07-03-2018, 04:05 PM
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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"
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Tags | Updated 06/26/18:
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