“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Guardian,” Drifter said, getting up from his stool to greet the Awoken man with an irritated look on his face as he entered the bar. It was mid-day, and the bar was hardly occupied at all — a few patrons here and there, but far from the crowds that would pile in later in the evening.

“You say that to everybody,” the Awoken remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he pulled up a stool next to the Drifter, his gleaming Titan armor shifting around him as he sat, and flagged down the bartender frame to order a drink. “So, what was so important that you asked me to meet you here? New intel on Savathun? Have the Nine revealed anything else about the nature of the Darkness?”

Drifter chuckled. “Brother, I got something better than that. And you should count yourself lucky I called you first. Plenty of folks would love to get a piece of this action.”

The Awoken cocked his head back, sipping his drink. “What is it, then? Some piece of tech from one of the Throne Worlds? A new Stasis technique?”

“Not today,” Drifter said coyly. “This one, ol’ Drifter cooked up himself. And it’s mighty tasty, if I do say so myself.”

A Ghost materialized over the Titan’s shoulder, peering at the Drifter inside its baroque shell. “If you called my Guardian down here just to get him to try more of your culinary experiments,” it began, “Then you’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“Whoa there, little buddy,” Drifter said, raising his hands in mock offense. “This ain’t about eatin’ Thrall legs, though they are tasty with the right sauce. No, this is about a score. A big one. The biggest, in fact.”

“I’m listening,” the Titan said, shooting a look to his Ghost, who dematerialized once again.

“Here’s the scoop,” Drifter said, leaning in closer. “I was fiddling around with my old Recaster tech and worked out a way to build a decentralized trading system using the Tower’s existing infrastructure.”

“And this interests me… why?”

“I’m gettin’ to it, I’m gettin’ to it. You’d think being immortal and all might teach you a little patience, but you Guardians always want to cut to the chase,” Drifter said, smiling. “The thing about this network is, it lets you determine ownership without the need of a central authority, like, say, the Vanguard. I call it the BlockerChain.”

“So?” The Titan asked, staring into the dregs of his glass.

“So,” Drifter said, “We don’t have to rely on the Vanguard’s vaults anymore. Believe me, brother, with the Darkness coming and Savathun in the Dreaming City, we’re gonna have to build new ways of livin’ like this if we want to get by.”

The Titan frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said. “The Vaults work fine. Glimmer works fine. What’s the point?”

“I remember a time I was that naïve,” Drifter said. “Well, maybe not that naïve, but still. You want your gear, your Glimmer, your worth to be tied up with the Vanguard? What if one day they decide you ain’t welcome in the City anymore? What if the Vex attack the City again and decide to take out our data banks next time?”

A kind of dawning realization spread over the Titan’s face as he tapped his fingers on the bar. The bartender frame polished glasses serenely.

“A decentralized system of trade,” he said. “The enemy can’t take out your HQ to cripple your forces, because there is no HQ. I could see the value of such a network.”

Drifter laughed, slapping the Titan on the back. “Now you’re getting it! But that ain’t even the best part. What if I told you that I figured out a way to use the network to authenticate ownership of one-of-a-kind goods?”

“You lost me again,” the Titan said, scanning the room to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation. “I own my gear. I wear it or I keep it in a vault.”

“Sure, sure. But imagine,” Drifter said, pulling up a hologram projection of a weapon the Titan had never seen before. “Imagine if you could buy the rights to, say, a brand new gun that only you have. Something nobody else could lay their hands on.”

The Titan perked up at the mention of firearms. “What is that?”

“That, my friend, is the Tired Gibbon. I’m uh, still working on the name.”

“What does it do?”

“What does it do,” Drifter repeated incredulously. “What doesn’t it do? I’ll tell you one thing, there ain’t gonna be another one like it. Ever. These days, everybody and their granny’s got an Malfeasance. This is something really exotic.”

The Titan eyed the hologram, then turned his gaze to the Drifter’s face. “So, you want to sell me this ‘Tired Gibbon?'”

“Sell? Brother, I’m practically giving it to you. Hell, take a look at the BlockerChain. You can track every time it was bought and sold,” The Drifter said, switching the projection to a list of increasingly expensive transactions. “Items like this are only getting more and more valuable among Guardians looking for an edge. I call it a Non-Shardable Index.”

“Non-Shardable?”

“That’s right. On account of you can’t break it down into materials. And because you’re my favorite Guardian, I’ll give it to you for a song. How does, say, four hundred thousand Glimmer sound?”

The Titan sighed, sliding his stool back from the bar and preparing to leave.

“Alright, alright,” Drifter laughed. “See, that’s why I like you. You know how to bargain. Tell you what. I’ll let you walk out of here with this one-of-a-kind, never to be reproduced Tired Gibbon for three hundred and fifty thou.”

“See you later, Drifter,” the Titan said as he began to get up.

“Hold on now, hold on!” Drifter said, grabbing the Titan’s wrist. “Now, maybe I haven’t made myself clear. You don’t want the weapon? Fine. But look at the sales history on this thing. It’s already tripled in price. You could turn around and sell it to some other Guardian and make a tidy profit. I know that ship of yours could use a tune-up, well, this’d pay for that and more. You can’t lose! This is the future, brother, and you better get on the train before it pulls out of the stat-”

The Drifter’s tirade was interrupted by the Titan’s lips pressing against his. He felt the Awoken’s hand grip his shoulder and kissed back harder, a vicious gesture, before they finally separated.

“Sorry,” the Titan said. “Couldn’t think of another way to get you to stop talking.”

“Well,” Drifter said slyly, licking his lips. “Alright then. Maybe this ain’t the time for sales pitches after all. I got half an hour before the next round of Gambit starts up, what say you and me find somewhere a little more private?”

The Titan shrugged. “Beats you trying to sell me some made-up— what was it? NFT?”

“NSI!” Drifter corrected, slapping his forehead in exasperation. “Jeez, I swear, some people just wanna stay poor.”

The Tired Gibbon: A Destiny NFT Story

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