[member=911]Dale Cooper.[/member]

What was he supposed to think? He was a former human that had landed and transformed on a strange planet. He hadn't even managed to really gather all that much intel from this place in the first place. He was a soldier, and he knew that if he had been absent from the crash that others may be in danger and he wouldn't be able to save them. But who would he save with all the other Freelancers anyway? He knew that he couldn't really trust another Freelancer to be able to team up with them, but it was just difficult for him. He didn't know how to act in a place like this. He was able to figure out who was in charge, and with the way that this group had themselves ranked it reminded himself of military organization. Maybe if he knew more about animals he would have figured out what to do a long time ago, but he didn't. The soldier had a fondness when it came to cats when he was in the Project, but he hadn't exactly expected to turn into one. He didn't have enough knowledge to make concrete opinions on the place that he was in now, he just knew that they would be able to help him. Agent Washington had no reason to try and help this group if they ran into some type of trouble, as there was no reason to do something like that in his eyes. It wasn't his business to use his resources to try and help them, and even in the large body that he was in right now he doubted that he was any sort of help. Although unannounced to him, he had a plethora of powers that would end up helping him fight enemies that he would come across. A question that nagged him though, as if something happened during the crash, potentially a technology malfunction to teleport him somewhere, did other's suffer the same fate? Where was Carolina? Where was North? York? Tex? Any of them? Were they even alive after the crash? After all, a spaceship crashing from orbit down onto the ground didn't exactly give anyone good odds of survival. But they had highly weaponized armor that always kept them safe. Washington didn't have any doubts in his mind that they would all end up surviving. Now just came the task of surviving in a place like this. He didn't know how to hunt, and he didn't know how to do anything an animal would do.

He was a soldier. He had been on missions where they did stake out a base they were going to attack and camping out in the forest for a short amount of time before making their move. But they had rations then that was provided to them by the project. Not this. Washington was sitting outside of the observatory, having his armor on like usual, including his helmet. There was no need for him to take his armor off. As far as he was concerned the smilodon believed everyone here to be a potential enemy. Having been stabbed in the back by the organization that he had trusted from the very beginning. Making him think that they were the good guys, he was apprehensive when it came to trying to talk to others. He had yet to try and use the telescope to tell whether or not he was actually on Earth or some alien planet that had talking fauna. The dark grey predator had one of his arm pieces off, and was cleaning them. Cleaning equipment was only standard after all. He kept his helmet on though, and he had asked someone to get him a cloth and he had a small bucket of water next to him. Crash landing in his armor had done a number on it, but nothing was cracked. Not surprising. It was a titanium alloy armor that was somewhat heavy but extremely durable at the same time. He didn't have to worry about the likes of a predators teeth trying to pierce through his armor. Except if they were able to find the small openings in his armor. And his armor didn't cover his flank either so that was another problem. Even though no one could see behind his visor, a solemn look was spread across his facial features as he used his paw to wipe the shoulder plate. A low sigh would escape his jaws as he hadn't slept since he arrived in this place. This was a cluster fuck in his mind. "speech"