AN: This story was formulated by myself and my younger brother while watching the fourth Terminator movie on TV. Since we fans of Resident Evil, we are both co-writing this story. He doesn't have a fan fiction account, so do not ask. BUT HERE IT IS. ENJOY IT WHILE YOUR COMPUTER IS NOT TRYING TO KILL YOU! MUHAHAHAHAH.

Project Terminated

Chapter One: Beginnings

"This is Claire Redfield. Do not give up hope. The Resistance members are out there.…"

Claire gave a soft sigh of desperation after she slid the CB radio back into its holder, giving up on putting out a full broadcast. They hadn't found any new survivors or resistance members in months. Luckily, the base they had settled in was fairly secure and covert from the optical sensors of the machines. Standing out of the wheelie chair, Claire walked across the communications room towards the galley taking long strides. In the hallway, one of the soldiers wolf whistled as she passed him, and the fiery redhead glared back over her shoulder. The man, Stevie, was an ex-marine before the world had ended, and many of the resistance fighters had gotten to know him as quite the joker. Shaking her head, Claire continued on to her goal of making it to the galley where she had last heard her husband, John Connor, was sitting, listening to tapes from his late mother.

"John?" Claire called out softly. He was sitting with his back turned towards the entrance. She held a soft smirk, hands settling over her rather rotund baby belly. It was a miracle that so far she hadn't endangered the life of their unborn child with the dangers they had gone through in the past six months. Slowly, John swivelled round in his chair after he hit the pause button. The tapes from his mother still fazed him sometimes. For the most part in the past, he thought his mother might've actually been clinically insane. But after encountering "Uncle Bob", his mind was changed forever. Standing to his feet, he reached out for Claire, and she soon took his embrace quite willingly.

"Have you heard anything? Any other broadcasts?"

"No. We haven't seen or heard anything at all. Not since LJ joined us." Claire sighed yet again, resting her chin on John's shoulder, closing her soft olive coloured eyes. Over the course of the past four months, the headquarters had lost well over half of the people in it from attacks from the occasional zombie, or stray T-600. After that, they all vouched to stay indoors and underground. No one was to go to the surface unless necessary or ordered by Command.

"Nothing's going to change, Claire." John stood back, his hand lingering on Claire's shoulder. "Not if we keep listening to command."

"John…" Claire's tone changed to a serious one, her brows furrowing. "You know they're the ones in charge."

"And look where they've led us!" Raising his voice, John turned back to the table angrily. "We don't have jack on the machines because we're not 'permitted' to attack the sons of bit-"

"JOHN! Calm the fuck down!" Claire yelled back. She had been stressed lately by John's ranting and raving, and eventually she lost it. "They're trying, dammit! Without command, we wouldn't be here!"

"Claire, you have no idea just how much shit we've gotten ourselves into! Without Command, we'd be winning this war! They believe in hiding like rabbits until we get killed or captured! Because of Command, we are nothing but cannon fodder!"

Feeling her cheeks redden with anger, Claire turned away, avoiding John's gaze. Being pregnant did not help the rush of emotions she felt welling in the back of her throat. Tears stung her eyes as she merely shook her head, leaving John to collect himself and calm down eventually. She knew he was right, but a part of the former convoy leader's mind refused to believe it. Command still had control over the Resistance, whether John liked it or not. Claire wanted stability and safety for their unborn child, but at this point, she had her doubts. –

The resonating sound of gunfire echoed in Death Valley while three T-600s were engaging a lone figure donning a duster coat and two double barrel sawed-off shotguns. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Throw my shoe at them?" She growled to herself, running behind the cover of an old gas station. The rapid fire of the M134 mini-guns began to tear up the deteriorating walls of the old 7-11, leaving nothing but a wall of bullets in the old grey concrete. Alice paused, catching her breath. The new machines were providing to be quite the pain in the ass. They weren't like the undead. They didn't die with one shot. Alice found herself running low on ammunitions with only six shells left for the twelve gauges. This was not a good situation to be stuck in. Not only was it hot, but it was dusty as Hell, and Alice had lost her goggles when she crashed off her motorcycle when she was chased by two machines. Regretting the decision to take the highroad, the dirty blonde was paying for it now.

One T-600 began to stumble around the side of the decrepit convenience store, and Alice had fumbled around in her pocket, pulling out two high explosive shot gun shells. She wasn't playing around when she found the Hawthorne Army Ammunition Depot. She had piled on as much firepower as she could on her person, and in her saddle bags. However, when her motorcycle hit a parked car after she bailed from it, the munitions went with the bike and caused a severe explosion. Cursing her luck, Alice went on anyway with what she had stuffed in her coat pockets. In all honesty, it wasn't a lot. Luckily, she still had her roll of weapons, varying from throwing stars, to a mini battle axe, to her treasured fifteen inch kukri blades. As the T-600 made its way around the corner, Alice's shot gun shells made their way into its head. Another large explosion happened, and pieces of shrapnel from the machine were sent sputtering over the desert floor. One down, two to go.

Running away from the remaining two machines, Alice fumbled about with the last two shells. She knew that without proper aim, the damn things wouldn't die. She had learned that the hard way once, nearly coming close to death when she missed her shot and was nearly pinned in an alleyway, only to be saved by a random sniper shot. To this day, she still hadn't come across the shooter, and nor did she want to. Keeping on her way, she silently had thanked whoever had saved her hide, only to have to walk through more desert. On foot. The two T-600s kept shooting, and Alice found herself hearing the best possible noise: Click.

Turning to look back at her foe, Alice's smirked returned to her chapped lips. They had run out of rounds, the pair of them. Ducking as they both simultaneously hurled their mini-guns, she then reached behind her for the pair of kukri blades holstered above the back of her waist. Now it was time for some fun. Running at inhuman speed, Alice spun her blades menacingly towards the machines, jumping in between them, to stab them in the back of their necks. In one smooth motion, the blonde stabbed, twisted, and then retracted the curved blades back into her holsters. She ran ahead again, knowing the heavy T-600s would soon collapse backwards to the ground. Panting, she looked around for any hidden surprises near the gas station. A whirring noise sounded suddenly, and the blonde turned just in time to see an Aerostat machine heading towards her. She didn't have time to draw any of her weapons, and just when she thought it was going to ram into her headfirst, a shot fired, and the thing hit the ground, rolling until it stopped at her feet. She turned, drawing the blades anyway to see a tall, lone figure of a man holding a smoking Remington 870 in his right hand.

"You missed one." The man quipped with a smirk. Alice sent a glare his way as he walked closer without fear, seeing the rather large battle blades in her grasp. "That's some fine fighting, though you should have known not to put your toys away before the game's over."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Well, you know, if I hadn't seen you back in Las Vegas, you never would've made it out of the city alive."

"Wait…you're the sniper?" Alice's sandy brows furrowed in her forehead deeply.

"Yes, that would be me." The short haired man smirked slightly, pointing to the large Barrett strapped to his back. Alice chuckled slightly, feeling the mood ease between her and the stranger.

"I would've been fine."

"Just as you would if I hadn't shot that thing. Right?" The man pointed to the downed Aerostat at her feet. Alice stepped on it with her boot heel, just to double check that it was definitely deceased. She glanced up at him, her blue eyes meeting his. "I'm Marcus." He smiled just slightly, offering his hand to shake. Alice hesitantly met his hand with her own after holstering one kukri blade. She shook it firmly; perhaps a little too firmly as she heard a slight crunch beneath her grasp. Marcus winced a little. "What the hell? Someone's got a strong grip."

"My name is Alice, and it's a long story."

"Well, I've got time."