Locus' main goal and sole focus is always his mission. To start from finish, he completes his goal with little to no distractions and no doubt of failure.

Unfortunately for him, the soldier Agent Washington is a difficult obstacle.

At first glance, Washington is only a soldier with a name and a gun. But Locus has done his research, Washington's history with Project Freelancer, how his AI implantation resulted in a shattered mind and broken trust.

And after their first conversation where their guns were not aimed, Locus discovers Washington's care for useless beings and lifeless machines.

Pathetic is what Locus concluded on.

Days passed since the supposed 'heroes and greatest soldiers' agreed to support the Federal Army. Locus observed the inhabitants becoming ecstatic over their idols; it was almost amusing that they think that with these imbeciles will make a difference to this war.

Almost, Locus didn't find pleasure in killing nor did he feel guilt, a job is a job and money is money. All he cares about is how successful his tactics are.

But the fools he saved are both a hamper and effective in his mission on the tragedy that is Chorus.

Washington, the Sargent, the pink soldier, and the robot allied themselves with the Federal Army, increasing their moral to kill in belief they will obtain freedom from the 'terrorists.'

The kill count has increased more but those four foreigners gets on his nerves.

It first started with the red Sargent, glaring at Locus whenever the mercenary was spotted and making threats of his shotgun which didn't change Locus' opinion of the old man being an idiot.

To Locus' pleasure, the robot avoided him like the plague, or a virus for the robot's case. The moment the robot mocked his sanity, it was almost comical to caught him in the act and have the robot beg for mercy.

For the pink soldier who shares his name with a pastry, all Locus wants from him is to stop making annoying double innuendos and attempting to maintain a positive attitude for everyone by baking sweets. No matter how many times he hears all the soldiers claim the desserts as delicious, Locus is not going to eat them.

The only highlight of his day is his interactions with Washington.

In the beginning, it was only glancing at each other to acknowledge their presence with the occasionally distrustful glares, and then Locus offered a spar. Locus didn't really give a thought on to why he suggested the idea but he didn't regret it.

Their first spar was what everyone in the training room expected and feared it would be – brutal, offense attacks, dirty tricks, throwing each other off guard, dislocated limbs and of course blood.

It was even the first time Locus saw Washington's face, he'd seen the Frelancer profile picture but that was taken years ago. The ex-freelancer took off his helmet, revealing his trussed blond hair with grey strays and his face had a fair amount of scars and now there was blood at the corner of his mouth, probably from biting the inside of his mouth.

But what Locus noticed first about Washington was his freckles, they litter his entire face.

Being Felix's partner, Locus can perfectly picture the other mercenary calling Washington hot.

Tasting a bit of blood in his own mouth, Locus' smirk was hidden behind his helmet as he agreed with the imaginary Felix.

The sparring matches continue.

They always start with mental reminders of their strengths and weaknesses yet each attack is either countered or labeled as a 'lucky shot.'

Locus would even admit to himself that the spars are becoming less of training or competition and more of a dance.

And the mercenary will be damned if he was not the lead even with a challenging partner such as Washington.

Lucky for him, Washington is not the best dance partner for this particular routine of seduction.

Locus could almost hear Felix smirking, 'Dance class is in session.'

It doesn't take long to corner Washington.

Locus took careful notes on the ex-Freelancer's routine of keeping an eye on the Blood Gulch soldiers, how he would mostly guard the pink one from the more aggressive Feds who've mistaken the pink's gender and suggested sexual relief.

Locus of course wouldn't mind cutting off fools like them but then again, his purpose was similar but instead of reckless, blunt statements, Locus' plan will work in time.

He approaches Washington at the end of the training session. The other three are at the shooting gallery room, not far but there's enough distance for Locus to influence the Freelancer.

"Locus," Washington acknowledges, out of his armor and only wearing grey sweats with his black tank clinging to his pale chest with sweat, "Sorry, but I'm done sparring for now."

"I'm aware of that, I'm not here for training; I don't need it."

"Yeah, your left hook is strong and steady and your guard is effective for offense as well," the blond noted, walking over to a bench by the lockers that border the sparring area, picking up a water bottle and gulping it down.

His smirk hidden, Locus said with in a slightly teasing tone, "Nice to know you have excellent observation on my behalf. Have you been taking notes on my physic outside the sparring room?"

Locus smirk grew when Washington choked a bit on the water but quickly saved himself from any more embarrassment from the lingering eyes that watch the two experienced soldiers. They were quite aware of the audience they have, most seemed scared if another bloody brawl was about to happen.

Finding his voice, Washington's face was a bit flushed and Locus knew it was because of him. "It's kind of hard to um see you since you always wear your armor."

"Well then," Locus began to unclip his helmet, "Maybe I should change that." Locus didn't think that his smirk, tan skin, and loose black hair would affect Washington so much to make him almost drop his water bottle.

At the entrance of the training room, Donut yelled, "Hey Wash, we're back!"

"Looks like your companions are here, I'll let you be." Locus didn't spare a glance at the Blood Gulch's awed faces when they realized who Wash was talking to.

As Locus got out of the room, it was clearly heard, "Wash, was that Locus? His eyes are amazing, I could just get lost in them. Oh, and his jaw line, I wonder if he has any training on getting a strong jaw. Maybe he'll give me tips!"

"Donut," the Sargent groaned, "Stop."

The robot complained too, "Why am I stuck with you people?"

According to Locus, if this was chess, the queen was within reach.

Just a few more moves.

The past few encounters have been very successful.

Especially now that they trained without their armor, and if Locus was romantic, he would admit that things are more intimate now. Washington would often get distracted by the drastic amount of skin and muscle that Locus has revealed. Using that as his advantage, it was almost sad how easy it was to pin Washington down but Locus is always reminded that there's a reason on why Washington is the queen.

The blond was trained at a young age from the elite force of Project Freelancer and was one of the few survivors of the ruin project. Also, Washington was never distracted for too long and quickly countered Locus and pinned the broader man, donning a smirk of his own.

Even if either one of them says checkmate, the dance still continues.

This time, Locus is sure that he's the one leading.

But of course, with Felix being Felix, the other mercenary will try to make this a three person tango.

Felix is the most likely to put a rose in his mouth and hurt himself, realizing the rose has thorns.

First off, thanks to who ever started this Wash/Locus/Felix ship and calling it Murder Sandwich, I just love that ship name!

Thanks for reading!