And...MASS UPDATE!

"And so we send off our dear friend with heavy hearts and heavy minds, with the best wishes of a restful peace in the grace of whatever higher power that he worshiped. May God have mercy on his soul." The 10-minute registered minister closed his black binder with a snap, and motioned for North, York, Maine, and Wyoming to set the heavy metal coffin into the airlock. 479r, South, CT, Carolina, and Texas all wailed, dabbing at their eyes with lacy handkerchiefs as the casket containing the body of Agent Washington was set adrift in space. The Director and the Counselor looked on somberly as the silver casket tumbled end over end in gravity, sent out into the vastness of space. The mourners dispersed, whispering sadly at the loss of their companion.

"Whose bright idea was it to go into Wash's room last night and hack him to pieces with a chainsaw?" North wondered aloud as South cried into Wyoming's shoulder dramatically.

"No clue, man," York shook his head. "It was horrible, though. I saw them carting away the pieces on a stretcher this morning."

"Truly dreadful business," Wyoming muttered. "Dreadful, dreadful."

"Well, there's nothing that we can do about it now," Texas sniffed. "The Director gave us the day off so that we could grieve. Let's just enjoy ourselves as much as we can, for Wash's sake." Everyone agreed, and they began resuming their free-time activities with the thought that Wash would have wanted it.

"How many times was Wash sent to his Corner when he was alive?" Florida asked Maine curiously as they stood together in the Rec Room, watching the Corner where they could always find Wash in his spare time. Someone had thoughtfully tacked up a few kitten pictures in memoriam to Wash. Just as they were pondering it, though, North and York tumbled into the Rec room in nothing but towels around their middles, scratching at their skin until it was red.

"You know, I don't think that THIS was what Texas had in mind when she meant we could take the day off," Florida said playfully to the two male Freelancers, who glanced at him witheringly. Maine growled something about them invoking the wrath of Wash's spirit, and they could expect the family jewels to be falling off soon for defiling his memory.

"Shut up, Maine!" York growled as he continued to itch and twitch on the floor, North on top of him in similar throes. "We just took a shower and started drying off, and now we CAN'T. STOP. ITCHING!"

There came a shriek, and 479r ran into the room, her face decorated in the most ludicrous manner with cover up, blush, eye shadow, eye liner, and bright purple lipstick. "I just went to take a nap, and I woke up with THIS!" She gestured at her face in mortification, and ran off again in hysterics.

Outside the room, Florida could hear soft chuckling. Curious, he peaked around the door frame and saw, to his utter disbelief-

"Wash?!" he croaked. "You're supposed to be dead." It was the 'dead' Freelancer, in the flesh, chuckling inside his armor as he rolled around on the floor, clutching at his sides.

"You should've seen your guys' faces!" Wash gasped as he continued to laugh at the result of his pranks. "They're priceless!"

"Wash, weren't you killed in some crazy Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" York asked from around his fervent scratching.

"Nah, the Director and Tex were in on the prank," Wash explained as he leaned up against the wall, still chuckling. "She came into my room with a chainsaw that had no chain, then we put pieces of meat from the kitchens in my bed to look like I had been hacked to pieces. We put a few rocks in that casket thing and launched it into space, and I decided to lace the towels with itching powder while you guys were at my service. I also painted up 479r's face when she went to take a nap after the funeral. It was awesome!"

Everyone stared at Wash incredulously. "Why?" someone asked finally.

"For all those times that you guys pulled pranks and had me sent to the corner for what you did," Wash answered with a malevolent smirk. "That should teach you to mess with me!"

Two seconds later, Wash was screaming down the hall with several angry Freelancers and one angry pilot hot in pursuit.

Special thanks for this chapter goes to Ghost-407, Lili-Hunter, At335, Omega Ravenger, and The Happy Riolu