07-23-2018, 03:17 AM
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Death was final. No one could tell him any different. He would refuse to head their words. Washington didn't give a damn on what they would end up telling him. Washington knew what it was like to feel alone on the battlefield. Or in a strange place where humans didn't even belong. There had been several instances of him being a soldier where he just wanted to go back to base where he felt comfortable enough to actually get some sleep. In places that they were stationed for short times, Washington wasn't capable of getting any sort of sleep around those parts. Feeling alone was one of the worst feelings that one could go through. It was painful. Suffocating. There was nothing one could do about it unless they would physically try to seek others out and try to get rid of the lonely feeling that they had in their chest. The issue with him though was the factor that he knew what it was like to be incredibly lonely even if those memories were not his own. Crushing.
He had wished those memories, in particular, were never shared with him. The sleepless nights after someone they cared about died. The work that piled up on the desk and the cries of a child as they called for their father but for no answer to be given to them. Was that him on that table? He never remembered being in a building like that before, and the time seemed to be all wrong. He didn't have a child anyway. That must be one of the many memories that had been ingrained into his mind and replaced some other memory that he would never be able to remember. He had the same feeling that someone did when someone lost a loved one. Carolina dying had been a strike to the soldier's chest. He hadn't had to watch a comrade die in battle in a very long time. Wash still didn't even know that CT was dead after the battle that went down between her and Texas. It was brutal to think about, but they were still a broken family that had those that brought them together pull them apart. They may not like each other that much, but they were now all stuck in this situation and were going to have to figure out a way out of it.
They needed to work together if they were going to be willing to understand what was happening. How they ended up getting here. How they could end up getting back to the world that they were from. He wasn't sure how many of them actually enjoyed being an animal, but he certainly didn't. He would give everything up right now in order just to become human again. Anything. Washington had tried to train himself to believe that he wouldn't care if a Freelancer died in front of him after what had happened on the ship. They were all threats after all, but if they all had the same mission was there a reason to be wary of them? Plenty of reasons. They could simply stab him in the back to get him out of the way and not have to worry about what would end up happening. Washington believed in the exact same method. He had originally been using Carolina because of her strength. She was better at fighting in an animal body than he was and was more than capable of taking the likes of him out.
If others came along he could use that strength to keep him safe until he could fight himself. It was also helpful to have another set of eyes and ears to think about the plans that he had set up for in the future to get them out of here. Would he be willing to kill Carolina if she got in his way? Absolutely. Now though? He wasn't quite so sure. Not like it really mattered now since she was dead. After seeing her in the rain, tears streaming down her face at the agony that she had gone through. The agony that Washington doesn't even know about, he felt awful. They deserved better. Sure, she was the daughter of the man that ruined their lives, and he wasn't even sure if she hated him for what he was doing. Did she even know? He wanted to get back at that man, and he couldn't have Carolina getting in his way. But he wasn't that cold-hearted. She always tried her best to be strong through thick and thin, and there was a moment where she showed that she was only human. He wasn't going to change the term to say that she was only an animal, because they weren't. They were HUMAN. They weren't these THINGS.
Washington knew he was one to blame. If he had been quicker and believed her words about the Meta, then he wouldn't have to think about the injuries that he received and that she received as well, because of him. He had his arm broken because he didn't anticipate the other attacking him immediately and thought that he would at least try to communicate in some way. Carolina broke her ribs and her jaw trying to protect him. It was awful and it was his fault. He also wasn't there for her when she was trying to attack Agent Texas when she arrived. Which wasn't exactly his fault considering that he was out of commission, passing out due to the lack of oxygen. The arrival of the lion put a hole through their original plans as it just meant that they were going to have to deal with someone that was as violent, or even more so violent than they were. Agent Washington didn't want to be around Agent Texas for far too long, it was too painful. His mind simply couldn't handle the stress and strain of it all.
And when he arrived at Carolina's death, he knew that others probably didn't care. She was just a soldier. She did what was expected of her. She still shouldn't have died. She could have lived and seen the world that they were planning on returning to. The Freelancer fault nothing but guilt and pain. The pain that the director had felt when he lost his wife during the war. It was his fault. He should have been there. Paid more attention. And yet instead, he was crippled himself in the other part of camp when she had simply walked off. Death was final. There was no coming back. Washington had tried to get back into his routine. He needed more research, as far as he was concerned with the appearance of another Freelancer, he was going to be working alone. Anyone that tried to approach him to see if he was okay was shrugged off. He still couldn't show weakness around the animals that didn't care about the death of another. It sickened him looking at their faces that didn't seem all that concerned about them. The BASTARDS. Washington sank his claws into the earth below his paws and shut his eyes closed. He was leaning up against a tree, trying to read the damned book that was in front of him.
The lights of his helmet and the lights of his suit making it easier to read the pages of the textbook, trying to learn more about this place. The sound of the book being slammed shut echoed through the small area that he was in, raising his unbroken arm and pressing it to the top of his helmet, a pained groan escaping his jaws. This fucking sucked. The Freelancer knew that he needed to get over it. Soldiers died. Were they all bound to die serving that man anyway right? Why did the worst of the best end up surviving such encounters though? How many times did she stick her neck out to save him? Why? He was just someone expendable. She didn't need him. He needed her more than she needed him. She could easily make due by herself and go from there. The armored smilodon sucked air through his nostrils as he closed his eyes.
He needed to calm himself down. He got up from his spot, adjusting the splint on his leg before he thought maybe a job would help him out. The lights on his body didn't turn themselves off as he began to trot through the expanse of the territory. Considering that he couldn't use scents, Washington had to rely on hearing through his helmet to pick anything up. Hearing voices in the dead of night usually meant that there was something else going on that could be important. Considering Agent Texas had just appeared, Washington had means to be on guard with his arm if another Freelancer came around. The worst case scenario is the meta came back, or Wyoming even. The sound of metal clanking together could be heard as he approached the scene. Washington knew death was final, coming back from the dead didn't sit right with him. What did it all mean anyway? Washington was able to catch small tidbits of the conversation, and there were two faces that he knew and three faces that he didn't. One of them was a lion, the same size that he was.
The Freelancer didn't have any emotion that was expressed on his body, and as he approached, his ears perked slightly. A voice. Was actually familiar. Washington's helmet covered head turned to look at the one that had spoken in such a voice, one that had started to begin to walk away from the rest of the group. It was a strange cat he didn't recognize. Much smaller than he was. The voice though was something he did know and made him stop in his tracks. His head twitched quickly to the left side as his paws shifted on the ground before he forced his legs to steady themselves. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "Carolina?" Washington questioned the other, the words spoken in an airy fashion. Was this actually her? Or was he hallucinating? After saying the words, the ears inside of his helmet would pin to the back of his skull and his jaw snapped shut. Death was final. Death was FInAL."speech"
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