@electrivolt said: The second gen he's been oh so kindly sent to assist on clean up is... certainly different than what he expected. Painfully cheerful, obnoxiously bright and somehow, hasn't felt the need to yell at or berate the lowly stray dog sent to him once. Yet. It surely is just a matter of time, right? ( not that it really matters that much when it hardly makes a difference in his pathetic excuse of a daily life. it's only a mild improvement, even if temporary. he'll take the scraps thrown his way, even in the form of fake kindness. ) Ignoring whatever it is he's blabbing on about is easy enough, far too used to it, just bidding his time until— ah, there. The truck arrives, the guards pile out, scorn and seemingly permanent discontent twisting their mouths into constant frowns, and the cuffs are locked again. Just another day, new second gen or not. It doesn't matter who the new guy is or what his reason for even wanting to deal with such a shitty port is, it's just another day in the ashlands until they kick him back into a rusty old cell, isn't it? He can only wonder why he hasn't thrown himself into the mouth of an aragami this time around, tune out the discussion that isn't meant for dogs to take part in and wait. Just as usual. ( why wait for anything else, right? ) / coughing up blood fuck it we ball.
He doesn't understand the difference—he's seen AGEs, grown up alongside them, learned about the process. In action, they're stronger, more resilient, capable of Arts that seems so natural to their hands and God Arcs. This AGE is no different, and if anything, he can really only describe him as unrestrained, feral, even. Their conversation was minimal, at least from the AGE himself, while Roark tries to be friendly with him, anything to at least show him he's not like the personnel that run these Ports into the ground. At least between them, there's enough manpower to go around to secure the local vicinity, but Roark is very much aware that while he can keep up with the other's pace, he'll need another bias factor injection if he wants to remain even half as lethal as him.
When the mission is complete, Roark manages to harvest some bio material from the slain aragami, at least before the port's caravan rolls in—his gaze fixates on the emblem plastered on the side, eyes narrowing when the guards that exit look disgruntled and bothered by their task. They don't even bother to look at Roark—a contracted unit, on paper—and instead lock his cohort's armlets together and take him away. They're gone as quickly as they arrive, leaving Roark in the outskirts of the port itself, the spoils left for him alone, apparently.
( why do they treat them like this? what different does an age make that justifies this…? )
He stares at his sole armlet, brows furrowing. He doesn't recall a caravan coming out to grab the other local AGEs when he first docked here—and runaways were usually taken care of by something beyond the strength of a solo God Eater. It was cheaper to force a new AGE into training than to chase down one that tried to defect. Did they not trust him for some other reason…?
( i don't get it. we're both not human )
Roark only leaves to return to the port after he's salvaged as much as he can.
As a repairman, Roark's primary income was from the complicated and often incredibly dangerous work of repairing God Arcs. Should the oracle cells decide to snap, his life was easily in danger—these weapons are aragami themselves, after all. Which, given the known facts about God Arcs, it didn't surprise him that the storeroom located here was arguably far more secure than any of the… no, he couldn't call these barracks, these were jail cells… that contained the AGEs. Still, the guards treated him with nearly a one-eighty front, only really scoffing and smirking when speaking of the AGEs they owned. These repair tools needed their own care that he could charge the time for.. but the initial reasons why this repair room was in the sorry state that it was was primarily on the Port itself—untrained AGEs trying to work on God Arcs whose own hunger was far more difficult to tame than those of first and second generation weapons. He immediately realized they likely didn't distinguish between idle and awakened Arcs, nor actually did much to make sure these Arcs were even safe to handle. Upon closer inspection of the workbenches, he could find missed speckles of dried blood. This place was really just storage only… if they had to hire outside help, he could only wonder how small their remaining AGE forces even were.
Roark hasn't been able to set his expression to anything above concerned ever since he got here.
"What inventory is marked for repairs?" It's a question posed underground in the administrative ward of the Port, Roark curiously glancing at the decorations around. There's hardly a concern for the inhumane conditions down in the wards. Perhaps this was just another way to normalize the way AGEs had become the next target for disenfranchised society to take their grief out on. He hates it more and more, the longer he's been in this business.
"Most of the inactive God Arcs were picked up on a scavenging mission for materials. It's safe to assume their previous handlers are long gone." Roark represses a frown despite this being the obvious case, but continues to listen. "There are a handful of active Arcs that require attention—our best hounds wore through them enough they're not able to take down targets as quickly as they should. Make sure these are your priority."
"…I see. I can probably have the active God Arcs repaired by the end of the week."
"Thank you for your cooperation. I wish our hounds were more like you."
( that's not a compliment?! )
Upon returning to the storeroom, he has a list in hand of unique serial codes grouped with bias factor, weapon type, and finally, codename. "They're actually just called hounds…?" he murmurs, growing more and more perplexed as the list only contains the same codename but simply a different number. That's all. Hound 3 appears to use a pair of dual blades, marked high priority for repair. It's active, and he wonders who is actually Hound 3 in this case…? The containers are labeled by just number ( simple, he figures ), and when he pulls out the corresponding case and opens up the lid, he pauses. He's seen those before…
...
It takes another day to finish half of the active God Arcs—Roark is curious about the owners, and eventually, he makes his way down to where the AGEs are held. Most don't do much aside from glance up at him, wary, but realize he's also a God Eater, albeit not one of them. Others ignore him. As he passes through, he keeps his eyes on the placards, none of which are undamaged. However, the sight of one AGE catches his attention—it's Hound 3… wait, that's…?
"Why is he…?"
