*sorry this will be short due to time constraints*

Washington no longer had the mind capacity to do anything but suffer. He always tried to fight the episodes that he was going through, and yet there would never be anything that he would be capable of doing either. The Freelancer hated showing weakness and would do anything to cover it. There had been instances where Washington had a high pain tolerance, which was usually thanks to the way biofoam was injected where he was from, and also the number of times that he had gotten injured over the years. Washington was probably the second one of the Freelancers likely to be injured during a mission just because of how clumsy he was. He also wasn't the best of the best so there were plenty of instances where he could do better but wasn't good enough. Getting himself injured in the process. Usually, it just ended up with him getting shot, or even grazed by a bullet. Being shot multiple times definitely wasn't the greatest feeling in the world.

Washington would rather avoid the likes of getting shot in the first place, but there was only so much he was capable of doing anyway. He was the jack of all trades in the program, but he was the average out of everyone that was in the project. He could never compete with the likes of Texas or Carolina unless he planned something out ahead of time. Even then he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to beat them in their prime. He would have to actually work to be able to beat the likes of them in a fight. The pilot that they had during the project had been an interesting character in that she didn't deal with the Freelancers like they were above her, instead, they treated them like clients. Which probably helped both parties because they didn't deal with any of their shit and the pilot respected the skills Freelancers had while the Freelancers did the same. There had been times where the pilot would end up coming up to him with concern on her face and she would tell him that he was wounded.

He would have no idea that he was actually bleeding from a bullet wound until someone pointed it out or when he was taking his armor off as they required him to check the rest of his body. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. It could get anyone threw anything if they had enough of it, and having medics with it on standby was certainly helpful right before a surgery. After time progressed, Washington got used to the aspect of having bullets removed from his body. It wasn't a painful procedure if they numbed the surrounding area, but it was if they had run out of the stuff and would dig into his flesh with tugs to fish out the bullet. Freelancers were stubborn and selfish. Most of them had an ego that only allowed them to care about themselves up to a point. Even if they cared about one another during a mission, they wouldn't outright abandon each other if one of them got injured. They weren't that heartless, but they could be cold to those that weren't used to that kind of aspect of life either.

Probably one of the many reasons why they didn't get along with the inside of the Ascendants either. Washington knew that he didn't belong in a place like this, and it was difficult. He didn't want to be accepted into a place like this, as he knew that he would never see this place again once he became human again. They were outcasts, and that was how the Ascendants wanted to keep them that way. Except for a handful of a few that were willing to try and keep them calm as they adjusted to their new life. Something Washington was going to struggle with for several months and probably never gets over it either. Either way, he knew when he was outmatched. Once he realized that he wouldn't be able to make it through his episode, he simply let the pain take him. The emotional pain that was transferred to feeling physical pain. He didn't know the fighting that was going on. He didn't know that Imperia was next to him. His grip on reality has gone completely. There would be no way for him to return back to his regular mental state unless drastic action was taken. The drastic action that probably wouldn't be capable of being used against the likes of the smilodon unless they wanted to take off his helmet.

Washington didn't even hear the words from the lion telling him to get up or the words that were spoken by Playerone. Groans would escape his jaws as his one uninjured armed was stretched out in front of him. As if he was trying to grab something as his claws dug into the earth. His jaw went slack in his helmet. Washington continued to hyperventilate. His chest feeling as if it was going to explode, the pressure and heat that was building almost to the point where he started to claw at the chest piece that was attached to him. The armor's weight wasn't exactly helping him either, but for someone to lift the pieces of armor that weighed around one hundred pounds each was near impossible for those that were around at least. The Freelancer continued to make gasping sounds along with the words that he was trying to choke out at the same time.

It was near impossible for anyone to understand what he was saying unless they were paying close attention to his words. Soon his breathing became short and loud, and black dots began to dot his vision as he started to run out of oxygen that was going to his brain. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. Was he going to die? Epsilon's voice echoing in his mind somewhere in the back depths of his brain. He couldn't answer back. Where was he? Is someone killing him? Who is responsible? Do many words and questions form in his head and his body doesn't react accordingly. Almost in an instant, his body goes slack and stop moving. He blacks out completely, his claws now sheathed and his body not moving for second seconds before his breathing picks up back again. The carbon dioxide having increased in his bloodstream due to the lack of oxygen, restricting said oxygen from the brain. Washington wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, and he wasn't going to feel better when he did wake up. "speech"