He was hungry. That was something that was obviously universal between dealing with food when he was human. Although during his lengths of being a Freelancer, it wasn't uncommon for them to go without eating for a good amount of time while they were camping outside of an outpost waiting to hit it. Being in the military meant that he had been used to eating MRE's, something that had a reputation when it came to civilians trying to eat the stuff. They were absolutely awful, but the stuff did the job when it came to filling their stomachs. He remembered back during basic how he was forcing himself to eat the stuff without throwing it up because he wasn't going to get seconds if he did throw it all up. It was a hard life, but that's what happened when someone tried to stay in the military. Stuff happened and there was nothing else to it. On the ship that housed the Director and Counselor though, they actually got some better food although it wasn't exactly five stars. They did have a choice of actual fruit though, which Wash had taken part in plenty of times because it was one of the few things that honestly didn't taste stale to him. Agent Washington wasn't a picky eater by all means. He used what he was given and he was a good soldier in that he didn't complain. Especially when he didn't have to eat and make himself go hungry. But compared to being constantly busy on a multiple day mission all the time, this was completely different to Washington. Instead, he had made sure that he wasn't eating just because he didn't like the idea of just eating raw meat. The human part of his mind was telling him that he needed to at least cook the stuff before eating it, but obviously no one in this outpost had anything like that and they all ate raw meat.

It felt WRONG. Everything felt wrong here. It constantly tried to find a way to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was before. It was annoying and frustrating at the same time. Why couldn't he just go back to being human? That would make everything so much easier in his mind. But of course, nothing in life was ever easy was it? Agent Washington hadn't had anything to eat since he had really crash landed in this outpost. Most animals that lived around here barely even recognized him or knew of his name. The massive carnivore was easily one of the largest animals that currently lived in this area, but he had been so busy he didn't bother trying to introduce himself to others. He wasn't here to make friends after all. He had a job to do. The armored that adorned his body was similar to two other armored animals that lived here now, but he had more armor compared to them at least. Right now, the armored smilodon was looking down at a severed leg of a deer. He could feel his stomach tossing just looking at the thing that he was supposed to EAT. This had to be some joke. Why couldn't he have been some sort of herbivore instead? It would have made everything easier as he would just have to eat grass and grass was everywhere. A frustrated groan escaped his jaws as he raised one of his paws and scratched the side of his helmet that hid his face. No one had seen his face yet, and he wasn't about to take his helmet off. But what happened if he just let himself starve to death? Would he go back to being human considering the way he got here was by an explosion? Probably not. His short tail was tapping the ground, debating whether or not he was going to stop his starvation."speech"

Flowers. Flowers everywhere. And not just flowers, but a vast array of herbs, too. Imperia is, quite literally, in heaven. Back home, the terrain was more mountainous and rocky with some flora, but not a lot. It was just as uninviting as the people who lived there. Sharp rocks, sharp voices, and merciless punishment. But whenever she found a flower or a similarly interesting or beautiful plant, Peri would show it to her mother. And they would talk and talk; about flowers, about herbs, about nature, about healing. Those moments with Marguerite meant the world to young Imperia. They were a breath of fresh air in the midst of the oppressive pack atmosphere. Mother taught Peri everything she knew about healing and plant life. As much as the girl misses her mom, she knows that all she has to do is look at a flower and it is almost as if Mother is right there with her, if only in spirit.

After securing a place to call her own within the main camp of the Ascendants, Imperia spends a majority of the day on the plains. She sketches grasses and leaves, and makes note of the native herbs in a worn leather journal. When she tires of wielding a pencil, she most onto weaving a couple flower crowns. Peri had found some blue cornflower and Queen Anne's lace earlier which she uses to create something beautiful. Her intention is to find someone to share them with later so stores them carefully within her satchel which already overflows with bundles of herbs and pressed flowers. Content with her work thus far, Imperia soon tires of solitude and is filled with a desire to interact with others. It's still a little scary talking to strangers, but Peri enjoys the feeling when she finally can call someone her friend. The dainty she-wolf rises from her resting position in the grasses and begins her trek back to the main hustle and bustle.

Imperia trots gracefully through the sea of grasses, silver eyes half-lidded as she silently smiles to herself. The girl is unable to contain her pure joy of being liberated from her pack and finally being able to live in a place where she can be herself. As she bounces along, the hulking, armored form of an admittedly terrifying stranger catches her attention. Her instincts kick in and the monochromatic she-wolf instantly shrinks back behind the cover of a nearby rock. Her heart thunders and she genuinely considers racing past to the safety of camp. But before she can by carried away by her irrational fears, the young female notices how the intimidating stranger stares down at a deer leg. She cannot help but feel that he is bothered by something, even if his face is covered by some strange type of mask. Unable to ignore someone in need, Imperia approaches, albeit cautiously. "Um..Is something wrong with your food?" she says timidly, but there is genuine concern in her silver eyes as she creeps closer. Peri offers the stranger a meek smile. "M-my name is Imperia Arceneau." she introduces. She is scared of this person, but she is determined to ignore those feelings and possibly make a friend. Or, at the very least, help somebody out.

(ramble more sorrel heck, this post is a mess)

Sometimes he wondered what sort of disorders his fellow Freelancers ended up going through. He knew for a fact that Maine had nightmares, especially after the accident that he had gone through. And also probably because of his AI that he had, an AI that even Washington didn't come to trust even if an AI was composed of the mind of a human being. There were sometimes that he would wake up in the middle of the night. But after being in the military for a majority of his life. Most humans had to go into the military because they needed more and more soldiers to keep the human race alive. Any means necessary after all. There were no morals when it came to the aspect of war. There was only winning. Either way, he would easily be able to hear the sound of tapping metal as others began to walk through the hallways of the ship that they were stationed on. Maybe once and a while he would hear screams coming down the hall if he was awake enough, and do nothing to calm those screams because he knew what they meant.

At one time he remembered waking up, deciding to start at an ungodly hour after a failed mission, only to see that Carolina was working in the training room at the same time he had just woken up. It was strange to see her so early, but he didn't bother to ask her what she was doing. He was tired himself and knew it was probably her only means of coping with all that was happening inside of the project. She was the star child after all. She was the top of the leaderboard and it was because she was damn good at what she did. Washington had his own handful of problems, but so did everyone else. He never had nightmares of those that he had killed in the past. Instead, now, he had nightmares of what the organization did to Alpha. The original AI of the project and how they were able to manufacture more than one AI. It was horrible, and he felt all of its pain as soon as the AI was implanted into his own body. Alpha had never been a topic that was really talked about, and the project originally thought of the name as a simple myth and nothing else. After all, they were all kept into the dark. Since having to deal with project freelancer, he had been stabbed in the back, shot by those that he was once considered to be a teammate.

Hence why he liked to work alone compared to those that he had come across. There was no reason for him to socialize in his mind when he was just wasting time. So, not only had he not been eating, he also hadn't been resting a healthy amount. He would leave around 2 hours for him to actually sleep before getting back up to work. Considering the majority of the animals living here were basically nocturnal, he could say that he wasn't the only one that was up in the middle of the night. He already had Caboose and Church dealing with their own tasks. Whether they would get it done was debatable. But the last thing the Freelancer needed was for them not to trust him. He was here to get a job down, and whether or not his training would need to be used in the end he wasn't quite sure just yet. All that he knew was that he didn't trust the creatures that lived here, no matter how nice they were to him. He was in a foreign land and having fought against Aliens for the majority of his life, it was okay for him to have his doubts. There was always the consideration that he was in a coma and this was all just in his head, but that wouldn't explain Church and Cabooses appearance.

He also wouldn't be able to think up something so insane even if he did enjoy having a house cat back on Earth. Being a soldier also meant that he wasn't paid to look at the environment around him and admire it. He was on a timetable because there was only so long that the enemy would be willing not to attack before attacking again. Always be prepared for the enemy had practically been the motto of the army that he was stationed in at the time. There were hard lessons that were to be learned for someone that constantly talked back all of the time. The countless times that he was told to drop and do whatever exercise they wanted him to because he had offered up an idea when the idea wasn't asked for. A tough life, but everyone had a tough life during the great war. Planets were wiped out on a daily basis and the armies couldn't get their fast enough, and would arrive just in time to watch as the surface of the planets were glassed by the enemy ships, leaving nothing but charred remains in their wake. It was painful to watch, but after a time everyone became numb to the entire scene. Washington was similar, but there were still parts of him that felt guilt and sorrow. He wasn't completely a machine.

If anyone was more of a machine that didn't have a form of remorse that was probably Agent Carolina or Agent Texas. Actually, more Agent Texas as the other was willing to do anything to get the job done. If some others thought that Washington was a little bit too strict, then they obviously didn't meet the rest of the Freelancers. He was being considerate half of the time when he spoke. But that didn't mean he took everyone's feelings into consideration when he did shout orders to them. One thing was for sure, Washington wasn't taking care of himself, and it was also taking a toll on his mental health. He was seeing hallucinations. Those that were once alive in Project Freelancer that were just appearing out of the side of his vision. In human form compared to the form that he was in now. Part of him felt immediate fear and panic when seeing a Freelancer in the corner of his vision. While at the same time, there was hope, that there was someone there that he recognized. The organization has changed his outlook on other's that he had worked with.

He was hearing the Director's voice talking to the Alpha. Telling him that others were killed during a failed experiment. That Texas was killed. The agony he remembered spreading through his body. The same pain that had made him convulse in pain on the operating table. He needed to get better while at the same time maximizing efficiency in his work. His thoughts had almost completely devolved from dealing with the aspect of food back to his memories of the damned organization that stabbed him in the back. Of course, it always went back to project Freelancer. It always did. Agent Washington had been deep in thought that he hadn't noticed Imperia hiding behind a rock. Instead, he only noticed her when she started to approach him. He turned his helmet in the canines direction. Wolves were a staple when it came to coming up with insignia, and that was an easily notable species in the Freelancer's mind. His expression was hidden behind the deep gold visor that was attached to his helmet. Every aspect of his facial feature hidden, even his ears as they were underneath said helmet as well.

Has she been watching him? Or had she had just witnessed him staring lifelessly at the piece of meat, which probably was considered strange in this outpost. His head turned back to look down at the deer leg as he spoke. "No, there's nothing wrong with it." The armored smilodon would state in a gruff voice. But it remained calm, obviously not offended by the other's question. The canine introduced herself, and he thought he might as well. He turned his large head to look down at the canine again as he spoke. "Agent Washington." The soldier would introduce himself formally. A familiar face finally made her way over. Suiteheart seemed to be great when it came to being punctual. The other obviously was somewhat ranked in this outpost, so Washington believed that she at least deserved that respect just like Bastilleprisoner did. She seemed to be more than capable of leading troops. She reminded him a little bit of South, but with less of the brattiness of the Freelancer. Which was the good thing. "Suiteheart ma'am." Washington would say formally with a dip of his head.

Due to his new anatomy now, saluting was basically impossible unless he wanted to pull something. He was more on the bulkier side being a smilodon and all. Then the other glanced at his body, and he knew that there was no point in trying to shift himself so that she wouldn't be able to see. It would have made his life so much easier to have his entire body covered in armor but he guessed that he wasn't that lucky anymore. If only he had York's luck. He clenched his jaw behind his helmet, not breaking the eye contact he had with her. That would be disrespecting a higher officer after all. "I'm fine." Agent Washington would be quick to say, avoiding the question entirely. There were many ways someone could end up taking what he said. One could think that he meant that he had dealt with the lack of food before and didn't need it. Or that he was going to eventually eat and the problem would solve himself. If he didn't eat here though, the smilodon would more likely go eating for another day, just to clear his head with something else. "speech"

If Washington were ever to confide in Imperia, to tell all the important details of his past, it would be most likely be way over her level of understanding. The young wolf would certainly try her hardest to empathize, but she is only herself. Peri is no intergalactic traveler nor is she accustomed to the stress associated with being a leader of some sort. As much as she would like to claim otherwise, Peri never experienced the pressure of having lives rely on her for she was always the one who needed protecting. Washington is strong while Imperia is weak—a simple distinction which makes it evident that their experiences are on opposite sides of the spectrum. Except, perhaps, in regards to suffering pain at the hands of others. Agent Washington's body bears many scars, as does the petite she-wolf's, but the length and thickness of her fur in addition to the precise "punishments" she used to receive make it quite difficult for the naked eye to spot. Space, the universe, artificial intelligences, war—all things Miss Imperia would struggle to understand. But pain? Pain is universal, and yet so individually unique.

The petite predator waits patiently for the masked smilodon to respond, although she cannot bring herself to sit. Too much nervous energy. Peri stares at her reflection in the male's visor, intrigued by the golden tint and silly distortion of her features. Shining silver eyes still observe Agent Washington's unique appearance with a sort of childlike curiosity when he finally speaks. It takes her a moment to apply for she is too busy thinking that all his armor and the shiny visor makes him look like a beetle. Not that it is a bad thing, of course, but Imperia was raised eating raw flesh and sleeping beneath the stars. Her pack never even used human tools aside from her mother, so the concept of armor is completely foreign to her. "Are you dressed up like a beetle?" she blurts before immediately going wide-eyed and sheepish. Imperia had not meant to say that aloud. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The she-wolf instinctively scuttles backwards a few steps. "I-I apologize, that was rude," stammers the young female, her head bowed submissively. "I've just never seen something like that before...how do you even eat?" as fearful as she is of physical retribution, Imperia cannot simply turn off her curiosity. Even now, she seems to have recovered from her initial panic and creeps a couple steps closer, if only to get a better look at the craftsmanship of the armor.

The male's curt introduction only serves to strengthen her curiosity. "Agent?" she repeats. Imperia is about to ask him if Agent is a first name or a title, but contains her questions. She has already babbled enough. Silver eyes glance over quickly at Suiteheart, wondering if the older female does not possess a similar curiosity about this mysterious, armored feline. Hmm, perhaps not. "It's a pleasure to meet you," A pleasant smile tugs on the corners of her lips. Somehow, in spite of her timidity, her response is genuine. Painfully aware of how much she has spoken thus far, Imperia falls silent during the exchange between Washington and Suiteheart. As she listens, Peri begins to notice how the male is avoiding questions regarding the food resting at his paws. Although she cannot see his facial expression, the monochromatic she-wolf begins to suspect that the stranger armored creature is not fond of consuming raw meat. She can relate to that sentiment. "Um," says the petite predator as she rummages through her satchel before present a paw-ful of dried meats she keeps in there for snacks during the day. "Would you like to try some of these? I like them because they're seasoned and I am not fond of raw meat..." An awkward smile. She is afraid of being annoying. But sharing is caring, and Imperia cares. A lot.

(This got hella long for some reason my apologies xD No need to match!)

Agent Washington was strategic. He usually planned out right before something was going to happen. It was basically the requirements for being the likes of a Freelancer. But one also had to remember how to improvise when a mission didn't go according to plan and something else ended up having to be done. Such as the time that they were forced to jump off of a building. Now that was certainly something that had almost certainly killed them, but they were Freelancers and were almost as capable as any Spartan out there. However, Freelancers fought for an entirely different cause than the Spartans were crafted to be. He also didn't have any augmentation to the rest of his body like some people did, as when someone lost a limb in the program it was much easier just to give them a replacement instead of firing the important Agent and lose someone that was an asset. That had practically been the model for the program, as everything would be used till it broke beyond repair and then they would find something else equal to replace that. That also meant people. They were all expendable. Except for maybe those that were on the top of the leaderboard. It took quite a while for the program to get as far as it had gone.

Either way, because he was as strategic as he was, it meant that there were reasons why he wasn't telling everyone here his complete life story. Why he wasn't putting on a facade for the others around here to trust him more. There was absolutely no reason and no reward for him doing so. He already had access to the Telescope, and that was literally all they had when it came in terms of important technology that he could use in the future. If he needed to get a book on information that he needed a refresher on, then he would simply ask for it and it would be provided basically without any sort of trade for it. The creatures that lived in this outpost didn't seem to expect anything in return for their services, and that was something that Washington was happy about. From the conversations that he had managed to overhear, it didn't seem like this place was in any sort of war. Which was good because he had his own war to fight, and he wasn't about to start fighting someone else's war when he had the possible chances of getting home after some possible research here and there. That's what he believed though, as he had to have some faith that he could make it back instead of believing that he was stuck here forever. If he gave up, then he might as well be caught dead by the likes of whatever beasts lived on this planet.

Besides, Agent Washington believed that he worked better when he was alone in most regards. After having been stabbed in the back in what seemed only like a couple days ago, he wasn't prepared to really let others help him. Of course, he was letting Church and Caboose assist him, but there was plenty of moments where he was just giving them busy work so that they would keep out of his way and keep them in the mindset that they were going home. He was more than capable of researching something and completing it himself rather than having false faith in everyone's capabilities here. Maybe it was a rough outlook on this place, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time when the Project was probably looking for him back on whatever damned planet they ended up landing on. If they knew that he had disappeared from the wreckage, that just meant that they would be more than willing to say that he went AWOL and let other Freelancer's hunt him down. He was on a timetable. Maybe not Church or Caboose, but his entire life was on the line here. And if he wanted to do the mission he was tasking himself with, he needed to get back as soon as possible to get to the ALPHA AI that was created by the project.

There was so much need to be done. Which meant him trying to figure out whether or not he was going to eat the deer leg was certainly something he couldn't waste any more time on. Hence why he was so frustrated it sounded so easy on paper. But humans had stopped eating completely raw meat a long time ago, simply going for MRE's when it came to the army. Sure they tasted like shit, but it was better than wasting ammunition on an alien planet trying to hunt down food when the human race was limited on supplies anyway. Agent Washington did know about Anakin. He had asked the other whether or not he was an AI the first time he had appeared in this outpost. As there was no such thing as ghosts from where he was from. If there were, he would be seeing them everywhere just because of the fact that he had seen soldiers die at his feet plenty of times. But that was his JOB. To lead troops into battle and try to keep them alive, if some of them died it was for the greater good. Agent Washington didn't know the beings name, and he still seemed to refuse the idea that the other was indeed a ghost. The armored smilodon also hadn't memorized the cues from the ghost lion on the factor that he had only interacted with the other only one other time before that.

The sound of stuff moving around the ground only seemed to make Washington think that there was a breeze around him, not that a ghost was forming. So when the Freelancer saw something out of the corner of his eye and hearing a voice, alarms went through his head and the male practically jumps out of his skin. "Fucking christ! Don't do that." Washington would yell as he was startled moving away from Anakin, a low annoyed growl having escaped his jaws at the last part of his sentence. Not being able to tell the other's presence was there was certainly jarring when he was so used to figuring out if someone was there or not. After he calmed down a bit, the fur along the unarmored part of his neck bristling, he was standing a little bit of a distance away from where he had originally been sitting. Hearing the other's story made his throat clench up slightly. It reminded him of Agent Maine. The beast having been shot in the throat countless times reducing him to where he could no longer talk. He wasn't sure exactly how Agent Maine fed himself, but he had managed to be in good health otherwise than that. Until of course he turned into the Meta. At the other's offer to perform the same surgery that he had gone through, Agent Washington's golden eyes would go wide. Not with fear but shock. Like hell, he would want something like that. A nervous huff escaped his jaws as he raised one of his paws and shake it, almost like he was waving as he was a human but in an animal form.

"Uh no no that's okay. I'll figure out a different method." The Freelancer would assure the other fairly quickly. Besides, the last time he had been on a surgical table had been the closest he came to the worst agony he had ever felt. He wouldn't even trust the being to even try and perform a surgery. But just in case the other was capable of doing so, the wildcat had made sure to address that he wasn't interested. Now standing, his attention drew back toward the smaller canine. He was still coming down from the shock that Anakin had driven him to. At the other's question, Wash would raise a nonexistent eyebrow at the canine. A beetle? Not even close. Although he could see why an animal would think of such, especially with the only two different colors that he had. And a yellow stripe through the middle of his helmet. The other immediately seem to apologize quickly, something that the soldier would appreciate. Could he ever see Imperia as a soldier? Probably not, at least for how submissive she was. There was no way she would be able to go through the same military experience that he went through. But that wasn't a bad thing. He never wanted anyone to become like he was. Agent Washington shook his head at the other's question. "Not exactly. From where I'm from we wear armor because we are soldiers. It's titanium alloy so its... actually you won't know what that means. Its a type of metal that makes it really strong and helps deflect bullets to a degree." Washington was berating himself the entire time he was talking.

Despite trying to explain on a civilian level what the Mark 6 armor was, he doubted that Imperia would understand what really any of it meant. Not that it was anything against her, no one here would understand what the armor really was. Then came the eating thing again. Did all the animals think that his head was indeed his helmet? Not like he had given them any reason to think differently. A low sigh escaped his jaws as he shook his head again. "I can take my helmet on. It's not stuck to me so I can take it off whenever I want." He was thinking that there was no need to even remotely explain that he was a cat underneath all the armor that he had. Based on that the bottom half of his body wasn't even remotely covered in armor, it would be quite obvious. At least to Washington. The other seemed to be slightly confused by his name. He might as well clarify not in case other's get confused. "Yes, Agent Washington is what I go by, as that is my identification. So its basically my first name and I don't have a last name." It was the name that was given to him by the organization that approved his application. He did have a regular name, but he didn't go by that anymore. The only one that would know his original name would be a couple other Freelancers and no one else. He wouldn't reveal his real name.

Then the other said it was nice to meet him. Washington wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. He knew that he wasn't a good guy. Far from it. He was a murderer. Criminal. He helped an agency basically destroy portions of the human mind because of his damned experience. Washington opened his mouth to speak, before stopping himself again. How the hell he was supposed to respond to that? He didn't want to be rude, but he doubted that once he got back home he would really remember other faces he had come across on his journey. Fuck it. "Feeling is mutual." The soldier would say curtly again, shuffling his dark grey paws on the ground. The entire time that Imperia had been there, he hadn't noticed the other's satchel. Maybe he did need some good sleep if he wanted to keep on top of things. The Freelancer watched as she began to dig through said satchel, and he held his breath. There had been plenty of moments that he had held someone at gunpoint and they had a bag with them. That they would always have a mission specific item that they needed from them and it was in the said bag. He remembered several of them pulling out guns to shoot those that were standing in front of them, having hidden it in their bag. After two incidents with Washington having faith in the human to do the right thing, the soldier ultimately started shooting them on sight instead without even questioning them.

The armored smilodon tensed his stance even if there was obviously no ill intent visible coming from the wolf. It was there that she pulled out what seemed like jerky. Was that actually jerky? Washington exhaled the breath he had been holding as softly as he could at the sight of the food that he actually recognized. There were times when they were camping out in the military that they would have dried meat that wasn't part of the MRE's and it was the best thing in the world. Here, he wouldn't have to deal with the idea of slurping blood and crunching through bone. "Those are exactly what I need honestly." Agent Washington would say in almost a silent thanks. What would he have done if Imperia didn't have dried meat? Probably try to force raw meat down his throat and throw up in the process making his condition worse. The armored soldier took a couple steps toward her, slowly, as to not to scare her. There seemed to a couple faces that he had come across where his size was intimidating. Even though she probably couldn't really see it behind his helmet, as it hid basically all of his facial features, he had at tired grin on his face. He would raise one of his paws at the other's offer and aim to clamp pieces of the raw meat in between his paws. It was certainly difficult compared to hands but he was getting used to working with paws.

If he was allowed to get that close to Imperia, he would sit himself down, his armor rattling as he did so. Using his other paw that didn't have any dried meat in it, the smilodon would push at the bottom of his helmet, raising it just enough to show the bottom of his mouth and not his entire face. This would reveal why there were no large incisors poking out of the bottom of his helmet. The smilodon's signature long teeth had been cropped down to the middle and seemed to have something where the break had been created. Agent Washington knew about it. He didn't question his appearance and how it could have happened because he didn't have regular incisors when he fell inside of the outpost. There, the Freelancer would tip his head back enough so that he could easily drop the jerky into his mouth without his incisors getting in the way. Another feature that was visible, was a clean scar that ran through the left side of his mouth as if having been made by a knife. Like the rest of his scars, none of them had been made by an animal as they were either made by a knife, bullet, or shrapnel from an explosion. Putting the rest of his helmet over the small portion that he had revealed of his face, he began to eat inside of his helmet. A satisfied hum escaping his jaws as his short tail swished from side to side. "Better than any damn MRE's that's for sure." The Freelancer would state approvingly to the dried meat. He had no idea what kind of meat it was, but it was pretty damn good. Although anything would probably taste good since he hadn't had anything to eat in almost a week. "speech"

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS

The armor that had originally been developed had been nothing but prototypes. At first, all the armor for the UNSC considered of wearable exoskeletons that were tied to a power source on the back. Meaning not only was their movement limited, but also how far and how long they could run themselves in the end. It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out how it would be hard to make use of it in battle if it wasn't used to simply guard an object that wasn't capable of moving. There were at least three different versions of exoskeletons that were created, all of which were varying in size. The last version having been the largest of the bunch and literally had a gatling gun added to the back of the suit that basically made it a weaponized vehicle that one could wear. It was after that that some crazed doctor decided to create different types of armor that were sleeker and had their own power source to them. That being a small reactor that was usually put into the back of the suit to power it. The first version of the suit, that being Mark 4. The armor was certainly a lot smaller than the previous armor and even was around the size of a regular human. Maybe a little bit bigger. The color that usually corresponded with that said armor was a deep marine green.

The armor that he wore was actually still pretty similar what was available in the previous armor. In Mark 4 though, the HUD was first developed, allowing the wearer to be able to see how much ammo they had with them and motion sensor to sense movement around them in a certain radius. Everything but the undersuit was made with similar titanium alloy that he wore on the outside of his body. If he had an undersuit that was capable of working with him in this form, he would be a lot stronger than he was now. There was a small nuclear reactor built into this suit on the back, and it was there that thrusters were also built into it. And since the UNSC couldn't allow any portions of the armor to get into the hand of the enemy, a self-destruct mechanism was made into the suit. Knowing exactly what was needed to be done without hesitation to protect the human race. Obviously, after that came Mark 5. Almost everything that was put into the Mark 4 armor was put into this next set of armor. That being it was made mostly out of titanium alloy and had a lot more electrical components to it. However, in the suit this time there was a crystal layer that improved the strength of the wearer, reaction time, and mobility. This version of the suit is the first version that allowed access to have an AI implanted into the suit to help run it.

Meaning that the AI would be capable of running the crystal layer to work with the wearer to make them incredibly fast and strong. Then came the energy shields for the Mark 5, created from the same method that the alien enemy used for their shield. Meaning that an enemy would have to go through said shields, which took several shots, to actually start dealing damage to the wielder. Better power units and circuits were inputted into the suit to improve the wearer's reaction time further. This just happened to be the same armor that Caboose wore, although it was outdated for a majority of the term. Back in the day, Washington heard of regular marines trying to put on said suits, and as soon as it was powered on almost all of their bones were broken as the circuits fired too quickly and their body couldn't handle the slower movements as they were all amplified too much. He remembered seeing the footage as someone broke their arm by simply trying to move them. It was certainly something to take into consideration before putting on a suit if one wasn't trained enough to wear them. Compared to one that the Spartans wore, the UNSC also allowed manufacturing suits that would allow others to wear them that wasn't a Spartan as they wouldn't be able to have the augmentations. Mark 6 was the current armor that he wore and it was an upgrade from the Mark 5.

It also was the same helmet that Church also wore. Compared to the Mark 5 armor, more care was taken into the idea of someone being injured while they were inside of the suit. There were bioform injectors, meaning that once someone was injured, a medical gel that automatically seals a wound once it is pumped through it. Mark 6 had all the features that Mark 5 had, although they were small upgrades that were thrown here and there. One of the new additions was armor lockdown. Something that Project Freelancer took advantage of once the suit was made. If done correctly, and in a certain facility, one could command an AI to lock everyone's armor up. Meaning that the user wouldn't be able to move at all in their armor and basically be frozen in time. It was a standard issue after all. Also, in the means of an accident it, the armor could lock up in order to keep someone from being injured too much. If there was a chance that another Freelancer found him, was there a chance that they could figure out how to lock his armor down? His armor covered important parts of his body so that if he was to go into lockdown, he would most certainly not be able to move. Either way, his armor was worth more than he would ever be when it came into terms of price. Growing up in the military meant that he was taught how to quickly take care of his gear. Hence why he was always careful in cleaning his armor each passing day. He couldn't afford to have the likes of his armor to fail on him now when he was in an unknown area.

Anyway, addressing other's respectfully meant everything to Washington in the experience that he went through. He also expected other's to do the same, glad that no one had resorted in saying a nickname for him yet. The Freelancer's attention was drawn back toward Suiteheart when the other was speaking that calling her by her first name. Wait. That couldn't be right. He had just met her and there was no way he could be on a first name basis. That wasn't something that happened where he was from. He opened his mouth to say something as he shifted his body weight on his paws as if trying to figure out how to address the problem. "Then may you give me the title of your rank? It's just easier and more comfortable to address others by the titles that they were given." Agent Washington would state curtly. It was nothing personal against her, it was just something that he was used to dealing with. And it made it easier for him to cope with everything else that was happening in this crazy world at the moment. At Suiteheart commenting on what the being had done to him, his attention would turn to look back at the form of the lion. Anakin.

So that was his name. Agent Washington would make sure to remember that. Then the other started speaking about fire elementals. Which a confused look would spread across the smilodon's face, which was luckily hidden behind his visor. "Fire elementals? What is that?" The Freelancer would question. He was curious, as it was a term that he had never heard being used before. It almost sounded like something someone would name a special incendiary grenade. At the mention of learning to make fires, he would think about it for a moment. He knew how to start a fire, but he didn't have the tools to create a fire for himself. The lion-sized animal also didn't know if the animals here actually had something to start a fire in the first place. "If you any of you have a fire starter or a flint, I can easily produce a fire pit." He was resourceful. That's probably what his former teammates would say about him. Gotta learn how to start a fire to at least heat up the MRE's that he was forced to eat after all. At the sight of Bastille though, Washington seemed to tense his stance. Almost like a soldier would when a higher ranked officer was approaching him. It was practically instinct, an instinct that would probably never go away.

The other seemed to be willing to help deal with his problems, but he didn't think it was correctly placed. The commanding officer of this place probably had better things to be doing after all. "I didn't know that any of you were capable of starting fires. The assistance is appreciated sir, but I think it wouldn't be worth your time." The Freelancer would speak curtly as he usually did. Speaking like a soldier, never knowing when to speak informally. Maybe if there were others like him around that were Freelancers the situation would change. Or he would just end up trying to kill the other Freelancer. It would depend on the first Freelancer he saw. At the mention that he thought that he would get used to it, Washington would clench his jaw. If only it was that easy. He wished it was. He guessed that he was different compared to whoever Roy was. The armored smilodon could get over taking the lives of others. That was something that was easily drawn from his mind. But it wasn't like he killed someone every single day. Leaving said time to push it back to his mind if he wanted to forget a particular scene.

When it came to eating, eating had to be done every single day, leaving no time for him to process what was really happening. "I guess some of us are different, sir." The smilodon would say with almost some form of an attitude. Which was the only form of real attitude that he had shown toward really anyone that he had encountered. Other than maybe Church and Caboose. Speaking of, Bastille wanted to know how they were doing. "I do not currently keep track of their dietary regime as I believe that they are capable of enough shoulders to figure out foods to eat and what not to eat based on observation of those that live in this outpost, sir." This time he didn't speak with attitude but instead sounded like he was giving a report. He wasn't their babysitter. If anything he was just using them to have extra hands to help him out. He didn't care about them like one would think, and if one of them to perish, he would certainly think of it as a pity but nothing else. They were only simulation troopers so he only believed them to be capable of only of a handful of things. However, if he noticed a change in their physical health, he would be quick to intervene as it was detrimental to the mission if they didn't keep their health up after all."speech"