07-12-2018, 07:21 PM
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Expression wasn't something that was completely allowed when someone joined the military. Everything that you once knew about yourself was stripped and shipped away because there was no need to think about the good times when everything mattered right now was to win the War. He was only allowed to bring a couple positions when he was first accepted into the military, but the majority of the time he wasn't allowed to really contact someone outside of the base that he was in. Everything that he wore was basically regulated, and they regulated what he ate, drank, what he was allowed to watch, and how much he was supposed to sleep. Washington didn't think he could really count himself surprised because he knew that once someone joined the war that they were basically signing their life away to do so.
There was so reason to allow individuality to get in the way of missions, and they had a made a statement saying that it could also get them killed if they didn't work as a team. Some of the newer soldiers didn't get that memo, having too much of an ego that was too good for them. At the end of a couple mission, those certain soldiers had nothing left but their dog tags to give back to their family to remember them by. Their bodies usually left on the battlefield because they didn't have enough resources to send the corpses back to give an official burial. It had been certainly something that Washington found difficult to understand because he knew that if he died, his mother and his sisters were just going to get a plating of metal to remember him by. He didn't have any intention of dying, and following the orders of his commanding officers were certainly being one of the things that actually kept him alive. He was able to keep a couple images of his family, but he mostly bothered himself with working constantly.
Whether that meant cleaning his gun ten times a day, or running drills just so that he wouldn't be bored out of his mind when they weren't going on any missions and waiting for a response from the platoon that had gotten sent out on the mission. It was only when he had joined Project Freelancer that he was allowed to keep more of his stuff and even customize his room and the locker that was provided for him. They at least gave him that choice, because he wasn't allowed to make any more decisions after that. What he had brought with them was the picture of the house cats that he had when he was little, a rubber duck that his sisters had given him one time for his birthday when money was low, his skateboard, and a couple other things as well. It was difficult to find mementos that he had wanted to take with him since there wasn't really anything that was left for him to decorate. His room had been plain until he was allowed access to his bank account to buy things that he thought was interesting.
Washington wasn't one to shy away from something that was fluffy and cut, such as more cat images. Other than that his life had been kept fairly simple, as he didn't have any sort of hobby. He wasn't a painter. He wasn't a singer. He didn't knit. He was pretty sure that one wasn't capable of getting such supplies while they were in space anyway. They weren't that spoiled considering that they were soldiers and everything. Washington did know of a couple people that may sing a tune to them. If he could remember correctly, there had been a karaoke night that had been put on. He couldn't remember if it was funny, thanks to how all of his memories had gotten muddled with the memories that weren't even his own. The Freelancer remembered that CT did like to hum to herself from time to time. She had a nice voice, and he didn't expect someone like Carolina to be a singer. He was pretty sure that knock-knock jokes weren't a form of a hobby because if they were that meant Agent Wyoming was going to have a hobby and that guy didn't really do all that much.
Or it might have just been the fact that Washington didn't know the other Freelancer's like he thought he did. Even now that he technically had more freedom to do whatever he wanted, he really didn't think that he was capable of finding something that he enjoyed. If he wanted to relax, he usually would have grabbed his rifle and gone to do some target practice. Now though? He didn't have that option and no one would even dare catch him hunting when he hated the taste of raw food anyway. The Freelancer instead kept himself busy like he always did. He had a concrete schedule that he followed, and that meant few were able to tell what he was doing half of the time. Since he wore a helmet constantly on his face, it meant that he couldn't rely on scents to help him with anything, the vents preventing any sort of scents getting inside of his helmets anyway. He usually relied on his hearing, which wasn't that bad but also not that great either. The armored smilodon was making his usual patrols to see if he could find any clues that pertained to him and his comrade when he heard voices that were coming not too far from where he was at right now.
The lion-sized animal began to make his way over, which wasn't exactly hard to hear considering that he wore armor across his body and it made noise with every step that he did take. His face was hidden behind the helmet that he constantly wore, the visor basically a one-way mirror so that he could see out and no one could see in. He recognized a familiar voice though, Imperia. One of the few animals that he actually got along with and weren't yelling at him to constantly do something. The former human made his way over where Imperia was, his gaze landing on a domestic cat. Another one. Washington didn't say anything though as he kept his distance from the two. There was always potential that this could be someone that he knew and didn't know it yet. As Carolina had arrived without her armor, so one of them could be turned into a cat. If he could guess the guy may even be Wyoming with the black and white but that was doubtful. At least he hoped it wasn't because then he was probably going to have to kill the guy. The dark grey smilodon sat himself down, saying nothing, but offered a small nod of his head toward Imperia before looking back at Jersey. His size certainly daunting as he towered over all of them. "speech"
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