(Nah buddy the post is great!! Thank you so much for making again!)

Washington didn't take much interest when it came to a lot of things. The Freelancer usually did what was required of him no matter how difficult of a task it would end up being. Washington didn't have time to for funs and games like he had seen others going through. He didn't know why this place was so disorganized all of the time in which no one had orders that were given to them on a daily basis. Which just made it seem like his assumption of them being civilians was actually correct in that regard. He didn't find those that lived here to be all that much of a threat unless they were something like him. A Freelancer. A former human super soldier. Sure, they were never on the level as some of the super soldiers that were in that world, but they had their own amount of skill when it came to combat.

Washington himself specializing in medium ranged combat while someone like Carolina specialized in close combat. Well, maybe not now considering that she was a serval and everything. He actually had to go look in the textbook to figure out what animal species that she was. Washington having never really paid attention in school when they talked about animals because he was usually thinking about something else. Adjusting to the new life was something that was going to take a good amount of time that was for damn sure. He still wasn't used to the way that this place ran itself and the skewed view that they held about them as well. It seemed like they were only capable of thinking so much being animals and such, but as long as they trusted him he didn't really end up caring what they thought of him. If they knew the crimes that he had committed when he was a human, they probably would have kicked him out immediately.

There were very few that actually knew what he was capable of, and he himself was still learning exactly what his body could do. He was used to being an animal after all. Meaning that he wasn't used to being able to use his paws, and since he always wore a helmet he was unable to use his teeth either. Something smilodons were supposedly known for back during the ice age or whenever they existed. Most of the facts that he had learned about reading his species weren't all that important, as he knew that his species was fairly strong. That didn't mean all that much when he had a broken bone though. The former human didn't know how long a broken bone was going to take to heal in a strange world like this one. If he was back on the ship that the project stemmed from, it would probably only take a week to get his bone healed thanks to the technology. He had almost refused treatment for his arm when it did first break, as he didn't believe that their likes of herbs or whatever remedies they had would have any effect on him.

Which ironically, they did at the end. Washington wasn't willing to admit that their amount of painkillers was helping, but it was making it hard to keep his sleep schedule in check. He was constantly working and he was constantly tired. He had to constantly adjust the splint that was around his left arm so that his bone wouldn't heal in an awkward position either. The trait of him bouncing back from injuries though when he was a soldier seemed to pertain to this new life as well. Although, Carolina coming back from the dead certainly disturb him some. Was she immortal like some of the supposed vampires that lived here? The Freelancer wasn't sure and he wasn't going to bother asking his comrade either. She needed space for her new body and he was taking over some of her tasks if he didn't think that she was fit enough to do them. His hallucinations had gotten worse since Agent Texas had arrived, and he was still trying to figuring out how to get his mental health back to the way it had been.

Washington often patrolled the territory during the day. Early morning was the time for him to go on his morning run, but with his broken leg, he could only constitute a strange job. Exercise was exercise, and he would be damned if he was just going to sit around and wait for his leg to heal. It would drive him mad. He went on solo patrols all the time, refusing to let anyone else come with him. The armored smilodon liked to keep to himself and it also meant that he didn't have to worry about anyone sparking questions about his condition. The helmet that he wore completely hiding any facial expressions that he did have to offer, making a barrier between those that he was talking to. Something that he preferred, as he wasn't here to make any sort of friends. He was trying to return to being human, and he would accomplish that mission even if he had to kill those that lived here. The Freelancer walked with an obvious limp as he wasn't putting pressure on his left front leg that had an obvious splint on it. Thousands of scars covered his dark grey body, while the lights on his armor made it somewhat easier to see him coming.

It was while he was walking near the ruins that he heard a voice that wasn't familiar to him. It seemed like there was something happening, he was bound to investigate to make sure that he kept up to speed with everything. Washington walked through the structure that seemed to be a shortcut toward where he had heard the voice. He didn't expect to really come face to face with the domestic cat that he didn't know. His approach wasn't exactly silent though thanks to the metal armor that he did wear and the lights that were on them. He stared down at the domestic cat and looked around wondering if there were others around. He craned his neck to the side until he heard a satisfying pop, something he often did when he got headaches. "What's going on over here?" Washington questioned in the usual deadpanned tone that he usually had. Washington always seemed to hold himself with authority when it came to talking to others. The quizzical expression that he wore hidden by his helmet, as there always seemed to be something new that happened in this place."speech"