#argon7

Titan was one of the few places Argon wasn’t overly fond of visiting. Prior to, and after, his rescue from the jagged claws of the Hive, he had noticed that his aversion to the planet’s vast oceans was not just a simple distaste. It felt more lie an irrational fear that he could not explain. Even though he would prefer not to run operations on Titan, that is where he found himself now.

Apparently there were stray bits of intelligence suggesting that the Hive were trying to invoke the Taken. Guardians were making heavy pushes against their forces and uprooting their crusty encampments far quicker than expected. And so all hands were on deck, Argon’s included.

     It must have been strange seeing an armored Titan knitting in the courtyard of the Tower while a handful of Guardians in shabby  gear watched. Some were following along while others simply  enjoyed the break in the madness of everyday life. The Sun was slowly dipping beyond the horizon but that did little to deter the  activity the veteran Striker had put together. 

     Eventually the group dispersed and Argon-7 was left to clean  up on his own. He had a contact to find for a mission they were scheduled to run. The only issue thus far was he had no clue who  his partner for the task on Mars was supposed to be. Hopefully they at least had information on him...

Argon-7 lost his family on Titan during the Golden Age when their rig collapsed into its volatile sea. He then willingly volunteered to take the place of his best friend to become an Exo. Since the collapse, he has lost many comrades and people he considered friends in both combat and not. If he were to see the “spirits” of the people who’ve left him prior to his reboot as Argon-5, he wouldn’t understand why they are there. He would not recognize his kids, nor his wife, but he would do his best to accommodate them until their departure at the end of the festival.

Si-3 disappears during the Festival of the Lost because he’d rather not think on the past and those who’ve died alongside him. In his rookie days as a fledgling scout, he’s gotten quite a few people killed prior to deciding it was best he flew solo. He’d either take off into the wilds or seek out his boyfriend, Fenrir-10, to spend the rest of the Festival with. He’d rather snuggle against his lover’s chest than worry about the echoes of his chaotic past.

Machina-55 is as mad as they come and woefully neck deep in his obsession with the Vex. He neither cares, nor seeks out, any shadows of the past. It’s too much effort he could be pouring into his studies or picking apart his latest specimen for integration into his own systems. He’d much rather be elbow deep in a Minotaur’s chassis than flitting about on the Tower for some dumb festival. The Vex wait for no one and he refuses to be left behind!

Anubis-4 has been around arguably since the first Human consciousnesses were being weaved into the newest model of Exo. He has killed more people, both with and without Light, that it is difficult to compile an accurate number. He has also been rebooted four times, two of which for a glitch in his processor that turned him savage against anything that moved. Light ghosts, if they were to exist, would likely be the many faces he’s slain, especially those whom he’s mounted their helmets on the wall in his personal quarters. Named, and designed, after the Egyptian God of the Dead, he does his best to guide them wherever they need go even if they do not wish to leave him be.

     Argon-7 was a firefighter prior to the collapse of the Golden Age  with one term of military service under his belt. When the Exos began integrating actual Human consciousnesses into their frames, he willingly volunteered to take the place of a young police officer who had only just begun raising a family. Arthur MacDermott was the man’s name and he was one of Argon’s close childhood friends.

     Knowing the pain that comes with the loss of one’s family, he had  no qualms about leaving behind the life he was living at the time. Both his partner and his adopted son had died on Titan two years after they transferred there to work on the rigs run by New Pacific Archaeology. The station they were on got hit particularly bad during a hurricane and one of its support strut networks collapsed, plunging them into the ocean  below. 

     He returned home to Ontario, Canada alone and never remarried. Since then, Argon has an aversion towards large bodies of water, particularly the ocean itself. He has stated once to a counselor that it feels as though he has an entire ocean on his shoulders and that sometimes it threatens to drown him. 

Text-post Sentence Starters - Accepting

     Argon-7 couldn’t have put it any better than Pumpkin just did. He was exhausted and ready for a hot shower to sooth his aching mesh and tensed muscle fibers. Hefting the rifle in his hands he made a sort of noise that could be equated to a sigh and stepped forward. He brought a hand up to his helmet as if shielding his optics from the glare of the Sun and nodded.

     “We must push on.”

     They were close to Guardian held territory, he knew it. An outpost had been set up not too long ago and it should still be active. With the coast clear for the time being, they could takeit a bit easier and not rush, though, he still worried about the potential for an ambush. Two weary warriors would make a quick win if the enemy plaid their cards right. Not on his watch they won’t.

Unexpected cuddle thief!

     Argon-7 was out browsing the City market when his sightseeing was interrupted by a seemingly inebriated woman invading his personal space. Dressed in a more casual outfit, he did not have the luxury of heavy armor plating keeping them separated. Jeans and a bomber just didn’t do the trick and he swore he felt a hand upon his ass.

     “Shopping. Need more yarn…” He answered truthfully,backing up a tad out of both embarrassment and the want to slip away before things advanced past his comfort zone. Both hands were held up in defense to show they were not going anywhere and his face held a look of utter distress.

     “Miss, you should sit down and drink some water.                                            Please do not touch…”