Soldiers were strong. They were meant to be. The best of the best that had combat skills. They were supposed to save the entirety of the human race, and if they couldn't do that then they would all end up doomed to die. Families would disappear. Mothers and fathers would leave children behind. It would be the end of everything, and he doubted that the human race would be the last creatures that would be targetted by the enemies. He didn't know their motive for attacking them, and as a soldier, he wasn't really supposed to ask questions unless it would help them on their mission. Washington had no reason to ask questions because he knew what his job was and what was expected of him. He did just that, and he was a pretty damn good job. Which he wasn't really the type to brag but he was great with a rifle. Probably one of the reasons why he had been promoted in the military in the first place and how he was os high on the leaderboard above those that he worked with, although he wasn't all that great compared to some of them.

Either way, weakness wasn't something that was supposed to be shown. During a stealth method, if someone ends up getting shot somehow or injured, it is expected for them not to make any sort of noise as it would alert the enemy to the rest of the squad that was there. Washington ended up hurt a couple of times during his military career. Hand to hand combat with a creature that was taller than he was and a lot heavier meant that their blows were going to deal a lot more damage. Luckily for him, he was pretty damn good when it came to a knife and knew exactly where to stab to go through the enemies armor. He had gotten shot with the strange ammo that the enemy ended up using, and it left burns across certain portions of his body. Scars were often known in the military, especially during the time of war. He would much rather have scars than end up dead because of extensive injuries.

Getting injured wasn't exactly something that was recommended to the rest of the marines because they were running out of supplies and if they got injured at the wrong time it could mean that they wouldn't end up making it if they didn't have the supplies to make them stable. Washington had gone through the infirmary to check up on some of his men who would get injured and say medics trying to hold other soldiers down on the table with some of their limbs missing. An explosion was a good method to use in war especially if the enemy was close together from one another. Kill more than one with one attack, and that was ideal when every part of their ammo supply was precious. Half of the time when they went on missions, they knew not to expect any sort of backup with the limited amount of troops that Earth had to offer in the first place. Washington had to lead his squad knowing that they were the last obstacle for an enemy to go through.

It was that thought process that had ended up with him getting court-martialed for his actions in disobeying a direct order for a higher officer and ended up shooting him so that they could get away instead of having their deaths be in vain. When it came to when he was accepted into Project Freelancer, hiding injuries and weaknesses still applied here. The leaderboard coming into the program basically broke them apart as they continued to try to be the best of the best. Being injured in the field didn't mean that one couldn't fight back anymore. He remembered hearing that North got injured and continued to fight against the enemy like any other Freelancer would do. Their suits pretty good when it came to stabilizing their bodies in general when they got injured. Washington was the second most injured Freelancer in the program compared to that of Agent Maine who was the muscle of the group and got injured constantly. His worst injury being shot in the throat several times to the point where he would never be able to speak again.

Surviving such injury by default was certainly a miracle for them. Washington wasn't the best of the best when it came to those that he worked with. Based on the leaderboard he was the worst of the best. With 49 other members as the competition, it meant that there wasn't a whole lot of competition to worry about. He was average in everything that he did, which was better than being worst at several things and only good at one thing. He was an amazing shot with his rifle and had the skills to prove that he was a capable soldier. In his mind, he believed that they were doing the right thing for humanity by dealing with experimental equipment that would help them out with the war. Only to find out as soon as he woke up in the infirmary after a failed surgery that it was all a lie. Everything that they sacrificed, all the people that they had slaughter in terms of the project, had been for naught.

It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about that he was just their gun for hire, and he didn't even know how far the war had ended up getting in the first place. What Washington found interesting, was that it was so much easier to pretend that physical injuries didn't hurt, but when it came to mental and brain injuries, it was almost impossible to hide it. There were probably those that had been around him enough that would have figured out that he wasn't exactly truthful. Far from it honestly. He was usually lying as if it was second nature just to get what he needed from those that lived in this place. He knew his purpose, and that was to get back to being human again. He was going to succeed no matter what anyone else tried to tell him. The Freelancer didn't care who he would have to kill to make it so even if he was struggling with other injuries himself. Washington wasn't healthy. He only ever got two hours of sleep so that he wouldn't have to sleep. Suffering from an extreme case of insomnia and PTSD from what the project had done to him.

Up to the point that Agent Texas had arrived, he thought that his mind was the strongest it had been since the failed surgery. As soon as the other lion appeared though, he was immediately proved wrong as he was immediately put out of commission. His mind reeling to the point that he didn't know that he was in reality anymore and instead only knew pain. Eventually, he passed out due to the lack of oxygen from him hyperventilating. It wasn't pretty, and he wasn't even sure if anyone had even tried to help him. As it was almost impossible to move him considering how much he weighed in the first place. He had worked so hard to get his mental health to an average level, and it had been at that point the work that he had done had been reduced to nothing. He was back to square one now, and the voices wouldn't stop. Washington was at the side of the observatory, he was about to start his patrol.

He was so tired and having to deal with a broken arm that wasn't done healing yet meant he was pissed and frustrated about everything that was currently happening. The Freelancer lashed his short tail behind him as it was slow going on a body that he could barely control, let alone balance with all the stuff that he wore on his body. For some reason, each step he took ended up with him growing more and more exhausted by the minute. He wasn't that out of shape. He had just done this yesterday. Suddenly the lights that were inside of his helmet suddenly went out, leaving his face slightly dark during the middle of the day. What was happening? Images of a human face flashed in front of his vision. Overlapped with the sight of Carolina's corpse only a couple of days ago. Bile began to rise in Washington's throat before he swallowed it. As far as he knew there was no one around, but it was as if his hearing was in a vacuum. Only able to hear his own breathing and nothing else. The blood that ran through his ears, and the constricting feeling of his chest.

He needed to calm down. He had just had an episode a couple days ago, he couldn't be relapsing that quickly. Washington didn't realize that seeing a comrades corpse for the first time did more to destroy his mind as time went on as he struggled to come to terms with the subject. Sure, Carolina was alive now. But how she was alive was what disturbed Washington. No screams escaped his jaws, and instead, the armored smilodon seemed to curl into himself, his flank sitting down on the ground with a loud thump. He raised his good right arm and placed his massive paw on the top of his head, applying pressure as if that would help the headache and make the pain go away. The large scar on the back of his neck started to exhibit phantom pains as he moved his paw to scratch at the sensitive area.

This was the last thing he needed in his day, but despite his best efforts his condition started to spiral out of control. A wheeze escaped his jaws as Washington's body lowered itself fully onto the ground and he rolled onto his side. Curling into a tight ball as his appendages started to twitch wildly. There was no way to tell what he looked like underneath the helmet, but his jaw had gone slack in a soundless scream. Memories that were not his own flashed in front of his face. Memories that felt like it was his own poured into his head. Images of dead comrades. Those that he considered his family. The betrayal. It was too much. Despite this, Washington didn't call out for help. Only small pained noises could be heard inside of his helmet. "speech"