The Corral was a sleazy biker bar, to put it mildly. Billy Bob, the owner, had a sawed off shotgun hidden under the counter to drive away unmentionables, mainly the ones who were drunk as a skunk or stoned beyond belief. And the parking lot was not much better; there were crushed Styrofoam coffee cups and crumpled napkins everywhere, giving the whole place the feel of a junkyard.

Between two semi-trucks which had been parked there for the night, a breeze stirred. It was a hot, dry wind, with a crackle of static in it. A tongue of blue lightning danced between the two metal trucks, hissing and spitting. Suddenly a sizeable chunk of pavement depressed, leaving behind a shallow dip in the once-flat concrete, and something was deposited there. When the electricity died away, it revealed a man. A huge man, to be precise. His muscles were sculpted like a Michelangelo statue, and his eyes were intense brown orbs that pierced your very soul. His hair was brown and spiky, sort of a buzz-cut that made him look even more dangerous.

He stood up, feeling the gritty, filthy pavement between his toes, and marched slowly towards the skuzzy bar. His eyes were scanning the motorcycles robotically, checking fuel levels, engine defaults, and the air in the tires, all with a quick glance. With a hard shove, he opened the swinging doors of the Corral.

Several waitresses brushed past him, then gasped in amazement and shock. Either the strange man was too drunk to notice or care, or he was a nudist, because he wore not a stitch of clothing on his hugely-muscled frame. The view isn't bad, mused several waitresses. Thick cords of muscles rippled around his stocky frame, all the way from his washboard abs to his carved calves.

A few bikers sniggered in derision and (to themselves) envy. The man gazed around the surprised crowd, ignoring the giggles of the waitresses and the blare of the rock n roll music. The search engine running in his head beeped; there was a man playing pool which had all of the necessary items.

"Give me your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle." snarled the man, his accent heavy and almost indiscernible. The man he was addressing sneered, his cigar clamped between his teeth.

"You forgot to say please." the man chortled, blowing a cloud of smoke in his face. With a flick, he stubbed out his cigar in the man's shoulder. Normally, this would have people running and screaming, but the weird guy didn't even flinch. The strange man seized the biker's hand in a death grip, grinding several bones together and breaking two fingers.

A man whacked a pool stick across his neck, twisting it. The man heaved the biker through the kitchen window, and he landed on the stove. There was a muffled scream, and the strange man turned to the stick-wielding man and kicked him in the gut, sending him sprawling. Another biker stabbed him with a knife, but instead of hitting bone, there was a little clank. Before he knew it, his own knife was stabbed in his shoulder.

The remaining bikers fled, and the man stomped into the kitchen, where the original man he had assaulted was screaming on the floor. His hands and face were badly burned, and he was wielding a gun. Calmly, he jerked the gun out of his hands. The biker whimpered, then took out his keys.

"Take it!" he shouted. A little grin flickered on his face as he caught the keys.

Five minutes later, the muscular guy was dressed in full biker ensemble, complete with knife and pistol. He got on the bike (which was quite a nice one) and turned on the engine.

There was the heavy chunk of a shotgun breaking, and the strange man turned around. Billy Bob, the owner, was wielding a shotgun. "Can't leave with the man's vehicle, son," Billy said sternly. "Now get off the bike before I have to put you down."

Menacingly, the leather-clad man stepped off the bike and approached Billy Bob. With a swift move, he snatched the gun out of his hands. Then he eyed the sunglasses in his chest pocket, and took those too. He got back on the bike, revved the engine, and took off at the maximum speed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Underneath a bridge, a cop car pulled up. It was a young, brunette cop with a tight blue suit and a shiny new badge. He took out his radio.

"I'm reporting under the Washington bridge on an, uh, electrical disturbance. I will be going home after this, okay, Marge?" he said, putting the radio back in it's holster.

"Ten-four, Mark." crackled the radio.

The cop turned around a pile of rubbish and wove in between two burned-out trucks, and saw a huge hole in the chain link fence. It was a perfect circle, the ends still glowing red hot and sizzling in the cool, damp breeze.

He didn't even see the lithe man coming up behind him. One quick blow to the base of his neck stunned him, and the man yanked the gun out of the young policeman's hands. There was a loud bang, and it was all over.

The lithe man settled himself into the cop car, dressed in a tight blue suit and a shiny new badge. He looked at the search computer that was bolted into the dashboard, then keyed in a name:

CONNOR, JESSICA

Jessica Connor

Age: 17

Legal Guardians: Todd and Janelle Wilkens. 104 East Main Street.

Record:

Driving Under the Influence of a mind altering substance

Drunk and Disorderly

Breaking and Entering

Credit Card Theft

Assault in the third degree

He took off, his destination 104 East Main Street.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Janelle ducked under the sprinkler and grabbed the paper. She hurried up the driveway and caught sight of her foster child, Jess, in the garage with one of her friends. The two of them were listening to some heavy rock on the transistor radio, and Jess and revving her small bike, checking for defects in the engine.

"Jessica, get inside and clean up your room!" Janelle shouted. Jess simply revved the bike again, pretending not to hear.

She gave up and went inside. When she was gone, Jess and her friend Mikey exchanged a grin. "Your parents are jerks." Mikey said. Jess nodded.

Janelle slapped the paper angrily down on the counter. "Oh, Todd, sometimes she gets me so mad!" she snapped, crossing over to the living room where her husband was watching baseball.

"Honey, move, you're blocking the TV," Todd complained.

"She hasn't cleaned that room of hers in a month," Janelle said. "Come on, Todd, help me out!"

Todd sighed, draining the last of his Coke. "All right, all right, since it's such an emergency." he said, heading out the door.

Jess and Mikey were on the little red bike, preparing to go to the arcade. "Jess, get inside and listen to your mother," Todd said.

"She's not my mother, Todd." Jess sneered, and they took off down the street.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Up.

A slight grunt as Sarah heaved herself up.

Down.

A little exhale of relief.

Up.

Another grunt.

Down.

Another exhale.

Sarah dropped lightly to the floor, her body and torso dripping with sweat. Her brown hair was tangled and sweaty, and her fierce gaze could burn a hole in the wall.

A group of psychiatrists were walking down the hallway, clipboards in hand. A plump, gray-haired doctor was talking.

"Okay, this one is an interesting case. Sarah Connor, schizophrenic, insomniac, paranoid woman. She believes that a…Terminator, I believe it's called, was sent back in time to kill her. From the year 2029, if my memory serves me correctly." The gray haired doctor's tone implied what a ridiculous idea this was.

They all stopped in front of Sarah's door, and peered through the tiny window. Sarah had flipped over her bed, and was doing chin-ups on the upended leg of the bed.

"Morning, Sarah. How are you feeling today?" the doctor asked. Sarah paused, then turned around, a menacing smile on her features.

"Great, Dr. Gronke. How's the knee?" she asked.

Dr. Gronke licked his lips nervously, then turned to his flock of fledgling shrinks. "She, uh, stabbed me in the knee with my pen a few weeks ago. Anyway, moving on."

The gathering moved away, in search of better cases.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A tall police officer knocked on the door of the Wilken's house. Todd opened the door, then folded his arms.

"Excuse me, sir, are you the legal guardian of Jessica Connor?" he asked politely. Todd sighed.

"Yup. What's she done now?" he asked tiredly. Janelle came up, her brown eyes worried.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. The police officer gave her a smile, a charming smile.

"Not a thing, ma'am. Do you have a picture of Jessica?" he asked. Janelle disappeared around the corner, and came back with a curling photograph of a rebellious looking teenager, with blue eyes as cold as steel. She was sitting on a dock, her black hair spilled across her cheek.

"She's a fine looking little girl, if I do say so. Can I keep this, ma'am?" he asked.

"Yeah, go ahead. There was a guy here this morning who wanted the same thing. Does he have anything to do with this?" Janelle asked.

"Yeah, this big guy, on a bike. Is our daughter all right?"

The police officer looked up, something flashing in those impassive eyes. "No, I wouldn't worry about him." he said calmly. "She's probably fine. Thanks for your time, folks."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Mikey paced impatiently as Jess hacked into the ATM on the corner. "C'mon, Jess, this is taking too long." he said.

Jess let out a slight hiss of exhilaration. "Hah! PIN number 9003. Withdraw three-zero-zero. Easy money, Mikey." She took out a wad of bills.

He high fived her. "How'd you learn stuff like that?" he asked in awe. She flashed him that dare-devil grin that drove boys wild.

"My mom taught me." she said, unzipping her backpack so she could stuff the money inside. Mikey caught sight of a picture, and he picked it up. It was a pretty blonde lady with a German Shepard behind her.

"Is this her? She looks pretty cool." he said. Jess snatched the photo away.

"No, she's not. She's a total psycho. That's why she's in the hospital. She tried to blow up a computer factory but she got shot and arrested." she said bitterly. For a second, her green eyes flashed, and Mikey caught a glimpse of all the stored up hatred against her mother.

"C'mon, lets go spend some money," Jess said, changing the subject. The two of them hopped on the bike and sped off.

They were at the arcade, changing paper money into quarters. Jess headed for the Astro-Blasto, just like she always did. Mikey was watching her, amazed by her reflexes. If she wasn't so tough and boyish, she would have been a Victoria Secret model. With her black hair cut in a slant across her jaw, and those hard blue eyes, complete with that slim, full body, she was an absolute knock-out.

Mikey took another five dollar bill. "I'm gonna go get some more quarters, kay?" he said. Jess nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen.

He was stopped as he made his way to the counter by a tall, blonde police officer. "Excuse me, young man, do you know this girl?" the officer asked him. Mikey glanced at the photo and feigned indifference.

"Nope, never seen her before." he said, then nonchalantly went over to Jess. "Jess! There's a policeman scoping for you. Check it out." he said, pointing. Jess looked up, and the officer stared straight at her.

Jess abandoned her game, going over to the fire escape exit. The police officer followed her at a run, knocking several children out of the way.

She ran down the hallway, dodging a fat man with glasses. "Hey! You shouldn't be in here!" he shouted, but Jess only ran faster, her mouth dry with fear. What had she done? Had someone seen her withdraw the money?

Jess opened the door, and whirled to her right. Time slowed to a crawl as she saw a gigantic biker, clad in black leather, with a box of roses under his arm. He opened the box, and pulled out a shotgun. Jess screamed, and turned to run, trying all of the doors. They were all locked.

The police officer came from the left, and the biker with the shotgun came from the right. She was trapped. The cop pulled out a pistol and aimed it straight at her.

"Get down." barked the biker, his accent thick and almost indiscernible. Jess complied readily, hitting the floor, putting both of her freckled arms over her head.

She then witnessed the first of the most incredible scenes of her life.

The biker fired the shotgun at the cop, but instead of spraying blood like it should have, it only left a gaping silver hole the size of a grapefruit. The cop reeled backwards, shaking his head dazedly. The biker seized Jess by the back of her tank top and pulled her in close, shielding her body with his. The cop shook himself for the last time, and proceeded to empty a full clip of bullets at the biker. But instead of tearing through flesh and bone, they struck him with a hollow pinging sound, like they were striking metal instead of skin.

When the cop paused to load more ammo into his pistol, the biker crushed a doorknob in his massive, calloused palm and broke the lock, shoving Jess inside. He turned around and shot the cop four more times, but they left more huge silver holes.

Jess took advantage of this momentary distraction and bolted to the parking garage. She stepped on her bike, trying to turn it into gear, but nothing caught.

She tried and tried, swearing a blue streak, when she heard the elevator ping. The cop stepped out, his eyes ice cold.

Finally the chain caught and she took off, the cop in close pursuit. She risked a glance behind her and screamed again. Damn, he could move fast! He was sprinting towards her, and the little bike was already in it's highest gear.

The bike shot through a hedge, narrowly missing a middle aged woman doing her shopping, and Jess whirred into the main flow of traffic.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The biker brushed the glass off of himself and stepped back into the parking garage, picking up the shotgun and running after them. He got on his motorcycle and sped into the traffic, his brown eyes scanning the crowds. Then he saw them.

Jess was going as fast as she could on the little bike, and right behind her was a huge black truck. He had no time to wonder how he got the truck, because he turned around sharply and was soon in close pursuit.

Seeing the biker behind him, the cop started ramming the truck into the concrete walls, trying to cut him off. But the biker sped up just a fraction, and zipped by. He rode alongside Jess, who was ashen faced and looked terrified.

He grabbed her backpack and hauled her roughly onto the bike in front of him. Jess automatically took over the motorcycle, leaving the biker free to turn around and fire several more shots at the truck.

Jess swerved quickly to the right, and the truck couldn't follow. It smashed into the concrete sides, tearing a tiny hole in the gas tank. A spark from the ignition lit it, and the whole truck exploded in a fiery inferno.

They pulled on the brakes, turning around. Jess noticed the biker dude was doing a strange twirling thing with the shotgun, and he was firing it with one hand. How does someone fire a shotgun with one hand? Jess through frantically.

A burning tire rolled slowly out of the wreckage, and the biker aimed the shotgun at it. After a moment, when nothing else emerged, he relaxed and flipped the shotgun back into the holster on the bike. They tore off, leaving nothing behind them but the burning wreckage and a couple of skid marks.