Title- Becoming John Connor
Chapter- 11/?
Author- Dekardkain
Date- 03/26/10
Rating- T
Category - Action/Character study JC/C
Archiving- Would be an honor, just ask.
Warnings- Violence/language
Disclaimers- I don't own this, no money, yadda yadda.
Summary: Facing one's fate is the measure of a man. Changing one's fate is the measure of a hero.
Author's Note 1: Tried something different with a section of this chapter, not really sure how well it worked out. I wanted an outsider's perspective on the battle playing out and I think it ended up coming out kind of clumsy. Let me know what you think.
Author's Note 2: Intro voice over is Sarah
Time always marches forward. Progress is always made. Horses replace legs. Trains replace horses. Cars replace trains.
We pick up speed as we approach the cliff and you're considered insane for asking why. In the age of reason the ultimate sin is to stand in the way of progress, the ultimate betrayal is to doubt man's infallibility.
So we build a world where a few carefully placed atoms can power ten thousand homes, or destroy them just as easily. A world where we believe our machines so perfect that 'human error' becomes a trademark excuse. Where science cures plagues that have ravaged us for thousands of years, only to make them more potent for use against each other.
And when the fighters begin to fly too fast, the trickle of data becomes a flood, and the pace of this new battlefield leaves no room for the meddling interference of it's outdated human components, we replace them too in the name of 'progress'.
So we created a machine to fight it for us. We taught it to think. We taught it to war. We taught it to kill. We denied it nothing.
Until the time came to give it a soul, and then we denied it the one thing that could have prevented our own destruction.
We created the machines to be the perfect killers, so I guess it was inevitable they would try to become more human.
I wonder if they'll call it progress too.
Chapter 11 - "Vom Kriege"
QualStar Communications Uplink Station A18
Craig, Colorado
Feb 28th, 2011
0415 hrs
"T-888 Unit Delta has moved one-hundred fifty meters southwest since the last GPS update." Wilson rattled off the information in the same dull monotone he'd been using since Specialist Austin had jacked him into the up-link the day before. "He is approaching Sergeant Reed's position from behind the disabled APCs."
At the moment Sarah was almost grateful that at least one of them was calm and collected while all hell was breaking loose around them. Taking a deep breath she thumbed her satellite unit over to John's squad freq. "Alpha lead to Whiskey lead."
Thirty seconds passed by before she repeated her challenge, her heart slowly building up speed as the seconds ticked on without a response. The last message she'd received had been a position update shortly after Reed's squad had been cut off from the rest of the strike team by the company's security forces.
These fuckers had known exactly when and where to hit them and they'd never seen it coming. She had never seen it coming. And now John was out there all by himself and there was no way for her to do anything but wait and listen helplessly. Though just twenty-four hours earlier she would have shot you point blank for implying it, she would have given anything to have Cameron at his side. His life was far more important than her sanity. Raising a now shaking hand back up she could feel the plastic shift and pop under her crushing grip, "John!"
Suddenly her unit erupted in a cacophony of screaming and automatic weapons fire, the tumult only allowing her to glean bits and pieces of the conversation over the ambient noise as the soldiers fought on ferociously against the attackers baring down on them.
"She's still bleedin' Sarge!"
"She's stabilized, Carmack! Get your ass back on the bloody firing line!"
"Two right! Drop those fuckers!"
"Hendrix! Watch those grenades, last one almost landed on top of us!"
"No shit Reed! That's where the enemy is!"
"Cut the chatter! They're inside the wire!"
"Back door!"
"Tango down!"
"Reloading!"
"Connor to Reed!"
Sarah's heart actually seemed to restart when John's voice broke across the line, despite the obviously desperate tone it carried. At least he was still alive.
"What you got boss?"
"They weren't disengaging to come deal with us! The security forces hit the lower levels from the other side of the building and they're driving them up the stairs right towards us! I had Darla set up a little parting gift but we are getting the hell out of Dodge. I'd appreciate it if you kept... fuck!"
There was the sound of sustained weapons fire followed by a growl and the click of a magazine swap, "I'd appreciate it if you could provide some cover when we hit the ground!"
"Uhhh... the ground, sir?"
"I've got 'em pinned in the stair well so we aren't going out that way. Luckily they've got enough gear up here to storm Normandy, including the C4 we used for our surprise and hopefully enough rope to repel from here."
"You coming down the west wall, sir?"
"That's the plan."
"Little problem then. O'Brien managed to take out the engine blocks of those APCs but we've still got Tangos swarming all over that area."
"Whiskey copies. Hold one... there was something in that stockpile that might even the odds."
"Copy that sir, we'll cover your...."
The signal was suddenly cut short by a massive explosion, so loud Sarah dropped her satellite unit to the floor, the piercing shriek still ringing in her ears.
Beside her, Ellison frowned while rubbing the back of his head. Upon noticing her expression his face softened a bit. "John's a smart kid. I'm sure he'll be fine."
Sarah could feel the tears threatening to spill at the corners of her eyes and angrily swiped them away with the back of her hand. She had been so angry with John when she'd left for this mission. So full of righteous indignation and seething resentment. But in this moment she promised she would forget about all of it if she could just bring him home safely.
And in that moment she allowed herself to just be a mother for the first time since John had been born. Not a teacher or a protector. Not the example of strength she'd tried to drill into John.
She was just a mother who wanted her son to come home, and as long as that was all she was, she was allowed to cry.
To his credit, James didn't say anything about it.
Kruger Industrial
Camden Ohio
Feb 28th, 2011
0422 hrs
"Somebody..."
Richard Quinn ran his eyes slowly up and down the petrified faces of the men sitting on the bench across the APC from him while clutching his quickly soaking-through sleeve to his forehead in a vain effort to stem the torrent of blood seeping from the trough carved across the top of his skull by a single well placed round. If he hadn't been wearing his K-pot... "Somebody has to see what the fuck is going on out there."
"Screw that." Nick Peters was having none of it, "Commander stuck his head out to 'get 'em to surrender' - no more head. You order the driver to move us closer, we get three feet them boom - no more driver. You stick your head out the hatch to find out what in the name of God is going on - you get fucking scalped! We ain't heard shit from the other APC in thirty minutes. No brother... I think we're fine right the hell where we are."
"God dammit Nick!" Quinn kicked the wall across from him. "We're not gettin' paid to sit around while these..."
"These what?!" Until now Reggie had stayed out of the argument, but the men's constant bitching coupled with the rounds pinging incessantly off the skin of their APC was really starting to wear on his nerves. "I know I'm the new guy but I'm assuming armed insurgents aren't SOP around here!"
Nick nodded enthusiastically, "Amen. We may be gettin' paid Rick, but we sure as hell ain't gettin' paid enough for this shit."
Frowning at the smashed radio unit that had gone down with the Commander Reggie continued his thought, "It shouldn't be long before the cops get here... we just gotta hold out. Let those fuckers kill each other off."
"You slow Ward?" Quinn scoffed while swapping sleeves, "You think a corporation hires guys like us if they wanna involve the police?"
"I thought they hired guys like us to keep teens from fucking in the parking lot! This ain't Saigon motherfucker and I ain't Rambo!"
Before the older man had a chance to respond the ramp making up the back wall of the APC was wrenched downwards from the outside, the half ton chunk of steel bowing slightly before releasing a horrendous shriek and giving way completely to crash onto the asphalt parking structure. All three men were too frozen by shock to so much as raise a weapon at the towering figure decked out in a pair of company coveralls with a chunk of the ramp still lodged in one hand and an Steyer AUG in the other.
Glancing around the cabin with a neutral expression the man quirked his head to the side, "Who is the senior surviving officer?"
Reluctantly, Rick raised a shaking hand. "Uh... that would... that would be me."
"A platoon size enemy force has fortified the Research Pavilion to the west and is currently engaging a squad-sized contingent across the courtyard in the Human Resources building. Two more security detachments have been dispatched to retake the Pavilion, I have been tasked to clear out the others."
"You will assist me." Without another word he spun on a heel and stomped back down the short ramp onto the torn up grass and mud that had once been an immaculately trimmed lawn.
Reggie's reluctance didn't stop him from getting to his feet, "Who the hell was that?"
"I dunno." Quinn frowned, "But I got a feelin' he's like to get us killed."
"He ripped the door off the APC dumbass, I 'got a feelin' we'd better obey his orders." Without waiting for a response Nick shouldered his FAL and trotted down the ramp after the Company man, Ward hesitating only a second before following suit.
Grumbling under his breath Quinn leveraged himself off the bench and retrieved his MP5 with a resigned sigh, tearing a clump of gauze from the nearby medkit, crumpling it into a ball and cramming it under his helmet in an effort to at least keep the blood out of his eyes. The mystery man was directing his troops into position as he trudged down the mangled ramp, sustained weapons fire echoing from every direction.
His boot had barely made contact with the grass when a window on the fourth floor of Research Pavilion exploded outwards in a shower of glittering safety glass and an RPG made a bee-line directly into the lid of the other APC. The heat hit him harder than the blast, the exposed hair on his body sizzling and popping as he was tossed backwards into the unforgiving side of his own personnel carrier only to flop to the comparatively soft earth like a grounded fish. Small tendrils of smoke drifted idly up from his clothes as the world around him tilted and yawed randomly.
Quinn couldn't tell if the ringing in his ears was from the blast or the way his head had bounced off the armored vehicle, but after long consideration decided it was probably a little bit of both. His helmet was long gone and a tuft of bloody gauze was now hanging limply over his left eye, taunting him as drop after drop of his blood dribbled from the sodden cloth down to his BDU covered lap.
Though he imagined he looked like hell the pain wasn't nearly as bad as he would have expected it to be given the circumstances. Rick imagined this was one of those things you felt in the morning. If you were lucky enough to survive the night that is...
His first conscious thought was Reggie's face directly in front of his own, his stubbled and pock-marked countenance silhouetted by the flames still licking out from the destroyed vehicle behind him as he screamed silently at his unmoving superior. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Quinn's hearing returned with a piercing shriek as the younger man's open palm ricocheted off his right cheek, the world suddenly refocusing around him to reveal the true horror of the scene.
Bodies were littering the grass in all directions - some moving, most not. Ten meters away one of the former occupants of the slagged APC was still stumbling around aimlessly, flames engulfing the upper two thirds of his body as he flailed his arms uselessly. The few who had avoided major injury were either running balls out for the front gate or trying to help their less fortunate comrades.
Rick was starting to wonder if he was dying as he caught sight of a beautiful brunette backing out of the window the RPG had come from, repelling down the side of the building like they were all in a freaking James Bond movie. Another figure remained behind in the window, silhouetted by the light inside while firing wildly back into the hallway behind him, occasionally braving a glance over the ledge to check on the woman's progress.
Two figures came barreling out of the smashed facade of the Human Resources building to his right, one firing a SAW from the hip to lay down waves of covering fire for the man next to him while his partner dropped 40mm grenades onto anything that put up even the slightest resistance.
"Get up! We have have to get the fuck out of..." Reggie never got to finish his sentence.
A few meters to their side the Company man began unloading on the pair of terrorists still making their way across the courtyard with his AUG, deadly fire causing them both to halt their progress and dive behind the nearest available cover. Ejecting his now spent magazine he started marching across the distance separating the combatants while showing no concern for the return fire pouring in around him. The mystery man had made it no more than five steps when the sound they'd all come to dread since this firefight began rang out loud and clear, the Barret positioned in the atrium off to the flank let itself be heard and the Wrath of God slammed into the shoulder of his gun arm.
Though the man dropped his AUG, the horrible 'squish-splat' Quinn should have heard when the .50 caliber round tore through flesh and bone was replaced by the sound of two pots clanging together during a car crash. The force of the impact sent him staggering back two paces before he righted himself, turning to glare directly towards the atrium.
Quinn will never forget that voice, female and surprisingly high-pitched carrying even over the din of battle to make it's way to his ears across the courtyard. The hatred carried in that single word enough to make what little hair remaining unsinged on the back of his neck stand on end.
"METAL!!!!"
It's not like Rick was a cherry-toting school boy. He'd done his stint out of high school, two tours of convoy duty in the sand box and seen his fair share of shit. But when that word rang out into the cold night air it was like someone had opened the sky and poured out an entire tanker of whoop-ass.
Now that their assailant had been effectively 'disarmed' the two men to his right lept out from cover with and immediately engaged their target. In a display that would have set any DI's teeth on edge they let loose on the move, slowly backing up the entire time while never letting up with their barrage. Every member of the other squad holed up in the atrium had shifted their fire from the building across the courtyard and was now unleashing everything they had on the staggering figure.
Slinging his spent AK, the taller of the two brought his HK69 back into the fight. The first 40mm grenade hit the Company man in dead center mass, the flames engulfing his face and neck while he was finally tossed backwards onto the asphalt parking lot with the thunderous clang.
Though their attacker had just been smashed by a grenade both men kept inexplicably backing up like they expected him to actually... yep, he was getting the fuck back up.
Any lingering doubt Rick might have had about the man's species went out the door about the time he caught sight of Reggie's ass sprinting away in the other direction as fast as his legs could carry him. The Company man's face looked like it had been peeled back from the side exposing a glinting steel Death's Head grimace, servos and pistons along his neck and shoulder were clearly visible as they churned away every time he moved forward.
Not that Rick had long to dwell on all that. With all the exciting revelations about creepy corporations and their fucking science projects he had managed to completely forget about the other group of terrorists still holed up in the Research Pavilion on the opposite side of the lot. Seriously... terrorists. What the hell was their problem? These assholes were so disorganized they were actually fighting each other at the same time they were trying to blow up the place. Not that they weren't doing pretty well regardless, but still, it stank of amateur hour.
The beautiful brunette had reached the ground and was now lending her own fire to the fight against the robot, her M16 rattling off rounds as quickly as she could depress the trigger. Four stories above her the younger man emptied one last magazine into the hallway behind him before wrapping the rope around his forearm a few times and literally jumping out the window. The reason for his rash action became abundantly clear as automatic weapons fire poured through the portal he'd been standing in just seconds before as he shimmied down the face of the building as quickly as possible.
Quinn could see him screaming down frantically to the woman below him but Rick had absolutely no chance of making out the words over the firefight surrounding them. Even from this distance he could see the conflict in the young woman's face as she slung her rifle and pulled a small black device from one of her cargo pockets, screaming something back up towards her rapidly descending comrade who was now about even with the second floor.
He didn't have an opportunity to respond as he was too busy firing his sidearm wildly up at the two heads now poking out of the window he had just jumped out of, quickly bringing their assault rifles to bare. Apparently that had been enough to nudge the woman in the right direction as she punched the button on the small device and for a long moment night became day.
The upper two floors of the Research Pavilion exploded outwards in a thunderous crash, both of the terrorists who had been shooting down at the man were propelled outwards by the blast and landed half way across the parking lot in a sickening tangle of limbs, flames dancing along their now unmoving forms. Windows were blown out across the entire complex, but the vast majority of the damage seemed confined to the Pavilion. Whatever the young man descending said building had attached his rope to most likely no longer existed, the sizzling end flapped free while he made the last fifteen feet of his descent in record time.
Screams seemed to be coming from everywhere as the brunette let up on her assault long enough to leverage the young man back onto his feet in an effort to get him away from the now quickly immolating building. The fire from the two men engaging the robot from the courtyard was quickly redirected towards the few survivors of the rival assault force now trying desperately to vacate their crumbling cover. Unfortunately, their only recourse was to charge directly into their enemy's cross-hairs where they were quickly dispatched.
A temporary reprieve from the vicious assault allowed the robot to right itself, it's shredded face surveying the scene around him coldly until his glowing eyes came to rest on the two terrorists off to his left. In less than a second his previous targets were forgotten and he was striding purposefully across the carnage strewn courtyard towards the woman and her injured companion.
The thing was less than ten meters away by the time the brunette caught sight of him, her focus entirely on removing her charge from the battlefield. Her reaction was instantaneous, tossing the injured soldier to the ground behind her and bringing her M-16 to bare without hesitation, squeezing off a quick succession of bursts into the robot's face and neck. Unlike her comrades she didn't back up while firing, likely hoping her injured friend would use the opportunity to escape.
Though it's head was snapped back viciously by the impacts their attacker's momentum was too much to overcome, closing the distance quickly and knocking the weapon to the ground with it's exposed arm, the still flesh-covered hand of his other wrapping around her neck and lifting her from the ground with the same effort a human might to pick up a kitten by it's scruff. He paused for an indeterminate moment as if committing the woman's face to memory before curling his skeletal hand into a fist and raising it with the obvious intent of driving it in one side of her head and out the other.
Just before he swung on the woman, the injured soldier behind her still using a nearby planter to drag himself back to his feet, started screaming at the top of his lungs. "HEY!!! Yeah! Right here!"
Tilting his head to the side the robot seemed to consider the young man half-crouching while he tried desperately to get his left leg to support his entire weight and still stumble backwards at the same time. "Come on! You know you want it! John Connor on a platter! Come get some you metal fuck!"
"John no! Run!" The woman's protests seemed to draw the machine's attention back to her, causing him to toss her ten feet to the side where she bounced over the hood of a blue sedan and came to a skidding halt on the asphalt beyond.
Incongruously the young man's face broke out into a relieved smile as the robot turned it's attention to him, already closing the distance between himself and the injured man limping backwards across the parking lot getting ever closer to Rick's position near the burned out APCs. "Good boy! Now... play dead!"
"No?" He frowned when the machine kept striding purposefully towards him. "Worth a shot..."
Raising his M4 with a clear grimace as his shoulder popped and creaked in protest the soldier unloaded his entire magazine into the metal monstrosity while marching backwards as quickly as he could drag his injured leg. Surprisingly the rounds seemed to inflict significant damage on the thus-far invincible robot, chunks of it's metal carapace shredding off and staggering the machine. In a last ditch effort to keep his enemy at bay the soldier lobbed an M203 grenade at a much closer range than he probably should have.
What might have been a killing blow to the servos and pistons of the thing's exposed torso was deflected when it raised it's skeletal hand just in time to 'smack' the grenade with it's palm keeping the bulk of the explosion away from it's body. The blast had sheered off most of the fingers on it's right hand, the few white-hot remnants twitching and clawing uncontrollably as it righted itself and continued it's pursuit as if nothing had happened.
Unable to find any more magazines for his M4 the soldier tossed the weapon aside and wrenched a .45 from a thigh holster just as the machine closed the distance and lunged for him. The young man collapsed backwards onto the blacktop, both boots firmly planted against the thing's chest using every ounce of strength in his legs to keep the weight from crushing him beneath it while trying to simultaneously bring his weapon to bare and avoid the sporadic swipes of the machine's arms.
A few shots rang out as the man fired point-blank into the grinning Death's Head but were cut short when the robot brought it's deformed and still red-hot hand crashing down across the young man's face in a vicious swipe. The lack of a scream convinced Rick the machine had finished the job, but less than a second later the pistol was barking again and the thing's head was snapping back as the soldier now howled in defiance.
Despite the kid's obvious bravery there was nothing more to be done. The last round rang out from his .45, the slide rocking back like a physical representation of his time running out. Leveling it's single remaining eye down at the young man the machine cupped both hands together and raised them above it's head, about to deliver the coup' de grace in the form of a skull-crushing cliff-hammer.
Then the Barret barked one final time.
The round was perfectly placed, catching the mechanical monstrosity directly in the half-inch hole where a human's temple would have been, carving a trough through the skull before slamming into the far side with enough force to leave a goose egg over the right cheek. On it's short journey it managed to smash optic sensors, motor control transmitters, and somehow mostly detached the lower jaw from the rest of the head to leave it hanging low in a perpetually creepy shocked expression.
Not wasting a second the soldier used the round's momentum to roll the machine off of him, following after and landing in a position roughly straddling the thing. Ripping a bent K-Bar from it's sheath at the small of his back he slammed it down into a small gap in the thing's skull, popping open a metallic port and yanking something small and rectangular from the hole. All Rick cared about was the fact the thing's single remaining eye had gone dark when the kid had done it.
"Johnny!" The beauty from earlier was back on her feet, her left arm clutched to the side of her flack jacket as she sprinted across the parking lot towards the young man still catching his breath on top of the fallen robot. Thankfully no one seemed to notice the wounded man curled up behind the APC while they slowly filed out of the surrounding buildings and approached the area, scanning in all directions for any remaining threats.
Rick had been sure there were at least a dozen heavily armed men hunkered down in the atrium, after all, they'd been the ones to knock out their vehicles when they'd arrived on scene. Instead all he saw was four disheveled figures hauling themselves out of the charred wreckage looking for all the world like this was business as usual for them.
A large man with what sounded like a South African accent was issuing orders at a fevered clip, Quinn thought he'd heard one of the others call him Reed. A spikey-haired kid with a large pack over one arm and a FAL he'd likely stolen from one of the fallen security personnel was helping a similarly young woman stumble across the parking lot behind their commander, a seemingly neverending string of profanities issuing from her lips with every step.
Last, and certainly most surprising to Rick, was the sniper who had been eating their lunch all night. Five foot three at the very most with streaks of fiery red hair jutting out from underneath her K-pot as she surveyed the scene around her, the barrel of her Barret moving as if attached by wire directly to her eyes.
Reed came to a stop near the small congregation, rolling his neck back and forth a few times to work out the kinks. "Everyone kosher?"
The two men from the courtyard had also joined the group, the larger of the two using the opportunity to reload his SAW. "Case ya'll didn't notice we just blew up a fuckin' building. I think it's best we get the hell outta here before the authorities show up, hooah?"
"They won't be coming." Rising from his position near the machine the young soldier slid the black rectangle into his pants pocket and limped over to retrieve his rifle. "You think they built this place all the way out here to avoid taxes? They won't risk the police finding their metal. Tomorrow you'll see a two paragraph blurb about a gas explosion on the tenth page of section M."
"O'Brien." He caught the redhead's attention with an exhausted wave. "Nice shootin' Tex. I owe you one."
"Damn right you do... sir." The woman's grin could only be described as shit-eating.
Activating his throat mic Johhny, who was apparently the commander of this little operation, rattled off a quick stream of orders. "Whiskey lead to Alpha lead, copy?"
"Yeah, target neutralized. Have you heard from Tango?" Raising his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose he cursed under his breath, hissing in pain and turning away from the group. The brunette broke off from the rest and approached him but stopped a few feet away when he waved her off. "Alright. Coordinate with them and get back to me when you know something. I've got some business to take care of but we're Oscar Mike in five."
He actually chuckled slightly, head shaking side to side slowly in amusement. "Yeah... me too."
"Darla." Spinning on a heel the kid set off across the parking lot as quickly as his gimped leg would allow, "Get on the horn with Charley and have him bring the truck down, their security is obviously not an issue anymore and I don't see a reason to haul our wounded all the way up the hill."
Falling into step beside him the woman, apparently 'Darla', nodded once before snapping towards the group of soldiers they were passing. "You heard him Carmack, time to move."
Setting his still cursing friend down onto the blacktop beside him the spikey-haired kid relayed a few quick orders into his satellite unit. By the time he'd finished speaking a pair of headlights had appeared on the hill overlooking the compound, an old-fashioned soft-skinned army truck descending slowly to avoid the trees dotting the hillside.
Leaving his soldiers to load the supplies and wounded into the truck the young commander set out across the courtyard towards the shattered Research Pavilion, still lighting up the night as it slowly burnt itself out. It was that light dancing across her superior's face that seemed to steal the Darla's breath. "Oh God... Johnny."
"Don't." The man snapped, not bothering to look back as he approached the area near the front doors where terrorists fleeing the explosion had been mowed down. "Just... don't. Alright?"
Nodding slowly she chewed on her bottom lip, "Are you..."
"I'm fine!" Nudging a body aside with his boot 'Johnny' apparently found what he was looking for. Dropping to a knee he grabbed the battered and bloody soldier trying to crawl away from the carnage around him around the ankle and jerked him back across the concrete, eliciting a sharp scream of pain. Shoving the man over onto his back the young commander glared down at the unfortunate bastard, his slashed and bloody face made all the more ghastly by the firelight dancing across it. "Who sent you?"
"You tried to kill my mother." At first the man simply shook his head in apparent non-comprehension, but he was quickly screaming again when Johnny slammed his hand down onto the seeping bullet wound in his thigh. "You shot my uncle!"
"Now," Letting up slightly he repeated himself in a hoarse growl. "I asked you a question asshole. Who. Fucking. Sent. You?!"
"Connor!" Pulling the kid away from the wounded terrorist Darla shook her head, "You're wasting your time. I don't know what he's speaking but it ain't English."
It took a long moment before Connor's glare reverted to something remotely human, for a second looking like he might attack the woman before eventually conceding with a curt nod. "Load him up and have Charley stabilize him."
"We've got work to do." He seemed to be talking to himself as he slung his M4 over a shoulder and started limping towards the truck, "But this guy's boss isn't gonna live long enough to die on Judgment Day."
The woman just shook her head, frowning down at the wounded man with a pitying look. "Buddy, you may not realize it yet... but you just pissed off the wrong guy."
For his part Rick was just about ready to relax as their attackers prepared to depart when Johnny stopped in his tracks just a few feet away from him with a thoughtful expression.
"It's a lovely fucking war. Isn't it?" Though his eyes were locked forward as he fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his cargo pocket, Quinn could practically feel his gaze boring into him while he knocked one free of the rest and brought it up to his lips with a grimace. "What's your name?"
Trying to still the desperate shaking of his hands Rick pulled himself up a bit against the side of the APC. "R... Richard. Richard Quinn."
"Well Richard, Richard Quinn." A quick thumbing of his zippo had the flame jumping to life to expose the untouched side of his face while he lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. From this angle he looked almost... normal. Actually kind of reminded him of his kid brother. "You have a family?"
"Yeah." Rick answered without thinking, immediately regretting it upon remembering the little detail he was talking to a psychotic terrorist.
"I've had a bad night Richard." Connor shook his head, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I sometimes... I sometimes need something to remind me why I do what I do. I'm supposed to be saving people..."
"You're gonna take a trip Richard." Nodding idly towards the two soldiers dragging their prisoner towards the truck he continued, "You're gonna sell everything you have. You're gonna use the money to buy enough supplies for a year. You're going to load your family up and buy a little cabin in the middle of the most distant part of Canada you can find. And when it happens... and believe me, you'll know what 'it' is, you wait as long as you feel is necessary before you come find me. Listen to your radio and you'll know where to look."
Tossing the battered zippo onto the ground in front of Rick, "You show that to any of my men and you and your family will be taken care of. You have my word."
Without ever even looking at him John turned, re-shouldered his rifle, and started limping towards the truck. He was halfway there when Rick finally found his voice, "Wait! Just who the hell should I ask for?"
The kid actually paused as if he had to consider his answer, a long moment passing before he finally glanced back over his shoulder. "John Connor. General John Connor."
Checking the back of the truck quickly Connor yanked the tarp down when he was sure everyone was aboard. Tossing his rifle into the cab he pulled himself up into the passenger seat after, the door slamming shut with a strange finality. The truck's engine revved once before it was thrown into gear and tore out of the the parking lot at full speed, blasting right through chain link security gate on the way out.
Running a weary eye over the area surrounding him Rick couldn't help but frown. Two shredded APCs, most of the cars in the parking lot, including his, were slagged beyond recognition. The Research Pavilion's roof had collapsed inward at some point, apparently he'd been too distracted to notice, but the entire structure was smashed beyond recognition anyways. The once pristine courtyard was flooded with dirty fountain water mixed with vivid streams of crimson.
Feeling the cool weight of the zippo in his palm the former security guard let out a long, shuddering sigh. Yeah... a vacation sounds like a damn good idea.
Connor Compound
Pueblo Colorado
Feb 29th, 2011
0730 hrs
Cameron nearly blasted the door from it's hinges as she barreled into the Connor household with what could only be described as a look of pure rage stretched across her visage. It didn't help that the target of her anger had been waiting in the entryway sporting a death glare of her own, arms crossed in the traditional stance of parental disapproval.
She didn't see any reason to bother with formalities. "Where is John?"
"How did the mission go?" Sarah's voice was deceptively calm but Cameron could clearly make out where her short-cropped nails were digging into her forearms. She vehemently wished John had overridden Sarah's decision to return to the compound, leaving her squad behind at the up-link in the process. Upon further reflection she decided it probably wouldn't have stopped the woman anyways.
"We intercepted the unit just outside Phoenix while still en-route to the industrial complex. Corporal Lorne disabled the vehicle with an M203 grenade and we were able to incapacitate the unit with minimal effort. Though the soldier's... overzealous combat posture meant I was unable to retrieve a viable chip per John's orders." Cameron's gaze was icy, "I explained this to you over the radio. Now, where is John?"
"Upstairs with Derek." Leaning back against the doorway Sarah made it a point to block the path to the stairs. "We need to talk."
Cameron was in no mood to deal with this. She could feel her hand starting to twitch as the woman's eyes bored into her. "Fine. Why don't we start with why you didn't feel it necessary to inform me John was injured?"
Sarah's comeback was so quick there was little doubt she'd been planning this confrontation for quite some time. "Why do you care?"
"Because I... I care." Cameron insisted, growing more agitated by the second. "John's safety will always be my top priority."
"Well it's too fucking late for that!" Pushing off the door frame Sarah closed the distance between them. "He went out there last night, alone! Because of you! It... just wait until you see him."
Shaking her head violently Cameron tried to deny the very thing she'd been dwelling on since John had made his decision. "I tried to convince him to let me..."
"Doesn't matter." The elder Connor cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand, "I just don't understand it. If he'd sent back another model... any other model for Christ's sake, none of this would have happened! He doesn't have to distance himself from Wilson just to convince people he's worthy of leadership. How the hell are you supposed to protect him if he's afraid to be around you?"
"I don't..." If Cameron had thought she disliked anger, shame was even more unpleasant. "He pushes me away."
That was when Sarah shocked her more than she would have if she'd pulled out a firearm and discharged it into her face, which Cameron had calculated a twenty-six percent chance would occur given the woman's emotional state. Exhaling violently she leveled an exasperated look at the cyborg. "Then don't let him."
"What?" Cameron was sure her auditory sensors were malfunctioning.
"Every time you're not with him he gets into trouble. He might think it's a good idea to put some distance between you but it's obviously a mistake he can't afford to make at this point." There was an awkward pause while Sarah searched for the right words to get her point across, this was obviously costing her far more than she wanted to let on. "He worries about what his men think.. but do you know what Cameron? It won't matter what the fuck they think if he's dead. Do you get that? Does it compute?!"
"Yes." Cameron's barely audible croak seemed to reign in the elder Connor's anger a bit.
"Just... you say you care. Right?" Sarah seemed to be pleading with her.
"Yes." Unsure where this was coming from Cameron decided to remain as noncommittal as possible.
"If that's true and if you're not bound by your programming then you need to make a decision Cameron." Stepping back a bit Sarah suddenly looked very tired, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "You have to decide that you're going to protect him even when he doesn't want you to. That's... that's what you do when you care about someone. You protect them Cameron, even if they hate you for it."
Nodding slowly, Cameron finally met the other woman's eyes, shocked to find them brimming with barely contained tears. "I understand."
"Good." Nodding towards the stairs Sarah stepped out of the cyborg's way revealing her coveted tactical shotgun leaning against the frame. "Because if anything ever happens to him..."
"If anything ever happens to him," Cameron cut her off with a shake of her head. "I'll already be dead."
Sarah looked like she was forcing herself to swallow something utterly repulsive but she just retrieved her shotgun and stormed off towards the kitchen without another word, leaving a very confused cyborg in her wake.
Deciding to chalk the whole incident up to her generally erratic behavior Cameron resumed her search for John while still considering Sarah's cryptic words.
T.B.C.
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, your feedback is always appreciated. Special thanks to my beta BigBew. If you haven't taken the time to check out his new story 'I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't feel', stop depriving yourself and do so already.
If I leave you out I'm sorry, big thanks to Nordwest (thorough as always man), JB (thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don't think I've reached that level yet), Dragonseraphin, TK-MR, edesign (don't worry about your English, it was much clearer than many native speakers these days), fullhans1, TSCCandTwilightarehebest, Bryan0711 (who doesn't seem to realize his constant Jarla shipping is going to get him lynched on the boards if he's not careful), ljm, morded, kaotic2, Lee443, and of course Bigbew.