Only Human

A/N: Alrighty! I'm back. I saw the new Upgrade film recently and I absolutely loved it! And on top of that, I also saw the Terminator movies for the first time recently as well! (I now, I'm the guy who didn't see The Terminator until 2018, I can't believe it either.) So after watching those to Sci-Fi masterpieces, this story basically wrote itself! Another friendly note that I own neither of these movie franchises, and also: MAJOR UPGRADE SPOILERS BELOW! If you haven't seen the movie, I highly recommend that you go see it. Especially before you read this story. Anyhow, please enjoy the reading!

The Old Bones had never been in what could be considered a nice part of the city. That fact had never bothered the patrons that visited the Old Bones, as they themselves were not exactly that nice either. Their mindset was to let the upper-level citizens revel in their own little bubble, and forget that anyone beneath them existed. Those fat-cats were good at that, and so the underworld-class citizens never heard from them. And so that was the unspoken agreement between both parties. 'Live and let live'. That was the motto that made life hunky-dory for both classes, so they kept to it.

But unfortunately for the patrons of the Old Bones, tonight was not hunky-dory at all. Far from it, in fact. The bar itself was in good condition, and there was no shortage of alcohol to be served from the numerous bottles and taps kept behind the counter. On the surface, there appeared to be no explanation to the dour mood that hung over the bar, but each of the patrons knew the reason: Their usual bartender, Manny, was dead.

Normally, there wouldn't be such a grim reaction a dead man in the world these people lived in, as it was a rather common occurrence, given the nature of their existence, but Manny had been different. Not only had he been a hell of a bartender, but he had also been about as close to a friend as anyone could get in the line of work that many of the patrons were in. He had known the name of everyone that came to the bar regularly, and he had never crossed the line when discussing work with the patrons. He had known what everyone's usual drink of choice was, and had one ready if he knew they were coming in.

Without Manny, it felt as though the Old Bones wasn't really the Old Bones anymore. Manny's cousin had taken over as owner/bartender, but it would be difficult for him to fill Manny's shoes.

The patrons sullenly talked about this and that, made arrangements between business partners, and nursed their various drinks, but even a blind man could see that their hearts weren't really in it tonight.

Their sulky atmosphere was suddenly broken as the wind outside began to blow. It was turning into quite a gust, and those next to the windows craned their necks to glance outside. The howling wind was quickly forgotten as streaks of electricity began arcing through the air. Those looking out the window were stunned as a miniature lightning storm began to rage in the alley outside.

The electricity all seemed to be originating from a ball of light in the middle of the alley, which illuminated everything.

Patrons quickly began crowding around the windows to witness the unusual display. Just as the event reached its peak, the wind and lightning abruptly stopped. The alley was plunged back into darkness. The patrons couldn't see anything for a few moments, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw that there was now a small crater in the ground right where the ball of light had been. The asphalt in the crater glowed red with the heat, and the arcs of electricity had started small fires in the alley as they had come into contact with anything flammable.

The occupants of the Old Bones paid little attention to the fires, however, as all of their attention was now focused on a figure that was standing in the center of the crater. At first, all they could see was a silhouette of what appeared to be a human being, but as they looked closer, they saw that it was, in fact, human. A man to be more specific. Upon inspection, the man appeared to be rather tall, as well as extremely muscular. The latter observation was closely noted with the fact that the man was also entirely naked. It became quite obvious as the man stood up and looked around. The patrons continued to watch in confusion and interest as the man took notice of the neon sign above the bar. The man turned to look at the numerous patrons, who looked back at him through the windows, then walked forward to the entrance to the bar.

The patrons all stepped away from the windows as the man walked in. In the light of the bar, they could all see him more clearly. He was tall and muscular, as they had previously seen, but in the new light, they had not realized just how muscular he actually was. The man was built like a tank, with a wide upper body that trimmed down into a well-built core and legs like a horse. A few of the women might have swooned had they not just seen the same man just come out of a freak lightning storm.

All eyes remained on the man as he began walking into the bar. He took his time, seemingly observing each patron as he passed, as though he was looking for something. The room was silent as he walked and observed. At last, the man seemed to find what he was looking for, and he approached what appeared to be the object of his desires: a man sitting at the bar.

The guy in question was face that was relatively new to the bar, not many people knew him, and he hadn't been there long enough to be comfortable around the regulars. He was dressed like your average biker: all black. Black pants, black, boots, black t-shirt, and of course, a black leather jacket. Nothing all that exciting to be sure. Nevertheless, the man approached him. The guy turned to face the man from his stool, and the man stopped in front of him.

There didn't seem to be an air of familiarity, the naked man's face betrayed no emotion, and the guy on the stool seemed very confused.

The naked man examined the man on the stool, then he spoke.

"Give me your clothes."

His voice betrayed no emotion either. It had just been a simple command, plain and simple.

The guy on the stool frowned in confusion. Then in anger. He stood up and faced the naked man.

"Care to say that again, jackass?"

"Your clothes, give them to me."

The guy from the stool smirked. Then suddenly a knife appeared in his hand, and he quickly buried the blade into the naked man's abdomen.

The bar remained silent. Naked men and lightning storms were rare occurrences to be sure, but a man getting a knife in his stomach was much more common. One could almost say that things were back to normal.

And then things were weird again, for the naked man with a knife buried to the hilt in his gut didn't flinch. It was a common experience that when a human had a knife embedded in them, that they reacted with a yell of pain, or a grunt, or wheeze. And they almost always recoiled backward. It was a reflex. This man did neither. He simply looked down at the knife in his stomach, then back at the guy from the stool, his face remaining impassive. The stabber's eyes widened in disbelief as the man looked back at him. Then, in a flash, the naked man grabbed the guy by the throat and held him high in the air. The guy gasped and wriggled and tried to break the man's hold, but it was to no avail. The man held him there.

"Hey! Take that outside!"

All eyes in the room turned to see that it was Manny's cousin who had spoken. A pistol was in his hands, and it was pointed directly between the naked man's eyes.

The naked man studied the owner for a moment, the guy from the stool still struggling against his grip, and the knife still deep in his stomach.

"Please?" The gun wavered slightly.

The naked man walked slowly over to Manny's cousin. In a flash of movement, the man grabbed the gun out of the owner's hands. Manny's cousin fell backward from fear, and the man turned and walked across the room to the door he had come in from. The guy gasping for air in his right hand, and the gun in his left. And the knife in his gut.

The crowd remained silent as the man exited. Even as the door closed, they could still hear the guy crying out and wheezing from outside. Then there was a loud crack, and the sounds of struggle abruptly ended.

…

The T-850 wasted no time on donning the clothes the guy had worn. As it pulled the t-shirt over its torso, the knife still stuck in its chassis caught the fabric, preventing the shirt from going all of the way down. The T-850 stopped and examined the wound. Internal diagnostics coupled with external examinations concluded that the knife had done no damage to the T-850 apart from tearing through its outer tissue. The skin would repair itself in less than a few days if the knife was removed. The T-850 reached down with one hand and pulled the knife from its body, and brought it up to its eye level.

A quick scan confirmed that the knife was clean. Well, clean enough that it didn't carry any pathogens or diseases that would threaten the health of the T-850's living tissue, anything else could be disregarded.

The T-850 dropped the knife, it had no use for such a primitive weapon, and resumed its action of putting on the dead guy's clothes. After all of the man's clothes were donned, the T-850 examined the pockets. It found a wallet, with some cash tucked inside, an ID for the dead guy, named Arnold Willis, and a cellular phone. The T-850 immediately accessed the phone, and dialed the phone number that Skynet had previously stored in its data banks. The T-850 held the phone to its ear, and waited as the phone rang to the other end. The phone rang for a few moments more, then an error tone played, and a woman's voice informed the terminator that the number was invalid. Then the line terminated.

The T-850 recognized that contact had not been made, and redialed the number. Again, the error tone rang out, and the woman's voice repeated the message. The T-850 put the phone back into its pocket as it processed this new information. Thinking that perhaps there had been an error in the instructions it had been given, the T-850 quickly re-examined the orders it had been given.

Skynet had sent the T-850 back in time to the date of August 28, 2017. Once it arrived, it was to immediately contact the T-3000, or John Connor, as they were one in the same, and assist him in ensuring Skynet's survival. The phone number Skynet had programmed it with was supposed to be a direct line to the T-3000, but that had proven false.

The T-850 concluded that it needed more information, if the phone number had proven to be false, then it was possible that other false information existed in the T-850's data banks. A new objective attained, the T-850 placed the gun in the waistband of its pants before exiting the alley.

…

Pamela Trace drove wildly through the city streets, hoping to get to her destination as fast as possible. She had not heard from Grey or Detective Cortez for at least twelve hours now, and she worried that her worst fears were coming to be. With the worst-case scenario fresh in her mind, she drove haphazardly toward her destination: the Old Bones bar. Cortez had left her notebook at the house, and Pamela had noticed that name written in her notes. If that was where she could find her son, then dammit she was going.

She quickly checked the GPS on her car. The Old Bones should be right arou—

The car lurched as it collided with something, and Pamela screamed as the metal crumpled and groaned as it yielded to whatever she had just struck. The tires squealed as Pamela slammed on the brakes, and the car drifted slightly before coming to a hard stop. Pamela's head snapped back into the headrest, momentarily dazing her. When her head cleared, she looked around wildly to get her bearings. Her eyes fell onto the road in front of her, where a body was sprawled on the ground.

"Oh my God!" Pamela screamed. She had just hit a person, and said person wasn't moving at all—

Pamela screamed again as the figure suddenly sprung to life and stood up. Pamela gazed wide-eyed as the figure, a man dressed in all black, turned to look at her severely damaged car. The man's eyes then locked on her, and Pamela felt a stab of fear as the man walked around the car to the driver's side door, her eyes followed him the whole was. The glass window was broken, and the man leaned down and set his piercing gaze on Pamela. She stared back, breathing hard and shaking with fright.

"I—I—I'm sorry! I didn't l-look where I was going and I just…"

"What is the date? What is the name of this city?"

The man's expression remained flat and unreadable, but Pamela's brows furrowed in confusion. Then she realized that he must have a severe concussion, and he must be extremely disoriented.

"Don't worry, l-let me call an ambulance. They'll help you."

"Negative, I do not require medical attention."

Pamela was well acquainted with that response, having been a EMT herself in the past, most people who were disoriented did not want and would outright refuse medical attention. They insisted that they were fine, when in reality they were not. Pamela knew that she needed to get an ambulance here right away to help him, and she decided to lie in order to get them here.

"Well, let me at least call them for me. I don't know how bad of shape I am in."

"You have suffered minor contusions due to your seat belt, and your heart rate is slightly elevated, neither of which require an ambulance."

Pamela frowned in confusion at the man. Despite not knowing the date or his location, his eyes and body posture displayed complete focus and awareness, even though his face remained impassive. Perhaps this was a rare occasion when someone should have suffered severe trauma but miraculously made it out ok. She was fine too, even though the car had taken quite a beating. She had just been so focused on getting to the bar. The bar! Pamela quickly looked at the man.

"Do you know the Old Bones bar? It should be right around here."

"It is located at the end of that alley." The man pointed down a dark alley.

Pamela wanted to go investigate, but she knew that she was not in a very nice part of the city. Even this man she was talking to could be dangerous, but she decided to throw caution into the wind. She quickly fumbled in her purse and produced her favorite picture of Grey: his senior picture. He had matured since then, but his look and facial hair were still recognizable. She held the picture out to him. Her hand still shaking.

"Was this man in there?" she asked. The man took the picture from her and examined it.

"Negative."

"Could he have been? I mean, did it look like someone had just le-?"

"What is the date? What is the name of this city?"

Pamela fell silent and stared back at the man. He stared back with his ever-stoic expression. She realized that to get any information out of this man, she would have to give some information as well. Looking around, Pamela realized that she did not want to do that here. It was too dangerous. So too was this man, but Pamela was frantic. And he could still be hurt, so she thought she could at least try to help him.

"Look, we both have questions, so maybe we can go somewhere and tell each other what we know."

The man stared at her for a few moments, then turned and walked around the car to the passenger's side door. Opening it wide, he slid himself in with surprising grace for how bulky he was. Pamela looked at her crumpled fender, then back to the man.

"I don't think we can go anywhere with this car, I really did a number on you. And you did one back."

She forced a laugh, and the man turned to her and stared. Pamela gulped and shrunk under his piercing gaze. Maybe right then had not been the best time for a joke.

The man turned and observed the damage that the car had taken.

"The vehicle is still functional, it will suffice for transport."

Yet again, Pamela was confused by the man's response. How he could tell just by looking at the car, she would never know. Pamela felt another stab of pain as she remembered just how good Grey was with cars. God, she hoped he was alright. Shifting the car into gear, Pamela pressed her foot down onto the accelerator, eager to get somewhere where her questions could be answered.

…

The T-850 watched silently as the woman pulled into the driveway of a rather sizeable house and killed the engine. The car had groaned and protested the entire ride, but it had efficiently transported them to their destination. The engine coughed and sputtered as it powered down. The T-850 stepped out of the passenger's side and followed the woman along the concrete sidewalk and up to the front door. The security mechanism was a biometric handprint reader, and the woman hastily pressed her hand against the pad for a few moments before there was a sharp click from the door, indicating that it was now unlocked.

The woman hastily glanced back at the T-850 as though she was worried that it had disappeared, then hurried inside. The T-850 followed suit. As the terminator stepped through the door, it took in the sight of an expansive and completely furnished living room, which also contained a kitchen and dining room built in as well.

"Welcome home, Pamela."

A voice suddenly came from seemingly nowhere. The T-850 immediately scanned the house for other heat signatures, but found none, concluding that the voice belonged to an AI of some kind.

"Please, have a seat." The woman called Pamela requested. Hurriedly placing her purse and jacket on the table. She gestured to one of the couches located in the center of the living room.

The T-850 wordlessly complied, and seated itself on the couch nearest to it. Pamela sat across from him, and the terminator's sensors indicated that she was eager to begin.

"So once again, you are absolutely positive that my son was not in that bar?"

"Affirmative."

"There was no possibility that he could have been in the back or in a closet where you couldn't see him?"

"Correct, he was not in any other rooms."

"How did you know? Did you check?"

Now, the T-850 paused. It had known because it had scanned for other heat signatures while it was within the Old Bones. No signatures apart from the patrons in the main room had appeared, and the machine knew for a fact that no one else had been there. The predicament the terminator faced now was whether it should tell Pamela. Doing so would undoubtedly reveal the T-850 as a cybernetic organism, and the terminator quickly calculated the advantages and disadvantages of Pamela knowing the truth.

The terminator quickly concluded that to be safe, it would terminate Pamela after it had received the information it needed. And as a result, it would not really matter if she knew what the T-850 was for the last five minutes of her life.

"I know for certain because I ran thermal scans on each of the other rooms in the bar. Every patron was in the main room."

The woman seemed to deflate at the sentence, then a frown began to form on her face. She quickly straightened back up and looked at the T-850 with a newfound vigor.

"What do you mean, you 'ran thermal scans'? You don't have any equipment on you…Unless…unless you're augmented?"

The T-850 was uncertain as to how to answer that question. It had indeed been augmented with new upgrades compared to the general T-850 models that Skynet produced, but the machine calculated that it was highly improbable that Pamela knew that, meaning that her version of augmented was quite different from the T-850's.

"I do not understand the question." The T-850 chose to reply.

"You know, had and implantations to your…. wait, who exactly are you? What is your name?"

"I do not have a specific designation. I am a Cyberdyne Systems Series 850 Terminator."

"A Cyberdyne System…what!?"

"Cyberdyne Systems Series 850 Terminator."

"What is a Terminator?"

"A cybernetic organism. Living tissue over metal endoskeleton."

"Metal endoskeleton? So…you are a robot?"

"Negative, I am a cybernetic organism."

"So, under your skin is a metal skeleton?"

"Yes."

The T-850 watched as Pamela searched its face for any hint of deception. Finding none, Pamela's mood seemed to change. The T-850 detected denial in her posture.

"Look, that car crash may have hurt you more than you think. Your head might be a bit messed up, and now you might be seeing or believing things that seem perfectly logical now, but in hindsight are extremely far-fetched. I think we need to call you an ambulance."

"I was not damaged, and my CPU is fully intact and functional. I have no need for maintenance."

At this point, Pamela seemed to get frustrated with the terminator.

"Fine! If you're supposed to be this 'cybernetic organism' or whatever, then prove it!"

"That is not my mission."

"Then what do you want!?"

"I want to know the date, and the name of this city."

The T-850 waited for an answer as Pamela crossed her arms in annoyance.

"The date is July 26, 2067, and this city we are in is Los Angeles."

The terminator paused as it processed the information. Its sensors indicated that Pamela was telling the truth based on her heart rate and blood pressure, so the information could be trusted. But if she was correct, and the year was 2067, then Skynet had actually sent the T-850 forward in time, instead of back. The year was 2030 when Skynet had sent the T-850, yet the terminator now found itself 37 years into the future instead of being sent 13 years into the past.

The terminator required more information, but this form of communication was proving inefficient.

"Do you possess a computer?" the terminator asked.

Pamela seemed startled by the question, but then frowned again as she uncrossed her arms.

"Yes, what do you need it for?"

"Where is it?" the terminator continued as it stood up from the couch.

"Hey wait! You just can't use that!"

"I require more information, and a question and answer session will consume too much time. I need to accelerate the process."

Pamela felt slightly offended by his words, but she gestured for it to follow her into the next room, which was far smaller. In the room sat a desk with a holographic computer sitting on it. There was a chair pulled up to the computer, and the terminator sat down. It then spent a few moments learning how to use the computer, but easily picked it up. Pamela watched over its shoulder as the T-850 accessed the internet. Right now, the main priority was dates, events, anything that resembled the past that the T-850 came from. If it could find anything related to Skynet, perhaps it could follow the trail to its superior. The T-850 spent a few minutes cataloguing important dates and events that occurred throughout history, and it came to a startling realization. If the T-850 had the capacity to be surprised, it would have shat its pants.

The history data bases that the T-850 accessed contained no information on the existence of Skynet, the war with the machines, or any names of the famous individuals fighting in the war. Even specific searches turned up with nothing. The T-850 tried all the keywords it thought possible: Skynet, Machine War, Terminators. Even names produced nothing: John Connor, Sarah Connor, Katherine Brewster, Kyle Reese…nothing. According to the data bases that the T-850 accessed, there had never been a war with an advanced artificial intelligence, only human wars.

On top of that fact, the T-850 also found that all events prior to the birth of Skynet matched very closely with its own records. In fact, all history prior to 1997 matched almost perfectly with the events the terminator had in its memory banks.

Of all the possible explanations the T-850 conjured, one stood out further than all the rest with a 95% chance of being correct, which was miles ahead of the explanation that was the second most likely.

The second choice (25%) was that Skynet had in fact been created in this timeline, and ultimately defeated. The T-850 had arrived in the future where the survivors of the machine war had covered up all evidence of the war. That explanations possessed many inconsistencies, so the T-850 turned to the most likely explanation:

Skynet had accidently sent the T-850 to an alternate timeline. A timeline where Skynet had never been created.

A/N: Alright! First chapter done! I don't intend on making this a long story, but we will just have to see how it goes. Don't forget to love/hate my story by leaving a comment! I'd love to hear from my readers!