A clap of lightning thundered across the sky, casting the barren night world in a harsh white light for the briefest of seconds.

Upon the surface of this wasteland stood a single man; scarred, broken, and alone. He stood atop a pile of skeletons and immolated vehicles from years past. In one hand he held a phased plasma rifle; in the other he carefully cradled a small Terminator chip. This he regarded closely, gently stroking the deep blue plastic as if expecting it to react in some pleasing manner. Instead it simply remained inanimate in his palm.

The growing storm worsened overhead and the soft tat tat tat of rainfall rose from out of the deathly silence. The man closed his hand around the chip to protect it against the downpour as he looked up into the heart of the storm, bathing his face in the ice cold chaos that showered down upon him. The dark clouds swirled into a vortex and the lightning intensified tenfold.

In the midst of the din, the man could hear the distinctive thud of coltan feet approaching and knew that his time had run out.

Jumping down from his pedestal, the man hurtled through humanity’s graveyard, passing countless dead as he fled deeper and deeper into the wilderness of the world. But the enemy remained on his heel and no matter how much he pushed his body; the Terminator could push further and harder. There was no escape.

He could never escape. Snagging his foot on a bleached femur, the man crashed to the ground and cried out in pain as he landed atop a mound of skeletal remains. Rolling onto his front, the man gasped in fear as the demonic eyes of the silver machine stared down at him contemplatively.

The machine was unlike any he had seen before; its body was far less exposed than the skeletal 800 Series the man had become familiar with. This one’s limbs were fully enclosed in hyperalloy armour, protecting those vulnerable servos from direct damage. The machine’s chest was shaped much like a human’s rib cage, and as the man watched, the front piece drew inward and opened like a pair of sliding doors, revealing a glowing red heart within.

Either side of the plasma heart sat a pair of lungs… human lungs.

The machine drew a long rattling breath and the lungs expanded for a long moment before deflating again. The man could see the cold air billowing from the machine’s metal jaws and felt his blood run cold. He forced himself to watch as the carapace slid closed again, hiding the beating heart and organics, but the nightmare did not end there.

Slowly, small veins descended from the underside of the rib cage, growing and forming into larger organs within the machine’s abdomen. Stomach, intestines, kidneys, and everything else grew in the small space between chest and hip. Blood seeped from the machine’s endoskeleton, coating the metal with a crimson sheen.

The man watched in wide-eyed horror as the blood became muscles and the muscles became flesh. In the space of a few seconds, the entire machine became encased within a sheath of living tissue. Now fully encapsulated, the nightmare stalked towards the man, its eyes glowing red beneath the green-brown of its organic covering.

It reached out and grabbed the man, his plasma rifle falling uselessly to the floor as the machine held him aloft.

The cold and merciless glow of its eyes watched patiently as life slowly slipped away from the man, but before this could come to pass, a clap of lightning struck the ground behind them and chrome figures rose from the very earth. The machine dropped the semi-conscious man and turned to face the new arrivals, who grouped around him in a circle.

Through vision blurred, the man could see twenty endoskeletons surrounding them, and at their feet five steel pipes emerged and contorted into human shapes of identical size and dimensions. The endoskeletons and the metal men slowly moved forward towards the machine, who turned left to right in a vain effort to find a route of escape, but finding itself irrevocably trapped.

Submitting to defeat, the machine dropped to its knees and looked down at the immobile human, its eyes ceasing their crimson glow. The man stared up into its face and felt the chip in his hand burn red hot, but he refused to let it go. Glancing up at the circle of machines around him, the human knew his time had come and pressed the burning chip to his lips as he accepted his fate.

As one, the endoskeletons raised their plasma rifles and the metal men formed blades from their arms, poised to impale the human.

Before they could act, however, the machine rose to its feet and the surrounding attackers redirected their attention to it instead. The man squinted up into the machine’s face, but its features were clouded by darkness. That is until one final burst of lightning flashed across the sky, casting the machine’s face into sharp relief.

John Connor gasped in utter disbelief as he stared into the face of Jason Corvain, the face of his enemy.

--

COLORADO (SHAWNSHALL)

Jason impatiently tapped the wheel with his thumb as they passed the town’s greeting sign, pressing the gas to the floor in a bid to shave off a few minutes from their painfully long journey: ‘Welcome to Shawnshall. A fine town.’

The drive from New Mexico had been far from uneventful and more than a little stressful, for everyone.

At their very first gas stop, Cameron had decided it appropriate to grab John and bolt for the nearest truck while Jason was busy filling up the tank, leaving Sophie to try and stop the escaping duo on her own. Being no match for Cameron, she suffered a very nasty blow to the chest, the bruise of which had yet to heal. Jason was able to swiftly intercept them, however, and incapacitated Cameron with a burst of his plasma weapon before dragging her and John back to the car.

Glancing into the rear-view mirror, Jason spotted Cameron sitting behind him and was a little unnerved by her unwavering glare at the mirror, her eyes boring into his mercilessly. With a slight shudder, Jason tipped the mirror to his left, revealing Sophie sleeping peacefully, the side of her face pressed against the glass. Smiling to himself, Jason fixed the mirror into its usual position and glanced to his left to see John twitching in his sleep.

Behind Jason, Cameron leaned forward slightly, her lips parted in concern at John’s inexplicable movements. Jason could sense her gaze and reached over, flicking John on the nose sharply. He jerked awake and mumbled a curse to no one in particular, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and squinting at the town ahead.

“You’re awake, finally. I was starting to worry you’d died in your sleep”, Jason quipped, keeping his eyes on the road as John cast him a dark look. “I’m starting to wish I had. Thanks for your concern”, he muttered dryly. Cameron reached out and stroked the back of John’s neck briefly, causing him to recoil in surprise before recognising her.

“Oh, it’s you”, he sighed, settling down and resting his head; “I thought it was that blonde trying to cop a feel again.”

Jason’s grip tightened on the wheel at John’s remark, forcefully reminding himself that Sophie had only been curious back at the cabin. Cameron sat back in her seat and spared a brief look at Sophie, who was starting to awaken herself. John had found Sophie to be both intriguing and unnerving. On the one hand, she was Jason’s ally and therefore an enemy, but on the other hand; she was almost identical to Cameron in every way. She knew this was causing John some degree of confusion and Cameron decided to keep a close eye on her.

Jason drove through the town square and instantly knew that something was amiss.

There was no one in sight. No pedestrians, no shoppers, no authorities, nothing. The place was as quiet as a tomb, and that didn’t bode well for anyone. Pulling up outside a small fruit store, Jason stepped out of the car and scanned the immediate area, switching to X-ray in a bid to find any residents. He could detect none, however, and tapped the roof pointedly.

With a tired sigh, John climbed out of the car and looked around the area, catching on to the absence of life.

“What the hell is this?” he asked as Cameron and Sophie likewise emerged from the vehicle.

“Where is everybody?” Sophie asked, staring in confusion at the lifeless surroundings. Cameron remained impassive and stood by John’s side, absent-mindedly stroking her stomach. “It would appear the town’s population has fled”, she posited. John frowned at her and she stopped her ministrations, meeting his gaze. “Why?” he asked. Cameron simply shrugged and glared pointedly at Jason.

Catching her look, Jason ceased his scanning and proceeded to the back of the car and popped open the trunk.

“The message me and Sophie received was a distress call. The guy we’re looking for mentioned he was being chased by a Triple-8, so chances are it attacked in the open and scared away the residents”, he explained, shouldering a Remington tactical shotgun and tucking his favourite pistol, the Jericho 941, into his belt before retrieving another shotgun and slamming the trunk shut again.

“Okay, this is how it’s gonna work; Sophie, you’re going with Cameron. I want you to search the market area. John, you’re with me-” he began, but Cameron gripped John’s arm and pressed herself against him defensively. “He’s going no where with you alone”, she declared, fixing Jason with a defiant glare.

Jason considered for a long moment before shrugging; “Fine, whatever. Sophie can hold his hand instead. You’re with me”, he compromised, pointing the shotgun at Cameron like a finger. Her grip tightened, however, and John could feel the circulation being cut off from his arm and decided she’d need a little persuading.

“It’s okay, Cam. I’ll be alright”, he assured her. She peered over her shoulder at him, their lips mere inches apart from each other.

“It’s okay”, he whispered again. Her eyes flickered briefly whilst she searched his, before becoming still once more. Slowly, she relinquished her grip on his arm and moved away a little, but as she did this; Cameron’s eyes fluttered and she swayed to one side. John caught her before she could fall over completely.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Are you alright?” he asked, confused by her sudden lack of balance. Cameron placed a hand on his shoulder for support and stared blankly at the pavement as she gauged her centre of gravity. Once her balance was restored, Cameron pulled away from John, her gaze still absent from her surroundings. John looked questioningly to Jason and Sophie, who both watched with equal confusion.

Sophie approached Jason’s side and tip-toed to whisper in his ear, prompting him to nod in agreement to whatever she said, which John was too distracted to listen for. Cupping her cheek in his hand, John gently examined Cameron’s features, looking for something other than blank uncertainty. Slowly, she started to regain her composure and an expression of misunderstanding crossed her face.

“John?” she said, still looking beyond him and not at him. John levelled her eyes with his and she awkwardly adjusted her eye line to compensate. Jason cautiously approached the two and tipped his head slightly to one side as he performed a full bodily scan on Cameron, revealing a redirection of power to an unknown system.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, Cameron?” he indicted, earning another dark look from John, despite him thinking the exact same thing. Cameron blinked repeatedly for a few seconds before snapping to attention and regarding Jason closely; “No. I believe I am suffering a minor power drain. Most likely as a result of your repeated plasma strikes”, she explained.

John felt an overwhelming urge to charge Jason and tear that shotgun from his grasp, then use it to blow his head clean off. Jason, however, remained unfazed by Cameron’s accusation and absent-mindedly handed Sophie the spare shotgun.

“Maybe it will serve as a lesson to behave from now on. I’m sure the last thing Johnny wants is for his favourite toy to break all of a sudden”, he replied, giving Sophie a Glock also, which she tucked into her belt. John bit down on his retort, knowing that arguing about it wouldn’t help the situation. He was Jason’s pawn whether he liked it or not.

Forcing himself to swallow his anger towards Jason, John leaned close to Cameron and placed a tender kiss on her brow, seemingly bringing her back to earth. Sophie appeared in his peripheral, waiting patiently for him to join her, and once again disturbing him with her Cameron-esque mannerisms; “We have to go. Come on”, she declared.

John reluctantly pulled away from Cameron, holding her hand until his arm reached its full length and he could no longer reach her. Cameron watched him set off with the blonde pretender, faintly sullen in her expression as Jason stood at her side and held out the shotgun for her to take.

Cameron took the weapon and cast him an inquisitive look; “Aren’t you afraid I might use this to kill you?” she asked, nonplussed by his apparent trust. Jason simply smirked and held the barrel up to his face; “You can try, but I should warn you that I’m made of tougher hyper-alloy than these rounds can penetrate. It would take a high-yield RPG to dent my chassis”, he boasted, lowering the barrel again.

Cameron filed this information for later reference as he unclipped his handgun and checked the chamber, satisfied that it was up to spec.

“Alright, no use hanging around; let’s check out the town hall. That’s where we’re most likely to find this guy”, he decided, indicating for Cameron to proceed before him, which she did without protest. Jason followed behind, switching his vision to its red hue and bringing up the tactical display in case of any sudden developments.

Whether from Cameron or another party, he reasoned.


The street was empty, save for two people walking side-by-side in an awkward manner, one regarding the other with mild scrutiny.

If John was uncomfortable before, then he was balancing on burning coals now, with Sophie mere inches to his right. She held all the weapons, the shotgun firmly in her grasp, her index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. John couldn’t help but watch her intently, the way she moved, the way she held that weapon, all so familiar and yet so different.

Blonde hair and blue eyes; something John found so antithetical to the Cameron he knew.

However, she was still very attractive and more than a little pleasing to his eyes. Unable to contain the question, John gave in to curiosity.

“If you were created from Cameron’s DNA, the human Cameron I mean, why are you so… alternate?”

Sophie smiled at his query and continued scanning the buildings and stores as she considered her answer.

“Skynet adheres to common factors when creating us. It observed that females with blonde hair and blue eyes are more appealing than any other combination. Males with dark brown hair and greenish-brown eyes are more appealing also. I underwent slight alterations in utero”, she explained.

John nodded to himself. Makes sense, he thought.

“Did you know Cameron?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Sophie stopped outside a grocery store and considered it carefully for a long moment before entering, ignoring his question. She made a beeline towards the candy aisle and snatched a handful of chocolate bars, pocketing some and chucking another to John while she tore into hers greedily. John couldn’t help but smile as she closed her eyes at the taste of the candy and let out a small moan of contentment.

“Mmm… You have no idea how good this feels”, she groaned, licking her lips with an expression of relish.

“I take it you don’t indulge much, huh?” he assumed, regarding his own bar as his stomach growled audibly.

Sophie opened one eye and giggled at the noise from his stomach; “Don’t keep it waiting. Trust me, you’ll regret it later.”

Seeing no fault in her logic, John unwrapped the bar and tore a chunk clean out of it, three days of car-travel hunger catching up with him. Sophie started tucking into a second bar and sat on the side of a checkout, staring absent-mindedly at the women’s clothing section. John knew by now that she wouldn’t answer his earlier question and let out a sigh as he leaned against the customer service desk.

Sophie slowly raised the half-eaten bar to her mouth and paused, still staring contemplatively at the women’s section. John spotted her enthralment and raised an inquisitive eyebrow; “What’s wrong?” he asked, only mildly concerned.

“Nothing…” she replied faintly, tipping her head slightly to one side and covering her chocolate with its wrapper; “I’m just gonna go try on some clothes is all.”

John frowned as she dropped back to her feet and set off towards the clothes, following her as she perused the items, picking out a dark pink dress and black leather boots. Shouldering the shotgun, Sophie reached up and grabbed a pair of deep purple underwear before proceeding towards the changing rooms. John hovered near the brassier section for a brief moment, expecting her to come back and pick up a pair, but she opened the cubicle door and placed her new clothes inside.

Turning back to him, Sophie held out the shotgun for him to take; “Here; in case something should happen.”

John took the weapon and regarded her with suspicion; “What makes you think I won’t blow your head off?” he asked.

Sophie looked a little affronted and casually removed her tank top, exposing her bare chest to him, making John look away awkwardly.

“What have I ever done to you?” she asked innocently before closing the cubicle door and undressing fully.

John ignored her question and grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby drinks cooler, splashing its contents over his face in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. She is too much like Cameron, he mused.

A few minutes later, Sophie emerged from the cubicle, fully dressed in her new dress and boots.

Luckily for John, the dress was not transparent, concealing her artistry from his sight. Sophie spotted the water dripping down his face and regarded him curiously for a moment before shrugging and drawing her Glock 17. John tensed at the sight of the weapon, but she made no aggressive gestures and simply strode past him.

He followed her out of the store as she finished off her chocolate bar, looking left to right as if deciding which direction to take.

“We came that way”, John told her, pointing to his left.

Sophie nodded and proceeded to her right, only to stop short, her entire body becoming tense.

“What? What’s wrong?” John asked, gripping the shotgun tighter as her finger slid onto the trigger of her Glock.

Sophie shook her head inexplicably and took another step forward. Suddenly, a figure came hurtling out of a second story window above the store, landing a foot away from John. Before he could react, the figure delivered a crushing kick to his face, sending the shotgun flying from his grip before following up with a palm strike to John’s chest. He hit the floor hard and skidded, his vision becoming blurred.

In agony, John blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his vision. By the time he could see more-or-less like normal, the assailant had already attacked Sophie. Contrary to John’s assumptions, however, she was not the dainty fairy he’d expected her to be. In fact, she was the most graceful creature he’d ever seen.

Cameron could be graceful when she wanted to be, but only when such grace was required. In combat she was entirely mechanical.

Sophie, on the other hand, was unlike anything he had seen before. She moved as if she were dancing to some soothing melody, dodging the attacker’s strikes with lightning-fast agility and delivering her own with elegant efficiency. John didn’t need to be an expert to know that the attacker was an I-950 also, given the way he moved; so similar to Jason in style and pattern.

Despite her incredible skill, however, the Infiltrator parried her attack and delivered a painful kick to her mid-section, sending her crashing against the store’s exterior wall. She crumpled to the floor, unmoving. The Infiltrator advanced, and John could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body, willing him to get to his feet.

The Infiltrator spotted his rise and immediately moved to strike, but John caught his attack and buried his fist into the man’s ribs, causing him to gasp in surprise and agony. He then followed up by kicking the Infiltrator in the face; payback for his earlier attack. Staggering backwards, the Infiltrator provided little opposition as John unleashed a barrage of attacks, crippling him with his blows until he too lay beaten on the ground.

Satisfied that the Infiltrator was neutralised, John gathered his shotgun and sped to Sophie’s side, who was in the process of getting back to her feet. He offered her his hand, which she took appreciatively, allowing him to help her to her feet.

“You okay?” he asked, careful not to sound too concerned.

“I’m fine. Just a little shook up. I’m not used to fighting very often”, she sighed, rubbing her back with a slight wince.

Looking down at the stirring Infiltrator, Sophie’s mouth dropped as she recognised his face; “I know him!” she exclaimed.

“You do?” John replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, he’s one of us. An Infiltrator, I mean. He’s one of the good guys”, she answered, turning the Infiltrator onto his back to examine his face better. “His name is Yeoman. He’s a Mark 2”, she continued. Seeing the stumped look on John’s face, Sophie decided to elaborate; “He was created from the second batch of I-950s. He’s a second gen Infiltrator. We sometimes played chess at the compound…”

She trailed off, her expression softening as the Infiltrator groaned and opened his eyes, blinking against the light as he took in Sophie’s face. His eyes widened in surprise and he rose into a sitting position, casting John an uneasy glance, eyeing the shotgun in his hands.

“You’re not who I expected”, he said, turning his attention back to Sophie, who smiled in reply.

“I can hardly say I expected you to greet me in such a manner either”, she chuckled, helping Yeoman to his feet.

“Fair enough. Who’s this… you look familiar”, he asked, squinting at John suspiciously. Sophie cast him a side-long glance, as if asking for John’s permission to reveal his identity, but holding a tactical 12-guage, John felt confident enough to answer by himself.

“I should be. My name is Connor. John Connor.”

Yeoman’s eyes widened in surprise and an instant command flashed in his vision: Terminate.

He was no longer a slave to Skynet’s will, however, and paid no attention to the directive. Instead, he turned his thoughts towards figuring out why Sophie was in the company of such a man. The most logical answer was the simplest; she’d somehow managed to enlist his help, or by some chance collided with him in some fashion. By the way he was looking at her; Yeoman could tell that Connor was physically attracted to her physique. No surprise there, he mused.

“John Connor. I must say I’m surprised to see you here. Sophie sure knows how to choose her allies”, Yeoman commented.

“I’m here under protest”, John replied, casting Sophie a stern look. She simply blushed and averted her gaze, shuffling her feet slightly.

“It was Jason’s idea, not mine”, she clarified in a small voice, finding new interest in the sign above the store. The mention of Jason’s name triggered a double-take on Yeoman’s part, causing him to stare pointedly at Sophie for elaboration, but seeing that she wasn’t going to be particularly compliant, he turned to John…

…and four bullets tore through his chest and neck from out of nowhere.

A split-second later, Sophie dived upon John, pinning him to the ground as the stricken Infiltrator dropped with a thud. The fire stopped after a few seconds and Sophie quickly scanned the direction from which the attack came, searching for the source of the gunfire. The assassin was nowhere to be seen, however, and Sophie feared moving would provide a clear shot for the sniper.

Sophie’s instincts told her to run, to save her own skin, but something inside of her compelled her to remain by John’s side and ensure his safety. She grabbed a nearby newspaper and threw it out into the open, resulting in a flurry of bullets, tearing the sports page to shreds. Through this, Sophie determined that the sniper was due south-east of their position, meaning their only avenue of escape would be through the store.

“We gotta go!” she told him.

“Go where!” he yelled back, his knuckles snow white as he grasped the shotgun.

“The store; we have to get inside the store. We can find a way out through the back… I hope”, she answered with little confidence, doing nothing to reassure John’s already unsettled nerves.

“And how sure are you that we’re not going to get torn to pieces the second we try to run?” he asked, rolling onto his back.

“Not very, but we’ll have the element of surprise. It won’t expect us to move in that direction, it would be seem tactically flawed”, she explained, pulling back the shaft of her Glock. “Are you ready?” she asked, looking across at him patiently. John closed his eyes and considered what few options they had and could only agree with her idea.

“Alright, let’s do it”, he conceded. “On the count of three?”

“Three”, she agreed, spreading herself in a cat-like manner.

“Okay; one… two… THREE!” he shouted.

They sprung up in unison, Sophie jumping to her feet like a spring Jack-in-the-box, pulling John up along with her. Before he was even properly righted, she dragged him into the store and they both dived between two checkout counters, bullets ricocheting all around them. Wasting no time, Sophie jumped back to her feet and led John down the aisles, stopping in the toys section to observe a stack of large cuddly bears. In the distance, John could hear the distinctive thud thud thud of heavy boots and felt this was the worst time for browsing.

“C’mon! We can’t sit around and wait to be shot, we have to go!” he pressed, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling hard, but Sophie countered his efforts and spun him around. John fell amongst the bears and before he could voice his confusion, Sophie placed a finger on her lips and made a “shhh” noise. She then hastily concealed him with several bears, whispering for him not to emerge until told to.

From within the soft and notably comfortable darkness, John could hear the attacker, whom he had so far assumed was a Triple-8, stride past his hiding place without stopping for a moment. The loud thud of its footfalls became increasingly distant and then everything went terribly quite. Several agonising minutes of silence passed before the distinctive sound of 9mm gunfire rang through the store, followed by the unmistakable crashing noise of a body being hurled through a solid wall. Not Sophie’s, he hoped.

More gunfire echoed across the store, followed by more crashing and multiple sounds of crackling glass. The scuffle seemed to last for hours, while in truth it only stretched across a few minutes. Three more gunshots later and the entire store shook, making John’s teeth chatter together. This was the final straw for John, so he burst forth from his enclosure of stuffed animals, shotgun at the ready.

They were nowhere in sight, however, and everything went silent once again. Gripping the shotgun tightly, John slowly stalked down the aisle, ready to shoot the first thing that might come around the corner. As he reached the end of the toy section, however, John was frozen in his tracks by a bloodcurdling scream; Cameron’s scream.

Suddenly, Sophie came hurtling over the top shelf and crashed at John’s feet, unconscious and bearing deep cuts along her left arm and cheek. John knelt down beside her, his heart screaming in agony at the sight of her in such a state, even though he knew she wasn’t Cameron. Regardless, he scooped her up in his arms, surprised at how light she was, having become accustomed to Cameron’s heavier-than-normal weight.

With no plan other than escape coming to mind, John bolted for the entrance, the heavy footfalls warning him of the Triple-8’s proximity behind him. John knew he couldn’t outrun the machine, but he couldn’t possibly fight it either, so running was all he could do at this juncture. He chanced a look over his shoulder, seeing a large man with a jagged steak knife in his hand.

--{Subject Identified: JOHN CONNOR
--{Mission Priority Override: TERMINATE INFILTRATOR INSURGENTS
--{Set to Higher Priority Mission: TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR

The T-888 doubled its pace, quickly closing the gap between them in seconds. John felt the warmth of its outstretched hand nearing his shoulder and he could smell the artificial sweat of its body; the rabbit had been caught by the fox.

Before it could actually grasp him, however, a single shot rang out, striking the Triple-8 in the shoulder and knocking it off balance. The machine stumbled and collided with a checkout register, spilling coins and cash across the floor. John likewise fell to the floor, accidentally crushing Sophie beneath him. Looking up, he couldn’t believe his eyes; Yeoman was still alive… or was he?

His body was stiff and his face completely blank. His eyes were, for lack of a better word, dead. The only sign of life within those pools of grey was the dim crimson flicker from his optical implants. He stalked towards the Triple-8, ignoring John and Sophie, his gun raised. Before the machine could get back to its feet, Yeoman fired point blank range into its eyes, disrupting the Triple-8’s vision and coordination.

Seeing it momentarily helpless, John leapt to his feet and racked the shotgun, firing five times into its face. The depleted uranium slugs, originally designed for tank warfare, carved through the endoskull with minimal effort, obliterating its face in the exact same manner as Cromartie almost a year ago. Once the top half of the machine was destroyed to his satisfaction, John shouldered the shotgun and let out a deep sigh of relief, allowing himself to enjoy the rewarding thrill of defeating yet another machine.

Sophie remained unmoving upon the cold floor, still suffering from her beating, whereas Yeoman remained rooted to the spot, not moving an inch and staring into nothingness. John approached the stoic I-950 and stood in his field of vision, noticing the ghastly gunshot wounds in his chest and neck, one of which he could see daylight through. John waved his hand in front of Yeoman’s face and clicked his fingers, but received no response of any kind.

“Hey, you alive in there or what?” he asked, tapping the Infiltrator on the temple.

This time Yeoman did react, snapping his head in John’s direction, making him jump out of his skin in surprise. “Replaying recorded message 1X#359IJSFMK: The Vessel is coming. We must prepare. It is coming. It is coming. It… is… coming”, Yeoman recited in a monotone voice before succumbing to spasms and twitches, falling to the floor and becoming inert. John hesitantly knelt down beside the still Infiltrator and reached with a shaking hand to check his pulse. John was shocked to discover that Yeoman’s body was ice cold: he was dead and had been since he was first shot.

“Emergency necro-reboot…” a voice called to him from behind. John spun around to see Cameron standing at the store’s entrance, a massive tear in her shirt, revealing a bloody gash across her chest; “…in case the unit is too damaged to complete its mission. The implants take over the body and follow simple directives, much like a machine”, she finished.

John’s eyes slid from Cameron to the man standing beside her. He had dark hair and was nursing a deep cut on his upper right arm and regarded the deceased I-950 with the smallest hint of sadness.

“Who’s this?” John demanded, inclining his shotgun in the stranger’s direction.

“The man we came here to collect. His name is Daniel. He’s an infiltrator”, she explained impassively, looking John up and down. She closed the gap between them and immediately placed both hands on his chest, then began sliding them in and out of his jacket, searching for any injuries. John removed her hands and kissed them before pulling her into a close embrace, his eyes drifting guiltily down to Sophie’s bleeding form.

Forcing his eyes to look elsewhere, John noticed the absence of a certain somebody; “Where’s Jason? Please tell me he died.”

Cameron pulled away and gave him an apologetic smile; “If only that were so.”

Jason stormed into the store, slightly out of breath as he scanned the scene before him, instantly spotting Sophie on the floor. His eyes widened and he froze for a long moment before rushing to her side, scooping her onto his lap tenderly and holding her head aloft, his breathing harsh and ragged as he examined her injuries. Seeing him like this, John couldn’t help but be somewhat unnerved.

“What happened?!” he yelled, looking up at John witheringly, fury and concern pouring from his eyes like molten steel.

“We were attacked by a Trip-8. She was injured”, John explained curtly, still holding Cameron close, unaware as her blood seeped through his shirt from her chest wound. Jason likewise held Sophie’s unconscious form close and, whether he was aware of it or not, started rocking back and forth.

“We have to get her back to the truck. We have a first aid kit there, we have to get her back…” he kept repeating, to himself more than anyone else.

“We have to get her back…”


“Don’t make me ask again, Cammy. Just do as you’re told.”

Cameron cast Jason a disparagingly blank look before staring back at the heavy wooden doors before them.

“I don’t understand why you cannot perform. You are stronger than I”, she argued, regarding the doors with narrowed eyes.

“Maybe”, he replied with a small smirk; “but I would rather see you perform the deed.”

The corner of Cameron’s mouth twitched in annoyance as she realised the futile gesture of her refusal and with the smallest of sighs, she kicked the doors open with a satisfying clunk. Jason chuckled and granted her a mock applause.

“Oh, I do enjoy it when girls take charge in situations like this”, he joked, receiving yet another disapproving look from Cameron. Jason’s laughter died out almost instantly at her expression and he let out a tired sigh; “Are you ever going to take it easy, or will you always be this miserable all the time?” he asked.

“I’m a machine. I can’t be miserable”, she replied, stepping onto the threshold and scanning the immediate area; “Clear”, she called out.

Jason entered the town hall and took in the modest surroundings, finding little interest in the décor.

“Tell that to John. Come on, Cameron; you can’t fool me into thinking you’re just a machine. There’s so much more to you”, he said.

Cameron proceeded up the stairs, Jason close behind; “That’s between me and John”, she mumbled.

Jason let out a short bark of laughter as they reached the second story. Switching to X-ray again, Jason detected a presence in a cupboard at the end of the corridor. Catching Cameron’s eye, Jason gestured towards the cupboard. Understanding his meaning, she raised her shotgun and marched towards the location, stopping short and reaching for the door handle. Before her fingers could even touch it, however, Cameron’s sensors were overloaded as a single close range shotgun blast struck her clean in the chest.

She hurtled across the corridor, smashing into an abandoned room and becoming buried by splintered wood and the bookcase she collided with. From out of the cupboard strode a bulky Triple-8, its hulking form offset by its ridiculous Mohawk; no doubt the result of the machine’s flawed attempts to blend.

Before the machine could fire at Jason, however, he drew his Baby Eagle and fired repeatedly at the machine’s wrists, disrupting its hold enough to loosen its grip. Using this window of opportunity, Jason charged the Triple-8 and disarmed it with a sweeping kick, sending the shotgun flying down the corridor and out of harm’s way.

The T-888 brought its fist around to smash into Jason’s skull, but he caught it in his own, crushing the inferior machine’s fingers with his grip. While at first believing himself to be physically inferior to even Cameron; Jason had since discovered that this apparent impediment was purely psychological, a crossover of his pre-reconstruction mindset.

The same machinery that gave Nathan (the ruthless T-999) his strength, now granted Jason the same.

The machine’s fingers crushed, Jason kicked hard into its chest, and the Triple-8 was catapulted through the wall. It powered straight through, stumbling into an abandoned office and colliding with a large desk. Jason followed it through, delivering a snap kick to its face and driving his heel into its eyes as he crushed its head into the floor.

The hardwood splintered and cracked, the Triple-8’s skull becoming buried deeper and deeper. Acknowledging its opponents superior capabilities, the T-888 kicked out at Jason, succeeding in knocking him aside momentarily. The Triple-8 staggered to its feet and charged him, ploughing them both through the small office door and into the same room Cameron had disappeared into. Jason rolled off of the Triple-8 and quickly got to his feet, but the machine was persistent and grabbed him by the ankle.

Jason crashed back down to the floor, tasting his own blood as his jaw struck the hardwood with a sickening crack. Spinning around, he drew his gun again and fired three shots into the machine’s face, disabling one of its eyes. Confused and disoriented, the Triple-8 let go in favour of grabbing a piece of smashed door, stabbing it deeply into Jason’s abdomen.

He screamed on instinct, but the pain held no more distress than the message they represented; he was damaged.

Slipping from the T-888’s reach, Jason tore the piece from his torso, sending a small command to his arteries; ordering them to close to stem the blood loss. Staggering to his feet, Jason fired four more times into the Triple-8’s face, determined to blind it completely. The machine was resilient, however, and shielded its vulnerable components as it righted itself and stood to face him.

“Just die you stubborn son-of-a-bitch!”

The T-888 did not comply with his demand, and charged again, its arms rising to protect itself from further projectile damage.

Seeing that his tactics were lacking, Jason discarded the half-empty weapon, freeing his hands for more direct tactics. Jason caught the charging machine and turned sharply to his left, using its own momentum to hurl it across the room. The T-888 landed in a heap, its already garbled mind running through a dozen useless protocols as it struggled to its feet.

Jason opened his hand and tapped into his plasma core, redirecting power to his right arm as his fingers aligned to form the shape of delivery. One good blast at full power would be enough to fry the Triple-8s circuitry. Say ‘bye-bye’, he thought.

--{Weapon Status: FULLY CHARGED… CHANNELING…

Before he could fire the weapon, however, something struck Jason on the side of his head and he dropped to the floor hard, completely surprised by this sudden attack. Looking up, Jason saw Cameron standing there, shotgun in hand. She stalked towards the damaged Triple-8 and fired repeatedly into its head, stripping away the flesh at first, followed by layer upon layer of its endo-skull.

Standing over it, Cameron pulled the trigger one last time, blowing a hole clean through its skull, exposing the chip within.

Jason rubbed the back of his head and grabbed the Baby Eagle lying next to him as he returned to his feet and approached her side.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked, fixing Cameron with a steely glare.

She simply stared back with raised eyebrows and innocently replied; “That was for sending me to open the cupboard door.”

Jason continued to glare at her for a moment before looking down at the twitching Triple-8 and lining up his sight with the exposed CPU.

He squeezed the trigger and the machine died.

Satisfied, Jason made to holster his weapon, but he immediately drew it again at the creak of a floorboard behind him. Spinning around, Jason aimed at the potential threat, ready to blow its head off.

There stood Daniel, however; his arms raised in surrender and a look of relief on his face.

“You? I expected someone to come for me, but not you”, he said, casting a wary glance at Cameron, who remained stoic as usual.

“We picked up your distress call and came running. Would you prefer we didn’t?” Jason replied, holstering his gun.

Daniel lowered his hands and frowned slightly at Jason; “Who else is with you? Sophie?” he asked.

Jason nodded and peered out of the nearby window, detecting gunshots in the distance. Cameron heard them too, her lips parting in concern for; “John!” she gasped. Without further delay, she stormed out of the room and hurtled down the stairs and out of the building, running as fast as her motors would allow.

He watched her until she disappeared around a corner, then turned back to Daniel; “Come on. We gotta go and there’re a few things we need to talk about”, he said, inclining his head towards the exit. Daniel followed him across town, listening with rapt attention as Jason told him everything that had occurred since the attack on the Louisiana stronghold.

Upon reaching the source of the gunshots, a small general store, Jason ordered Daniel to stay put while he investigated.

Cameron was already inside, being examined by a concerned John. On the floor lay the body of another T-888 as well as the remains of a man Jason didn’t recognise. A third body lay next to this one, and as he saw its face, Jason’s blood ran cold.

Sophie.


“Are you sure about this?”

Sarah loaded the last shell into the shotgun and racked it hard, her annoyance for Derek’s question only adding to the force of her actions.

“As sure as I’ll ever be”, she replied, placing the now fully-loaded weapon next to the Glock and the M-79.

“How do you know the Metal isn’t crazy? What if its rusty mind is corroded after all these years?” he persisted.

Sarah often found it easier to ignore Derek’s doubts, but she needed him if this was to succeed. And it had to succeed.

“It’s the only lead we have. He says he’s being called to a location. If that’s true then she might receive the same call”, she reasoned.

Derek shuffled uncomfortably, knowing that he would be unable to talk her out of this. She hadn’t listened to him since the night they…

“We leave tomorrow and that’s all there is to it. You can come if you want. He is your nephew, so I would assume-”

“I’m coming. I just… I’ve got a bad feeling about this one”, he cut in.

Sarah laughed sardonically, examining a photo as she spoke; John and Cameron sat together on a park bench, both smiling up at her in a strangely mocking manner.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”


To be continued…


Next: Chapter 09: Heeding The Call
Previous: Chapter 07: The Enemy of My Enemy