I don't own the Terminator

This story takes place between episode 2 and three of the second season, before Sarah takes John out of school.

His mother would no doubt know soon what he was doing. He was at a new school, but had only gone to a single class. He figured they contact her within the next day or so. So he may just as well enjoy the time skipping class until she were to find out. He just needed some time to sort out his feelings and thoughts. Just recently the only thing that could be called his best friend, or only friend, tried to kill him. He could not convince her to do otherwise even if he wished. Losing all trust he had in her. And she claimed he could not be trusted.

His mother and uncle where no help at all in understanding everything; both of them hated Cameron. Well Derek did. His mother was hard to read. None the less, they both did not like her. The only reason she is not destroyed is because neither of them is capable of doing such a feat. Derek has boasted about all the Terminators he had killed while in the future, but he always had a weapon to do so. Today's weapons just did not cut it. At least the ones they had. To them, a Terminator might as well be a tank.

So he sat thinking about everything he has gone through and supposedly will go through. Future savior of mankind. Bfff. He was no savior of anything. Just a teenage boy with a too controlling mother, who is too scared to do anything, but weigh down his family. His mother rarely let him go on missions out of his safety, but he knew the real reason. She did not trust him. He was an incapable soldier.

He was taken away from his thoughts for just a moment by the sound of police sirens. A large group of them past nearby and sped off. Ambulances and a fire truck accompanied them. John paid no mind though. Accidents happen all the time in this town. No sense getting paranoid by every siren. Though his mother still does.

He sat in an alley way behind a dumpster as a means to avoid Riley. He just needed some time alone with himself. He was eating a snicker bar while drinking a coke when his watch started to beep.

He glanced down at it and checked the time. 3:50 it read. School ended at 4:00. Thus the ten minutes left him just enough time to head back to campus to cause the illusion that he attended class for whichever member of his so called family picked him up.

With one gulp he finished his coke and threw it in the dumpster as he got up. Walking back to school he finished his snicker bar.

Once he got out of the alley he was back on the main street with the rear of his school in full view. He took a few steps forward and stopped.

John had been held up by fear a lot lately. He felt that he has only been counterproductive in all the missions his family had been on, but that did not mean he had no training. He had developed the skills from his mother. He had the skills, but no heart. And as John sat in the alley, he vowed to change that. To rely on his training and to not be afraid.

But right now, his training was telling him that something was wrong, and that he needed to be afraid.

Something was wrong with the air. He could not explain it, but he knew. He scanned his surroundings. No one was near. The street was empty. He pressed his back against the wall behind him and made slow movements toward the school. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Paranoia triggered by the nearby sirens. A trait he had tried very hard to not pick up from his mother. It wasn't long until he was no longer alone.

A girl around his age walked through a t-intersection straight for his school. She walked with a rapid pace, but was not running. Her steps were in fluid motion and in perfect timing. She had a couple of scratches on her skin. She had strawberry blond hair with a very pale complexion. She wore jeans with a pink top.

"Maybe she was in the accident", John though out loud. That was a mistake. Though the girl was a good distance away she heard and turned her head to face him.

Now John knew why he had that feeling. The way she turned her head to look at him was not human. The way her face tilted and eyes did not sway were not human. She was a Terminator, and she had just zeroed in on him.

"John Connor." She spoke. She had identified him.

And John ran. He ran back into to the alley he came from trying not to run into anything. As he past the dumpster he was earlier sitting against he heard load bangs and felt a slight sting as a bullet grazes his skin. He ran in random patterns as he was taught in order to avoid being shot.

He ran though the alley until he reached the end. A chain link fence with barbwire on the top stopped him from continuing. Being quick he grabbed onto the fence determined to climb it at all cost, but quit and turned around to face the machine as she neared him.

"John Connor." She repeated. And he stood knowing that he could not get away from her.

He could see her more clearly now. Bullet holes in her shirt but there was no blood. One scrap on her face was deep enough to show metal, but there was no blood. And like metallic mercury the wounds closed and colored themselves correctly. Her shirt repaired itself in the same mercury looking manner. John had seen a similar unit before; a terminator that could take on any shape.

Police sirens got loader and loader. What kind of destruction did she leave in her path? Terminators were supposed blend in. Be covert, not bring attention to themselves.

He ground his teeth as she raised the gun to eye level. But before she could pull the trigger a police car tore through the alley right behind John. John dove out of the way as the car broke the fence behind him and slammed into the Terminator.

The Terminator planted her feet down, digging into the concrete until she was able to hold the car. The tires of the police vehicle where squealing so load that it drained out the siren.

Shotgun blasts came from within the car, impacting on the Terminator. She lost her hold and the police vehicle pummeled her right through a concrete wall.

John knew to run. The fence was now gone, destroyed by the police car. He was told always to run, but he did not want to. He had to be the future leader of mankind. How was he supposed to do that if he kept running? But he stayed put. He did not know what to do. So he stayed put. It was idiotic, it was moronic, and it was irrational.

The driver's door opened and a man dressed in black leather got out. He was over 6 foot tall, and had black sunglasses on. John knew right away he was a Terminator; a very familiar Terminator. The first Terminator John had ever come across, nearly four years ago was standing right in front of him.

The Terminator moved right up to him. In a voice he had not heard in years the Terminator called out to him. "John Connor?"

"Yes." John answered. He did not know why. It was a Terminator sent to kill him, but he could not believe that. This one just saved his life. "Are you here to kill me."

The Terminator moved closer. "No, come with me."

Shotgun in one hand the Terminator grabbed John with the other and pulled him out of the alley. "We have to acquire new vehicle."

Back in the alley, the police car flew as if thrown away from its position. It flew into the back wall of a nail parlor, ripping a whole through it. Vietnamese woman all stared out into the new whole into the alley as a girl with no physical wound stood up from out of the rubble. Scanning the area she determined which direction John and his Terminator had gone and began running after them.

The T101 broke the window of a SUV and nearly threw John inside it. Quickly the machine hotwired the vehicle and began speeding off in reverse.

John looked up through the windshield and saw the other Terminator running after them. "Uh, she's still coming."

The T101 fired his shotgun with his right hand. It was enough force to knock the other Terminator down. The T101 then spun the car around and drove away at full speed. John looked through the rear of the car and saw the Terminator lay on the ground as if it were lifeless.

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