CORMORANT-LEVEL ENCRYPTED MESSAGE FOLLOWS. AUDIO UNAVAILABLE.
Drifter wants a bullet to the head? If not for the Vanguard decree, I'd oblige tonight.
Your trip to Titan let me round up a couple wannabe Dredgens out on the Tangled Shore. No casualties, civilian or Guardian. And a half dozen perps and their Ghosts restrained. Drifter was paying them to transport Motes to the Shore.
If Motes of Dark stay in Gambit, there's nothing I can do. Vanguard decree means Drifter is free and clear. As soon as I see anyone carry Motes outside that context, going to anyone but our rat in green? Their Light belongs to me.
Those six will face Praxic justice. Perhaps exile. We haven't had to lock anyone up in decades.
If the Vanguard thinks the Drifter hasn't changed things, I can't help them. And we'll continue to clean up their messes.
You're doing good work. Praxic work. If you're going to continue, I need you to keep attending Drifter's games. You're my eyes. He'll allow it. The man's desperate. Probably has been his whole life.
Meanwhile, I'm looking into the Nine again. The Haul was enough impetus, but that voice you heard? That was their Emissary. I don't know much about her, but she's wrapped up in this mess somehow.
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