So there are some complications here with this chapter.
I had planned on this being one chapter, but due to the building word count and my shaky travel schedule this is once again going to be a two part story.
Now I didn't want this chapter to be a another two part arc, but for some reason I plan way to much shit in these chapters for it all two fit into one chapter. Also I might not be able to post for awhile so this also might be the last chapter for several weeks, but on the other hand by the time I post … I might be mostly done with the story.
Enjoy it ;)
Silver Bells
"Merry Christmas, Katie!"
"Happy holidays, Mrs. Angstrom."
Katherine Brewster walked outside of the local animal shelter behind the boulevard.
In truth she didn't actually have to be home for another four hours, but she didn't want to fight LA traffic and it wasn't that short of a distance to the hills from downtown where she volunteered at the shelter for abused and mistreated animals. She figured that getting home to her Uncle Irving's house would also give her time to find a good dress to put on for her uncle's big Christmas party with the rest of his army buddies. Since her late father was in the Air Force and not in the Army the teenage girl found it hard to relate to her uncles friends, so she would just smile at their crude jokes and ignore the occasional drunken swat to her ass which would end in someone getting their teeth knocked out by her uncle.
As Kate walked down the sidewalk she stared at her reflection in the display windows of the dress store fronts. She was a petite and attractive girl of sixteen with flaming red hair and pale skin. She endured such taunts as "ginger" and "Day Walker" but no one could deny that she was pretty which led to "Ginger Queen" which she didn't appreciate either. Her blue eyes narrowed as she turned away from the reflection and back to the side walk.
"Man its cold …" a woman commented in passing as she rushed inside a high end sundry store. Kate let her pass in front of her, holding the door open for her, which she got a warm smile and a nod before she and a cute little blond girl no older than three who despite dressed like a Eskimo her little cheeks were still red.
When the mother and daughter where gone Kate shivered her self and closed the collar of her coat a little tighter. She knew this morning that it was going to be cold, but if she knew that there was talk of snow tonight she might not have worn stretches and a miniskirt to work.
"Whatever happened to it always being sunny in LA?"
She listened to her boots click on the side walk and seemed to be enticed by the Christmas lights in the window of a toy store.
That's when she heard it, in the late afternoon, amongst dozens of children at the store window hoping and praying that Santa Clause will bring them the toys they asked for. It was the strangled sound of a wounded dog yelping painfully.
Years of volunteering in shelters taught her the sound of animals in pain and how to spot them in crowded places. She hitched her bag on her shoulder, knowing that she still had some medical equipment in her bag.
Knowing she still had enough time to bring in the little animal back to the shelter before she had to go, she pursued the sound down into an alleyway.
The alley was dark and damp; there were dumpsters against the walls and balconies overhead belonging to crappy second hand apartments that were plagued by roach infestations. As she moved through the tight walkway her boot splashed through a puddle.
At the end of the alley was an off colored brick wall with a green dumpster standing in the corner. In between the space sat a Golden Retriever with a broken ankle on its front leg.
"It's okay sweetheart … I'm here to help." Kate cautiously approached the dirty dig with her hands raised. The dog however just whined in pain.
Kate bit her lip and motioned for the dog to come as she dug through her bag for supplies.
"You were always a caring soul Katie …"
Kate jumped at the husky growl to a faintly Slavic voice.
She quickly turned on her heels to see a tall man with long greasy salt and pepper hair tied in a pony tail. He had dark predatory face that matched his crazed eyes. He wore an open leather brown vest over his bare chest despite the cold weather and a pair of matching leather pants. On his chest were tally marks carved into his skin matched with prison inked tattoos that covered his slightly age bloated body.
"It's a rare thing to get to kill a person twice in a lifetime."
The sound of children outside running and screaming with laughter echoed ever so slightly through the fancy kitchen of the Young home in Palmdale.
Claire Kogan Young was a angelically beautiful slim woman in her mid twenties with long blond hair and doe brown eyes that gave her the feign look of innocence that often led to being carded at bars and restaurants due to her youthful teenage look that she couldn't quiet get away from.
However the ballerina wasn't at all in a joyful place in her life, her mood swings due to pregnancy only worsened of late. She could blame her hormones, but she knew that it was the grief of losing her mother.
She could still remember looking at that little blue plus sign on the pregnancy test and being filled with absolute love and joy; screw the Russian son of bitches who told her to think of her dancing career, this was truly what she wanted. Her mother, Serena was the first person she called; she didn't stop trying when no one answered for an hour. When she was going for number twenty on the speed dial that was when the cops came to her door to tell her the news, the news that her mother had been gutted chest to pelvis and the mansion that had served as Claire's childhood home was burned to the ground.
What started out as happy news now only left her empty. Her baby would never get to be held by her grandmother, or get to sleep in her mommy's old room when she spent summers at the mansion. Now all she would know of the woman who had meant everything to her mother was pictures and stories.
A tear stained Claire's face as she touched her flat stomach, walking into her large living room she stared at the white lit Christmas tree with a collection of matching bows and ball decorations. She switched on Chopin on her Bose surround sound speakers and let the music flow through her.
She felt so lonely standing in her empty living room. Her husband was not there nor would he be for another Christmas. Their marriage was the closest thing to arranged as it was legally possible. He didn't love her and she didn't love him, an architect for her mother's company, he often was in other places in the country and the state.
She had nannies take care of her husbands other daughter, a product of an affair during his countless philandering. He had even let the pregnant woman stay in their house when Claire was away. She knew this was true because she called her own house and the pregnant woman answered the phone and claimed to be her. She was later informed that she also answered as her when a councilor for some halfway house called saying they had Claire's daughter on the other line.
After the halfway house incident, she swore she would leave him, but her mother forbid her too. She had wanted to tell her off, but it had always been this way her entire life. Serena Kogan made all of the decisions for Claire no matter how much she had hated it.
Half the reason she had wanted to tell her mother about her pregnancy was, because she was constantly pestered weekly to get pregnant. In fact if it wasn't for Ballet she would go as far as to say that the only reason she was born was to conceive a daughter. She found out it had been the same with her husband.
In one of their few honest talks they had ever had he claimed he felt that the only reason he was born was to mate with Claire, which maybe was why the two hated each other so much.
"The Vessel"
That's what she had heard her mother slip out once upon talking about her daughter, never a boy, always a girl. A Vessel for what? Claire never knew.
"The rich and powerful and their games." She sighed with a hitch of worry for her baby at the thought of her life and her mother's secrets.
"No Child … Destiny's game." A voice called to her. A bristling sting went through her nerves at the sound of the stranger. She quickly turned to the source of the voice.
An older man with thin silver hair stood in an all white outfit with a black ring collar like a reverse colored priest's clothing, he had a bible hugged close to his heart. His blue eyes seemed to be contorted in condescending sympathy for the ballerina.
There was a tense pause that was filled with the enhanced high quality of the piano accompaniment to Nocturne in C Minor. Claire was speechless at what to say to the man who had broken into her house. Apart of her wanted to go for the phone and call the police. He looked like he was several decades past his prime to keep up with the fit woman.
"And unfortunately we are here to change destiny for all of us …" the older man said with a calm voice that sounded more insane than any hysterical laugh she had ever heard. It didn't take Claire long to search out the threat in the man's voice.
Claire turned to bolt back to the kitchen, but she saw two large men one white, one black, and both had large muscles. The white guy had a Mohawk and a spiked collar and the black man was bald and was shirtless showcasing scars over his rock hard abs.
She turned back to the man who now had a woman next to him with messy strawberry blond hair and a rat face, on her back was what looked like a flame thrower. On his other side a tall and broad man stood; she couldn't get a good look at him because he had an unbound straight jacket on and a mouth muzzle. The muzzled man also seemed to find the young woman's fear to be absolutely hilarious.
It didn't take long for the soon to be mother to figure that these people had to be a part of the escaped criminals from Pescadero that had turned downtown Los Angeles and Hollywood into a war zone between gangs and police. She just never figured that the madness would reach her in Palmdale of all places.
"What do you want …" Claire asked when she knew there was no where to run. The group was ever silent looking to the preacher for guidance as if not sure themselves.
"To cleanse you of the evil seed within you're belly." The old man spoke to her in a tone of self righteousness.
She was shaking her head before she even fully understood what he had meant.
"No!" Claire didn't even know she was screaming at them. "Don't take my baby!" she cried hugging her stomach protectively.
The man smiled surly at her.
"Child … the baby in your womb is not an innocent, but an abomination of unspeakable evil that by the grace of god we are here to eradicate from existence." He explained slowly.
There a form of disbelief that came over the young woman at the words this twisted holy man was spouting. She had read stories and seen television shows where thing like this happened, but she didn't think this would actually or even could happen to her. I was just so insane, that she had to pinch herself to see that it wasn't a dream.
But in the back of her mind something was tugging free, that made her think that this was not only possible, but should be expected.
"The Vessel"
"No!" she cried out in tears. "I won't let you take her from me!" she stood and backed up till she was flat against the fire place, the tinsel of the nativity scene display on the balcony stuck to her hair.
The preacher smiled softly.
"Thank you … you saved me and my parish a lot of time and effort that would have come from knifing through your stomach." He nodded in appreciation. "We will pray for your soul, as your body is purified by the flames of you and your Childs damnation." He motioned to the woman with the flame thrower. She stepped forward and twisted a knob on the top of the muzzle.
Claire dropped to her knees at the helplessness of the situation. No matter where she went they were going to kill her and her unborn baby.
"Don't worry angel … mommy is with you." She whispered to the fetus in tears, closing her eyes at the smell of the gas spewing from the tank.
CRASH
The sound of the front door crashing open made all in the room jump. Claire whimpered at the slow torture of the not knowing when.
"What was that?" The thug with a Mohawk asked.
"Go check it out … brother." The preacher said to the man.
"Right away!" he said and sprinted toward the front of the large home.
"Yo, it's Vinny … Someone fucked him up and threw him through the door!" the thug reported from out of sight.
"Is he dead …?" the preacher called with a slight nervous catch that made the rest of the intruders paranoid at who or what might have taken down their look out.
"…"
The Mohawk stranger gave no reply.
"Hawthorne … come on, answer the preacher man!" the black man yelled out to the entrance, but like before he received no reply.
Claire looked from the four remaining stranger to the corner wall that was blocking the view of her house's entrance. She wasn't sure if it was someone who came to save her and her baby or another crazy who had a darker purpose for her than the crazed bible thumpers that had her hostage.
"I believe we should complete our sacred duty before we lose our opportunity." The old man said and nodded to the girl.
"No!" Claire wallowed. "You have the wrong house, my girl hasn't even been given a chance!" she screamed at the woman pointing the weapon at her.
"Nor will we let her!" the preacher replied and swiftly pointed to woman with authority. "It's time to repent for your sinful existence!" he called. The woman backed away for room, while Claire silently prayed in tears.
Suddenly just as the trigger to the flame thrower was being squeezed, a figure leaped from the shadows and forward rolled in front of Claire defensively.
The figure had a silvery looking three layered nomex blanket wrapped around him like a cape. As the flames rushed toward them the shadow lifted the blanket over his face, using the heavy material as a wall protecting her and the stranger as all around them the brick wall of the fire place was charred and her expensive entertainment center as well as her curtains went up in flames.
After the short burst of fire subsided the ballerina's hero Jumped to his feet and swung the large blanket around once, making a whooshing sound that cut the air before tossing it at the woman with the flame thrower.
Flying through the air like a sail of a ship, the heavy material swallowed the crazed woman and sent her stumbling backward. Quickly on her heels the now visible male figure sent a kick toward his blinded foe, sending her into a glass case of collectible dolls.
Claire looked at her rescuer with a sense of worry and interest. He was tall and athletic looking. He wore a black beanie on his head and a matching scarf tied around his nose and mouth like a bandanna. He also had on black cargo pants tucked into grim stained motorcycle boots and wore an old looking leather button down coat.
Seeing the ambusher, the large thug in the kitchen charged after Claire's protector, with one of her kitchen knifes in hand. The man turned just in time and anticipated the clumsy strike of the killers, deflecting and redirecting the knife with a smooth looking flash of hands before he delivered an upper cut to the thugs chin sending him airborne than to the floor.
The preacher seeing this grabbed the muzzled follower in the straight jacket after moving behind him and pushed him at the disguised fighter.
The speed and momentum of the pushed psycho took the defender by surprise and the floppy sleeved man was able to land a blow on the stranger's cheek sending him reeling for a second. Regaining his footing the man put up his hands in a martial arts stance as the flappy sleeved killer attacked again. The muzzled psycho struck with his right fist with another attempt at his opponents head. Claire's protector blocked it with his left forearm and laid a cupped slap to the killer's ear. With a painful scream the killer lashed out with a blind jab on the stuck ear side. Easily, the protector blocked and deflected the jab, and threw a body shot to the killer. While lolled, the defender grabbed the crazed man by the many handles on his jacket and judo threw him head first into the fire engulfed entertainment center.
He turned to Claire who was still on the ground and in shock from all that had happened.
"Come on!" Her protector's voice was muffled by the scarf as he helped her to her feet.
The sound of squeaking metal protesting turned both their heads.
In the corner the preacher was turning up the output of the flame thrower with the hose in hand and a laugh in his throat.
"You're going to feel the darkness boy!" Silberman cried to Ryan.
"Not before you …"
In a heart beat the soldier drew his colt like a gunslinger and fired, he hit the fire tube of the flame thrower and before anyone could do anything the flame thrower exploded incinerating the woman it was attached to and setting the entire back of Silberman's clothing on fire. The man screamed in terror and ran out of the house.
A sense of urgency came over Ryan as he felt his energy begin to leave him as the oxygen began to be depleted in the flaming room around him.
"We … have to …" he began tiredly.
"Watch out!" Claire screamed.
Ryan whipped around to see the floppy sleeved man he kicked into the entertainment center marching toward him. His sleeves completely on fire, yet he made no sound.
The killer threw a flaming punch at Ryan. The officer didn't know what he was doing but he didn't take time to think as he caught the flaming fist and twisted it to the killer's legs, before he slammed a kick into the killer's jaw sending him back into the raging inferno around them.
Suddenly he felt his strength leave him for a moment as the intense heat and the unrealized pain from his deeply burned hand began to make him feel weak.
"Heat is zapping what little of my strength left … losing consciousness."
"No! Please get up … Don't leave me here!"
The man could hear his young grandmother begging him to stand, wondering when he fell to all fours before he was somewhere else.
Ryan had been alone in the darkened cabin's shed breathing heavily with his head resting on the cold wall trying not to pass out from the lack of sleep when a light flashed in his eyes to which he grunted and put his hands up shielding them from the beam.
"I guess you're not use to people sneaking up on you, huh?" a familiar voice asked with a slight giggle.
He looked up to find Sarah in all black with a raised shotgun pointed at him and behind her a tom boy looking girl with freckles and a red shirt.
"I was taking a breather for a moment …" He glared at Lauren Fields. "In private." He spat at the teen who only grinned slyly at his comment.
"You shouldn't be out here alone." Sarah said with absolute authority. Ryan gritted his teeth.
"Yeah, well your opinion means shit me!" he snapped, washing some cold water on his face.
Sarah gave him a hardened look that said she didn't appreciate what was just said.
"Touchy there trigger?" Lauren seemed to also not like his tone with Sarah, who she viewed as a role model who should be listened to and not talked back to like the man had been doing all night.
"The machine is out there and you could've been dead just now." She growled at him following off the girls comment.
Ryan took a heavy breath and with a quick turn snatched Sarah's shotgun from her grip. Sarah lunged for it, but Ryan turned his back on her and unloaded the shell on the inside. Seeing that she looked ridicules trying to grab it back like a school girl fighting for a stolen diary she broke off her pursuit and let him have it.
"And now I got a better shot of living through this than both of you." He huffed walking over to the work bench, tossing down Sarah's shotgun and began to unravel some string used to hang bird houses.
"You're in a mood …" Lauren huffed perching herself on the work table where Sarah started grabbing home improvement supplies and stuffing them into a black duffle bag.
With the sound of a cocking shotgun Ryan turned and pointed it at Lauren's chest.
"Hey!" Sarah called in surprise at the rash and unwarranted action.
"Try and take it back." Ryan said to Sarah keeping a deadly eye on Lauren who was holding her breath with a look of pure confusion at what was developing in front of her.
The beautiful woman gave him a suspicious look before she reached out and yanked the gun out of his hand. However her shotgun recoiled in protest toward the man, upon a closer look it revealed a string tied to the handle that was looped around the soldier's wrist securely.
"Just because I don't give a rat's ass about your orders …" He freed his hand from the loop surrendering the shotgun to Sarah fully. "Doesn't mean I care any less about your life." Ryan patted Sarah stomach in passing before leaving the shed to the two females.
There was a pause as Sarah played with the string tied to her shotgun, wondering if John had taught him that trick, or possibly even her.
She looked to Lauren who was looking at the door with the grin of a girl with a crush. She turned back to Sarah with a shrug at the woman's pensive face.
"He's your brother."
"I don't want to die!"
Ryan could hear Claire sobbing hysterically as the young ballerina cradled him in her arms; it was almost an echo to the first words that Alison had sobbed to him when he found her paralyzed on the aircraft carrier. The memories of his failure on the Enterprise brought him a vengeful strength that came from the fiery need for redemption for that night.
He pushed himself off the floor and to his feet. Sweat was poring down his face as the flames surrounded him.
"Windows …"
He looked to the glass windows of the living room to find a wall of flames surrounding them. He looked around feeling a blinding light in his eyes that didn't come from the flames. He squinted upward to look into the late afternoon sun through a skylight.
With a quick look around a plan formulated.
"On your feet!" he yelled at Claire who was still on her knees crying helplessly. She sniffled and complied. "Go bring me the fire poker!" he commanded over the roaring flames. She nodded and did as he asked in a haze of panicked obedience. Meanwhile, Ryan tore down the large eight foot Christmas tree and began ripping off a long strand of lights.
"What are you doing!" Claire came back with the poker in hand.
Ryan ignored her and snatched the iron object and walked over and dropped the handle in the flames.
"Cover your face!" he called pointing his pistol to the skyline and opened fire, smashing the glass into tiny pieces. Holstering his pistol he ripped off his scarf and tied it around his burned mechanical hand. Bending down he pull out the iron fire poker and with his foot holding it down he used his covered hand to bend the metal on to itself. Some smoke rose from under his palm and he gritted his teeth as he bent the metal.
Once that was done, he took the Christmas light string and tied a knot to the bent poker.
"Stand back" He wheezed from the smoke, once Claire was clear he spun the make shift rope like a lasso, using the bent poker like a grapple. He flung it through the window billowing with smoke. There a clank and the soldier gave a sturdy tug to make sure it was secure.
"Hold on to me!" Ryan yelled. Claire rushed to him at once seeing what he was attempting to do. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and buried her face into the old leather of his jacket, not wanting to see the flames licking ever closer to them.
With a strained grunt Ryan began to slowly climb the light strand, rising above the flames and into the blinding smoke.
He coughed at the lack of oxygen as the black smog vented through the hole in the ceiling. He felt tired and numb, straining to continue onward toward the light of the late afternoon on the roof of the house while balancing the ballerina's weight.
Below them the fire consumed the area were they had been standing only moments ago. This put more pressure on Ryan, who knew that if he were to mess up even slightly, that he, his grandmother and his biological mother would die.
His motivation came in the form of the Enterprise engineering conference rooms where he could still hear Alison begging him to tell her what John Connor looked like, still seeing her cry at the thought that she never made her life into something.
"We have the same eyes …"
Ryan made a loud and determined growl pushing himself to his limits as he reached up and pulled himself and Claire to the top of the roof.
He wheezed and coughed as he lay flat on his stomach on the surface of the roof. He could feel the slim young woman nuzzled into the back of his head her petite frame rising and falling, both their breaths visible on the cold Christmas Eve.
Once they leapt into some bushes from the roof it took Ryan ten minutes to Pry Claire off him, who was sobbing into his chest. As he held her he had always mused about his grandmother on his mother's side. All his mom had ever told him over the years about her was that she was beautiful and loved music and dancing. She disregarded any other questions on the matter, only saying "Sarah Connor was the closest and only mother I've truly ever had."
When the sound of fire trucks filled the distant air, he passed the beautiful woman over to a neighbor after a kiss to her forehead and a pressed hand to her soon to be swollen belly.
He slowly staggered away from the scene, several blocks away he found his motorcycle parked in front of the gated community.
With a thud, Ryan sat on the cement, back to the frame of his motorcycle, knees drawn up. He removed the charred scarf around his burned cybernetic hand and examined the wound. The smooth flesh of Cameron's coloring was burned to the third degree and a strip of metal appeared in place of the skin between the lines on his palm, which made servo and piston sounds when he flexed his fingers.
"That was close …" he painted to himself burying his face into his knees almost to worn out to move.
"Too close …"
Despite the importance of the matter it never seemed to amaze Danny Dyson how the company could somehow chose some of the blandest places on earth to have their meetings.
The room that the six people where jammed into looked no better than a cafeteria kitchen. The walls were white, and the plain long metal table was as cold as the room itself.
It didn't escape the notice of the young scientist that there should be at least ten in the room. But after what happen to Stephen yesterday in his own home no less, He found himself a little scared about what might happen to him or his mother.
"Umm … sir?" Travis was a squat balding man in his forties who never rounded third base with a woman he didn't pay.
Danny could understand why the little man was afraid, since Serena's death all that was left of them now reported to him.
They called the man him because he had never given a name to be addressed by, because according to him they're not allowed to talk only listen unless it's something worth his time. Alisa, the director of communications for Kaliba, a former fashion editor for a magazine in Paris once asked the man how they were suppose to know shit about his preferences to questions. After the monster twisted her head off like cardboard no one ever said a word.
"What is it?"
The new boss was tall and had the build of a gorilla. He only ever wore army surplus pants and tank tops in black and wore a metal opera mask to cover his face.
"Sir, I was wondering … well I was wondering what the plan is … in dealing with the psychopaths hunting down our programmers." Travis literally shook the entire time he spoke, giving the stereotypical nerd the appearance of a sickly Chihuahua.
Though the expression was hidden by his odd metal mask, Danny could tell that their leader seemed pleased at being feared.
"Nothing …" he spoke solemnly.
There were murmurs of distress at his answer.
"But, sir!" Pamela could've been an attractive blond if she wasn't so inept at makeup and dress. "What are we suppose to do while these televangelist Jihadists are hunting us like turkeys on Thanksgiving eve?" she seemed outraged.
He moved slightly in his chair which caused the room to quiet in fear. Danny could tell that though he was just shifting to a more comfortable place, he was also showing authority.
"If you're so incline, sleeps with a gun under you're pillow … we pay you a lot of money hire your own security force, we're not responsible for your personal security when you leave this facility."
A voice came over the facility's speakers in the room making everyone jump. It was the disembodied voice of the big boss. Many didn't know who the CEO was or what kind of man he was that played the wizard of oz behind the curtain, it was Danny alone who knew it was the AI that had sought him out in college and gave him his job at the company.
"He knows my mind Pamela Isles, it is wise not to question him again …"
"Yes … Yes sir …" Pamela would say nothing for the rest of the meeting.
"Then who are you going after …?" Danny called to the large man, knowing that he was just as untouchable to the AI built out of his fathers design as the muscle man was.
There was a pause from everyone as the Monster turned to Danny, his crazed violet eyes regarding the man coldly.
"Ryan Connor …" the hate in the man's voice was undeniable and almost scary, Danny would have pissed his pants if it wasn't for his insurmountable outrage.
"Ryan Connor!" Danny had a high pitched disbelief in his voice. "Madmen are hunting down the life blood of this company and what; you're crossing blades with some Ex Tech-Com Renegade whose own commanders want to see him dead?" Danny slammed his hand on the table forgetting himself.
No one in the room could get him wrong he hated the Connor's, both John and Sarah, they're the reason that his father died and he use to dream what he would do to both of them if he ever got his hands on them, so the idea of John having a kid with that girl who showed up at their door nine years ago made him angry that he had the nerve to move on, but this was not the time for revenge especially when they were locked in a turf war with Zirea Corp. and the Pescadero break out.
"I guess it's true that smart people over analyze everything …"
Everyone turned in their seats to the Slavic accented voice in the shadows.
The man was medium height shrunken from age as was he bloated. Danny couldn't figure how biker trash could not only find his way into their secure facility, but find the board meetings secret place.
"Who the hell do you think you are barging in here like this?" Danny heard himself ask the older looking man with long greasy hair and primal features.
The man snorted at the comment and waltz across the table giving a good look around the room, inspecting each person in it. He walked with a purposeful click of boots and seemed to strut with his chest sticking out for the entire world to see, showcasing tally marks as if they were Lombardy trophies.
Danny could see that several people had hit the silent security alarm, but no one came. Danny began to fear that the man passing around the table opposite the monster was one of the psychos from Pescadero who just hit the jackpot.
"So …" the man started to rub Pamela's shoulders suggestively which earned a frightened whimper. "I heard that you have a Connor problem …" the man was causal.
"You know something of it …?" Danny asked.
The man shrugged massaging the blond's shoulders as she shrank into the seat trying to get out of his grip.
"They've never been a problem, more of a fun past time." There was a murderous arrogance to his voice that was reassuring in a squeamish sort of way.
"I know you …" Travis said quietly. "You were one of the men that … Doctor Kogan brought with her … but she put you in Pescadero, because … because you were too unpredictable … more than the clown. She said that you were a bad investment." The smaller man had the accusatory voice of an elementary level child.
"Dr. Samwell … Dr. Samwell … oh Sammy." He sighed moving away from Pamela and to Travis who stiffened at the mention of his name that he didn't know he knew. "Look at yourself … all of you." He said making a grand gesture to everyone. "You have world domination on your finger tips." He bent down and showed the balding man his finger tips, placing an arm around his shoulder. "But you keep letting the Connor's make you drop the ball!" Fast as lightening there was a snap and Travis fell face first to the table, neck broken.
"You bastard!" Danny stood up.
"Sit!" The Monster roared, sending Danny back into his chair in surprise at the enraged ferocity of his echoing voice. The killer smiled at the reaction. "I want to hear what this disgrace has to say." The monster said to all of the five remaining alive board members.
"As do I …"
The leather clad man took a deep breath of boredom.
"Well all I was saying was that it seems that you're making a big deal over Connor and his pet cheerleader's little mutt." He shrugged again working his around the table, giving Danny a slap to the back of the head, knowing that the black man's fears overrode his pride to strike back.
"A fool is one who underestimates his enemy's skills …"
"I don't underestimate the Detective oh scary voice …" The Slavic man mocked. "I simply know that I'm better than this man." He was smug enough to win over the surviving members of the board.
"You're so sure of this …" the monster asked.
"Please …" he laughed. "I've Raped woman, killed children and took what I pleased up and down Resistance territory and tunnels, and no Connor could tell you what color my hair is." There was an evil to his laughter that no one felt comfortable hearing.
"If it's so "Fun" why haven't you done anything about him, or the others." Danny shot at the man.
The killer clicked his teeth at the comment, treating the young man as if he was annoying fly that would leave him be on a hot day.
"I needed time and inspiration …" He sighed.
"And have you found them?"
"I can … for a price." He stretched pushing Travis's lifeless body out of the chair and to the ground. He jumped into the chair and put his feet up on the table, lounging backward comfortably.
"What do you think …?"
Though the AI didn't specify who it was talking too, everyone in the room knew exactly who it was addressing.
"Mother sent him away for a reason … yet, his arrogance is intriguing." The monster examined the killer with interest. "I say we see what he can do, before we invest in his talents." There was pensiveness to the growl.
"Are you willing to demonstrate your abilities?"
"Hmm …" The older man groaned out loud. "I never thought you'd ask …." He put his feet down and stood. "In fact I've been working on an audition for you for the last several weeks." He began to make his way to the door.
"Turn to the evening news at ten; you wouldn't want to miss it!"
The night was bitterly cold and darker than usual, but Sarah Connor was willing to blame it on the fact that the entrance to the bar she was looking for was located in a back alley.
As she got close to her destination she saw a neon sign with the words "The Sultan of Swing" on the front of the brick building with a neon projection of an unraveling turban. Next to the front door a girl in a short leather skirt and despite the cold weather she was wearing a sheer top was making out with an older man.
Sarah cleared her throat and averted her eyes from the clear sign of prostitution and entered the bar room.
The inside was dark and a little hazy from smoke. The only light in the entire bar was form the collection of Neon signs on the walls reflecting off the mirror behind the bar. On a small stage at the far end sat a large decorated Christmas tree next to the occupied upright Baby Grand Piano. In the air was the sound of clicking glasses and the Murmur of docile conversation as a man in a fedora and suit vest sat at the piano playing a singer and standard number to accompany the enticing voice of a gorgeous golden haired blond with shiny green eyes and tiny black dress.
The young woman's hopeful gaze was like a beacon for Sarah, helping her find the person she was there to retrieve. She had seen a lot of girls have that look for the man she was looking for since she had gotten to know him and she wasn't sure if she should be proud or worried about it.
Ryan was sitting toward the middle of the bar. He wore a blue threadbare Henley long sleeve shirt that looked a size to big for him and Sarah somehow knew it had to have been John's in the future. His blue jeans looked store bought, but that was the only thing about his clothing that looked new. He sat slumped over a glass of scotch looking at the liquid, half listening in disinterest to a dark haired girl with to much make up, too short dress and possibly too young to be in this kind of establishment.
As Sarah walked up to them she could tell by the snobby accent that the girl lacked the awareness that this wasn't a club in Malibu or that the soldier she was trying to talk into a ride back to her place wasn't a heir to a movie studio.
"I totally have the house to myself for the holiday … and it's got this one room for us to …" she grinned and pushed back some of Ryan's grown out raven curls to whisper in his ear. The man listened to whatever it was the girl was saying, and then took a large swig of his drink, not replying.
"He's spoken for." Sarah had a sharp edge to her voice looming over the teenager.
The girl gave an arrogant snort of superiority that Sarah had seen and even given several times in her privileged youth. The girl however lost the smug look with one good stare into the dangerous glimmer in Sarah's green eyes.
"Beat it …" Sarah motioned the slutty heiress to get lost. The teenager sneered at Sarah's sheer yet soft black shirt covered by a leather waist jacket and tight jeans. Ryan gave Sarah a curious look with a lifted eyebrow, before going back to his drink.
There was a pause before the girl huffed, giving Sarah a defiant look she turned Ryan's head and gave him a deep kiss.
"Next time don't tell the wife where you're going." She said with a wink standing and bumping shoulders with the black haired woman before leaving.
Sarah watched with a scowl as the girl sashayed away from them. She turned and pulled the abandoned stool out of Ryan's personal space and sat next to him, their shoulders touching.
"I hope there's a damn good reason that I'm not getting laid tonight … unless you're planning to grab a hotel room for us." Ryan snorted sarcastically taking a sip of the alcohol.
Sarah sneered, not laughing at his comment and studied his bandaged hand with concern and confusion due to the fact that he didn't have that injury when he left her and Cameron at the diner they dropped the Fields off at.
"What was it this time?" She asked reaching out and touching his bandaged hand. He moved it out of her reach and said nothing letting the perspiring drink wet the bandage.
"It was Silberman …wasn't it?" Sarah turned her head down and studied the polished, yet nicked bar counter.
"Yeah" Ryan nodded rubbing his eyes tiredly with his good hand.
"Did you …?" she didn't look up from the counter.
There was immense guilt that ate at her. When she was in the mental hospital her rants about Judgment Day and the machines where almost tri weekly in her therapy room, but in all that time she never knew that there would be people who would take her so seriously that they would unleash the kind of hell that would turn downtown into ruins with marshal law through out several blocks and neighborhoods in the city. Her and her boy's name was on the lips of killers as they massacre families and citizens and she knew that she couldn't do anything about it for fear that she would be recognized by someone in her haste to put a stop to them. But most of her guilt came from the knowledge that Ryan seemed to be the only one trying to stop them, and Silberman was taking his pound of flesh from the already beleaguered soldier.
"No …" Ryan groaned into his palm. "He got away again." He squinted into his fingers.
"I'm … I'm sorry." Sarah placed a hand on his leather clad arm looking up at him. The man sighed and switched his glass the other hand and placed his bandaged hand over hers.
"It's not your fault … I've seen enough people take "the cause" over the edge more than enough to know that sometimes it just happens." He sighed rubbing her knuckle with his thumb. She could feel pistons click over the top of her hand.
Though she knew that one of his arms was cybernetic, she let out a captured breath and pulled away in surprise at the feeling of the mechanical components.
The shame and sadness in Ryan's eyes at her reaction was enough to make Sarah drive a stake through her heart at the sheer level of hurt she just inflicted her future grandchild.
He switched his injured hand back to the glass and tuned back to the music where the gorgeous blond was now sitting at the piano playing a tune reminiscent of snow falling slowly to the ground, before she broke into a smooth jazz song that somehow fit the cold holiday weather outside.
"Playing hard to get tonight, huh, beautiful?"
Sarah turned to a fat bartender standing across from her and Ryan. She squinted in confusion at his statement, thinking that he might have her mistaken for someone else.
"I'm sorry?" She said, looking at Ryan who shook his head at the bartender with a poignant look that was a silent warning for him to shut his mouth.
The fat man smiled cheekily at her clothing and placed a fruity looking drink That Sarah wouldn't be caught dead drinking in front of her.
"The usual right?" he asked motioning to the drink.
She frowned at the drink in front of her, then back to the bartender who continued to stand in front of her with an expectant look. She turned to Ryan who looked more than a little freaked out with an almost cat swallowed the canary look.
"Hey, Tommy … you got something better to do right now?" Ryan asked angrily.
"Nope …" The large younger man continued to give Sarah a smile that made her think that he knew something about her that she didn't, which made her skin crawl.
The ex officer suddenly snatched the bar towel of the fat man's slumped shoulder and tossed it to the other side of the bar.
"Then go find something!" He growled with displeasure dismissing him with a warning in his voice.
The fat man lightly punched the bar in irritation and walked away muttering about how when Sarah always seems to show up she makes him unfriendly.
"What was that all about?" She asked pushing the drink away from her with a wrinkled nose wanting to make a comment that estrogen threw up all over it.
"Don't worry about it … He thought you were someone else." He seemed to shrug it off, but Sarah could tell when the bartender was making conversation, Ryan was about to sew the fat guys mouth together.
"I guess." Sarah gave him a suspicious look, but knew that there was no point in pressing the matter tonight.
They were silent for several minutes as the beautiful blond continued to sing her heart out in the back ground. Sarah didn't order anything to drink, she just watched Ryan consume his. She pondered what he was like as a little boy or a baby, had she held him as a squishy newborn, did he know her as a child? She could tell how much he loved her by the way he looked at her, but there were also days when he looked at her with a deep pain in his eyes that looked like he could cry if there were any tears left in him.
"So are we going to talk about it…?" Sarah broke the silence lifting her eyebrows at him to make a point.
"Talk about what?" Ryan sighed twirling the ice around in his cup.
"You and me …" She tilted her head with a dead serious look.
"Sure …" Ryan snorted at her face. "I say we forgo the wedding, because let's face it, it's all for show anyway. I'll grab dad's Chevy; you take your Momma's jewelry and savings account. Vegas is only several hours away and after we elope it will be just you and me on the open road … with no one to tell us were to go or what to do. Then when you're with child …"
"You know what I mean!" Sarah cut him off his tangent. "Enough with the bullshit I know who you are …" she thinned her lips at the man.
"Well than what is there to talk about?" Ryan shrugged. "You're my grandmother, I'm your grandson, I love you, and you on occasion put up with me …" He listed off.
"It's becoming a chore at the moment." She glared.
He smiled grimly and shrugged mischievously. Despite herself Sarah smiled too, wondering how she could miss the subtle charm that was all her John Connor.
"Your mom …?" Sarah asked shifting a little closer.
"Selena Gomez" He answered after a moment of thought.
Sarah thought about it, vaguely remembering the teenage Disney star in a magazine Cameron had subscribed to too research the knowledge of pop culture required of a teenage girl.
"Really?" She was dumb founded a moment.
"Sure, why not …" Ryan signaled for another drink.
It took a second for Sarah to release that Ryan was screwing with her. She punched him on the patch on his sleeve with a bruised pride.
"Christ!" He rubbed his arm with a small teasing laugh.
"What did I just say?" Sarah retorted with a menacing tilt of her head.
"Look, if I told you who my mom is, then you're going to other freak out, or royally fuck me over … So you're just going to have to freaking wait and see." He rubbed his arm with a hiss of repressed air.
Sarah relented, agreeing with the sentiment.
"Do I like her?" She decided to start back a little smaller.
"No" It didn't take Ryan more then a beat to answer her as if she had asked him if there was gravity in space.
"Good … I would be worried if you said yes." Sarah wasn't kidding; she could always find a reason to dislike John's girl friends. Sequoia smoked too much pot, the girl Cameron Phillips that her boy told her about in a Pizza Hut in Red Valley was a distraction to John all that night, Sherri Weston treated her baby like a leper (Not that Sarah asked around about the girl at John and Cameron's high school when they called in sick one day.), and Riley was just to damn stupid.
"I bet you would have his children if he let you?" Ryan snorted sarcastically as Marty walked by and set a beer in front of him with an angry scowl.
"There is an experiment at Caltech next week." Sarah snatched the beer out of Ryan's hand and drank it hiding the playful smile.
The soldier frowned at her with a confused look. Suddenly Sarah realized that her dry humor didn't exactly sound all that sarcastic as she tried to make it.
"It was a joke …" she swallowed the crap beer.
"Lets hope so." He cleared his throat. "Last thing I need it to be is my own uncle." Ryan took back the beer.
There was another pause in the conversation as Sarah pondered leaving the wisecracking to John and not partake in it for a little while.
"So I'm guessing that you didn't actually come down here to cock block and plot to make future me more vulnerable to genetic disorders all night? Because if you did that would be really harsh." Ryan took a swig of his beer and turning to wait for her response.
Sarah bit her lip and half shrugged awkwardly, taking his beer again.
"I came to bring you back to the house." She took a swig.
"Did you guys get a new lead?" he perked up at her hopefully. Sarah looked as awkward as she felt shifting in her seat.
"No" she swallowed the alcohol and cleared her throat. "It's Christmas Eve and …" the beautiful woman didn't quiet know how to go about saying what she wanted.
"You want me to come to the family get together." Ryan finished her sentence for her with a snort. "I thought you were famous for not being that big on holidays." He took the bottle back from her.
"I'm not … it's just this is our first true family Christmas and I think that you should be there." She tilted her head, connecting to that maternal wave that made it possible for the warrioress to have these conversations.
Ryan gave her a sad smile and turned down to the bar and gave a mournful pause.
"Look …" He sighed. "I appreciate the sentiment more than you realize and … I sorely tempted to go and laugh it up. But …" he paused with a deep emotion to his voice that she had never heard before. "You, and Da … John, You're not my family … at least the family I know." He shook his head. "I buried most of the people in your house with my own hands … and to see them youthful and laughing … it would make me less than merry." He made a motion to look at her, but instead he looked to the counter to as if looking into Sarah's eyes would hurt him more than any Skynet weapon ever could.
There was apart of Sarah that wanted to go to the man and hold him just like she had done time and time again for John, but she didn't act on the feelings she just let herself speak, before she could stop herself.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight …" she said in a docile tone, needing him to feel better.
Ryan gave a breathy laugh at her comment and surrendered a small smile.
"I won't … you see that emerald jewel?" he motioned to the immensely beautiful woman singing at the piano with all her tumbled Long golden curled glory. "I'm not blind; she's been trying to get my attention all night. She'll be over here in a little bit …" he clapped her on the back with a shady smile.
There was a pause between the two before she blinked.
"Not good enough." Sarah motioned Marty for a drink like Ryan had.
"What do you mean?" Ryan glared.
"If you're not coming home for Christmas, then I guess it's just going to be you and me tonight." She removed her jacket and waited for her drink.
"What happened to this being you're first family Christmas?" He frowned watching her sway to the music as if getting into the mood as she tapped on the counter to the beat.
"Well, it's not really a family Christmas if one of them doesn't show up, so two doesn't matter that much."
A drink was placed in front of her to which she nodded in thanks and took a sip and winced. "Damn this stuff burns." She coughed.
"Yeah, that's all I'm use to in the future … so what you're saying is that you're not going to spend Christmas eve with Dad and Derek, but sit here all night with me and most likely scare away every girl here … this is what I'm getting from this?" he made a gesture to Sarah looking loose.
"Yep …" Sarah wiggle her eyebrows at him shifting closer when a girl approached Ryan.
The officer gave a defeated sigh when the girl walked away quickly.
The sound of a George Bailey screaming Merry Christmas echoed through the Connor living room. The sight of the large decorated Christmas tree that looked like the North Pole threw up on it sat tinkling with tinsel and ball decorations.
In the rainbow of colors that hued the otherwise darkened the room Derek Reese sat on the couch staring blankly at the Television, watching Bailey run through the streets of Bedford Falls in a joyful mood that he was alive.
The unshaven man had dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep that came from the pain in his leg and the pain in his heart from the fresh words that Jesse had told him when he hobbled to her hotel to tell her that he was crippled for life and that he needed talk to her about there relationship.
He wouldn't forget the look Jesse gave his cane or what she said to him about not being the man she fell in love with anymore, while showing him the picture of him and Sarah kissing on the bench in front of Century.
"You know what Derek? My only comfort is that Sarah will only get half the man I had!"
He lowered his head watching Jimmy Steward's pumping his legs to reach the woman he loved, things that Derek Reese would never have or be able to do again. He ran a hand over his wooden cane pensively and then shook his head.
Suddenly the light to the hallway flipped on blinding him momentarily.
"What the hell!" He growled shielding his eyes shut. It took a moment to readjust to the light before he looked up to find Cameron standing in the hall checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
"I didn't see you sitting there …" She said with a distracted voice redoing a portion of her make up. Derek couldn't help but hear the lack of an apology.
"Of course not" He muttered, noticing that she seemed to have changed out of her tank top and track shorts and into a pretty red satin dress and curled her hair and applied a classy amount of make up.
"You going to Midnight Mass or something?" Derek asked observing her formal dress that he would never admit she looked great in.
"No …" Cameron reapplied some lip gloss. "John said this is a party and my sources say that you should look "Spicy" when at these events." She explained.
"And these sources wouldn't have Selena Gomez on it and have 17 on the title?" He snorted mockingly at her. Cameron merely blinked at him and moved into the living room. "And point of fact With Sarah god knows where and John picking up Miley …"
"Riley" Cameron corrected
Whatever … look around you this doesn't seem to be the most happening place in the city." He gestured all around him.
"John should be back in a moment and Sarah went to go bring Ryan back." Cameron answered. Derek laughed grimly at the last statement.
"The kid and Sarah probably will have a better time at whatever rundown bar he's trying to get drunk in, then we are here." Derek thought he could use a loose woman at the moment, that or Sarah, but that was more for later.
"John says that Sarah has a reputation for ruining fun events, so I doubt that Ryan won't show up." Cameron went into the kitchen.
"He's not wrong."
Derek didn't need the reminder of their first and last family game night where Sarah nearly drove herself nuts trying to out maneuver Cameron in Risk, which ended with her storming off and John winning anyway.
"We never played and we never played since …" He mused out loud.
KNOCK
KNOCK
"Yo, Metal …" Derek called to Cameron at the sound of the front door. There was no reply. "Hey … can you get the door!" he yelled into the kitchen, but there was no reply again.
KNOCK
KNOCK
"Well I guess I'll get then …" He grumbled bitterly as he pushed himself painfully to his feet and limped to the front door.
"Okay thanks!" Cameron called to him from the kitchen.
"Oh, but you heard that!" Derek shouted to the kitchen as he opened the door.
In the doorway Charlie Dixon was in his usual tight T-shirt, motorcycle jacket, and Jeans carrying two presents wrapped in green and red wrapping paper. Both Derek and Charlie traded looks of pure loathing in there moment of unhappy silence at the sight of one another.
"Are you going to let me in?" Charlie asked having to balance one of the larger boxes that looked bulky.
Derek took a cue from his roommate and blinked once before he shut the door and limped back to the couch.
At the same moment Cameron gave into the room with a stack of presents and was sporting a displeased look that seemed to be private.
"What is it Asshole day?" Derek sighed to her.
"Must be …" she replied shortly as Riley entered the room with John.
Apparently the blond seemed to be of the opinion that a Christmas sweater with her leggings and a Blue jean skirt was cute. John had told her it was, but one look at Cameron's outfit and the angelic beauty asking if she knitted it herself and it made Riley suddenly self conscious.
"Was that someone at the door?" John asked looking to Derek.
It took all the soldier had not to answer the young man honestly, now that he was starting to spike his hair like he will in the future and sporting some scruff as not to be left out by the rest of the males in his life, though Sarah had many reservations about it.
"I can't remember." He shrugged and sat on the couch. John frowned at his uncle's blatant lie that he could see through.
KNOCK
KNOCK
"Nice …" John sighed in irritation at the man and walked to the front door.
Alone momentarily with the girls, Derek noticed that the usual icy glare of hatred that Riley usually directed to the cyborg laying presents under the tree was now directed at him solely. It was a look that said that he other hurt someone she loved or he shot her dog, he was willing to say that on some cases both were expectable.
John waddled back with a large wrapped box in his arms trailed by Charlie who cut the lieutenant a spiteful look. However one displeased stare from Cameron and the EMS quickly shift priorities in who to focus his attention on.
It took a force of awkward small talk and chit chat mostly started by himself for John to realize that in his attempt to organize his dream family Christmas that he might over looked the fact that the people sitting in the living room trying to ignore one another was due to they all hated one another.
Derek hated Charlie and Charlie hated Derek, Cameron hated Riley and Riley hated Cameron, Derek and Cameron could barely be left unsupervised in the same room and Charlie seemed to always be on John's protector's bad side. Not to mention that Riley seemed to have nothing, but antipathy for his uncle as of tonight.
Suddenly it struck the future leader of the resistance that it was now fitting that they were all sitting watching "HowtheGrinchStoleChristmas" without a sound being spoken.
"You're a mean one Mr. Grinch."
Suddenly the front door opened to the house breaking the deadly cold silence filling the room.
"You didn't actually have to hit her … she was into me since I've been coming there."
"Look, Momma had many issues, but being fat and ugly were the only ones that weren't among them. Plus that blond bitch's singing was off key … someone had to hit her before she ruined everyone's Christmas."
"You caveman …"
Ryan came into the room with two bottles of wine in each hand with a lopsided smile for Sarah who bumped his shoulder with a playful grim carrying a case of beer under her arm.
There bonding moment ended when they felt the Artic chill in the air. They both stood in the entrance while everyone stared at them from there seats.
Sarah would have been happy to be somewhere else at the moment if it meant that she didn't have to see Derek and Charlie sitting in the same room waiting for her.
Ryan gave a good look at the company then let out a loud snort.
"And I wasn't going to come tonight."
Author's Notes
I think one of the perks of making this a two part chapter is that in part two I won't have to cut out a lot of stuff, such as Cameron and Ryan's discussion about his most memorable Christmas with her and John or the Derek/Sarah/Charlie stuff that will come to fruition in the next part, and as always more trying to get people to buy into Jameron.
Alright so unless you didn't read Purpose than the bad guy in this chapter and his relationship to Kate means little to you, but if you did then you know that he's about to change the whole pace of the story.
Ryan and Sarah will be a fixture in these two parts and Ryan flirting with Sarah is more apart of the characters charm (No matter who it is.)
I would love you guys to give me some feed back on Derek being crippled for life, I thought it would be an interesting as well as an untouched thing in the show, that with all the stuff the Connor's are going through that someone isn't going to get maimed permanently. Also Derek won't be the last in the family to be permanently scared physically in this story.
Like I said I'm sorry if this seems unfinished but I promise I'm not going to drop this story.