Disclaimer: I do not own Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles or the characters in any of the Terminator franchises. If I did, TSCC would still be on today. This story is only for my own entertainment, and for any readers who may find it amusing.
Author's note: This is my first TSCC fan fiction. That being the case, I encourage any who reads this story to leave a review so I can improve my craft as a writer, but I politely ask for you not to flame me. If you don't like what I have written, please give me a reason. If you do like it, tell me what about my story you like. However, keep in mind that I already wrote the first draft for this multi-chapter story over several months, so I am unlikely to change any major plot points. Also, this story is somewhat OC centric, but there is a lot of Jameron as well, as well as some other pairings. Now on to the story! I hope you enjoy it. Please review!
The crackling and buzzing of electricity could be heard for several city blocks, but at this time of night, almost no one heard it, and fewer still were awake enough, and cared enough, to pay any attention on what had already been a stormy night in Los Angeles. In fact, only one individual noticed that the storm had passed this part of town over half an hour ago, and that the sound this particular electrical discharge made was much different from the ones that had been rolling thought this part of California…
The tall biker, whose black helmet concealed his crew cut, drove into the empty lot. His auditory sensors had picked up the sound of the unusual event, and had followed one of his many secondary mission objectives to check up on it. His target would not arrive in L.A. to be terminated for another 12 hours, more than enough time to assess whether or not enemies had been sent back to this time, as his master had not informed this infiltrator unit that it would be receiving any reinforcements. Therefore, it would be tactically sound to assume the occupant(s) of this temporal anomaly had been hostile….
The infiltration unit got off its bike and walked into the alleyway, noting the smoking crater and remnants of a particular kind of electrical discharge. After removing its helmet, it began a cursory scan of its surroundings to see if it could identify any targets, but it was never able to finish its scan.
The T-850 unit barely heard the sound of his attacker before the connection between his CPU and his "spinal column" was abruptly severed. The infiltrator's world went black, and it never saw its attacker's cold smile as he quickly uses a sharpened top of a tin can from the alleyway to carve off a flap of the infiltrator skin, pry open the port cover with his bare hands, and remove its CPU with almost a minute to spare before the infiltrator's secondary power cell would have kicked in.
'That was ALMOST too easy.' The attacker thought to himself. 'But then again, despite their physical durability, T-850's are less intelligent than the newer infiltrators.'
But there was no time to dwell on the inferior infiltration unit now; there was a mission to see to. Right now, he would need to find a way to dispose of the "body" quickly, and then he could continue on to his primary mission. The newcomer helped himself to the T-850's belongings, including his sunglasses, helmet, and clothes (which were slightly big for him), the key to its motorcycle, and the meager contents of its wallet, which barely contained $100, not that it even would have needed that much to complete its mission.
The T-850's attacker put the required items, including the T-850's chassis, broken CPU and several bits of flammable trash and refuse, in the middle of the still smoking crater before reaching inside the chassis, punching through the infiltrator's synthetic skin, and squeezing hard on the nuclear power cell before putting on the infiltrator's helmet and quickly climbing onto his new bike and riding away. The explosion was almost deafening to human ears, but the individual on the bike ignored it. Without looking back, he knew that several nearby buildings would be destroyed or on fire now, but that no persons lived close enough to be harmed by the blast or identify his part in its creation. There would be suspicions of some kind of arson after the fires were put out, but with nothing but an unidentifiable mess of molten slag and traces of common flammable materials left in the wake of the explosion, and no witnesses, investigators would be forced to write off the explosion as the result of an atmospheric discharge setting of an unknown flammable mixture in the alleyway. The explosion would hide the shape of the crater, and the trace amounts of radiation left over from the explosion would certainly fade away long before anyone actually thought to bring a Geiger counter into the investigation. It was possible that the Terminator would have allies that would make a connection between its destruction and his arrival, but the time traveler doubted it. Infiltrators generally worked alone. Besides, the new arrival to this time had his mission to worry about, and that took precedence over all other considerations. Time was short.
It was time to find the Connors.