The next Saturday, true to his word, Duncan Macleod returned to the doorstep of the erstwhile Mackenzies—the name they were going by. He was greeted by Derek, who stared at him with a slightly hostile expression, by Sarah—who merely looked wary, by Cameron, who had her customary blank, wide-eyed expression on, and by John—who looked like he was sleepy and had a headache. Teenagers need their sleep, after all.

Letting him inside, Derek grumbled, "Still don't see what we're doing. This is a waste of time. There's nothing you can teach him that I haven't already shown him about fighting."

"I thought you might say that," Duncan said. Gesturing at his car, he said, "Let's go. We're going to want to train in privacy, and my place is soundproofed. Bring your gun," he said, gesturing at Derek. "And that sword you picked up the other day," he added, looking at John.

"How do you know I have a gun?" Derek asked.

"Please," Duncan said, rolling his eyes. "Nobody's going to mistake you for choir boy anytime soon. Anybody who carries a knife like that is a killer, and killers tend to like guns as well. Besides, you have calluses on your trigger fingers. You all do," he added, looking around. "Except the girl."

"I'm special," Cameron said as she walked past, as if that was an explanation.

Twenty minutes later, they all pulled up to a building that looked like an abandoned warehouse. Once inside, though, they found that appearances could be deceiving. The entire ground floor was smooth, unfinished hardwood floors and exposed brick. There were no windows, and other than the door they had entered, there was only one other way out: an elevator leading above.

"Have a seat on the floor over there," Duncan said, gesturing to the far wall. "You. Derek. Is your gun loaded?"

In response, Derek pulled his gun out, thumbed the safety, and chambered a round into the barrel. He looked at the man.

"Here's the game," Duncan said. "You stand there," he said, pointing at a spot a yard away from one wall, "and I'll stand over there." He walked to the opposite wall. "I'm unarmed. I'm going to rush you. If I can knock you out and touch the wall behind you, I win. If not, you win, and I apologize for wasting your time.

At their incredulous looks, he reminded them, "Remember, you can't kill me. So feel free to fire at will."

"Your funeral," cracked Derek as he cracked his neck.

"Ready?" asked Duncan. "Go!" And he rushed forward, diving almost instantly into a roll. Surprised, Derek fired reflexively and missed. Duncan came to his feet and rocketed into a dead sprint, diving to one side as Derek fired again. The second bullet winged the Scotsman, digging a furrow into his arm, but Duncan shrugged it off and ran forward. He had already close half the original distance.

Derek fired again, aiming for center mass when Duncan rotated his torso. The bullet hit him square in his left shoulder, spinning him around, but his forward momentum carried him forward, allowing him to halve the distance again.

Forcing himself to take his time, Derek steadied his aim and squeezed off another round. He was still off, firing into Duncan's left thigh even as Duncan fell into an awkward roll that ended two feet in front of Derek.

Surging forward, Duncan wrapped both his arms around Derek's legs and lifted John's uncle up into a temporary fireman's carry before slamming him down onto the floor. John winced as Derek's skull bounced off the floor, stunning him. A quick sock to the jaw sent Derek all the way into unconsciousness, and suddenly Duncan had drawn a military knife and had the blade against Derek's throat.

"I win," he said, breathing in gasps, bleeding as he withdrew the knife and instead began using it to dig bullets out of his body, grunting in pain occasionally.

There was silence in the room as Sarah, John and Cameron gaped at him, mouths open. Sarah and John looked a little green as they watched him root around in his flesh, prying lumps of lead out.

"The reason you need to train with me," Duncan said, pointing at John with his knife, "is because now that you're Immortal, you'll find yourself fighting others like me. People who can fight through inhuman amounts of pain. Shrug off punishment that would kill anybody else. And are mean enough to definitely want you dead."

Sarah and John glanced at each other, a look that did not go unnoticed. "What?" Duncan asked.

Looking at him steadily, John said dryly, "I'm not exactly unfamiliar with that type of opponent."

Duncan's eyes narrowed as he thought for a moment. Cameron. The pretty girl who, though quiet and slight of build, managed to kill an experienced Immortal effortlessly, even after taking a stab wound to the gut without any apparent discomfort. "You're talking about the girl—Cameron, right?" he asked, looking at her. "The special one?"

"Yeah," John said slowly. "But … she's not a girl."

Eyebrows raised, Duncan looked at Cameron appreciatively, "Well, uh, if she's not, she's the prettiest boy I've ever seen!"

Eye bulging, John gestured comically and frantically. "No! No, that's not it! Cameron's a girl. I mean, she's not a girl, but she's definitely female. All female! One hundred percent! Definitely!"

Sarah's eyes narrowed at John even as Cameron recited, "I am a TOK751 cybernetic organism. A cyborg with artificial intelligence, a hyperalloy combat chassis and strategic and battlefield analysis enhancements."

"You're a what?" said Duncan, clearly not understanding a word she'd said.

"She's a robot," croaked Derek, as he stirred and came around. "A tin can with homicidal tendencies."

"Noo …" Duncan said, looking around as if expecting any of them to laugh at the joke they'd just played. At their silent gaze, he added, "Really? Ye're not joking?"

"Cam, can you show him?" John asked gently.

Cameron let her eyes flash blue several times in response. Then she stood up, reached down and grabbed Macleod's T-shirt, effortlessly lifting him off the ground with one arm. "OK! OK! I believe you!" he quickly said.

Chuckling, John said, "Thanks Cam. You can put him down now."

Sarah said, "Here's the abbreviated version: sixteen years ago, I was attacked by an assassin that turned out to be a cyborg. A soldier from the year 2027 came to my rescue and told me that in the future, mankind develops a missile defense system with true artificial intelligence. That defense system becomes self aware two days later, decides that mankind is a threat to the planet, and takes control of every nuclear arsenal in the world, starting a full scale war that decimates most of the planet's population.

"The man sent to protect me told me that this system, Skynet, was losing the battle with humans and sent a cyborg to kill me before I could give birth to the son who was destined to lead the resistance. Him," she added, pointing at her son.

"The proof that I'm not crazy, for right now—is Cameron. After Skynet failed to prevent John from being born, it has since sent other Terminator cyborgs to destroy John before he can become a threat. The Resistance—the future John," she said wryly, "has sent this in response, in order to protect himself."

Echoing Macleod's words from earlier in the week, she said, "Now you're moving in our world."