07-08-2018, 11:33 PM
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Washington should be practicing. He knew that's what he should be doing. But with everything starting to pile up on itself, he never really had the chance to figure out HOW he was going to train. When it came to how he was going to train, usually F.I.L.S.S was going to tell him what he was going to do. In order to get into Project Freelancer, one needed to go through several steps to even be able to make it up to that point. One of those steps had been different tests that they had to be put through physically. Such as how good of a shot they were by shooting targets, reaction time, and endurance. There were, of course, other tests that were going on at the same time, but it was the type of tests that were really made to break someone if they weren't careful. Live rounds were used, and they were shot at to see how well they could act under stress with bullets that were flying toward them. Which seemed a little ridiculous to Washington just because of the factor that he was in the army and knew what it felt like to have bullets flying toward his face. But he wasn't used to being having human ammunition used against him. Although with his time in the military he knew how long it was going to take for someone to actually get shot.
That someone being himself. Washington remembered when he was bleeding on the training floor during his test, barely able to stand on his feet trying to figure out what he would do next. He wasn't going to give up. This was his second chance to make everything better, and the Director forced him to continue while he watched. Washington wouldn't have been surprised if there were those that had died in the process of their tests, as getting shot in a vital area would certainly kill someone. Maybe that had been why he was accepted so that all further records of him were basically wiped. If he were to die during this test no one would care and no one would know. Something that Washington didn't know at the time, but it made sense for the way they worked everything out. The Freelancer had managed to pass the test and was ranked accordingly by the statistics that F.I.L.S.S gave them. Washington was then given a training regimen after that until the rest of the spots for the Freelancers were filled. There were 49 of them after all, and he still wasn't quite sure what number he was if he got Washington. The training had mostly been on the areas that he hadn't been all that great at. Hand to hand combat. Bomb technician. And several other exercises.
Now, he wasn't the best at everything, but instead, he was decent at everything. That gave him an edge over others in that he was capable of learning several different fields and using them in battle efficiently. It was when he got his battle rifle though that he really shined. Having used the weapon basically since basic training, although the weapon wasn't numerous compared to the likes of an assault rifle that was more like a machine gun. A battle rifle took more resources to make and that meant they couldn't make an endless amount of them. Thinking about it now, Washington wasn't even sure where they got half of their ammunition from. Since they were a program that had been sponsored by the UNSC, he figured that they would have gotten it from them. But after all the information that was given to him by Project Freelancer, Washington wasn't so sure anymore. The Project had a lot of secrets after all. From there, he was given his own living space on the lower decks of the MOI where the rest of everyone was starting to settle in. The first Freelancer he had ever come into contact with would have been Agent Utah. Someone that had died during the project after using equipment in the field without an AI. AI's not having been introduced till later in the program. The guy seemed to be pretty interesting, but also not one for conversation.
So Washington had left him alone. It had been between his time and during his endurance test that he was given his armor. The armor wasn't made to specifications of his body, except maybe the helmet, as the undersuits that they wore contoured to their so that the armor would just have to sit on top of it. He was given rules of what he was allowed to do with the armor and what would happen if he tried to take anything that belonged to the Project as his own. He now understood that those rules had been absolute, especially after what happened to CT when she tried to take her armor with and give it to the insurrectionists. The more missions he went on, the more that the Director and Counselor saw his potential and bumped him up the ranks. Until he reached the top 8 Freelancers in the entirety of the program. By this point, he knew most of the Freelancers that were on the MOI of who they were. He didn't interact with all of them, but he had least talked to all of them at least. He had been nervous about being ranked so high, nervous to talk to those that were considered the best of the best. This wasn't the UNSC after all and he considered the other Freelancers that he worked with to be his friends. They cared about one another, even if they had a weird way of showing it.
Washington first spotted Carolina during her time in the training room as he made his way toward a debriefing that he was due for. He recognized the armor from her file, and she was working on holographic targets. That was all he saw of her for a while until they were finally made to go on a mission with one another. Washington immediately following her lead because of her experience and it seemed like she knew what she was doing. He had gone to respect and trust her judgment. Was a friend the right word to call her? Probably not. They had never gotten that close from what he could remember. She was his teammate, and they were the only ones at the moment. They needed to be there for one another, even if it felt strange. They needed one another. At the mention of her not being hungry, Washington would raise a nonexistent brow inside of his helmet. He knew that wasn't true. He had been with her almost constantly and hadn't seen her try to eat anything. Hearing her stomach growl though let a small chuckle escape from his jaws, although it was light and not intended to offend her. At the mention of eating in his helmet, the smilodon shrugged his armored shoulders. Before the sound of his swallowing the food that had been in his mouth was actually heard. He had to admit though, hearing the leopard laugh was almost a new breath of fresh air. He had never liked it when tensions had run high during the end of Project Freelancer. He wanted so badly for everything to go back to the way they were.
"Hey, it's efficient rather than sitting to eat something." Washington made the excuse pretty quickly. Although he wanted to just see if he was capable of eating inside of his helmet with his new face. Looking down at the rest of the bag of the jerky, he pushed the rest of it toward Carolina. He had just brought them along as a snack and for her. "Besides, I already ate before coming here." He definitely wasn't lying this time on how much he was eating. Which Carolina didn't even know that he had nearly starved, something he was going to keep away from the fellow Freelancer. A grin spread across the smilodon's face as she at least seemed to enjoy it. Was there any seasoning on it? Probably not. He doubted that any of the civilians had something like spices in the first place. "I don't know what to call them either. Its been than anything raw that's for sure though." Washington agreed with Carolina on that. He didn't want to eat anything raw. The thought disgusted him that he was stopping to the level of what he was now. An animal. Hearing movement behind them though, Washington looked over his shoulder to look at Bastille.
He would be lying if he said that after recent events that he hadn't lost respect for the commanding officer. Which may had been evident that Washington didn't stand up onto his paws to try and greet the male like he usually did. He knew Carolina better than the commanding officer, and he was going to stick by her side even if it seemed like a drastic change from nowhere for him to suddenly start following orders. He's been following them since he had arrived here. Washington didn't say anything about what Bastille asked, because it wasn't addressed to him anyway. His gaze looked at the corner of his visor to look at Carolina's reaction. She wasn't going to start threatening him. That was good. Washington would simply shuffle his paws as Carolina explained her training. He, of course, could be Carolina's sparring partner, although he doubted he would be able to offer much in his current condition. "speech"
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