subtle warmth that seemed to make the market’s dullness shine brighter.
“We deserve this. Just for tonight, let’s not think about the Void.” She said as she watched her mic with joy.
Eleanor sat a little apart from the group, her spectral form shimmering faintly. A plate of warm pizza rested untouched before her, but she seemed content to observe the others, her eyes distant.
Amir, as always, was talking about so many things at once it all seemed jumbled together, only stopping to eat his pizza then going back to the chase.
The Drifter joined them, a plate of squared pizza. He slid into a seat beside Arthur, who was meticulously eating a slice of pizza. For a while, there was only the sound of eating and the low murmur of conversation.
It was Aoi who broke the quiet, her voice sparking with amusement.
“Did you see the way that enforcer crumpled? Almost felt sorry for it.” She said as her globs of metal formed into cards and fell over.
“Almost,” Arthur replied, his tone dry. “But it was Void-corrupted. No mercy for those things.”
The Drifter looked away, his expression thoughtful. “That Void energy… it’s getting worse. It’s not just the enforcers. It’s everywhere. Even the air feels heavier.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “We’ll handle it. We always do.”
The team lingered a while longer, sharing stories, teasing one another, and stealing moments of levity from their harsh reality.
Eventually, one by one, they retreated to their quarters scattered throughout the mall.
The Drifter remained in the market, staring up at the glass dome and the sky beyond. Then he went to the backroom.