The rest of lunch was dominated by lighter topics of discussion. Duncan asked John about school and debated the pros and cons of various types of firearms with Cameron. John, in turn, asked about historical periods Duncan had actually lived through, particularly wartime eras. At one point, the discussion got around to music, at which point Duncan revealed an episode from the early 1960s.
"No way," John exclaimed. "You partied with Sinatra?!"
"You know Sinatra?" Duncan asked, surprised.
"I was in a few foster homes as a kid. One of my foster dads was a huge fan, and he got me into the Chairman," John admitted. "So what was he like?"
"Evil," Duncan said matter-of-factly. "One night of drinking with that man gave me the absolute worst hangover of my life. And that's saying something, since I'm an Immortal, I'm Scottish, and I used to be friends with Oscar Wilde." He grinned.
Soon, the meal ended, and it was agreed that, barring any unusual circumstances, John and Cameron would come after school each day for training for the next three months, and then every other day for the six months afterward.
One afternoon about a month later, John stood in the center of Duncan's training area, feet placed shoulder width apart, left leg forward, with his hands in a basic guard position. His legs were trembling with the strain—he had been holding the position for 14 minutes and 50 seconds, striving to project calm and keep his breathing deep and even.
Ten seconds later, a tiny beep was heard, and on either side of him, Duncan and Cameron came up out of identical positions.
"Tell me again," John asked dubiously as he walked around the room trying to shake some feeling back into his quads, "what this has to do with fighting?"
Duncan looked at him for a few seconds. "John. You realize that for the most part, you're always going to look the way you do, right? You'll never age, you're not going to grow any more. That means that you will always be slightly built relative to your opponents, and compared to a Terminator, you'll be at an even greater disadvantage in terms of strength, power, and mass."
John nodded as Duncan continued. "The beginning calisthenics we started you with were all about putting a good base level of functional strength into your body." John nodded again.
"This stance holding is fundamental to taking what power you have in your body and maximizing its application. Here, let me demonstrate," he said. He grabbed to large padded targets, tossing one to Cameron and one to John. "Hold these on your chest and brace yourselves," he said. "Ready?"
At John's nod, Duncan walked up close to John, standing directly across from him and extending his arm straight out until it touched the pad. He pulled his hand back a fraction of an inch, and with what looked to be an imperceptible flick of his wrist, he drove his fist into the pad. John went flying back 20 feet. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed.
"Cameron, your turn," Duncan said. Again, he walked up to her and repeated the demonstration. Unlike John, Cameron was ready for the concussive force, but even so, she was forced to take two steps back, and the surprise showed in her face. "Do you see what I did?" he asked her as he walked over the pull John to his feet.
Cameron thought for a second. "Your power delivery is far more mechanically efficient," she recited. "Scans indicate an unusually high degree of efficiency in the alignment and coordinated firing of your skeleton, musculature, fascia, ligaments and tendons, resulting in a significant increase in aggregate energy at the point of contact."
"Did you get that?" Duncan asked, only half understanding what Cameron had said himself. "You're never going to be as strong as Cameron. So you really have to work on maximizing what power you have at your command. This stance training teaches your body to align itself without conscious thought. Everything else that I teach you from a technique standpoint—it all follows from this training."
As John got back into position, he looked over. "So. I never age, huh?"
Duncan smirked. "If you ever want to buy beer, kid, you're going to have to learn how to apply makeup to make yourself look older. But hey, on the other hand, you'll never have to worry about looking like Cameron's grandpa or some dirty old man!"
Cameron looked over. "John is not dirty," she agreed. "He keeps himself very clean," she noted.
"No, Cam, not that kind of dirty. More like … perverted, or lecherous," John said.
"Oh. Thank you for explaining," she said. "I agree that it is good that you will continue to maintain your present appearance. I like the way you look," she said guilelessly. Duncan's workout regimen had transformed John's body into one corded with wiry, compact muscle and gristle, and as Cameron looked him up and down openly, John and Duncan both looked visibly uncomfortable.
"Anyway, to get back to this," Duncan coughed out, "Here's the progression of your training: first, make your body powerful. Then, teach your body to move and deliver power with maximum efficiency and minimum waste. Next, we work on footwork and positioning skills, reflex drills, and then," he said, "we spar."
Over the next month, John would benefit from Duncan's centuries of fighting experience. Duncan had traveled the world watching and learning from some of the finest fighters who had ever lived, and now he transmitted the training to John. Mobility training from the baguazhang system combined with the effortless flow of Aikido, aggressive blasting and trapping of wing chun, the anglework of Escrima, the timing and rhythm of boxing, the raw power of Hung Ga and Muay Thai—all of these arts were distilled into their most efficient elements, and gradually poured into the future leader of the Resistance.
After Duncan drove them home one evening after training, John turned to Cameron. "Would you like to go for a walk? I don't want to go inside just yet."
Cameron nodded and threaded her arm through his. It was becoming a bit of a habit, one that he liked—the one way they could spend time together without Derek scowling at them or his mother making him feel awkward.
After a few minutes spent strolling in a comfortable silence—one thing John loved about Cameron was that she didn't feel the need to fill up silences with meaningless conversation—John asked, "So. What do you think about Duncan? Think this training is doing any good?"
Not looking at him, she replied, "Duncan seems like he is teaching you many useful things, and I am happy about that." Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself.
"You don't sound all that happy about it," John observed, looking at her. "In fact, you seem downright stressed about something."
"I do not get stressed," Cameron insisted. At John's look, she relented. "I am merely concerned about my place in your life."
"What do you mean, 'your place in my life'?" John asked, confused. "You know how I feel about you. Nothing's changed."
"You are immortal, now, John. Terminators can't kill you unless they know the trick. And now Duncan is teaching you be a great warrior and fighter," she noted. "What use do you have for a bodyguard?"
"You think that's why I hang around with you all the time? Because you can protect me?" John asked, incredulously. "I love you, that's why I want you around and in my life. I probably need less protecting than I did before, but I need you more than I ever did.
"You're more to me than what you can do, Cam," John said, coming to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. "You're … you. You're someone I like spending time with, enjoy talking to and holding hands with and laughing with.
"Now that we know I can live indefinitely, I need you more, not less!" John said. Drawing her close and looking into her eyes, he said, "I've always hated the fact that I couldn't have a normal life, that I had this supposedly great destiny ahead of me, fated to fight in a terrible war and see so much death. Now for the first time, I can see a future after all that. A future that doesn't involve General Connor or Skynet—the possibility of a real life. But it'll only be a life worth having if you're in it.
"Being an Immortal means I'll have even more time that I can spend with you," John said. "I don't know how Duncan handles being alone. But if I had to live for hundreds of years and I didn't have you, I'd be absolutely miserable—and bored. Don't ever think I don't need you, Cam--in fact, you're probably going to have to put up with me for a lot longer than you originally planned for. But don't ever think that your ability to fight is all that you are to me either."
A shy smile appeared on Cameron's face as she looked at him, one finger stroking down his cheek. "You're telling the truth," she said, wonder in her voice.
"Of course I'm telling the truth," John said, irritated as he realized she had just scanned him. "Geez, I thought we were clear on how much I love you. How many times do I have to say it?"
"I do not know how human girls feel about it," Cameron replied. "But I do not think that you could ever say it enough times to me. At least once a day would be nice. More would be better," she suggested, looking at him hopefully.
"Does this count?" John asked, grinning as he kissed her.
Author's note:
First, thanks for all the comments, I appreciate them. I'm still feeling out where the overall plot is going, but hopefully it'll be worth your while to read it.
Also: Duncan's power demonstration is based off of the famous "one inch punch," a skill emphasized by the wing chun system of Chinese martial arts and first demonstrated in the U.S. by Bruce Lee (footage available on youtube). All other arts described here, as well as their training methods, are true to life and accurate.