A/N: Two chapters in one day! I'm on a roll.
Disclaimer: Nothing about Terminator Salvation belongs to me, nor do any of the characters in this fic (except the OCs).
hos·til·i·ty [ho stíllətee]
(plural hos·til·i·ties)
n
1. intense aggression or anger: a feeling or attitude of hatred, enmity, antagonism, or anger toward somebody
2. strong opposition: strong opposition to somebody or something
3. hostile act: an aggressive act against somebody
Near evacuated Resistance Base...
Gunfire. That was the first thing Blair became aware of. Gunfire and shouts. Then other things registered on her senses. The smells of cordite and burning fuel. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Then she shifted her body and her muscles screamed in pain. She was wedged in a confined space, limbs contorted in unnatural positions. She forced her eyes to open and saw the controls of the helicopter she'd been flying, the faces of the gauges shattered or cracked, and it all came flooding back. The attack.
Fighter jets and gunships were sent out to engage the enemy force while everyone else evacuated the base. Blair flew one of the gunships. They all headed out to meet the oncoming threat head-on before the attack force reached the base to pick off any stragglers that remained. The battle was fast and brutal, like all fights against the machines. Missiles flew, laser cannons fired, bullets screamed, the air was filled with explosions and flaming wreckage that rained down from the sky. The last thing Blair remembered was a Hunter-Killer coming right at her...
The world beyond her spiderwebbed windscreen was sideways. A transporter hovered close to the ground and disgorged dozens of Terminators of various makes and models. Ground troops sent to mop-up any survivors. Several hulking T-600s were lumbering towards Blair's downed helicopter. Blair clawed at her safety harness. She managed to unbuckle herself from the pilot's seat and rolled onto the tilted floor. She half-crawled, half-scrambled her way past the bodies of those who'd manned the guns at the side doors and weren't fortunate enough to survive the crash and get out to join the fighting. One of them still had a machine gun clutched in his hands. Blair grabbed the weapon along with the spare clips she found in the dead man's pockets. After a quick look to be sure the area beyond the side hatch was clear, she jumped out of the helicopter and ran for the nearest group of Resistance fighters.
Before she could reach them they were mowed down by a tank-like T-100. Blair ducked behind a pile of debris that was once part of an HK's hull and opened fire on the huge robot. She aimed for the tiny triangular head set between its massive shoulders. She might not be able to kill it, but enough damage to the eyes might incapacitate or slow it down. The T-100 reeled as its red optics sparked and went dark. A lucky shot. The blinded machine fired wildly, some of its bullets striking its fellow Terminators until they were forced to turn on it. Blair took advantage of the chaos to dart towards the smoking remains of an HK's front section and hide behind it. This proved to be a fatal mistake.
A fire-blackened metal hand lashed out from beneath the wreckage and grabbed onto Blair's ankle. A hard yank had her sprawled on her back and she saw two baleful red eyes glowering at her under the debris like a monster under a child's bed. Before the Terminator could drag her any closer Blair aimed her weapon and emptied the rest of the clip into its face.
Something struck her face with enough force to cause the back of her head to smack the ground. Stunned, Blair lay there for several dangerous seconds while her brain struggled to unjumble itself. Her left eyelid slowly peeled back and she stared up at the darkening sky. Something big and fiery plummeted from the clouds. Blair couldn't tell if it was a plane or a Hunter-Killer. It streaked down like a deadly comet, so horribly close when it struck the ground. There was a deafening explosion and the wreckage flipped with the force of the shockwave. Her last thought as the twisted metal was about to land on her was Marcus... Then there was only nothingness.
Evacuation Convoy, moments earlier...
Marcus rode in Lucille's front passenger seat with his body twisted around, facing towards the hastily abandoned base. He stared anxiously through the binoculars Blair had given him and watched the battle rage miles away and hundreds of feet above the ground. His gaze was fixed on one particular helicopter with the name "Lola" stenciled on its side in white letters. Blair's copter. So far, she seemed to be holding her own against the relentless machines. But Marcus knew she couldn't let her focus waver for even a fraction of a second. That's all it would take, and even the best pilots were susceptible to lapses in concentration. Stress and fatigue inevitably took their toll. Marcus hated not being able to do more than watch as Blair fought for her life and the lives of everyone trying to escape.
Suddenly, a Hunter-Killer swooped in and attacked. Marcus tensed as he watched Blair's helicopter evade the deadly machine's fire when suddenly the back rotor flew apart.
"No, no, no..." Marcus babbled, his volume increasing as he watched the copter spin out of control and spiral downward until it was lost from sight. "No, no!"
"What is it?" Angelo asked.
Marcus twisted in his seat to face him. "Blair went down."
The head mechanic gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, man."
"I gotta go back."
Angelo gaped. "Are you crazy? The place 'll be crawling with machines any minute!"
Marcus didn't bother to argue. He simply jumped out of the moving vehicle and started running back the way they'd come. It was the most insane thing Angelo had ever seen and for a moment all he could do was gape at the retreating figure in his rear-view mirror. Angelo finally slammed on the brakes and put the car in reverse. "Marcus!" he shouted, chasing after the retreating cyborg, "Goddamn it, stop! There's nothin' you can do for her!" The car shot ahead and swerved to block Marcus's path. Angelo clambered out and stood in front of him, both hands held up as he tried to reason with him. "We're miles out. It'd take you hours to get there on foot. And you're not even armed, for Christ's sake! One of you against who knows how many Terminators? It's suicide."
Several other vehicles had paused so their occupants could watch the unfolding spectacle.
"I'm not leaving her there," Marcus growled and started to walk around the car blocking his path. Angelo immediately tried to stop him, but it was like pushing against a moving train. His feet skidded on the dirt as he braced his hands against the stubborn cyborg's chest. He glared back at the gawkers and yelled, "Don't just stand there! Help me stop this crazy bastard!"
Most were hesitant, but a handful of sturdy people rushed over and grabbed hold of Marcus's limbs, trying to at least slow him down. None of them really understood just how incredibly strong he was until that moment. It was all they could do just to keep from being thrown off as Marcus struggled against them. "Goddamn it! Let go of me!"
"What the hell is goin' on here?"
The commanding bellow brought everyone to a halt and all heads turned to see Barnes storming towards them. His scowl told them he did not want to deal with this shit right now.
"The robot's blown a gasket," somebody volunteered.
Marcus shook himself free of the restraining hands and explained to Connor's right-hand man, "Blair's copter went down. I'm going back for her."
"We don't have time for rescue missions. We gotta get our people to the safe zone first."
"I'll go alone," Marcus insisted, "If I get killed it won't matter. You sure as hell won't miss me."
Barnes's scowl deepened. "Sending you off on a suicide run ain't something John would appreciate. For some damn reason he cares about what happens to you."
"I'm going," Marcus stated flatly, "You can't stop me. Not unless you blow my brains out."
Barnes exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the hell it is between you two. Blair almost gets her ass killed bustin' you out, now you're set on rushing in like some knight in shining armor to rescue somebody who's probably already dead." His eyes settled on Lucille. He gave the jury-rigged car the once over, then turned to the nearest group of men and ordered, "Unload the boxes from this thing and divvy 'em out to the other vehicles."
They were quick to obey, even though they were obviously puzzled. While they unloaded the crates, Barnes stepped up to Marcus and handed him his machine gun and extra clips. "John 'd be pissed if I let you run off without a weapon."
Marcus thanked him grudgingly.
"We ain't gonna wait for you," Barnes warned him, "If you somehow get through this shit alive, it's up to you to catch up." With that, he abruptly turned and marched back to the waiting convoy.
Marcus jumped into the driver's seat the moment the last box was removed. He looked at Angelo, who stared at him with a troubled expression. "Do me a favor. If I don't make it back, tell Milo and his family thanks."
"For what?" the mechanic asked.
Marcus's lips twisted into a wry smirk. "For treating me like a human being."
He put Lucille in gear and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
Near evacuated Resistance Base...
Marcus wasn't sure how long it took to get there, the minutes seemed to stretch by like hours. By the time he reached the site of the main battle, most of the fighting was over. It was hard to say who'd won. Corpses both mechanical and flesh littered the ground, along with twisted hulks that were once airborne vehicles. Marcus didn't even know where to begin looking, so he just drove a zigzag pattern through the endless field of debris and carnage, hoping to catch a glimpse of Blair's crashed gunship. The weak post-nuclear sun hung low in the sky by the time he finally saw the scorched letters on the side of one of the wrecks. He was able to make out an upside-down LOL, which would've made him smirk under different circumstances.
As he drove closer a badly damaged T-700 lurched around the wrecked copter into Marcus's view. Its left arm and half its left leg were gone. It hobbled on the stump and its remaining knee. Unfortunately, its right arm with the built-in minigun were intact. The Terminator brought its weapon to bear and sent a hail of bullets towards the approaching car. Instead of swerving, Marcus punched the gas and headed straight for the Terminator. The T-700's weapon ran out of ammo an instant before the speeding car slammed into the machine and pinned it up against Lola. Steam rose from beneath the perforated hood and Lucille's engine let out one final death rattle before giving up the ghost. Marcus got out of the demolished car, shouldered the machine gun Barnes gave him, and walked over to the trapped robot. The Terminator's eyes glared balefully as he gripped the sides of its head and, with a shout, twisted hard. There was a flurry of sparks and then the eyes faded to black.
Marcus immediately checked the gunship. He saw a couple of bodies in the back, both men, but the cockpit was empty. Which meant Blair survived the crash and got out. She might still be close, or she might even be with some of the skirmishers he saw in the distance. Or she might be one of the corpses littering the area. He prayed the latter wasn't the case, even as he checked each body he came across during his search.
As it turned out, he didn't have to go that far to find her. He was passing an unidentifiable mound of twisted metal lying a few yards away from a smoldering crater when he noticed an arm poking out from underneath. The sleeve was in tatters, the exposed flesh bloodied and burned in places. But what got Marcus's attention was the glint of metal at the fingers, and he remembered that Blair often wore rings on her right hand. He ran over and grabbed hold of the wreckage, then started to lift it like it was one of the cars at the motor pool. The metal was still hot enough to sear his palms, but he didn't care. His artificial muscles and joints groaned in protest as he slowly raised the massive pile of debris. This thing was way heavier than any car he'd ever lifted.
The slender figure that was gradually revealed was almost unrecognizable. Streaked with soot and blood, her long hair a mass of filthy tangles, some of it singed away, her flying leathers ripped and scorched, the right side of her face swollen and disfigured. But Marcus knew it was her.
Marcus gritted his teeth and shifted his hold on the wreckage as he slowly turned around, then finally lowered it until he supported the weight on his shoulders. Little by little, he crouched until he was able to scoop Blair's limp form into his now freed arms. Then he straightened and, taking a deep breath, leaped forward. The wreckage fell with a resounding crash. As it came down, a jagged edge slicked through the back of Marcus's coat and left a long bloody cash in his flesh. Marcus hissed at the sudden pain, but paid it no more attention as he knelt and carefully laid Blair on the ground. Trembling fingers searched for a pulse on her neck. After a second, his entire body sagged with relief.
"Blair," he stroked her undamaged left cheek, "Can you hear me?"
No reaction. She was deeply unconscious. Considering the extent of her injuries, that was probably for the best. He couldn't imagine the agony she would be in. Marcus picked her up again and started to walk. He hoped to find other survivors, maybe someone with a working radio so they could call an airlift. A few minutes later he saw a lone figure wandering through the debris field. A tall man with broad shoulders and short brown hair, toting a formidable machine gun. Marcus hurried towards him. "Hey! Over here!"
The man turned. Something about the movement seemed...wrong. Marcus faltered to a halt. He was close enough to see the man's face now. He knew this guy from somewhere, but he could swear it wasn't at the Resistance base. Then it clicked. He had seen that face before. On a security video feed at Skynet, attacking John Connor. But by the time Marcus fought the thing himself its flesh had been burned away, leaving only the metal skeleton behind.
"Oh, shit!" Marcus dodged as the T-800 raised its weapon and sent a volley of bullets his way. He ducked behind the severed tail of an A-10 and placed Blair on the ground as quickly and carefully as possible. He then unshouldered his machine gun and leaped out from cover, firing as he ran in hopes of drawing the Terminator away from Blair. His efforts paid off as the T-800 kept its attention focused on him. Several of Marcus's bullets struck its face, tearing away chunks of flesh to expose the gleaming metal underneath. The Terminator's stony expression didn't waver. Marcus shuddered in revulsion, then wondered how many people reacted the same way to him.
As bullets bounced off his metal ribs, Marcus was keenly aware of the frantically beating heart they sheltered. All it'd take was one lucky shot between those ribs and he was done for. And so was Blair.
His weapon ran out of ammo. He didn't have time to reload, so he grabbed a huge chunk of debris and flung it at the Terminator. The machine dodged, but the missile clipped its shoulder, knocking it off balance for the couple of precious seconds it took for Marcus to eject the spent clip on his gun and slap home a new one. He ran towards his enemy, yelling and shooting nonstop, giving it no time to regain its balance. A lucky shot struck its right elbow and its arm went limp. It tried to switch its grip on its gun to the other hand, but by then Marcus had reached it. Marcus slammed the butt of his once again empty weapon against the robot's face, over and over, shouting obscenities the whole time. More and more of of its features tore away until Marcus was left staring at a grinning death's head.
The T-800 finally managed to knock Marcus aside with its functional arm. The blow was strong enough to send him sprawling. He jumped back to his feet, but not fast enough. The Terminator's weapon was trained on him, and at such close range the bullets were sure to do much worse damage. Marcus braced himself.
A roar overhead jerked both opponents' attentions to the sky where a massive gunship hovered. Armor-piercing bullets sprayed from its turrets. The Terminator seemed to disintegrate under the onslaught. In seconds only an unrecognizable pile of scrap remained.
Marcus waved frantically at the copter. "Hey!" He was keenly aware of his shredded clothes flapping in the downdraft and the metal bones that were no doubt plain to see. Would the pilot recognize him, or simply gun him down? Or would they recognize him and gun him down anyway? "Get down here!" he bellowed, pointing towards the wreckage where he'd left Blair sheltered, "There's a wounded fighter here! She needs medical attention! Please!" The last word was a desperate shriek. He wasn't sure how much time Blair had left before it was too late.
The gunship started to lower. The relief almost made Marcus's legs collapse. As soon as the helicopter touched down two figures leaped out and hurried towards him. Marcus recognized them both, but couldn't recall their names.
"We're doing a search and rescue!" one of them, a young woman with Asian features, explained over the rotor's continued roar.
Marcus once again pointed towards the nearby wreckage. "Blair's back there! She's hurt and unconscious!"
The woman and her partner got a stretcher from the helicopter, then followed him to where he left Blair. They carefully loaded her onto the stretcher, then carried her back to the waiting gunship. The man - Marcus thought his name was something like Tim or Tom - had training as a field medic. He treated Blair as best he could from the limited medical supplies on hand. The copter lifted off and immediately headed for the safe zone. Blair's injuries couldn't wait.
Marcus sat on one of the interior benches and watched the man tend to Blair while the woman kept watch at one of the machine guns. He felt overwhelmed by exhaustion. Not physical, since that was never an issue for him, but mental. He ran a tired hand through his short hair and jerked as his fingers came in contact with bare metal. Shit! A huge chunk of his scalp was missing! This must have happened during the gunfight with the T-800. Marcus suddenly wished he had a hat, not that the others in the copter seemed to care one way or the other. They had more important things to worry about. Still, he could imagine the looks he'd draw once they got to the safe zone. The last thing anybody needed at the moment was a visible reminder of what just displaced them all from the closest thing they had to a home in this hellish world.
He looked at Blair. She was the only person he knew who didn't flinch when confronted with the machine beneath the man. All she ever saw was the man. Not even Marcus could see that in himself.
Don't die, he silently begged the unconscious woman, Don't leave me alone.
It was the worst time to realize he couldn't live without her.