The whole city slept as it usually did at this time of the night. There was no sound except the echoes of police sirens in the distance, it was a calm and warm night.

In a back alley a homeless man enjoyed a bottle of cheap liquor, this was a good night even for him. The alcohol, the weather, the silence; life could be good some days.

That was about to change.

A chill ran down his spine as a cold wind passed through the alley, the smell of an incoming storm filled his nostrils. That was weird, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

Suddenly, a crackling sound came from the alley at the turn of the corner. Startled, the man looked intently in the direction of the sound, it was becoming more obvious and repetitive. A blue light filled the alley with each crackle.

Drinking from his bottle, he manned up, took a deep breath, and stood up. Walking as silently as was possible in his drunken state, he stopped at the corner. Taking another sip from the bottle, the man peeked around the corner.

The strangest thing was happening, electricity seemed to have gathered in the middle of the alley. There was something like a sphere made of light there, burning through the pavement, and with arcs of electricity jumping to the nearby walls.

A low hum filled the air, and the bubble started to shrink. The man took another sip from his bottle, unaware that alcohol wouldn't be enough to prepare him for what he was about to see.

The electricity bubble disappeared leaving a burning crater in the ground. Kneeling in the midst of it, was a stark naked woman. She had long wavy hair, golden like wheat, and lightly tanned skin.

Leaving the security of his corner, the homeless man stood there, perplexed.

Standing up, the woman appraised her surroundings, fixing her sight on the man wearing dirty rags that stood a few meters from her. His jaw was hanging, and his eyes were open so wide, they seemed about to pop out from his face.

Unable to move or articulate a word the man contemplated the situation. A woman had appeared out of thin air in the middle of a lightning ball. Surely, the alcohol had finally destroyed his sanity.

The woman was staring at him, it felt almost as if she could see into his soul. The man's grip failed, his bottle crashed loudly on the ground, breaking the silence.

Her gaze moved quickly to the ground, and then to his face again. Walking with cold determination, she started closing the gap between them.

No, walking was an understatement, she looked like those models on a catwalk; she was gliding, so much grace in such a common act. She stopped just about half a meter from him, her eyes still looking into his soul. Beautiful green eyes that had the coldest gaze he had ever seen.

Another chill ran down his spine as she stopped in front of him. She parted her lips, and then spoke in a voice that he could only describe as the chorus of a hundred women.

"Your clothes," she extended her hand to him.

The man almost sobered up with fear, but he was unable to move, or even speak.

"Your clothes!" The woman demanded impatiently, stepping closer to him, and extending her hand again.

Snapping out of his trance the second time she spoke, the man thought this was surely the devil, the grim reaper, or something amongst those lines. It was best he complied at her demands, lest he anger her. So he started undressing.

"You can keep the underwear," the woman deadpanned.

"Thank you," he whispered in fear.

Dressing up faster than any person he had ever seen, he noted the clothes surely reeked, but her expression never changed.

Instantly after being done she started walking to the main street, he was petrified, only his eyes moved following her. Turning around when she reached the end of the alley, her eyes flared with blue light, illuminating the walls.

"You will do well to forget this night Robert Jones." And with that, she turned around and walked into the night.

Nodding as the woman left, he noticed his bladder didn't hold at the shock of hearing his name.

-O-

Morning came, and the blonde woman had already rearranged her looks; a black business suit made of a knee-long skin-tight skirt, a form-fitting jacket, a white blouse, and a pair of black heels. She had tied her hair in a bun behind her head.

Downtown was full of stores after all, and wearing rags wasn't going to cut it, those were just needed for the acquisition of better attire, without arousing suspicion. A naked woman walking around, especially as good looking as her, would attract too much unwanted attention.

Flashing a big white smile, she glided through the waves of people going to their jobs that morning. She was moving to her targets last known location to initiate tracking procedures.

Acquiring the Connor gang was going to be difficult. According to the information she had from this time; Derek Reese had been killed, and Sarah Connor was recently taken to a maximum-security prison, which meant the remaining ones were laying low.

It didn't matter to her either way, she was a terminator, eventually she would find them.

-O-

"I need to show you something," Cameron said and stood beside the bed, "this body." She took her shirt off revealing a black bra that made perfect contrast with her skin. This was the first time she would purposely show her completely naked body to the John Connor of the past.

John was speechless, he had seen her body before, but that wasn't enough to reduce the shock at the sight. He felt a little light-headed, submerged in a thousand thoughts involving her navel.

Still lost in thought, John moved aside in autopilot to allow her on the bed. The terminator sat facing him, in that inhumanly perfect straightness so characteristic to her, and started unhooking her bra.

She shifted to lay on the bed, her body completely exposed. What she assumed were small glitches in her CPU, contaminated her thoughts. It was something like an idea, but incomplete, not entirely coherent; she was somewhat exposed, vulnerable. But there was no threat present in the small motel room, only John Connor.

Without taking his eyes off her for an instant, John saw her lay on the bed, naked above the waist. John swallowed hard and tried to think of her as the machine she was, but it was difficult. The perfect skin, the perfect look of softness of her breasts; It was all so, non-machiney, he thought.

With the slightest hint of hesitation, Cameron looked at John saying, "get on top of me."

What was that? John's eyes wandered nervously, he started feeling more than a little light-headed now, his thoughts raced in his head. Without making the entirely conscious decision, he moved towards her.

"Put your knee here," Cameron indicated with her hand a spot under her ribs.

After John complied, she pulled a switchblade from the pocket in her pants. Her eyes flicked a little as she opened the blade and handed it to him.

With his thoughts now flying around, John felt like his head was floating off from his body. He took the knife, and shifted his gaze a couple of times between it, and the perfect female form below him.

Cameron indicated a spot just above her navel. "Right here." For an instant, there was the smallest hint of doubt in her face.

Breathing was getting hard for John, was he seeing things? She looked scared for less than a second there, or maybe it was the light coming through the curtain. He had to cut her open, that perfect skin, and it was just above her navel, that navel, his thoughts drifted for a moment. But it didn't matter, right? She wouldn't feel any pain, there was no reason to feel nervous, after all she wasn't even really human.

"If I'm damaged we should know," She said in that typical non-expressive way of hers.

Holding his breath John started cutting, while he did, a realization came to his mind. Why was she doing this? This wasn't related to protecting him, it was not related to her mission. Letting him gut her for the sake of sating his doubts, his paranoia, his misguided anger that he was taking out on her; didn't seem like hard machine logic. Was she growing beyond her programming? Even if in some twisted way this was related to his safety, or any other mission parameters; it was that, twisted. This meant that at least she was creating complex ideas on her own.

Not realizing he was done cutting, Cameron had to bring John back to reality with her voice.

"Reach down, into the breastplate."

With the utmost care, John put his hand into the cut, and started touching.

"There," Cameron nodded once at him, "what does it feel like?"

"Cold."

Her face was so close, John couldn't say anything else. Those big brown eyes that seemed to express more than they were supposed to, they were so entrancing. And then her lips, they naturally formed a childish and at the same time sexy pout. John reveled a moment more in the sight just below him, and managed to end his sentence, "that's good, right?

"That's good," she made a pause, "that's perfect."

While she spoke John admired her lips, he hadn't moved his face a single centimeter away from her. He had cut into her chest, and touched the machine interior underneath the cute girl. Yet somehow this didn't detract from her beauty. At the very least, right now, it didn't matter at all; in this very instant the world could end, and John Connor wouldn't care less. There was only one thing in his mind, those beautiful pouty lips of his terminator protector.

The buildup of sensations made his lips tingle, he licked them, and left them slightly parted. He wanted to kiss her so much it hurt.

Cameron could perceive what was going on, even though she couldn't feel the same she was very observant. "John…" she called, to bring him back from his stupor.

They needed to get going soon, even so, she was unable to finish her sentence.

Those recently discovered glitches in her CPU were making her have another incoherent idea. She needed to stay where she was, by being together with John Connor, she and he were safe from any harm. This was completely illogical, compared to her, John Connor was a lesser combat unit, why would she be safer with him. The motel's wooden walls were unable to stop even small caliber weapons. These glitches were becoming a security threat, she was becoming a security threat.

"It's time to go," Cameron finally said.

While she was getting dressed, John wished he had time for a cold shower.

The two of them were getting the weapons ready, checking everything and filling magazines, so they didn't notice the woman at the motel's reception.

A blonde woman in a black business suit stood beside the manager, pointing a finger in the direction of John and Cameron's room.