Prologue:
"The final solution is execution,
Foreign intruder, a new persecutor."
- Front Line Assembly, Re-Birth
Pvt. Jason O'Neill sped across the plains of South Dakota in a modified Cyberdyne motorcycle, a Hunter-Killer Aerial in hot pursuit high overhead. The HK rained down blue plasma blasts, scorching the tall grass. As there were no closed spaces into which he could hide from the attacking machine, his only recourse was to weave in different directions, hoping that his pursuer would not score a direct hit. Jason had been lucky so far, but he could feel the hot plasma strike the earth just inches from his bike.
He had been trying to reach the Resistance base in Pendleton, Oregon using a route that went from Illinois up through southern Idaho, but the HK had forced him north. If it weren't for the cycle's inbuilt navigator, he would have been utterly lost. Not that he had had much opportunity to look at it since he had fallen under fire.
On his console was a green button which would activate a small EMP blast. He had been unwilling to use it so far, as it would temporarily disable portions of his motorcycle, leaving him a sitting duck. But it would also affect the HK, and he was running low on gas.
Here goes nothing. He pressed the switched and slammed the brakes at the same time. The bike shook a little bit, but did not fall over. Meanwhile, the HK lunged ahead of him, its breaks malfunctioning. Pulling out a handheld rocket, Jason took careful aim at the HK. Under most conditions, its computer aiming system would have allowed for a perfectly accurate shot with little effort, but since it was offline due to the EMP, he would have to aim manually. When HK finally came into his sights, he fired off a single rocket which raced towards its target, striking the back of the HK's tail, blowing it to pieces. The craft now spun completely out of control, hitting the ground and exploding in a spectacular ball of fire. Jason fell off his bike, collapsing in exhaustion.
When he got back on the bike, its systems were beginning to reboot. He first "refueled," throwing out the old hydrogen cell. Usually these cells could last decades, but as this one had been damaged in the pursuit, it had been drained quickly. Slapping in a new one, he started up the motorcycle. On a small screen right below the bike's controls, Jason brought up his navigator. While he was alone for now, the machines had sensors and scanners everywhere, and he had to get his bearings and find a safe way to Oregon. Looking at the screen, his insides turned icy cold.
I need to get out of here now or I'm a dead man. Pressing hard on the accelerator, he sped south; he knew that he had only five miles to go before he was in the clear, but until then, every second could be his last. It did not matter how far away any Hunter-Killers or Terminators were; Jason was facing something that could get him anytime, anywhere.
The bike's console suddenly began to morph in a way that resembled the behavior of a T-1000. The top half of a skull formed, staring right at a terrified Jason. It spoke to him in a taunting, menacing voice that was both human and inhuman at the same time.
"Going somewhere in a hurry, my young friend? A hot date, perhaps? Here, let me give you a push so that your lucky lady isn't kept waiting." The bike lurched forward, accelerating at speeds far beyond that which it was designed for.
"Wouldn't want you to fall off, would we? You would rip that new suit of yours and the maître d' wouldn't let you take one step inside the restaurant." Cables grew out of the motorcycle, locking in Jason and preventing him from moving his hands or feet in any way. Jason could hear the engine and gears straining, but he was powerless to slow down as the hijacked bike darted across the plains. Approaching the five-mile limit, the skull spoke again.
"It looks like my time with you is just about up. I hope you have a magical evening." The metal face then seemed to melt back into the bike, the controls regaining their normal shape. The restraints, however, remained in place. Being unable to control the bike in any fashion, Jason could only sit helpless as it careened forward at almost one hundred and fifty miles per hour.
The bike's front wheel struck a rock and was sent spinning through the air, Jason screaming. It came down with the wheels pointing up, shattering to pieces. Jason's head was ripped from the neck, and flung amongst the scattered wreckage. The remaining body of the motorcycle skidded to a halt amongst a scene of twisted metal, bone, and blood.
Out of one of pieces of the smashed bike, the skull formed one last time, though its shape looked less defined and it struggled to maintain its form.
"What a loser. Things get a little hot and he blows his top in a matter of seconds." The skull then began to crack up into the laughter of a madman.