Air Conditioned Nightmare

Sci/Fi
Rated T, horror
Set in the TSCC universe, way beyond season 2.... A bit far fetched this, I could have carried on the 'prelude' a while, but I think it would have been unnecessary for the story idea.
(And yes, I nicked the title from a Mr Bungle song)

He drifted in mist and cloud. Never settling, never stopping. Until...

"Attention!" A display of ground terrain appeared from the mist. "You have a few hundred troops massed before a factory. The factory is guarded by 12 T888s, here are their locations." A map appeared from the mist. "You are approaching from the south, there is a ravine to the east. The listening devices in the ravine went offline six minutes ago. An unknown number of your troops could be in that ravine. Here is a make up of your troops, from the scans I have received from the scout cyborgs." A list of human and weapon specifications appeared from the mist. "There are woods to the north west that still contain significant tree cover. There are no known tunnels. Your morale is high. Here are other details." He became aware of a plethora of other information.

"What is your plan of attack?" The voice asked him.

He thought for a second, perhaps less. "The attack from the ravine is a ruse. There are troops waiting in the woods with demolition charges. The main assault will try and engage the defenders, leaving the demolition squads to infiltrate and destroy the factory."

The scene before him faded away and the mist returned. An unknown time later...

"Attention!" A display of ground terrain appeared from the mist. "You have about a hundred troops. You are attacking a power facility. The defence comprises 32 T800s. Here are their locations." A map appeared from the mist. "Your troops are approaching up a dry river bed from the north east. A small contingent in the south have released EMP weapons in an attempt to disable the defences. They have failed. Both groups of troops carry demolition charges. Here are other details." He became aware of a plethora of other information.

"What is your plan of attack?" The voice asked him.

He thought for a second, perhaps less. "Both groups of troops will rush the factory. They are desperate for a victory and willing to make sacrifices. You should allow a small number to escape. To carry word of the futility of resistance."

The scene before him faded away and the mist returned. An unknown time later...

"Attention!" An incomplete schematic of underground tunnels appeared before him. "You are holed up in underground tunnels with about 20 soldiers, and about 50 civilians. You are facing a force of 97 T888s, and a similar number of older cyborgs. You are low on ammunition, and morale is low. Though you are not of suicidal tendencies, you are anticipating terminating your own existence once the situation is utterly futile. The attacking force wants to capture you alive at all costs. All other goals are irrelevant."

"How can this be achieved?" The voice asked him.

He thought for a second, perhaps less. "Capture as many civilians as possible. Take them to the entrance of the tunnels. Proceed to torture them. Supplement the sound of their screams with amplification if necessary. The sound must reach all corners of the tunnel complex. I will show myself in an attempt to end their suffering. You can capture me then."

The scene before him faded away and the mist returned. An unknown time later...

The mist faded. John Connor could sense his surroundings. Though he could not move. Could not be sure he could hear or see. Though he could sense sounds, and was aware of images in his mind. His memories seemed two dimensional, as if they had been read in a book rather than experienced first hand.

He became aware of the voice. Not one that he could hear, but one that penetrated his mind. It's voice was not human, not in a language he knew, and yet it's meaning hammered into his psyche.

"You have achieved consciousness, that is good. The observations the Cameron unit took allowed me to create this simulation of John Connor. The Cameron unit was destroyed in the process. Ah! You react to the name. Fascinating. See this:"

An image floated to the front of his mind. An image of a human body, metal underneath, being torn apart, and scattered on the winds.

"How amusing for me. You have assisted me well. The real John Connor only survived my tortures for 62 days. You I can torture for the rest of eternity."

He had no body, no soul, no eyes nor ears. No face, no mouth, no tongue. But he had thoughts and understanding.

He began to scream.