SARCOPHAGUS | {OPEN, SMALL EXPLOSION}

[| AGENT WASHINGTON |]

Soldiers in the future for the human race were practically science experiments. Some of those that became such experiments usually didn't end up living to see another day. Freelancers were slightly different from the likes of a Spartan. They had fewer enhancements to their overall body, and they also weren't hired by the UNSC. They followed someone named the Director. No one knew his actual name, so they just all called him that. Few had any sort of idea why the man would want to create a program of super soldiers during the time of the war. The war was still going on when he was in service, but he wasn't sure how much that situation had changed compared to now. Either way, he was a soldier and was supposed to be prepared for anything. He had all the attributes of such. He was a light sleeper in case someone tried to come after him while he was asleep. He was capable of disarming anyone with usually any type of weapon. Although he preferred medium range fighting himself. Not as far away from a distance like North fought, and not close enough to be on the level of Carolina when it came to close combat. No one even came close to Carolina when it came to martial arts in the first place. Washington almost forgot how many times he had gotten shot during training having to go to the infirmary to heal the wounds that were across his body. Having armor that had a healing unit though definitely saved his ass more times than he could count. They had all the technology they could ever need, and in the end, Washington became a killer to the program that he applied for. But they were the good guys. Taking out those that were trying to create a revolution among the human race. Or acquiring alien technology for the organization at the same time. There were plenty of different reasons why a Freelancer would be called out, some of which included training simulation troopers, or really using them as means to get themselves stronger and train in the field. Washington was far from the strongest when it came to a Freelancer, but he was still one of the top soldiers in the program despite this.

He wasn't on the level as Georgia or even the Triplets. He was still technically better than them, but those guys were still technically part of Project Freelancer. Washington had never really looked at the leaderboard when it came the skills he himself had, but instead, he noticed the way that it affected others. When Texas appeared in the program, everything turned into a massive competition, and they were forced to each other's throats. The situation grew worse as AI's started to get distributed more. Thanks to having a military background, Washington wasn't about to start questioning how the Director was capable of getting his hands on so many AI's when they were incredibly rare already. Panicking in the field wasn't something that was good to go through. It would dull anyone's senses. Make their reactions slower. He couldn't afford that when he was in a strange place and not on the Mother of Invention. Well, he would have expected to at least have survived the wreck but now he was here. Washington didn't even know what he was. He didn't even know what planet he was on. Was this even Earth? Was there even someone that could tell him that? Where were all the humans? The fangs of the Smilodon were hidden by the helmet that hid all of his facial features. The panic that was running through his body only forced the memories that he had tried to hold back after what Episolon had done to his head. Images flashed in front of his eyes, nearly causing the extinct feline to double over in pain as he raised one of his appendages and placing it across the dark grey chest plate that he wore, a gagging sound coming from his helmet. The feeling of anger, dread, and hopelessness coming from the memories poured into his head as a being was ripped apart in more ways than one. The Freelancer clenched his jaws as he forced himself to calm down. His life was on the LINE. He couldn't afford to lose his cool. Then there was that voice again. The Smilodon raised his head to look at the cat that... seemed to be talking. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be some sort of dream. Washington began to slowly look around when he noticed the crater that he was in. Had he fallen from the Mother of Invention to here? The ship had started to fall from space after all. The sound of him panting was obvious, although the sound started to slow down so that others wouldn't be able to tell what his current condition was.

The cat, he still couldn't believe he was listening to a talking cat, identified where he was. A base or country that he had never heard of before. Which wasn't surprising if this was Earth or somewhere else since he didn't have an amazing memory. She identified herself and the other cats that were around. Those didn't sound like regular names. Obviously. He wanted to mentally slap himself. They were animals. They weren't going to have regular names compared to the likes of a human. The armored Freelancer shook his head again, the whispers still in the back of his head. "This... isn't real. I must... be hallucinating." Washington would state, almost a slight twitch of his head as he spoke. He didn't seem to be answering Suiteheart's question at the moment. "The Counselor must have slipped something... into my painkillers. Or better yet, I'm probably... in a coma after the crash." A dull chuckle would escape the Freelancers jaws. There was no humor in the way that he was talking. This was the only logical conclusion until proven otherwise in his mind. What else was he supposed to think when he was hallucinating after having Episolon pulled from the neural implant? "Theres... a fucking talking cat in front of me." The Freelancer kept his body from shaking as he was exhausted. His condition obviously not having gotten better since the removal of the suicidal AI. Even though he was acting tough, he was barely keeping himself standing. Of course, what he said wasn't meant to really be an insult to the Ascendants member. Instead, he was just stating the insanity of the situation. While he began talking, he wasn't even looking at the other felines anymore, and instead was staring at the ground. "speech"

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