Arkansas "Ark" Bennet

[Ark Bennet]

Arkansas "Ark" Dalius Bennet

"Once my eye is locked tight on my quarry, the whole world just goes quiet. Almost peaceful. It's just me, my target, and my heartbeat softly measuring out the last seconds of that poor sucker's life."

NAME: Ark Bennet
AGE: 18
GENDER: Male
RACE: Human
OCCUPATION: Liberation Movement Member
REGION: Nation of Aeon
ERA: Future
POWER: None.
EQUIPMENT:

• Liberation Sniper Rifle - Battered, old, and much larger than he is, it is fairly unwieldy for him in both weight and size. Making it the only weapon he carries. Unlike most other Liberation Sniper rifles, Ark's is scoped, with variable magnification between 3.5x and 6.0x (It did have the option of 8.0x, but after Ark took it apart once he lost a part for the scope's dial that allowed it to zoom out that far)

LIKES:

• Taking things apart to find out how they work
  
• Putting things back together after he's found out how they work
  
• Fighting the U.A.S. (from a distance)
  
• Vandalizing Propaganda
  
• Giving material possessions he doesn't need away
  
• Letting his mind wander
  
• Keeping his brothers and sisters in arms alive with his skilled marksmanship
  

DISLIKES:

• Missing a shot.
  
• Being called "Arkansas" instead of "Ark"
  
• Putting things back together, only to have them not work for him, or work less effectively then when he procured it
  
• U.A.S. propaganda
  
• Acquiring material possessions he doesn't need
  
• Money
  
• When his brothers and sisters in arms are wounded, or worse, killed when he could have prevented it

FEARS:

• Having to go toe-to-toe with a U.A.S. soldier.
  
• Seeing someone close to him die.

SECRET: Hates being as thin as he is.

PERSONALITY: Curious, inquisitive, and overall open-minded, Ark models himself after guerrilla war-fighters of days long past. He is shaped by the poverty he had once lived in, and witnessed over the time he has fought in the Liberation Movement. His experiences and observations have led him to solidify the belief that the Liberation Movement is the last, best hope for humanity to live freely, and to throw off the shackles of oppression. Since Ark is young, he shows a soft exterior, and for the most part he is soft toward his fellow Freedom Fighters. However, the exact opposite can be said for his opinion about the U.A.S. and its unquestioning followers. If he could end their miserable lives in a single mass mercy killing, he could, and would, without hesitation; but he settles with one bullet at a time for now. Not outspoken, and diligent in his tasks and honing his skills with a long rifle, Ark keeps himself low-key and out of the limelight at all possible times, generally only speaking when spoken to.

Keeping to himself leaves him with plenty of free time, usually spent cleaning his rifle, and oiling the ammunition it uses to keep it from jamming in mid-battle. If he isn't cleaning or maintaining his rifle, he is tinkering around with some piece of equipment (usually something important or useful to the Movement) which at times will get him scolded, as it probably worked just fine before he began messing around with it. He takes scolding and constructive criticism extremely well, almost to the point of thanking the people he's being criticized by for it. Ark does not practice that often with his rifle, though, mostly because of constraints on ammunition for it, and because he feels he is nigh-unparalleled in his skill with a long rifle. Though opinions vary, which he doesn't take as well as criticism, he continues to think of himself as an extremely skilled marksman.

HISTORY: Ark grew up in the slums of the Capital City, in the district known as 'Hades'. The only child of a single mother; his father wasn't known to him, but speculated by Ark to be a U.A.S. soldier on a 'booty call'. His first, and most delicate years filled with the struggles of impoverishment. Ark's mother nurtured him as best she could from the horrors of the streets in a small, dilapidated apartment complex until he was able walk and talk for himself. The toll of poverty took its worst turn, however, when Ark's mother was approached by members of Pharmex Industries, and offered a seemingly large sum of money for any dependents she may be caring for. With a heavy heart, his mother accepted, hoping one day to be reunited with her son. This was not the case, and Ark was immediately taken, and his mother was left with no son, and no money from the Pharmex Industry. Ark was brought to a convoy of trucks, guarded by a detail of U.A.S. security personnel and filled with many children around his age that had been reluctantly given up to the industry. He did not know what was going to happen to him at this point, and was terrified of the many armed personnel that detailed the trucks. Hours passed before the trucks were filled with as many children as they could round up, Ark curled up as many kids had, and relinquished all hope of seeing their families again. More hours Ark felt pass as the trucks rolled out of the Capital city, and on the way to the Pharmex Industries main complex. When the trucks stopped, Ark's heart sank, the guards who were sitting at the truck's cargo bay door quickly got up and lifted the door open, running out of the truck. With the door open, Ark lifted his head to hear gunshots, explosions, and yelling. At first, Ark didn't know what to think of the ensuing battle outside, he merely sat there, head lifted, eyes wide, waiting for someone to come back to the entrance of the truck, just as all the other children with him in the truck did. The yelling died down, and the shooting stopped, moments later, a group of masked men approached the back of the truck. They wore dark outfits, and their faces were covered, but they were much different than the U.A.S. guards who were there previously. They spoke about how disgusting it was that they were now taking children, though this was of little relevance to Ark at the time. He was frozen, unable to tell friend from foe in these men. They shouted that they were the Liberation Movement, and that they were free to rejoin their families. Many kids instantly got up and jumped out of the trucks, running off down the road in the opposite direction of the trucks, hoping to find home again. Ark was one of the last children to leave the back of the truck, being helped out of the truck by the Liberation Movement members, some of whom had to carry some of the shocked children out of the trucks. Ark remembered the crisp air of the night, the gentle sound of a crackling fire from one of the guard trucks that were destroyed in the battle, and looking up at the clear night sky. He was told that he could go home now, but Ark shook his head, and pointed at the Liberation member's rifle. "I want that..." He said in a juvenile way. The masked members of the Liberation laughed and patted the boy on the back. "If you truly want to fight... Follow us."

Ark did just that, he followed the squad of Freedom Fighters. Marching barefoot, with just the clothes on his back all through the varying lands that separated the cities from the coastline. Along the way, when there was time to camp, eat, and rest, Ark was told stories of their benevolent leader Kuro, and the many deeds and bravery they had accomplished, as well as the many hardships and losses they had faced fighting the oppressive government and their dogs, the U.A.S. Ark was even given an unloaded Liberation Rifle to sling over his shoulder, much to Ark's appreciation and the Liberation member's amusement. He was even taught, with much assistance, how to calculate windage and bullet drop in his mind by the squad's designated marksman. He was even taught to navigate by the stars, one of the members carrying the map, knew exactly where they were in the world, and how far they were from the Liberation's base of operations. Though Ark had never fired a single round in his life up to his point, he was confident in himself that he would make a fine Liberation Movement member, even going so far as to tear up his shirt and cover his face like the rest of the squad, causing the squad much amusement, but causing himself many unnecessarily cold nights. This blissful time was short lived, however, as it was not long before U.A.S. air patrols had spotted their movements, and intercepted them on their way back to the Liberation's headquarters. Surrounded in a valley, the Liberation members fought bravely, but vainly, taking only a few U.A.S. soldiers to the grave with them. Ark was one of the few members remaining in the squad who escaped the ambush. He met up with the designated marksman who had trained him to accurately fire at long ranges up on a hill overlooking the ambush site, the marksman being mortally wounded. The man told Ark to take his weapon, and exact revenge on the dogs who killed his brothers. Shakily, Ark took the rifle from the man's bloodied hands, and set it up on the hill. It took him many breaths before he was calm enough to look down the iron sights of the rifle, and begin picking off the many U.A.S. soldiers scanning the ambush site for survivors. With each shot, Ark's shoulder grew more numb, but it also became easier to take their lives. It came to the point where Ark was nearly firing at full-auto, picking them off as their backs were turned, fleeing. It was not long before the U.A.S. soldiers were out of viable range, and Ark was out of ammunition in the rifle. He got up and turned to the Marksman who had taught him with a smile, shouting he had done it. This fell on deaf ears, the Marksman had long since stopped breathing. Ark's smile instantly disappeared, he left the rifle set up in the firing position as he got up and sat by the man, resting his head on his shoulder. Ark began to cry. The loud sobs attracted the remaining Liberation members who had escaped the ambush to the two's position. Only the navigator and the man who had let Ark carry his rifle remained now. The navigator placed a hand on Ark, still sobbing into the dead marksman's shoulder, to consolidate him. They waited an hour, maybe more, in silence, until Ark wiped his face clear of tears, returned to the sniper rifle, retrieved it and they moved on to the coastline.

Since that day, Ark has lived on-and-off the Rig. Leaving on many sorties and raiding parties as a designated marksman for the Liberation. He has honed his skill on only living targets, from both a feeling that static targets are far too easy, and in a constant bid for vengeance against the U.A.S. and the government.

ROLE-PLAY SAMPLE: See Mr. Nero in Ten-Hut! or Propositional Buyers

OTHER:Ark wishes to act as a Mechanic whenever possible, though his skills are far and few between in the range of advanced mechanics, and the workings of anything other than his sniper rifle.
~~~~~~~~~
ALIAS: Nero

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

[MIKA]

Looks good! Accepted!